Can't Get Over You (Fortune's Island, Book 2)

by Shirley Jump

  A smile curved across her mother’s face. Grace had always liked Zach, and though she had supported Jillian’s decision to end the relationship, it was clear she was happy they were talking again. “That’s wonderful. Did it go well?”

  “We…sort of started trying again.” Was that what she called sleeping with him? Because she wasn’t so sure that was as much of a new beginning as a retread of the past. “But I don’t think it’s going to work. I…I can’t trust him.”

  The smile on her mother’s face gave way to confusion. “Zach? Really? Does he have another girlfriend or something?”

  “Not like that. I’m not worried that he’s going to cheat on me or steal my debit card and go wild at Guitar Center.” The joke fell flat, and did nothing to ease the tension in Jillian’s chest. All it did was delay getting to the point. “I…I found out tonight that Zach has been lying to me about what happened that night on the beach.”

  Grace’s brows furrowed. “He lied? About what?”

  “About who attacked me.” Jillian turned her gaze to the dark water, the vast ocean barely visible in the moonlight. “It was Keith who robbed me that night.”

  There was a moment as her mother absorbed the information that the young man who had come into The Love Shack dozens of times when he was younger could do such a thing to her daughter. “His brother? Really?”

  “Zach found out the next day when he saw my backpack in the trash at their house. But he didn’t tell anyone because if he did, his brother would go to jail.” Jillian drew in a shaky breath, willing the tears to stay back for now. She’d cried enough for a lifetime, it seemed. “How could he do that to me, Mom? Knowing how scared I was, how terrible that was?”

  Grace let out a long breath. The music in the kitchen shifted to something slower, drawing a long beat beneath the quiet conversation of the kitchen staff as they finished cleaning. “What if it was Carter?” her mother said after a moment.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if you found out Carter had done something illegal?” Grace’s gaze met hers. “Would you turn him in?”

  “Well, that’s different. Carter is—”

  “It’s not different at all. Carter is your brother and you love him, just as Zach loves Keith. I’m not saying what Zach did was right.” Grace’s hand covered Jillian’s. “But it’s understandable.”

  Jillian opened her mouth to argue. Shut it again. If Carter had done something wrong, something like what Keith did, chances were good that Jillian wouldn’t have said anything. She loved her older brother dearly and would never want to see him standing trial or in jail.

  Standing at that kind of crossroads would have been one of those impossible choices. One she was glad she’d never had to make.

  But Zach had had to make that choice: between his girlfriend, who was scared but not hurt badly in the attack, or his brother, who would surely end up in that dangerous world of prison if Zach went to the cops.

  “Zach should have told you,” Grace said. She laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “He should have given you that information, to do with as you wished. But he was also, what, eighteen? Not quite mature yet, and not always making the right choices.”

  “But if he loved me…”

  Grace tipped her head to one side and her smile softened. “Maybe he was trying to protect you, too.”

  “Protect me? From what? If he wanted to protect me, he would have had the guy who did this arrested, so that I never had to worry it might happen again. What he did wasn’t protecting me.”

  “Maybe in his mind, it was. He probably saw it as protecting you from having to make the same agonizing choice he went through. You knew and liked Keith. And you would have known that if you went to the police, Zach’s family would have to watch their oldest son get arrested and get thrown in jail.” She paused a beat. “What would you have done?”

  That answer was easy. Even though Jillian had been hurt and scared after she was robbed, her injuries were nothing that couldn’t heal in a few days. She’d been out one backpack and twenty bucks. Would she really have turned Keith in over that? “I probably wouldn’t have said anything.”

  Grace nodded and her smile widened. “Then cut Zach some slack. He handled it badly, but he did what he thought was best for the people he loved.”

  Her mother was right. Jillian shouldn’t have been surprised. It was the whole reason she’d come to Grace late at night—because she knew that her mother would offer the clarity that Jillian was lacking right now.

  The side door opened and Carter came outside. “Oh, I see how it is. I take your shift and you just show up at the end.” He grinned, then drew his sister into a hug. “How are you, sis?”

  She exchanged a glance with her mother. “Better now.”

  “Good.” Carter arched a brow, as if he wanted to ask what they’d been talking about so seriously, but he didn’t. Instead, he went back to his usual affable attitude. “Hey, if you’re going to be here a minute, why don’t we split a couple beers and a platter of wings? I had the kitchen put aside a plate of extra hot ones before they shut down for the night.”

  Jillian laughed. “Are we still having that bet?”

  “Forever. Or at least until you admit I can tolerate hotter food than you can.”

  She snorted. “You cry when you eat banana peppers, you big wimp.”

  “I’m older and stronger now.” He winked. “See you in a few.”

  After Carter went back inside, Grace turned to Jillian. “Oh, I so love seeing you two tease each other and laugh like that. Every parent hopes that their kids will be friends.”

  “He still drives me crazy,” Jillian said, “but yeah, I guess you could say Carter is my friend.”

  Grace hugged her. “That’s good. It makes my heart happy.”

  Jillian stepped back and took another deep breath. She couldn’t leave, couldn’t go share that plate of wings with Carter, not quite yet. If anything, tonight’s bombshell from Zach had taught her how important it was not to keep secrets, especially from the people who loved you. “I came here to tell you one other thing, Mom.”

  Her mother propped a hip on the deck railing, her face calm. Her mother was like that—ready for whatever life threw her way, with a calm give-me-what-you-got attitude. “Shoot.”

  “You know I’ve always loved music, right?”

  Grace nodded. “You know more about musicians than anyone I know. And though you’re pretty shy about it, I do know you can sing.” She grinned. “Sometimes I’d pause by your bedroom door and listen to you. You have such an amazing voice, my darling daughter.”

  Jillian shrugged. “Maybe so, but you’re right. I have kept that voice under wraps. Kept everything I love about music to myself. But when I broke up with Zach, I guess…I decided to go after the other things I wanted. Things I’d put on hold for too long. So three months ago, I started going to the Boston Conservatory on the mainland. That’s why I’ve been gone most days. I…I wanted to finally do something with my music.”

  Her mother’s face lit and a smile broke across her face. “Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you! That’s wonderful!”

  “You’re not mad? I mean, when I get this degree, I could…leave here. Get a job in the industry.” That was, assuming she could gather enough courage to perform in front of a bigger audience than her iPhone.

  Grace cupped her daughter’s jaw with her soft, warm palms. “Goodness, no, I’m not mad. Your father and I love having you here all the time, don’t get me wrong. But we’d rather see you spread your wings and go off in the direction that makes you happy, than keep you here in a life that doesn’t do that for you.”

  “Was it that obvious that I wanted something…more?” It was a message her mother had probably said a thousand times since Jillian was born, but this was the first time she was really and truly hearing those words: that her parents supported her regardless of what career she chose. The first time that message sank in and she knew that whatever choice she made
with her future, her mother and father would back it.

  Grace nodded, and her eyes filled with tears. “Yes, honey, it was.”

  “I’m scared, Mom. What if I’m terrible? What if I can’t make it work? What if…”

  “If I had a bucket for all the what-ifs I had when your dad and I bought this place, I could fill the Atlantic Ocean.” Grace’s thumbs traced semicircles along Jillian’s cheeks. The music in the kitchen was turned off, and the staff called out goodnights to each other. “You can’t live your life by what might happen. Anything could happen. The only thing to do is leap right off that cliff of uncertainty and enjoy the ride.”

  Jillian nodded. Her stomach was in knots, her eyes burned, but there was an excitement growing inside her. An anticipation for a future she couldn’t even see yet. “I might need to still hold onto the rope here for a while.”

  “That’s totally okay, honey. Totally and completely okay.” Grace rose on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on Jillian’s forehead. “I love you.”

  “Aw, Mom, I love you, too.” She wrapped her mother in a hug so warm and tight, it seemed to go on forever, like the endless dark ocean just beyond them. She didn’t know what lay down the road, but for the first time in a long while, Jillian was totally okay with that.

  # # #

  On Tuesday morning, Zach boarded the ferry and headed across the bay. He looked for Jillian, but the boat was full of tourists and commuters, not her. He hadn’t talked to her in two days, not since that night. He couldn’t blame her. He’d dropped a bombshell in her lap, and if he knew Jillian like he thought he did, that meant she needed time to absorb and react.

  That didn’t mean he didn’t have this constant pit of worry in his gut. She hadn’t replied to his texts, other than one short I’m okay when he’d asked her how she was doing. Then again, despite that one night, they were still broken up, and that meant she wasn’t going to be at his beck and call. Not even at his call, necessarily.

  He flipped out his phone, typed out a fast text message to Jillian and hit send before the ferry got past the range of the cell towers. Thinking of you, he’d said, and hoping we can talk tonight.

  Hopefully that didn’t sound needy and insecure. Okay, so maybe it did. A lot. Zach wasn’t used to ever showing that side of himself, but losing Jillian had changed a lot of things for him.

  He wondered if she was out with that other guy. He couldn’t blame her if she was. Even if Zach wasn’t in the guy’s fan club, no one could argue against someone who took her to fancy restaurants, drove a nice, practical car, and looked good. The guy probably had a great job, a 401k plan and a condo somewhere with a paid-off mortgage. All the things Jillian had wanted of Zach, that he’d never given her.

  The ferry docked, and Zach caught a cab over to his parents’ house. His father had taken vacation this week, to finish up some repairs on the roof before fall and winter started hammering on the coastline homes. His mother only worked part-time at a little souvenir shop in downtown Plymouth, so chances were good she’d be home, too. And Keith—as far as Zach knew, his newly free brother had yet to start the job he’d interviewed for, if he’d even gotten hired. Most likely, Keith would be out with a friend or two, instead of hanging around the house.

  The cab pulled into the driveway. Both his parents’ cars were here. Good. Zach had no desire to see his dad without the tempering presence of his mom. He paid, got out, then headed into the house. “Hey, Mom, I stopped by for a visit.”

  “Oh, Zachary!” His mother came bustling out of the kitchen. “I wish you’d called. I’m heading out to a hair appointment. Maybe I should stay…”

  “No, no, it’s fine. Go. I’ll wait.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, totally.” Zach figured he could just pop in a movie or something. Avoid his father until his mom got back.

  “Great,” his mother said. “Maybe you can help your dad while I’m gone? He’s up on that roof by himself and I’m so worried about him. I don’t want him to fall off or anything.”

  Zach knew how a project with his father would go. He’d rather sit through twelve documentaries than help his dad. “I should—”

  “You’re not going to turn around and get right back on that ferry, are you?” His mother had clearly read his mind. “Stay, stay. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

  He promised his mom he would stay, then settled onto the couch after she left. Home improvement projects and lectures were two things that should never go together.

  He was just turning on the television when he heard a curse from outside, and then the loud clatter of something rolling down the roof and landing on the ground with a thud. Zach scrambled to his feet and headed outside. A pile of shingles lay like a scattered deck of cards on the lawn. “Dad? You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just lost my footing.” Carl poked his head out, and looked down at the shingles. He let out another curse. “Do me a favor. Bring those up here to me. I’m too old to be going up and down that damned ladder all day.”

  Zach looked at the ladder, debating. He didn’t really have a valid excuse for saying no, and his mother was right—his dad was getting older and shouldn’t be fixing the roof by himself. Though why Keith wasn’t here was a mystery. If anyone should be helping, it should be the son without a job. But Zach didn’t say any of that. He shouldered the shingles, then climbed up the ladder one handed, and dropped the shingles in a pile on top of the roof. “Need help?”

  His father shrugged. “Wouldn’t turn you down if you mean it.”

  “Let me just get another hammer.” Zach rooted around in the barrel of tools his father had brought up to the roof, found a second hammer, and a pile of nails. He slipped into place across from his father. “I’ll do this side, if you want to handle the other.”

  His father just grunted agreement. Zach shrugged, put his head down and got to work. It was a nice day, with a slight breeze, but the sun was hot on his back and neck. They worked like that for a good twenty minutes, no sound between them except the scratch-whoosh of shingles being dragged into place, and the steady thud of nails being driven into the roof.

  “Why isn’t Keith here?” Zach asked.

  “He said he had someplace to be.” Carl nodded toward the pile of shingles. “Besides, it’s good for you to learn how to do something constructive. Real skills that real people pay money for people to do. A hell of a lot more money than they pay for you to sing into a microphone.”

  Zach ignored the barb. To be honest, there’d been so many of those over the years, he wasn’t even fazed. “Keith had someplace to go? Someplace, as in a party to go to, or someplace as in a job interview? Did he even go to the one with Larry’s company?”

  His dad raised one shoulder, let it drop. “I didn’t ask.”

  Zach shook his head. “Unbelievable. Why am I even surprised?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Zach stopped hammering. Maybe it was the heat or the twenty minutes of silence, or maybe Zach was just tired of letting the things he knew he should say fester, but something had switched in Zach’s mind. “It means, I’m tired of you having an obvious favorite. Keith, the son who can do no wrong. Keith, the son you never criticize. Keith, the one you praise and practically worship. Keith went to jail, Dad. He did terrible things and got arrested. Yet, you’re constantly on my back about what a disappointment I am and how I’m never going to be anything.”

  His father didn’t say anything. He just went on hammering, moving down the row of shingles like a dentist polishing teeth.

  Zach shook his head. “Forget it. Fix your own damned roof.” He tossed his hammer into the tool bucket and headed for the ladder.

  “I criticized you because you needed it more,” his father said, his back to Zach.

  Zach had one foot on the ladder, one on the roof. “I needed it more? That’s bullshit, Dad.”

  Carl turned and faced his son. “You needed it more because you had that big dream of becoming some
big music star.”

  Zach paused. “What? That makes no sense. All my life, all you’ve done is tell me that music is no way to make a living. That I need to get a real job. One that lets me support my family. Well, you did that, Dad, and I don’t see you waking up every day, happy and fulfilled.”

  “I’m not. I hate my job.” He scowled. “You think I like going into an office every day and crunching numbers? I don’t. I did it because I had a family and that’s what you do to pay the bills for them.”

  “Well, that family is all grown now. You could do what you want.”

  “You think it’s that easy?” Carl shook his head. “Now I have retirement to worry about. Paying off the mortgage on this place. Paying off the cars. It never ends.”

  “Yeah, I should…get going.” Zach moved down another rung. He had no desire to stay here and listen to his father complain.

  “I criticize you more,” his father said again, his voice softer now, “because I don’t want you to turn out like me.”

  Zach paused. He had never heard his father admit something like that before. Never heard his father get vulnerable or regretful. Zach climbed back onto the roof, then sat down beside his father. Carl put down his hammer, and took a seat next to Zach. “You have a good job, Dad. You bought a house, paid for everything us kids wanted. That’s not so bad.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not so happy doing it.” Carl draped his arms over his knees and let out a long breath. “I didn’t want you to end up like that. You’ve got some talent, Zachary. You should keep doing your music. Just be smart about it.”

  “You think I have talent? I don’t think you’ve ever heard me perform, Dad.” His mother had. Every mainland show The Outsiders did, his mother was there to see them. His father had never attended a single one, as far as Zach knew.

  “Your mom would videotape your shows and bring them home to me to watch. One time, I sat in the back of the room. When you used to play that bar, down on Main Street? I went and sat in the back. You never saw me.”