Breakaway: A New Adult Anthology

by Jay McLean

  By the time the thunderous roar of his truck drove up the lane, I'd worked myself up into a right state, but was determined not to let a bit of it show. I had to get home, and if I were lucky, it would be at the point where my dad was just buzzed enough to be easy-going. Knowing my luck he would be three sheets to the wind and mean to boot. I couldn't wait to save up for my own place.

  So much for a relaxing week.

  I gathered Sam's discarded t-shirt and deflated arm-floaties, then guided him to the gate that led to the outside parking lot. The last ferry from the small island off the Florida coast where the resort was located was in half an hour and I'd have to jog the entire way to make it in time. Either that or I'd be stranded during the coming storm. And according to the violent thunder it was bound to be a doozy.

  Anger bubbled along with righteous indignation as I studied Jameson, who had the gall to lean casually out of the window and smile. It was a slow, easy smile that creased the corners of his eyes and softened his otherwise angular face. It was the type of smile that had it been any other day or in any other circumstances, would have given me pause. Made my heart race. Not in consideration of enticing his attentions, but an appreciation for beauty, as I wasn't interested in attention of any sort, least of all his.

  His eyes followed me around the gravel parking lot to his driver's side door. My skin prickled and I rolled my shoulders in response, as if that would soothe away the building anxiety. I made it to the back door and helped Sam climb into his seat. He jabbered away and I paid half attention, buckling his seatbelt.

  "I had fun today, Sam. I'll see you around." I turned to face Jameson. "I don't mind playing babysitter for you to do whatever you like, but I'm off the clock at six. Get a watch and don't waste anymore of my time."

  Gravel crunched under the give of my soft flip-flops, pieces of it wedging between the sandals and the soles of my feet. Wincing and limping, I made my way down the long driveway. Thankfully, the ferry wasn't too far away. If I hurried I could make it.

  The air was scented with the damp of rain and a loud clap of thunder punctuated the release of the deluge. My thin cotton shirt clung to my chest and my book and bag were rendered a soggy mess in minutes. I ignored the rumble from his truck as he idled up beside me and instead tried to see through the gray haze to the dock. I could just make out the blurred shape of ferry in the distance.

  When I could no longer ignore the creeping vehicle by my side, I turned to him and immediately bristled at his cocky grin. It did beautiful things to his face and it pissed me off that I noticed. "Can I help you?" I bit out.

  "Actually, I was going to ask if you could use a ride. Get out of the rain."

  I ground my teeth and hesitated with sudden uncertainty. I didn't want or need anyone's help, most especially not his, but I also could not be late. "Fine. I need to get to the ferry or I'm going to be stuck here anyway."

  "Get in."

  The truck was huge and smelled like grease and dirt. It was a distinctly male smell that reminded me of the night we'd parked on the very beach we were now heading towards when we first became lovers. It both comforted and annoyed me. I sat stiffly in the front seat as he navigated through the now torrential downpour. Sam chattered happily in the back seat, which was a drastic contrast to how tense I felt. In fact, my thighs were tense against the supple leather of the seat and my back ramrod straight.

  "Thanks," I said begrudgingly.

  "It's my fault." He paused at the crossroads. "I was helping Pa move some shit around and he conned me into staying longer than I'd planned. I honestly didn't mean to hold you over."

  Totally not the answer that I was expecting. "Uh-yeah. It's no problem. You couldn't take Sam with you?"

  He eased onto the main highway in preparation to make the left turn to the docks. "Yes and no. You see, I'd promised him that he could go swimming, but I'd forgotten about helping out the old bastard. They both have this look, you see?" He pointed to the backseat where Sam poked out his bottom lip and widened his eyes on cue.

  I laughed, relaxing a little. "Well, I remember Pa, so I understand."

  "Exactly. So I couldn't tell either of them no and instead I made you miss the ferry."

  "It's oka—What?!"

  He sighed and gestured in front of the truck to where the ferry was easing away from its slip. The waters of the Atlantic were violent, choppy and gray all the way to the mainland—or what I could see of it. The rain had increased exponentially, blurring the boat into an unrecognizable distortion in the distance, but its retreat was unmistakable.

  "Shit."

  "Is there someone I can call or—"

  "No," I interrupted. "Just...just take me back to the club. I'll find a ride or something."

  "Are you sure? I don't mind."

  "Look Jameson, you've done enough and I'm sure you and Sam need to get home. I'm a big girl, I'll be fine."

  Jameson peered out of the windshield at the storm, then looked back at me with raised eyebrows. "You do realize that there's no way off the island, right? In this weather all travel will be suspended. You'll probably need to bunk somewhere on-island overnight and wait it out."

  Stumped, I chewed on my thumbnail. How the hell had my perfect pseudo-vacation gone so spectacularly to shit in such a short span of time? I turned to face him and glared.

  "This is all your fault."

  "Hey!"

  "Well if you hadn't taken your sweet time picking up Sam I wouldn't have missed the ferry! The club is closed, I can't go back there. I don't live on-island and I have no cash for a hotel room. I may as well try to swim to the mainland."

  "I wouldn't recommend that." As if to divinely punctuate his statement thunder boomed and a particularly vicious looking bolt of lightning speared the horizon in front of us.

  "Rue sleepover!" Sam happily suggested.

  I winced. "No, I couldn't."

  Jameson rubbed a hand over his face, then shifted gears and reversed the truck with expert precision despite the pouring rain. He pulled back out on to the highway heading in the direction opposite the club.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  He laid an arm on the center console and draped the other lazily over the wheel, the picture of relaxed arrogance. "You have nowhere to go. There's basically a hurricane going on out there in case you didn't notice. I'm going to take you to my house and you don't have to worry, Pa is actually staying with us this week so you're safe from my devastating charm."

  I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Look, just until the rain lets up and then I really have to try and find a way home."

  "I knew you'd see it my way."

  "Yay!" Sam yelled.

  The island was washed out by the rainstorm, a haze of houses and roads covered in fog and mist. The beautiful day, much like my vacation had taken a drastic turn for what appeared to be the worst. Stranded, literally, on an island with the man that broke my heart. One that I never truly got over.

  I was broken out of my reverie when Jameson pulled the truck into the driveway of a modestly appointed house and switched off the ignition. I grabbed my things and helped a still babbling Sam out from the back. We dashed from the truck as fat drops of rain fell, chilling me to the bone. I followed the two of them inside the house, holding my arms close to stave off the cold.

  Sam flew past me, through the living room and bounded up the stairs. For someone who had played full-throttle for the past few hours, he certainly had a lot of energy. Jameson gestured to take my stuff and tossed them on a bench by the door.

  "Pa passed out in the spare room before I left, so you'll have to bunk in the living room." He took a blanket and pillow from a closet in the hallway and set them on the plush couch. "Do you need to call your parents? Are you still staying there?"

  I nodded. "Please."

  His dark eyes studied me for a moment and despite his lazy stance I'd noticed the subtle way his muscles stiffened at the mention of my family. So he did remember.

  "The phone," I
prompted.

  "Right." He dug in his pocket and handed me a shiny new smartphone. I expected that he would go to another room to give me some privacy, but then again Jameson was never one to keep his nose out of my business.

  I turned away from him and walked into the hall that led from the living room to the front door to hopefully buffer the verbal lashing that was sure to ensue.

  "Yeah?"

  "Dad? It's Rue. I'm going to have to stay on-island tonight because of the storm. I'll be back in the morning."

  "Can't even make a boat on time. Can't do nothing right, girl. Stay there tonight. Stay there tomorrow. Don't ever come back. See if I care."

  "I'll be home tomorrow, dad. There's frozen dinners in the freezer if you or mom get hungry." I said it every time, but the only thing they were hungry for wasn't food.

  "I don't give a shit."

  Click.

  You would think that you could get used to the constant verbal abuse, the numbing feeling that follows. You don't. It must be in a child's genetic makeup to constantly seek the approval of their parents otherwise I would have said fuck it a long time ago.

  "Why do you do that, Rue?"

  Had I not known he would have followed, I would have screamed. I dashed the track of tears off of my cheeks, but didn't turn. "Do what?"

  "Let him talk to you like that. Let them treat you that way. How could you still be putting up with them after all this time?"

  "My lot in life, I guess."

  He took a step closer, which brought him flush with my back, the heat seeped from his chest into my skin and I shivered, though I told myself it was from the cold. I could feel his heartbeat racing and his deep, even inhalations. I basked in the feeling of closeness, the remembrance of everything good and right that had grown between us. Then I took a step away and turned to face him.

  There's no doubt that he could read my every emotion. Jameson could cut through most bullshit with careful observation. Which must have come in handy when we were dating because I was a champion bullshitter.

  "If that's what you think, then not much has changed."

  "What do you care? Four years and not a word? You've obviously moved on. I—" I'm positively livid with myself that my voice breaks in the middle of the sentence. "You know what, forget it. I appreciate that you're letting me crash here tonight, but there's no need to rehash the past. It won't change anything."

  "That's where you're wrong, Rue."

  And he kissed me.

  And oh, God I hate the way I melted right into him, how my every objection and scathing retort simply evaporated with the press of his lips against mine. I didn't want to be there, in his arms, but it's everywhere I've needed to be.

  He bit and sucked at my bottom lip and a moan escaped my throat. My hands automatically found themselves twined in the dark blonde hair that's grown longer in the time we've been apart. It occurred to me the back of my head that it was against military regs, but the thought slipped away. He pressed a hand to the curve of my hip and urged me fully against his body and I fit perfectly. No one in the time since Jameson has ever fit me quite like he did. Like his edges and my curves were made for each other and anyone else is just forcing a puzzle piece into the wrong place.

  For a while my brain short-circuited and the next thing I know he had me imprisoned between him and the front door. He turned his head and the kiss deepened, a gnash of teeth and tongue that was wild and hot.

  The insatiable need for him had never been the issue. He was the only man in my life who had ever been able to literally make me weak in the knees. In fact, as the kiss transitioned from needy and impatient to slow and languid, I very nearly succumbed to almost instinctual urge to surrender to him.

  "Wait." I removed my hands from his hair and pressed them against his no-longer-boyish chest to steady myself. A few minutes more and I would have made an absolute fool of myself by doing something stupid like melting into a liquid puddle at his feet. "Stop."

  His forehead rested on mine, his breath uneven and I could feel his desire for me hard against my stomach. "I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "Contrary to what you may think, I didn't really plan on doing that."

  "I know. I just...I don't think we should do this."

  Jameson inhaled deeply. "I'm going to go upstairs and help Sam get ready for bed." He pulled away and I felt the loss like a physical blow. "Make yourself at home."

  He waited a beat, as if uncertain, then headed up the stairs after a long, searching look.

  *

  Jameson had gone to bed hours before and I'd spent the time since with the ghost of his taste on my lips. I was hyper aware of the night sounds, the settling of the house and the echoes of the storm were the sound of Jameson coming down the stairs, or his son, the living proof of how much had changed, stirring in his sleep. Finally, irritable and restless, I gathered the throw and wrapped it around myself.

  The storm still raged as I stepped out onto their generous screened-in back porch. There was an unbeatable view of the churning ocean and I settled on a wicker loveseat to lose myself in the drama—which only served to reflect my current circumstances.

  What the hell was he doing back here?

  I jerked when the porch door squeaked open and didn't know whether to be elated or dismayed that it Jameson stepped out, proffering a mug of tea.

  "We should talk." He set the mug on the table beside me and sat down on the loveseat next to me.

  "About what?"

  "Don't be dense, Rue. You know what." He sipped his own drink, probably sludge-like coffee, black.

  "Come on, Jamie. It's been four years."

  "And yet here we are."

  "One kiss doesn't mean anything. It was just a kiss."

  "Oh, don't lie to yourself. We were never done and you know it."

  "Is that what you think? Walking out on the girl that you supposedly love seems pretty done to me. Especially considering the fact that you now have a kid to consider."

  "Look at me," he commanded.

  I complied, but I didn't hide my annoyance.

  "I didn't walk out on you."

  "You sure as hell did a very good impression of it then. Telling me it's over and then ceasing all communication is pretty final."

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I made a mistake, Rue, and by the time I realized it too much time had gone by to make amends."

  "Well there's no need to try now." I made to stand, but was stopped by his firm grip on my wrist.

  "No. I've been waiting four years to have this conversation and we're going to have it. Please. Just give me five minutes and if you still want to walk away from me tomorrow then we'll forget we ever saw each other and go our separate ways."

  "Five minutes."

  He stood and walked to the porch door to watch the waves crashing on the beach. "Do you remember that night we took my truck to the beach?"

  "Yes, kind of hard to forget."

  "Well, after I dropped you off I came home and all I could think about was our future. You going to school to become the sexiest scientist on the planet, me joining the military like Pa. I had it all planned out."

  My brow furrowed. "Okay, that doesn't sound bad to me."

  "Yeah." His voice was weak, defeated. "Well, when I got the Germany assignment I realized that I couldn't do that to you. Ask you to wait years for me, living in a half relationship while I was all over Europe. We were just kids and your life was just getting started."

  I swallowed around the knot in my throat. "And so you made that decision without asking me. You assumed that I couldn't handle a long-distance relationship so you took care of it by yourself."

  Jameson closed his eyes. "Yes."

  "So it was for my own good?"

  "It was for the best," he said firmly.

  "Well, thank you so much for letting me know."

  There was a pregnant pause.

  "I didn't mean to hurt you, Rue."

  "Obviously," I said bitterly.
r />   Jameson sat beside me and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I was right, wasn't I? Did you get your degree?"

  Indignation bubbled hotly in my stomach. "Don't pretend like that has any bearing on what I would have done back then, but for your information, yes. In biology. I'm in graduate school right now for marine biology."

  "That's great, Rue. I'm happy for you."

  "I assume your career is going well."

  "Yes."

  "And Sam's mother?" I bit my lip and hated myself for asking, but I had to know.

  He sighed. "It wasn't anything serious and it happened a long time after us. She's a nice girl, but she sure as hell wasn't interested in becoming a mother. I was just one in a long string of soldiers. I have full custody. She's not really a part of his life."

  I stared at him, tracing his features with my eyes trying to determine how much of the boy I'd loved was still there; how much had changed. "He seems like a sweet kid."

  He smiled. There it was, the look I remembered. It was telling that the mere thought of his boy could make him look so at peace. "He's the best."

  We settled into a comfortable silence, though my mind was racing from our conversation. I wanted to ask what he was doing back in Florida, if he was out of the Army or if he was home on leave, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. Kissing him had been a major mistake because flashes from our embrace were tangling with the new knowledge I'd learned.

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I moved closer to snuggle into his side. Even if he left tomorrow, it was nice to have closure. To have laid to rest the lingering questions. I was pissed that he decided for me instead of consulting me, but I couldn't blame the jerk for doing what he thought was right. What was done was done.

  *

  The next morning the sound of a slamming door and a boyish shout jerked me from my dreamless sleep. Beneath me Jameson shifted, tightening his arms around my waist and pressing his face into my neck.

  "Five more minutes," he growled into my hair.

  "Jameson." I tried to lift up with a hand on his shoulder, but he merely held me closer. "Jameson, wake up."