You Rock My World (The Blackwells of Crystal Lake Book 3)
Page 8
I bet.
The sarcastic response filled his head, but Travis pushed it away as quickly as it had come. It wasn’t the time to hash out old hurts, and maybe that time would never come. Maybe it didn’t need to. Maybe they were better off forgetting all the crap that had gone down in this house. Maybe it was time to move on.
“Where’s your friend?” Darlene tucked her silver hair behind her ear and set her glasses on the counter. She put a lid on the pot and reduced the heat, tossing aside an oven mitt as she did so.
“Friend?”
“The hockey player. I heard you were hosting a visitor.”
“Zach decided to golf.”
Darlene nodded. “Nice day for it.”
“Sure is.” He hid a grin. Travis wasn’t exactly sure how much golf Zach was going to get in. He’d taken a shine to Honey, the bartender, and the two were hitting the links.
“What’s that?” Darlene’s eyebrow rose quizzically as she stared at the bag in his hand.
“Something for Dad.”
“You should give it to him.” Her soft eyes filled with tears, and Travis looked away. He didn’t know how to react to Darlene’s feelings for his father. Mostly because his own were so damn complicated. “He’s outside.”
“Yeah.” He moved toward the patio doors. “I’ll see you out there.”
Travis headed outside and took a few steps before pausing on the sweeping deck to take in the scenery. God, he loved this house. Loved the land and the lake. As a kid, he hadn’t appreciated all that he’d been given. He was literally the kid with the silver spoon and hadn’t wanted for any kind of material thing. It was the other, the emotional stuff, that had disintegrated when his mother died. The father he’d known had left for work one day, and come home a different kind of animal. At first anguished, then angry and distant. If not for Darlene, the household would have fallen apart.
Travis gazed out at the midnight-blue water, a half smile on his face as he took in the familiar sight. Crystal Lake was bordered on both sides by a thick forest of evergreens, maple, and birch. They rose from the shoreline like soldiers, standing tall, hiding the many expensive cottages and homes behind their branches—the only evidence of their existence the boathouses and docks. Motorboats dotted the lake, zipping across the surface pulling water-skiers and kids on tubes, while Ski-Doos raced along, charting their own course. Laughter and shouts echoed on the water, jumping the waves and landing on the shore. In the distance, right smack dab in the middle of the lake, he spied Pottahawk Island. And directly across from that, Byron Campground.
Byron Campground.
He sighed and closed his eyes, head raised to the sun as a wave of memories washed over him. He thought back to the summer he’d turned sixteen. The summer he and his pals had swum from Pottahawk island over to the only public beach on the lake, the one in front of Camp Byron. He was one of the Blackwells, an anointed prince of Crystal Lake, and Ruby was unlike any girl he’d ever known. Up until that day, she’d been the scrawny kid with the big sad eyes. The girl whose biting tongue could cut a guy in two. The girl most guys didn’t mess with.
But something sure as hell had changed, and his young self wasn’t exactly prepared to handle it.
“Holy shit.” Jason Marsdale poked Travis in the arm. “Check out Ruby Montgomery.” The two of them, along with a couple of pals from the hockey team, had just dragged their asses out of the water. Travis shook drops from his eyes, his gaze wandering the beach. Ruby Montgomery? He hadn’t seen her in a couple of years and from what he remembered, she was a small little thing with a big mouth. But Shelli Gouthro sure as hell caught his attention. She was old, at least twenty-three or -four, and filled out a bikini like nobody’s business. At the moment, her ample assets were barely kept together by a black-and-pink zebra-print bikini.
Who said the public beach wasn’t fun? This was way better than at the resort or his father’s private club up the way.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jason shook his head and laughed following his gaze. “Seriously. You’re not in her league. She won’t give you the time of day.”
“Watch me,” he retorted.
At sixteen, Travis was already pushing six-three, his body hard and muscled from years of hockey. He didn’t look or sound his age. And ever since he’d had sex the summer before, it was pretty much all he thought about. Well, after hockey, of course, but still, getting laid was almost as important.
“Melanie isn’t going to like this.”
He shot an irritated look at Jason. “Melanie doesn’t own me.”
“You’re crazy. She’s going to shoot you down.”
Travis wasn’t so sure. His brother Wyatt had bragged about having sex with Shelli the summer before, and he was younger than her. Obviously, she didn’t give a crap about that stuff. Travis puffed up his bare chest and started across the sand. He was feeling lucky, and he darted a knowing smile at his pals, turning away with a grin when they all hooted and hollered.
He stopped in front of Shelli, a killer smile in place as his shadow fell across her. She lifted her head. Pulled down her sunglasses and looked him up and down.
“Travis, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” Cool. She knew who he was.
“You’re Wyatt’s little brother.”
Feeling cocky, he grinned wider. “I’m not so little.”
Shelli slowly rose, resting back on her elbows. “No,” she said, licking her lips. “I guess you’re not.”
His mind was working fast, thinking of the next thing he should say, when a flash of blue caught his eye. He looked over Shelli’s head, and his world kind of tilted.
Long tanned legs. Jean cutoffs. Crisp white T-shirt and hair that reached down to the nicest butt he’d ever seen. He stared at the girl, willing her to turn around and look his way, but all he caught was a glimpse as she chatted animatedly with the young kids in matching blue shirts. Camp Byron kids.
Something inside him shifted, and he rubbed the back of his neck as his heat-infused skin began to sweat. The girl bent close to listen to what one of the little kids was saying, and Travis couldn’t take his eyes off her. She turned slightly, and he caught her profile. It hit him then. Like a punch to the gut.
Ruby Montgomery. When the hell had she changed from a scrawny kid to the knockout in front of him? He was sure he’d taken classes with her freshman year. Hadn’t he?
Shelli kicked sand up at him and frowned. “Hello? I’m still here.”
But Travis was already moving away, unable to process how his body could move without him actually telling it to. He halted a few feet from Ruby, unsure what to do. What the hell was he going to say to her anyway? How’s life? Everyone knew her old man was a screwup. A boozer and the biggest pot supplier in the county.
Travis was about to make a hasty exit when she abruptly turned, the smile on her face fading away as quick as the tide. Her blue eyes widened, and she pulled on her T-shirt.
“What are you staring at?” Her chin jutted up.
“You,” he said slowly. He wanted to smile and do something to smash open that wariness in her eyes. But he was pretty much frozen in place, staring at a goddess who made his young body react in a way that wasn’t exactly appropriate. His mind was going places it shouldn’t be, and he was damn glad his bathing suit was still wet and cold, and baggy, because at the moment, he needed some extra room down there.
“Why are you looking at me?” Her chin shot up another inch, and she let go of her T-shirt. The wariness in her eyes was replaced with something else. Fire. It touched something in him, and his heart took off like rocket. Never had a girl made him feel like this. Just from looking at each other.
He kind of liked it. A lot.
A slow grin spread across his face. It widened when he noticed her cheeks flush a deep red.
“There’s a bonfire on Pottahawk island tonight.”
“So?” She shrugged, but her eyes didn’t leave his.
“Come with me.”
“Sorry, but you’re wrong about that.”
“I am not,” she retorted quickly.
“I made you laugh at middle school graduation. You were pissed at Ryder for something, and I made you laugh.”
She didn’t say anything, and Travis waited a beat, that cocky side of him oozing out of every pore. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Her eyes narrowed a bit. “I thought you were with Melanie Smith?”
“Nope.” He didn’t skip a beat. “So, eight o’clock.”
“I never said I’d go with you.”
“You will.” Travis wasn’t sure how he knew that, but his gut told him he’d just won some sort of battle, and he was feeling mighty good about it.
“You don’t know where I live.”
He paused at that. Shit. “What’s your address?”
The two of them stared at each other for a long time. Long enough for the little kids standing beside her to get antsy and for one of them to pull on her arm. The little guy had to pee and was gonna let it happen on the beach if she didn’t walk them back to camp.
She took his hand and turned away.
“Ruby.”
She was silent for a few more seconds and then turned slightly, offering him her profile again. His palms were sweaty; his blood roared in his ears. Shit, he felt like he did when a game was decided by a shootout and his team was up by one with a sharp shooter heading his way.
“First Ave. Last house on the right.
It was the beginning of the summer that changed his life.
“Son?”
Travis shook the memories from his mind and glanced to his right. God, when had his father gotten so old?
“You’re looking good,” he said, taking a few steps and offering John his hand. His father took it, but his grip was definitely shaky. He was pale, and though he’d been near death a while back and had made one hell of a recovery, his heart was still weak, and they all knew he was on borrowed time.
“I look like shit, and you know it.” John Blackwell had never been one to beat around the bush. “What’s this I hear about a young pup coming up through the ranks? There’s talk this O’Connor kid is after your position.”
Travis offered a tight smile. He didn’t feel like talking hockey with a father who’d barely made any of his junior games and had been to exactly three NHL ones. Three over a ten-year period.
“There’s always someone coming up. It’s good for the team. It’s what keeps us on our toes. Everyone is expendable. The smart ones realize that, and they work harder.”
“That why we haven’t seen you?” John asked. “You been working harder?”
This had to be some kind of record. Ten seconds in and he was already getting under Travis’s skin.
John sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Never mind,” he said gruffly. “Don’t mind an old man. We’re not always polite. We think age gives us the right to say things we probably shouldn’t.”
An awkward silence fell between them, and Travis finally broke it by offering up the bag in his hand. “I, ah… This is for your birthday.”
John accepted the bag and carefully pulled out a slim black box. He shuffled over to the patio table and sat down before setting the box on his thighs. He stared down at the thing for a couple of seconds before opening it.
A lump formed in Travis’s throat and made it hard to swallow. His father’s hands were shaking, and damn but it was hard to hold on to all the bad things when the man responsible for most of it was so frail and old. He cleared his throat, or at least tried to, but the lump only got bigger at the smile that broke open on John’s face when he took out one of the cigars in the case and ran it under his nose.
“They’re Romeo & Julieta.”
His father nodded. “I see that.”
“I remembered you liked them.”
John looked up at Travis, and Travis was shocked to see tears in his father’s eyes. The last time he’d seen his father cry was the day they’d buried his mother.
“Thank you,” John said haltingly. He set the case down on the table and motioned to the empty chair across from him. “You feel like a cigar? Maybe we can catch up?”
His father’s words were full of emotion. His eyes misty and beseeching. John Blackwell was asking for so much more than sharing a cigar. The old Travis would have made an excuse and headed for the beach. He would have helped himself to a cold beer and sat with his brothers on the dock. They would have talked about anything other than what really mattered. The past. Their family. The screwed-up couple of decades they’d survived.
“Bah. Never mind.” John offered a sad smile. “Go see your brothers. Darlene would kill me anyway.”
Travis looked out to the lake and spied Wyatt and Regan heading in on the boat. Hudson and Rebecca were set up on the beach, comfortable underneath the shaded gazebo, and some little three-legged dog ran crazily along the edge of the water. This scene before him, a picture of domestic happiness, wasn’t something he thought would ever happen here. A new wind was blowing, and change was headed his way. It was time for him to embrace it.
Travis slid into the empty chair. “Darlene is busy in the kitchen. We won’t tell her.”
He lit his father’s cigar, grabbed one for himself, and the two men smoked their Romeos in silence. They caught up without catching up, as men do sometimes. Travis knew his father was unwell and that he was seeking forgiveness. He was pretty sure his father knew exactly what was going on his life—hockey and not much else.
“I saw Ruby this weekend,” Travis found himself saying.
John looked at him, blowing a slow swirl of smoke in the air. He slowly nodded. “I heard.” At Travis’s look, John shrugged. “Wyatt.” He sat back in his chair. “She’s done real well for herself.”
“She has.” Travis cleared his throat and glanced away. “That must surprise you.”
His father was silent for a few moments as if considering his words. Which in and of itself was something—the man never took the time to think about how his words affected people.
“I wasn’t happy about your marriage because you were both too young. Not because I didn’t like her. This world is hard enough without taking on marriage at such a young age, and I knew it wouldn’t work. But that girl always had spunk, and it’s that spirit that got her through the baby dying. Lord knows she got no support from us.”
Ashamed, Travis bowed his head.
“She reminds me of your mother.” John held the cigar and studied the red embers, turning the cigar slowly. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, and I’ve hurt a lot of people. Sometimes I think if I’d been a better man, a better husband, things would have been different. My Angel would still be here. She wouldn’t have been on the road that day. She wouldn’t…” His voice drifted off, and Travis was silent, watching the pain spread across his father’s face. He had no idea what the hell his father was talking about, but he would listen.
“I loved her.” John looked up then, his eyes glittering. “And she loved me more than I deserved. When your mother died, things between us weren’t great. I was selfish. I was too proud and too weak to face my problems. Too distracted to fight for my family. I took your mom for granted and lost everything, including you boys.” He sat back in the chair and swiped at his eyes. “That’s my biggest sorrow. But you can do better, Travis.”
Travis had nothing. He just stared at his father in silence. Or maybe it was shock. This had to be the longest conversation he’d had with the man in years.
John Blackwell looked him in the eye. “Do you still love that girl?”
“I…” He stumbled over his reply and gave up. First of all, he didn’t want to talk about Ruby with his father. And secondly, how could he answer that question when he didn’t know? Was it love or guilt that crowded his mind when he thought of Ru
by?
“Your inability to answer the question tells me all I need to know. You need to fight for what you lost, Travis, or you’ll end up like me. Sitting in this chair looking back on a whole lotta life lived with regret and the inability to deal with that regret. You need to fight for Ruby.”
Travis might have been embracing change, but some of the old resentment was still there. This man had never been there for him when it counted. “I guess this is supposed to be our moment? You’re going to have to try harder than that, John. Since when are you the guy to dole out advice?”
His father looked away. He butted his cigar and slowly got to his feet. He stared out across the water, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled his sweater tight. “Dying can be gift because it’s inescapable. It makes even the most stubborn men take pause. Look back. See the good and the bad he’s done. Mostly the bad. If a man is smart, he’ll use what time he’s got left to make amends. Heal old wounds. Or just say he’s sorry.”
A pause.
“I’m sorry, son.” John looked at Travis and made no effort to hide the pain and sorrow that lived inside him.
Travis watched his father shuffle toward the patio doors and then disappear inside. He sat back in his chair, the cigar still in his hand. What the hell had just happened?
The patio door slid open again, and his father poked his head out.
“You know Coach Hoder’s organization has the contract for the new park and condominiums your brother is building? The ones for people in need down by the old mill.”
“No.” Travis cleared his throat and replied, “I didn’t.”
John offered a crooked grin. “Ruby’s on the board, and she’s very involved.”
“That right?” He wasn’t surprised. Ruby had always had a penchant for those in need.
“You still like digging in the dirt?”
“I haven’t really had time.”
“Maybe you should make some.” His dad reached for the sliding doors, pausing as he stared at his son. “I hear they’re looking for volunteers.”