Rebounding

by Shanna Clayton

  “You’re welcome, hon. Good luck to you.”

  I’m still bummed as I head back to my car, but I try to tell myself everything will be all right. Who knows, something better could come along. Just because it didn’t work out with Sunset Press doesn’t mean I came here for nothing.

  Power of positivity, and all that crap.

  At least I have this list, and who wants to work for douchebags like Minerva Rodriguez anyway? Luck just may have been on my side after all.

  I buckle my seatbelt and hear my phone ring. Vanessa’s picture fills the screen. I pause for a second, debating. I think it’s time I answered her. She doesn’t deserve this, and honestly, I could use a friend right now.

  “Hey, Ness,” I begin.

  “Good God, where the hell have you been, Char? I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry,” I say, sighing. “I just needed to get away for a little while.”

  “Where are you? And why do you sound like that?” Her voice sounds panicked. “Did you hear about Miles? Dammit, I was really hoping you hadn’t found out yet.”

  “Found out what?” I sit up in my seat, feeling tense. “What’s going on, Vanessa?”

  She makes a painful hiccup-like sound, followed by a deep breath. “Better you hear it from me than anyone else. Here goes…Miles asked Gwen to marry him. The wedding is happening in Savannah once the semester is over.”

  TEN

  Max

  Mom sits down at her vanity, and begins to read. After a few moments, her eyes turn glassy with tears.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, confused. “Did he say something mean in the letter?”

  “Yeah, what’s wrong, Mommy?” Fiona mimics me, latching on to her skirt.

  “Just the opposite,” she answers us, a smile on her lips. “Your father wants me to know that even though we did everything backwards, like moving in together, and having children first, he loved me from the moment we met. He knew then that he wanted to spend his life with me.” She draws her hands around my neck, straightening my bowtie. “He says that he’s glad we waited to get married because this day wouldn’t have been as perfect without the two of you here to share it with us. We are a family, and today we’re putting a stamp on it.”

  “A stamp?” Fiona asks curiously. “Like to put in the mail?”

  “Not a literal stamp, baby girl.” Mom pulls Fiona up into her lap, cradling her. “It means today we’re promising to love each other forever, and to always be there for one another. Can you both make that promise?”

  Her eyes go back and forth between Fiona and me as she waits for us to answer.

  “Of course,” I say, taking the duty seriously.

  Fiona wraps her tiny arms around Mom’s waist. “Of course, Mommy,” she says, mimicking me again.

  ***

  By the time I hear the front door open and close, it’s too late. I can’t avoid her this time. I hope she walks straight past the kitchen, so I don’t have to see her, but I’m not that lucky.

  She comes in carrying grocery bags, then sets them on the counter without looking up. Dragging a hand through her hair, she lets out a winded breath. She removes a large bottle of wine from one of the bags. Then she begins rifling through the drawers, opening them and slamming them shut.

  She’s wearing a skirt and blazer, and her hair is straight. I’m pretty sure she looks that way because she just got back from job hunting. My guess is, it didn’t go that well.

  I consider ducking out the side entrance, but I stay where I am. Watching her like this is slightly fascinating, but I think she might tear the kitchen apart unless I speak up.

  “Can I…help you with something?”

  She looks across the island at me, appearing surprised to see me standing there. I think she just realized I’ve been in the room with her this whole time.

  “Do you have a corkscrew?”

  I open the drawer next to the sink and take it out, handing it to her.

  “Thanks.” She points the corkscrew at the center of the cork on the wine bottle, then jabs it in like she’s attacking the thing.

  “Do you, uh, want a glass as well?”

  “Nope,” she says, twisting the screw. “I have some plastic cups upstairs.”

  “You’re gonna drink it out of a plastic cup?”

  “After the day I’ve had, I may drink it straight from the bottle.” She pulls the cork loose, wiggles it free, then hands me back the corkscrew. Grabbing the bottle and the other bag, she heads for the stairs.

  Pausing at the bottom, she turns to look back at me. “I get that some wines air out better in appropriately shaped glassed, but it never made a difference to me. It’s what’s in the wine that counts, not the packaging. It’s about how that wine has always been good to you, and how many countless times you depended on that wine to take the edge off after a long day. It never lets you down, fancy glass or not. Why isn’t that good enough for some people? What’s wrong with a red Solo cup? It doesn’t change who the wine is.”

  She’s talking about a lot more than plastic cups. I’m just not entirely sure what it is. She’s bending the rules here, but I don’t seem to care. I just want to tell her whatever she needs to hear. I want to fix whatever ruined her day.

  “Absolutely nothing,” I say. “Red Solo cups are fucking perfect. Best damn cups in the world, if you ask me.”

  She nods, looking grateful to hear that. Cradling her bottle of wine, she continues up the stairs. I still don’t have a clue what that was about, but I think I said the right thing. That makes me extremely pleased with myself.

  “What’s up with her?” Trevor walks into the kitchen, going straight for the fridge.

  I clear my throat and wipe the stupid grin off my face. “How should I know?”

  He grabs a few different kinds of lunch meat and a bag of cheese, then sets them on the counter. “Because you’re all like, ‘Red Solo cups are the best!’ Just seemed like a weird conversation.”

  “You know what’s weird? The fact that you’re up my ass twenty-four–seven.”

  “Someone needs to be,” he says, reaching for the loaf of bread. “Especially since you enjoy sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

  I open my mouth, but I’m too stunned to say anything.

  He gives me a knowing smile. “Didn’t think I knew about that, did ya? Well guess what, buddy, try turning the motion sensors off next time. I’m still a smoker, remember? My lungs crave toxic poisons at odd hours of the night.”

  I did think of that, but Trevor usually smokes on the back patio. He’s paying way too much attention.

  “I have no reason to hide anything.” The lie slips out easily. I don’t know why I bothered though; we both know he won’t buy it.

  “Good thing too, because I planned to follow you the next time it happened.”

  I slam my fist down on the counter. “Goddammit, Trev, you need to stay out of my business.”

  He stops making his sandwich. “Or what?”

  “Don’t tempt me—”

  “Or what?” he asks, refusing to back down. “You’re not going to fire me or kick me out. As bad as I know you’d like to, you’re not going to hit me with that fist. Wanna know why I’m so confident about that? It’s because we’re family, Max. You don’t give up on family, which is why I don’t give up on you.”

  I turn away from Trevor. Dealing with him is impossible. He makes me feel guilty, and I won’t be able to do what needs to be done if I feel guilty.

  “Stop looking, Max,” he sighs, almost pleading. “Please just let this go. Move on with your life. You have so much going for you. You have the website. You have—”

  “I can’t,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Yes, you can,” he argues. “Your past doesn’t have to define you.”

  If I had a mediocrely shitty past, he could get away with that comment. What he doesn’t realize is I have no choice. My past might not define me, but it sure as hell sca
rred me. The only chance I have at being free is if I keep searching.

  “Trevor, I don’t want to have this conversation again,” I say in a low voice, trying to keep my temper in check. “Just leave me the hell alone about it.”

  Before he can say anything else, I leave. As much as I wish I could be the person Trevor wants me to be, it’s never going to happen. The sooner he understands that, the better.

  ***

  Two hours later I find Steph staring out the sliding glass door, her arms crossed, and her brows pinched together. She’s completely absorbed by whatever she’s looking at.

  “What’s going on?”

  She shrugs. “She’s arguing with someone. Doesn’t seem to be going well.”

  Outside, Charlotte paces the patio, holding her cell phone to her ear with one hand and the bottle of wine with the other. She’s yelling at the person on the other line, but I can’t make out what she’s saying from here.

  “How long has she been on the phone?”

  “A while,” Steph says, still staring as if she’s watching a criminal from a one-way mirror. “I considered going out there, but to be honest, I’m a little scared. It seems bad.”

  By the looks of Charlotte’s expression, it’s really bad. I shouldn’t go out there either. Staying out of her business is the best possible move. I knew when I agreed to let her move in that she came with a lot of baggage. It doesn’t mean I have to get involved. I look down at my feet, gritting my teeth. Walk away, dumbass.

  My body doesn’t listen. The next thing I know, my hand is on the door handle, and I’m stepping outside.

  “Really?” Steph asks, her eyes wide. “You’re gonna deal with that?”

  “Wish me luck.”

  “Good God, you’ll need barrels of it. I’m going upstairs. Call out if you need reinforcements.”

  I nod, shutting the door behind me.

  A strong gust of wind swoops over the patio. The sky is thick with dark clouds, the ocean waves turning chaotic. A storm should hit any minute now.

  “No, I’m not drunk! What does that have to do with anything?” Charlotte yells, the wind whipping through her hair, blowing it in every direction. Mascara streaks the length of her cheeks, her eyes still glassy with tears. “Well I’m sorry, Daddy, but I’m not going back. End of story—What? No, I’m not telling you where I am! I have to go. I’ll talk to you when you stop treating me like a child. Goodbye!”

  She hangs up the phone and tosses it out into the sand as if she’s angry with that too.

  “Probably not a good idea,” I say, startling her. “I’ve lost too many to count that way.”

  “Max,” she says, holding a hand over her chest. “You have a bad habit of sneaking up on people.”

  I walk to the edge of the patio where she’s standing. She’s a mess, and I hate seeing her like this. The girl who saved me two years ago blew me away with her kindness and her strength. It kills me to think that part of her was destroyed.

  “They figured out you left?” That’s already obvious, but I don’t know what else to say.

  She sniffles and wipes the tears beneath her eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Are you…do you want to talk about it?”

  “No way.”

  Thank God.

  The whole consoling people thing isn’t something I’m used to. Every time someone tried to console me in the past, I did the same thing. I kept my mouth shut. I closed up or ran away. Not exactly the best method to deal with problems, but to each their own.

  Charlotte lifts the bottle of wine to her lips and takes a giant swig. Then, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she says, “You know, I’ve been here almost two weeks, and I haven’t gone swimming yet.”

  She sets the bottle down on the cement by her feet.

  “There’s a storm coming,” I point out. “Now’s not the best time.”

  Completely ignoring me, she tears off her shirt in one swift motion, revealing a silky purple bra underneath. “Come on, Max. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  She tosses the shirt behind her, and I catch it. Running out into the sand, she shimmies her shorts loose. They slide to the ground, and she steps out of them.

  My heart is pounding. I’m not sure what to do. She’s crazy, half naked, and beautiful. I’m torn between wanting to get as far away from her as I can and chasing after her.

  She runs into the ocean, treading through the water until it hits her waist, and then she dives headfirst, swimming for the horizon. A giant wave crashes down. Right over her head. I stop breathing.

  Oh, shit.

  Without thinking, I run as fast as I can. Before I get there, her blonde head resurfaces, and I slow down, letting out a sigh of relief. She’s still swimming, oblivious to how dangerously high the waves are getting. I shake my head. Little idiot.

  I pull my shirt over my head, then dive in after her. If I stand back and do nothing, she’s going to drown to death.

  ELEVEN

  Char

  Another wave barrels into me, knocking me forward. It’s rough out here, but I don’t mind. Considering how I drank an entire bottle of wine by myself, it’s possible the slight buzz has numbed me. Okay, let’s be honest. It’s more than a buzz.

  All right, dammit, I think my dad was right. I’m drunk.

  I catch sight of Max out of the corner of my eye. One minute he’s in front of me, and the next thing I know he’s beside me, swooping an arm around my midsection. I kick my legs as he lifts me out of the water.

  “What are you doing?” I yell above the noisy waves. I’m not sure what’s going on, or why he’s dragging me back to shore. Doesn’t he see I’m trying to have some fun out here? God knows I could use some right about now. I glimpse his face, noticing the unmistakable anger. Is this about the storm he mentioned earlier? If that’s the case, he’s acting completely ridiculous. It’s not like it’s storming at this very moment. Geez.

  The way he’s carrying me makes it hard to look at him or speak to him. However, I can feel him. Even in my state, it’s hard not to notice the rippling muscles pressed against my back. He’s shirtless, and the warmth of his bare skin against mine isn’t all that unpleasant. Now that I’m aware of it, I can’t focus on anything else.

  We finally reach the shore and Max sets me down on the sand. Drops me, more accurately. I rub my hips and butt, grateful to know it probably hurt less than it would if I were sober.

  “I’m implementing Rule Number 5,” Max shouts. “No deranged levels of insanity.”

  Saltwater stings my eyes, or else I would roll them. “Oh, please. I’m just trying to have fun.”

  “It’s storming, kid, or are you really that oblivious?”

  I wipe my eyes and stand up, sucking in a small breath as I do. Even my ex, who trained rigorously almost everyday, didn’t have a body as toned and built as Max’s. I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t help it.

  He points toward the sky like he’s speaking to a toddler. “Does it look like swimming weather to you?”

  “I don’t feel any rain,” I argue back.

  As if on cue, a deafening crack of thunder booms all around us, lightning splitting the dark sky. Rain mists over the beach, millions of tiny raindrops hitting the surface of the ocean all at once.

  Max and I look at each other, almost daring the other one to speak. The whole thing was too perfectly timed.

  I laugh first, unable to help it. The tension leaves his face, and he begins to laugh with me. The sound of his laughter is infectious, making the entire situation even funnier.

  Holding my stomach, I sit back down on the sand. Max sits beside me, facing the ocean. We probably look like idiots, sitting here in the rain, but I don’t feel like moving. This is exactly where I want to be. “It’s nice to see you smiling again,” he says, surprising me.

  “It’s nice to see you smiling at all,” I tease him. “I wasn’t sure you were capable.”

  I suddenly feel dizzy, and I lay down, not caring if I get sand
in my hair.

  “You okay?” Max asks, peering over me.

  “I will be,” I say, feeling the effects of the wine hit me harder. That I will be speaks volumes inside my head. I hope it’s true, in more ways than the one I meant.

  We stay like that for what feels like hours, with me lying on the sand and Max staring down at me. His dark eyes are magnetic, I realize. They have an almost uncanny ability to hold my gaze whenever he looks at me. And his face is perfect. The shape of his strong jawline, the warmth of his dark brown eyes, the straight lines of his nose…his perfectly carved lips.

  Without thinking about what I’m doing, I reach around his neck and pull those lips to mine. An involuntary tremor runs through me. There’s a voice in the back of my mind telling me this isn’t a good idea, but I ignore it.

  His mouth is warm, lush, and tastes like saltwater and mint. He doesn’t immediately back away either. Instead, he grips my waist, and I hear a soft groan escape the back of his throat. It’s a good thing I’m not standing, because my knees feel weak.

  So this is what it feels like to kiss someone else.

  For a brief second I compare it to Miles’s kisses, hating the intruding thought. I hate that I’m comparing it, but my ex is the only guy I’ve ever done this with. At first, I think the way the two of them kiss is similar. Then with one small delve of Max’s tongue, all thoughts of Miles fade away.

  He’s warm everywhere. He presses against me, and I feel like there’s more of a chance of drowning in him than in the ocean. I tremble and shudder beneath Max, wanting to get closer to him, wanting to feel him everywhere. I lean into him, and in that moment, he shoves me back to the ground.

  “We can’t,” he says, breathless.

  “Why not?”

  Then it hits me. The girl in the lingerie. The one who spilled her purse out in the hall. I thought she was just a hookup, but I may have been wrong. “You have a girlfriend.”

  He shakes his head, trying to catch his breath. “I don’t do relationships.”