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

by Shirley Jump

  “But why? Why wouldn’t you come or tell me you were coming?”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”

  This was where the years of contention got them. Sitting on a roof in the sun, piles of built-up bitterness between them. Took all of that to finally get a little honesty flowing. To know that his father had gone to his show, watched him perform, made Zach’s throat burn. “Of course I wanted you there, Dad. You were my inspiration.”

  Carl turned to his son. “I was? Why?”

  “Do you remember teaching me to play the guitar when I was little? There was one summer when…” When his father had been happy. When his father had been home at night and in a good mood. When his father had gotten his guitar out and sat in the chair on the back deck, teaching his youngest son how to play a few chords. Then the summer ended, his father got busy at work, and they never had a moment like that again. “When you were there.”

  “The summer before I took that new job.” His father nodded and let out a long breath. “That was a good summer.”

  “It was.” Not every moment with his father had been bad, Zach realized. There were plenty of good memories. Maybe if he focused on those, things between them would improve, at least by a few degrees.

  His father propped his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. “I guess I let the new job get to me too much. All those hours I worked in the beginning…I was just never home. And by the time I could finally poke my head up and spend some time with the family, you and your brother were grown and doing your own things.”

  Had his father been jealous of his sons, having their own lives? Had he felt left out? Unwanted?

  “Anyway, I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you.” Then his father raised his head and looked over at Zach. “Actually, I’m not sorry. You needed that. To keep you from going off track.”

  Zach bristled. That was his father—turning the conversation back in a direction that told Zach what he was doing wrong, or how he could “improve.” Just when he thought he saw a bridge between them, his father broke it down again. “You just told me I should keep going with my music. That you supported me. And now you’re saying you don’t want me to get off track?” Zach shook his head. “I don’t need your advice, Dad. I need a father who doesn’t criticize every other thing I do. And who doesn’t play favorites.”

  His father sighed. “I know it doesn’t make sense. And maybe, in some ways, it doesn’t. Keith is…Keith is the one who’s going to go through life, trying to get by on his smile. He’s a good kid, don’t get me wrong, but he’s never had the drive you have. And trying to get Keith to do the right thing, the sensible thing, has always been like trying to herd cats across a river.”

  Zach nodded. His brother was the one who lived life by the seat of his pants. Who never much liked rules at school, at part-time jobs, at home. But he had a way of charming his way out of trouble—or had, until the trouble got too big to be forgotten with a simple smile. “That’s true.”

  “So I focused on you. You were the one who had talent, which is great, but there was no guarantee that you’d make a living, Hell, I met dozens of guys who were better than Elvis and Mick Jagger put together, who never got out of the town where I grew up. I wanted you to make sure you had a backup plan, so that if you married Jillian—or anyone else—you’d be able to provide, but still have your music. Unlike me.”

  Zach could hear the regret in his father’s voice. Heck, he’d seen it a hundred times in the dusty guitar in the corner of the study. Maybe all his father’s criticism had been a backwards way of trying to help his youngest son And maybe admitting that out loud was the first step in them having a relationship that wasn’t like a boxing match.

  “You can still play now, Dad,” Zach said.

  Carl scoffed. “I doubt I even remember how.”

  “I bet you remember more than you think.” Zach shrugged. “Maybe we could play together sometime.”

  Carl’s gaze met his son’s and his lip trembled. “I’d like that.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Zach leaned back on the roof and turned his face to the sun. It was a warm day, a bright day, and being on the roof seemed almost like being in the clouds.

  “I should have paid more attention to Keith,” Carl said after a while, regret heavy in his voice. “I thought he’d be fine. But then he ended up in jail and…” He sighed. “I wish I knew when he’d started to go off track. Maybe I could have done something. Stopped him somehow.”

  The remorse sounded genuine, like something that had eaten at Carl for years. Zach picked up an errant nail on the roof and fiddled with it. He’d come clean to Jillian. It was time his parents knew the truth, too.

  “I think it was that summer he turned twenty,” Zach said. “He started hanging out with that group of kids who were always having those bonfires over on Fortune’s Island. He was on the island more than he was here. And that was the summer he…”

  Damn. This was harder than he expected. His parents had always seen the best in Keith. Even after he went to prison, neither of their parents wanted to talk badly about him. They referred to his time in jail as a “bad decision,” as if it wasn’t any big deal. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to face the truth about Keith any more than Zach.

  “He what?” his father prompted.

  “He robbed Jillian.” The words hung there, in the sunny, bright, fresh air, like a stain on the wall.

  Carl stared at Zach for a long time, then the pieces began fitting into place. “That was Keith?”

  Zach nodded. “I never said anything because…”

  “Because you didn’t want to get your brother in trouble.” Carl nodded, as if it all made sense now. “I understand that. You idolized Keith.”

  They all had. Even the kids in school had. Keith, with his smile and his jokes, the kid who could talk a teacher out of a bad grade, or convince the principal that his tardiness was totally excusable. He’d charmed everyone, because he was, despite his faults, a likeable, friendly, nice guy who could make the darkest pessimist laugh.

  “Does Jillian know?”

  Zach nodded. “I told her the other day. She was angry that I kept it from her all these years.”

  His father let out a breath. “I guess the men in our family aren’t so great at saying things at the time they need to be said.”

  “Now that, Dad, is something we can agree on.”

  Carl looked over at Zach. His face softened, and he reached out a tentative arm, and settled it loosely on Zach’s shoulders. Zach couldn’t remember the last time his father had embraced him, and though it felt foreign, it also felt…good. Like maybe that bridge he’d been seeking for so long was finally being cemented in place. “It’s a start,” Carl said.

  Zach leaned against his father’s shoulder. Somewhere in the neighborhood came the sound of children laughing, a dog barking, a lawnmower starting. Normal life, with normal families, trying to do the best they could. Maybe that was all they needed to do. “Yeah, Dad, it is.”

  NINETEEN

  Jillian tried to ignore Zach’s text messages. And his voicemails. But every time she picked up her phone, she ended up scrolling through the texts and reading them again. From the simple, hope you are doing okay, to the more heartfelt ones that said, I’ve been thinking about you all day, they each stayed in her mind, and made her smile. Then hurt again, then smile. God, the man was turning her into a schizophrenic.

  She went to school, went to work, and tried to buckle down and concentrate. But her mind kept straying to Zach. To that amazing night they’d had together and back to the fact that he had lied to her for all those years.

  What if it had been Carter?

  Her mother’s question rang in Jillian’s head over and over. She knew Grace was right—that if the roles had been reversed, Jillian would have done exactly the same thing. Yet the anger lingered. Maybe as a self-protection thing. Something to hold onto so that she didn’t let that one amazing night in bed sweep her back up into th
inking she still had feelings for Zach.

  Because she didn’t.

  At all.

  Okay, maybe a little.

  Maybe…a lot.

  But getting involved with him again would be akin to hitting her thumb with a hammer. She knew the outcome. Knew the problems. Knew that she would end up in the same place as before.

  Except…

  She had seen a change in Zach these last couple of weeks. He’d been more open, more honest, more of a listener. But would those changes stick? Or would he go back to the way he had been as soon as they got back together?

  After all, he still had that impractical car, a bank account as dry as the Sahara, and no plans for how to make a living if the band never took off. That was the reality—and there was no sense in imagining something different.

  She took the ferry back from school, and still felt this cloud hanging over her. Maybe it was doing all those last-minute wedding plans with Darcy, and the shopping trip yesterday to find a maid of honor dress and pick out the last of the flowers. Jillian couldn’t help but think about how this could have been her wedding—

  If only.

  She had two hours until she had to be at work, so she threw her stuff in her car, then drove to the rocky side of the beach. Zach texted her twice, saying hello, and Ethan texted once to see what she was doing tonight.

  Men. Right now, she didn’t want to deal with either one of them. So she parked her car, grabbed her guitar and her music, and climbed up into her private space. The water lapped at the rocks below, and the seagulls called to each other, while Jillian picked out a few chords.

  At first, she just noodled around on the instrument, playing different snippets of songs she knew. Then, as she began to settle into the guitar, and the music began to flow through her, she started working out a new melody.

  It was a little melancholy, a little haunting. Her thoughts began to tumble out as she played, forming one word after another into a bit of a song. Like the others she had written and played, these were all about the turmoil in her own mind, those private thoughts that she played to the ocean and no one else.

  “Whichever way I turn, there are questions. Answers elude me, like chasing the wind.” She closed her eyes, hummed a little through the bridge, then sang again. “Look out over the water, look for the direction to go, see nothing but blue, blue, blue.”

  The sound of clapping, then, “Bravo.”

  Jillian jerked herself up, opened her eyes. Ethan was crouched beneath the rocky shelf, a smile on his face. Her heart hammered in her chest, then began to slow. “Ethan! What are you doing here? You scared me.”

  “Sorry.” He thumbed behind him. “I saw your car on the side of the road and wanted to make sure you were okay. You said your car wasn’t running right, and I wasn’t sure if it broke down again.”

  “No, no. I just…” She clutched the guitar tighter. Damn it. She hadn’t wanted him to know about her music. “Needed to get away. Anyway, I was just playing around. I should get to work.”

  She started to reach for her notebook, but Ethan put a hand on top of hers. “You have a beautiful voice.”

  Heat stole into Jillian’s cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “How long have you been singing?”

  “A…a few years.” She slid the guitar strap off her neck and slipped the pick into her pocket. “Listen, it’s just a hobby. I don’t want a career or anything. I do it to relieve stress. That’s all.”

  “You should really think about singing professionally,” he said. “You’re talented, Jillian, and I can say that because it’s my job to tell people the truth about their music.”

  His words warmed and surprised her. All these years, she’d kept her music to herself. Singing only to her mirror and the gulls. But here was this guy, a guy who had heard hundreds of singers over the years, telling her she had talent. She looked at his eyes, and saw nothing but honesty there. No hidden agenda to get her into bed or stroke her ego. “You really think I can sing?”

  “Definitely. You have a…haunting voice.” Ethan settled onto the rock beside her. “If I was going to write a review, I would say something poetic, like…your lyrics curl under the notes like a cat easing into a nap. They linger in the air, echoing in your heart long after the song ends.”

  Her face heated even more, and she wanted both to run away from the praise and hear him say it again. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

  “If there’s one thing I take seriously, it’s music.” His gaze met hers, direct and clear. “I would never offer praise if it wasn’t warranted.”

  “Well, thank you. Like I said, it’s just a hobby and…”

  “And why don’t you consider making it a profession?”

  She had. A thousand times. It was why she was in college. Why she kept writing music that she was too afraid to perform in public. She kept dreaming—but then let her fears keep her from making those dreams a reality. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. That’s Zach’s thing. I just like music. I don’t want to do it for a job or anything.”

  “Then why are you going to the Conservatory?” He nodded toward the notebook beside her on the rock. “They only give those out to students, last I remember.”

  “I thought maybe I’d work in music someday. Maybe.”

  “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

  “Me? Of course not.” Liar, liar.

  “Then perform tonight. Let me see you on the stage.”

  “What? At The Love Shack?” She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t do that. No way.”

  “Why not? You’d be amazing, and I’m sure everyone would love to hear you.”

  “I just…don’t do that.” She grabbed her notebook and stuffed it in her bag, then got to her feet. “I really should go to work.”

  He rose and put a hand on her arm. When Ethan touched her, it was a warm, comfortable feeling, not like the crazy zing of hormones that ran through her every time Zach did the same. She told herself that was what she wanted: a sensible, practical relationship, not one that turned her heart inside out. “Think about it, Jillian. You have a gift, and you shouldn’t waste it.”

  “It’s just a hobby,” she said again. Maybe if she said it enough, she’d believe it, and stop feeling this little thrill at Ethan’s praise.

  “It’s a hobby that can be more, if you give it time and attention.” He shifted into place before her, settling his hands on her waist. “Sort of like us.”

  What had she just been thinking? That she wanted more of what she had with Ethan, and here he was, offering that. Her heart stuttered and her stomach churned. Did she really want more of this…nice? More of sensible and practical?

  “You’re going back to LA,” she said. “This is just a…” She shrugged.

  “Fling?” Ethan shook his head. “I don’t want that. I like you, Jillian. Really like you. I want…more.”

  “We live on opposite coasts, Ethan. It’s crazy to think that we could—”

  “What if I offered you a record contract? That would give you an excuse to come out to LA.” He grinned.

  A record contract? That was more than she could imagine, more than she could wrap her head around. Then she thought about his words, about the reason why he was offering her the deal. “I don’t want a contract because you want me to be your girlfriend. If I decide to take my music public, I want it to be because I’m talented. And no other reason.”

  “You are talented. I don’t just hand out contracts to women I want to date, Jillian.” He cupped her jaw and leaned in to brush a kiss against her lips. Another nice kiss, that did nothing to light her up the way Zach’s kisses did. “Think about it. I have to fly out tonight, to go see another artist in New York. But I’ll be back Saturday night. Let’s go out to dinner and talk.”

  “Okay. It’s a deal.”

  He kissed her again. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Jillian.”

  Then Ethan was gone. And a feeling a whole lot like relief flooded Jillian. She packed up her guit
ar, headed down the path and went to work. If she thought she had a lot on her mind earlier, Ethan’s offer had just quadrupled that.

  # # #

  CLOSED FOR SPECIAL EVENT.

  The handwritten sign on the front of The Love Shack was decorated with little red hearts and a spattering of smiley faces. Zach recognized Jillian’s handwriting, and had no doubt she’d been the one to add the romantic layers to the simple sign on the door.

  Special event—meaning Darcy and Kincaid’s wedding. When Zach had RSVP’d, he’d done it as a single attendee—because he and Jillian were already broken up then, and he couldn’t imagine taking a date. Now he had to face the very real possibility that Jillian was here with the plus-one of that new man in her life.

  Yeah, that was going to suck.

  How the hell was Zach supposed to stand on that stage and sing love songs, all while watching Jillian dance with someone else? Seeing her a handful of times with the other guy had been harder than hell. And now, after making love to Jillian, Zach knew for sure that he didn’t want to move forward without her.

  The problem was getting Jillian to believe he was serious.

  “Hey, man, let’s get set up,” Duff said, drawing Zach’s attention back to the band, waiting beside the van with the equipment. AJ and Ian each had part of the drum set, and were heading inside. “We only have an hour before the wedding party will be here.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Zach took the other end of the amp and helped Duff carry it in and up to the stage. They repeated the same process as they did all the other nights they performed at The Love Shack, a well orchestrated waltz of equipment and men. The only difference—and their concession to the wedding—was their attire. The members of The Outsiders had all opted for khaki pants and pale blue button-down shirts. Nothing too fancy, but not their usual just-rolled-out-of-bed-after-a-night-of-partying look. If they weren’t well past the high school years, they could have almost been mistaken for a boy band. Almost.

  “Hey, now that we’re set up,” Ian said, “we’re going to grab a soda. You guys want anything?”