Surrender (Seaside Pictures Book 4)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Bronte

  I couldn’t believe that Amelia had grabbed his hand.

  Even crazier? I liked it.

  I liked that we were walking into that hospital like a team, and in the same breath, the same sentence, I nearly passed out when his presence alone had people holding up their phones like they couldn’t believe Drew Amhurst would grace our shitty hospital with his presence.

  Immediately, he dropped both of our hands and put protective arms around our shoulders as if to shield us.

  But the problem with his shield?

  It didn’t work. He could only shield her or me; he couldn’t protect both of us from the questions, the pictures, and I immediately wanted to be angry that something so private would be made public just because he was talented, rich, and famous.

  I understood it, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  For us.

  Or for him.

  What sort of fresh hell was that? To constantly walk around and know you were simultaneously getting posted about, tweeted about.

  We made it into the elevator in silence.

  And as it went up to the children’s cancer wing, the music — his music, because of course, it was an instrumental version of Adrenaline — filled the small space.

  “Is that ever weird?” Amelia asked.

  Drew scowled. “You have no idea.”

  “You’re cringing,” she pointed out.

  “Yes.” He shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “And dying a little bit on the inside since they added violins and took out the electric guitar.”

  Amelia snorted. “I think it’s fancy.”

  He shot her a glare. “It’s dinner music.”

  “Would you like some tea?” she said in a fake British accent, earning a groan from both of us as the elevator doors opened.

  She didn’t move.

  I reached for her hand and saw Drew wink over her head at me as he pointed down the hall and whispered, “One step at a time. The only thing that happens when you stand still is that the world keeps on spinning, sweetheart.”

  She sighed heavily. “Stop making sense.”

  “I always make sense.”

  “He saved two turtles crossing the road,” I interjected, “and used it as an argument on his own behalf.”

  “Aww…” Amelia grinned. “…you like turtles too?”

  Drew made a face at me then high-fived her as we made our way across the hall to sign in.

  I’d been in this office too many times to count.

  Hated the antiseptic smell.

  I even hated the artwork that littered the walls because it reminded me of all the sleepless nights in the hospital room, staring at Amelia’s various projects, wondering if she would ever be able to show the world her immense talent, or if these walls would be the only ones who would appreciated just how talented and beautiful she was.

  “Amelia.” The receptionist smiled. “Bronte.” Her eyes flickered to Drew in curiosity. “You can come back now. Dr. Zoe’s ready for you.”

  I gave Amelia a confident smile and walked into the doctor’s office. I knew the office well. Zoe was a year younger than me and an incredible doctor. Her college degrees hung behind her desk on the wall in all her glory, and her smile was welcoming as always.

  I’d always loved her smile. We’d never been close, but that didn’t mean she treated us like anything less than family. Her brown eyes mirrored her smile, and her Hawaiian heritage gave her a gorgeous glow that I wished I could bottle up and use on a daily basis.

  “I see we have a special guest today.” Zoe grinned at Amelia. “Did you win a contest or something?”

  “Nope.” Amelia grinned. “He likes my mom.”

  Drew shot her a glare and then sighed. “From the mouths of babes. They grow fast, don’t they?”

  Zoe blinked and then exploded in laughter. “That’s hilarious, but really…”

  She looked at me.

  “I would be insulted if I wasn’t also in the same boat labeled Disbelief.” I just shrugged. “I may get a restraining order later.”

  “Please, you like to keep me around. I pour wine quite heavily.” He held up his hands to Zoe. “But, I mean, not the entire bottle and — responsibly because…” He winked. “…I’m an adult now. Amelia even let me give her a pep talk on the way.”

  “Yeah, football star.” Amelia grinned.

  “Oh, you played football?” Zoe asked.

  “Not a day in my life.” Drew laughed and then shrugged at us. “What? It was a good story!”

  Amelia covered her face in her hands. “Mom, he’s insane.”

  “He’s right here,” Drew added and then shared a smile with me before giving me a confident nod.

  He somehow knew that was what I needed.

  I needed his nod to tell me to ask the question we’d come here to ask.

  Was her cancer back?

  Was she still in remission?

  Was she going to be okay?

  I started tapping my foot against the floor, almost unable to open my mouth as every zap of energy deflated from my body and shoved itself toward Amelia. She needed it more than I.

  And I would die before she felt pain, sorrow, despair.

  Let her have my strength.

  I would be okay.

  I always was.

  Right?

  “So…” Drew leaned his elbows onto his knees. “…I’m a fan of the Band-Aid method. What about you, Amelia?” He reached for her hand.

  I watched in awe as she clung to it, took a deep breath, reached for mine, and then stared back at the doctor. “I’m ready.”

  Zoe grinned. “It looks like you’re still in remission—”

  Drew let out a curse of relief. I sagged against the chair, feeling I’d aged ten years, and tears welled in Amelia’s eyes.

  “—but I would like to see you again later this year, say in about six months? Once we have a third positive that you’re in remission, we’ll move your appointments to a year. Now, I have something to ask you, and I need your permission to ask it in front of your mom. Drew, could you please—”

  “He stays,” Amelia interrupted politely, shocking me into a stupor.

  Drew seemed to grow taller in that moment as he shared a look with me that asked, “Are you sure this is okay?”

  I smiled back at him.

  “Are you sure?” Zoe asked. “Because, while your results came back fine, I’m a bit worried about some of the symptoms you expressed, feeling nauseated, loss of appetitive…”

  “What are you asking?” Amelia said slowly.

  Zoe gave her a professional smile. “Have you been sexually active perchance? I don’t want to insinuate that you’re pregnant or anything but—”

  I could tell Drew was ready to scream “No!” at about the same time I let out a horrified gasp and prayed my baby wasn’t doing anything with Ryan.

  There was a heavy awkwardness in the room. Drew suddenly looked ready to break the desk with his bare hands. Zoe had a frozen smile on her face. The only person who looked halfway normal was Amelia, mainly because we were all subject to an exaggerated eye roll before she answered.

  After a huge shrug, Amelia shot Zoe a confident smile. “No, I’m not. I have super high expectations. You see, one of the biggest rockstars in the world is staying at our guest house. I met Zane last year. My brother’s going to be even more famous. I’m holding out for Dylan or Cole Sprouse.”

  I exhaled in relief and Drew stopped white-knuckling his chair. “Good kids, good kids.” He nodded his approval. “I mean, I’m locking you in your room, but they aren’t the worst choices…” And then he spat. “Ryan…”

  “Oh, how is Ryan? I didn’t know you guys were still dating!” Zoe grinned, clearly unaware of our repulsion of Ryan.

  “You—” Drew coughed. “—know him?”

  “He’s my nephew.” She beamed.

  “How…” Drew’s eyes widened. “…special for you. Good kid, real smart too.” />
  Could his words come out any faster?

  I held my laugh in while Amelia shot me a sidelong knowing look. It was almost painful watching Drew try to keep in his horror.

  “He really is.” Zoe laughed. “I think he’s finally passing math.”

  Drew gave a told-you-so side-eye to Amelia, causing her to snort out a laugh before she recovered and stared blankly ahead. “He’s doing awesome in creative writing too. Last week, he wrote a poem about aliens. It was amazing.”

  “How sweet! You guys should keep hanging out.” Zoe stood.

  Drew’s mouth formed a thin line.

  “Yeah.” Amelia nodded politely. “Though I think he’s into one of my friends now.”

  “Bummer,” Drew said quickly. “He’s such a good catch.”

  His words dripped with sarcasm, but Zoe didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yeah, well…” Zoe grinned. “…it’s just high school. Who knows what the future holds?”

  “No Ryans,” Drew mouthed at me.

  I covered my laugh with a cough and thanked Zoe. We kept straight faces until we made it to the elevator, and then Drew was the first to lose it.

  “A GOOD CATCH?”

  “Shhh!” I smacked him in the arm. “And he’s not that bad.”

  “His poem was pretty good.” Amelia shrugged. “‘Aliens, aliens, visit me below, because right now, this planet’s got me feeling kinda low.’”

  Drew gaped at her. “You’re. Shitting. Me.”

  “Yup, I just wanted more money to go into Trevor’s swear jar,” She held out her hand. “Or you could just donate to the poor-high-school-kid fund and give Not-Your-Daughter some cash so she can leave you in peace and go hang out with her friends…”

  His eyes narrowed. “This feels like bribery and extortion. It’s strange how okay I am with it since you gave me your mom’s yearbook this morning.”

  “The world works in mysterious ways.” She moved her hand closer to his face.

  He pulled out his wallet and handed her a crisp fifty-dollar bill. I almost swatted it out of her hand, but when I saw her eyes go wide as saucers, I realized she deserved some good after this scare.

  “Don’t eat too much candy. You know how you get.” He winked.

  She just stuck out her tongue, took the cash, and immediately grabbed her phone from her back pocket. “Promise.”

  “And be home by curfew,” he added, then whispered under his breath, “What’s curfew again?”

  “Eleven.” I grinned.

  “Home by ten!” He jabbed a finger at her.

  “Mommm!” She stomped her foot.

  “Ten thirty.” He glared. “And no boys. They have thoughts.”

  “This again.” She threw her hands in the air.

  He mimicked her high voice “This again… yes, this again, because I’m a guy, and I was on tour with whores at your age—” He stopped talking then shot me an apologetic look. “Too much information?”

  I just sighed and looked upward.

  “Whores? Really?” Amelia asked.

  “Never mind.” He pulled her in for a hug. “Hugs, not drugs, know your worth, kick boys in the balls hard enough to crunch something, and I’m not bailing you out of prison.”

  “You’re not so bad at this whole… fake dad thing.” She looked away. I didn’t miss the sadness in her eyes, and then she was hugging both of us and jogging off as her friends pulled up in their Camry.

  “They grow up so fast.” Drew elbowed me. “You did good, B.”

  “Not doing so bad yourself, D. So what now?”

  “Oh, I thought we could go eat our body weight in fries since it was your only life goal in high school… LITERALLY.”

  “I was young!”

  “Hey, it’s good to have goals. I mean, I wanted to be an astronaut, but whatever—”

  I smacked him in the arm. “Just feed me.”

  “Food or—”

  “Drew.”

  “Fine…” He opened my door, and before I could say anything else, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Forehead kisses don’t count. They’re just proof that you’re special, that you’re safe.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I needed that.”

  “I think I did too,” he admitted.

  I almost asked him to kiss me.

  But I was afraid of what that kiss would mean.

  Where it would lead.

  I would want more.

  And in five days, he was walking out my front door back to LA, back to his life, back to his fame.

  And I would be left to pick up the pieces.

  So, I got in the car, put on my seatbelt, and told myself that this was a time to get back to me, back to what made me happy, and I wasn’t going to be able to do that imagining coming home to Drew and having dinner.

  Or walking down the aisle, into his arms.

  CHAPTER 13

  Andrew

  I was going to die if she didn’t let me kiss her soon. I figured that the easiest way to drive her crazy with the same need I was struggling with was to find excuses to touch her.

  A light shove here, a little crowding in tight spaces there.

  An “Oh, how silly. Your hair was stuck to your lip-gloss. Let me get it” hair tuck.

  An “Oops, sorry” brush of my hand against hers as we both reach for the salt.

  A “Let me get that door for you and then place my hand on the small of your back, so you feel the heat from my palm and imagine it on your breasts” act of chivalry…

  A shudder rippled through me. My imagination was really starting to get away from me, and she was so damn cute when she ate her fries that I almost threw them in the trash for betraying me and being allowed access to her mouth while I suffered with blue balls and a needy heart.

  “So…” She popped another fry in her mouth. We were at one of my favorite spots right on the boardwalk, eating outside and people-watching. You could almost taste the salt in the air as the light breeze picked up and wrapped around both of us. A cluster of people walked by, followed by a sea of kids on bikes. It was a beautiful day for Seaside, and I was just praying the weather continued to stay like this, so my plan didn’t completely fall through.

  A young waitress with jet black hair and black glasses stopped by and dropped off our food; she gave me a doubletake but thankfully didn’t ask for an autograph and left us in peace.

  Small freaking favors.

  “…what are we going to do today?”

  I grinned. “I’m so glad you asked.”

  Bronte’s eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s terrifying.”

  “What is?”

  “That.” She pointed her fry at me. “That smile on your face that just keeps growing the more I talk.”

  “First of all, my smile’s sexy, not terrifying. Second, I’m supposed to help you let loose, find yourself, love yourself, be free—”

  “I get the picture.” Her right eyebrow arched.

  The second part of my plan was about to unfold. I flipped through her yearbook. “Let me just find it… Oh, there it is…” I cleared my throat. “Bronte, what’s one of your favorite childhood memories?” I smiled. “By the way, you were wearing my face in this picture. I think it was Celebrity Crush Day? Oh, my bad, just a Tuesday—”

  Two fries went flying by my face. “You guys were like the One Direction of my teens, okay? Everyone wore your face!”

  “Wish I could wear your face,” I grumbled and then winked. “Sorry, it slipped.”

  “Can’t take you anywhere.” Hey, at least she was smiling.

  “You would make my entire year if you told me you had the tin lunchbox with the Thermos of Will’s face. He had a zit that day, and they didn’t edit it out very well, so it was obvious. Poor guy was pissed for weeks and even more pissed when they sold out of them. I texted him the picture every Friday just to fuck with him.”

  Bronte broke into laughter. “That’s mean.”

  “Correction, that’s friendship.” My chest
deflated as I realized I hadn’t spoken to him in a few days. Not just that, but things were still awkward. For both of us. It didn’t matter that we’d put aside our differences, or that we were adults now.

  The chasm between us still wouldn’t fix, no matter how much we tried.

  Bronte cleared her throat, bringing me back to the moment.

  “I had the lunchbox,” she whispered quietly.”

  My head shot up as I cupped my right ear. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  She glared. “I had the stupid lunchbox. I mean, I didn’t bring it to school, but…”

  I scooted my chair closer to hers and leaned in. “Talk dirty to me— Do you still have it? Sleep with it under your pillow at night? Tell me you used to daydream about touching one of us…”

  She moved her head closer until we were almost touching. “What makes you think my crush was you?”

  I frowned and looked back at the yearbook then pointed to the picture. “My face. Your boobs. Any questions?”

  I didn’t like the smile she was giving me; it felt sneaky. “I had all the shirts, and that one was gifted to me by one of my friends on my birthday so technically…”

  “Technically, you’re still wearing my face.”

  “Technically, my crush could have been one of the other guys.”

  “By my calculations, it wasn’t Will. You know, because of the zit. I mean, who dates a guy with one zit? He’s basically a monster.”

  She licked her lips, completely distracting me for a minute.

  “And Trevor? Well, he was born a dad. Where’s the fun in that? I mean, not really but, Trevor was always the more serious one. And you say you like serious, but your body says something else completely, so he’s out.” I tapped my finger against her cheek — bonus for me, one more stolen touch. “And let’s be really honest. While Ty’s the clown of the group, he used to fart on his drumsticks because he thought it was funny. That shit made the news. So that leaves… me.”

  “You…” She eyed my mouth for a brief second then glanced up. “…you could be… accurate.”

  “Wanna know a secret, Bronte?”

  “Sure.” She gulped.

  “Had our places been reversed, I would have put your face on my walls too. I would have gone to every concert, sung every word, and I would have most likely written something horrifyingly embarrassing like Mr. Drew Connors on my Trapper Keeper because, even as a teen, I was all about equality, and why not take the woman’s name? It just marks you as hers, doesn’t it?”