The Girl of Sand & Fog (41 page)

We stare at each other for a moment. Even from
this distance, I can see his eyes are lush with a smile for me. It happens.
After four months. That flutter in the pit of my stomach when I see him.

He looks good. Fit. Tan. Relaxed. There are more
golden sun-streaks in his hair. He’s been surfing a lot. Crap, he even looks
happy, and after everything that went down, even I’m not conceited enough to
assume it’s only because he’s seeing me.

He just sits there.

Staring at me.

Why doesn’t he move?

I start walking toward him, my heart jumping, and
it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs. I’m moving, but
I’m unaware of anything but him. Everything inside me comes alive all at once,
clicks into place in a way that makes it a shock how much of me has felt
detached and subdued since I left California.

Incomplete.

I stop just short of stepping into the space made
by the V of his legs as he leans against the car.

“Hi,” I whisper. “I wasn’t expecting to find you
here. Or do you pick up all your ex-girlfriends at the airport?”

I mentally kick myself because
not being
obvious
just went out the door with what I let slip into my voice, and
after four months I should have had ready something more neutral, less bitchy
than that to say to him.

He closes his eyes and I wait. Oh no. There is no
way I can bear to have him tell me again we’re over…

When his eyes shoot open, everything in them is
different. The color is darker, intense, and full of emotion and need. It’s
like looking at my own reflection. “No. I don’t pick up my ex-girlfriends at
airports or anywhere else. I’m here because you’re here. Where else would I be,
Kaley?”

He stares into my eyes and I don’t know what to
say.

“Do you want to go somewhere to talk?” he asks.

Talk?

Neither of us move.

He waits, and I swallow hard and nod.

Bobby pushes off the car, moves to the passenger
door, and opens it. It doesn’t escape me that he hasn’t touched me.

I sink down onto the passenger seat, and in a few
seconds we’re going down a street and I don’t even know where to.

He merges into the lane for the Sepulveda Tunnel.
We’re heading toward the coast. Maybe his house?

Once we’re out of the underground section of
road, I tilt my face back toward the sun and close my eyes. “So how’s it been
in the ’Sades?”

I hear him shift gears. “Quiet since graduation.
Before graduation not so quiet.”

Nope, no need to ask him to explain that one.

I’m sure I was the fast moving gossip at PP
Academy.

Make a public spectacle of yourself on YouTube.

Then drop out of high school before graduation.

Become an Internet sensation.

Get dumped by the hottest guy on campus.

What’s not to talk about?

“So how was being on tour with Alan?”

Make-do conversation. Impersonal. Safe.

I hate it.

There’s so much in my head and heart screaming to
get out. I shrug. “Interesting. Good actually. Learned a lot about my dad I
didn’t know before. We got sort of close. Or maybe I should say we made a good
start at getting close.”

Bobby’s eyes are serious. “I’m glad something
good came out of this.”

This?

Which this?

Fuck, I hope he doesn’t mean us breaking up.

“My dad seems happy. My parents seem like they’re
in a good place together.”

“How about you?”

I’m miserable, Bobby. I miss you.
“I’m
OK.”

“Did you meet anyone? Hang out with anyone?”

A jolt shoots through my body even though Bobby’s
voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. I turn my head to face him and
open my eyes. “No. Have you?”

“No. Haven’t really been hanging out with anyone
since graduation. Not even our old crowd. I’ve just been keeping to myself.”

He turns onto Highway 1.

His jaw flexes.

“Who was that at the airport?”

Bobby’s eyes fix on me then shift back to the
road. Jealousy. He’s not even trying to hide it. My mood soars.

“Graham Carson.”

I purposely don’t explain; I wait for him to ask,
but he doesn’t.

Crap, that was lame.

A Zoe kind of ploy.

Beneath me.

We never play these kind of games with each
other.

I manage a small smile. “Graham was my bodyguard.
Went everywhere with me. My dad thought I needed security on tour. Stupid,
huh?”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at me. “Not
stupid. Not with where you were traveling and definitely not with how
recognizable your face became after that video and all the press. Thank God all
that bullshit is finally dying down. Maybe things will start getting back to
normal again here for you.”

There is something in his voice; I don’t know
what to make of it.

He flicks the signal and turns down a short road
that dead-ends at the shoreline in Manhattan Beach. He hits a button. A
ground-level garage door opens on a narrow three-story glass and concrete
house.

We pull in, park, and Bobby comes around to open
my door. He gestures me forward through a heavy fire door leading to a flight
of stairs.

At the top step I pause. The house is small,
California casual and trendy, and it looks over the ocean. I cross to the far
side and stare out the glass of the patio doors.

Right on the water.

A handful of steps from the ocean.

Maybe he’s been training—competitive surf
competitions? Is that what he’s planning instead of college?

Four months without contact; I don’t have a clue
what’s going on in Bobby’s mind and life anymore, and before I left I knew
everything…
at least I thought I knew everything.

This place surprises me.

I turn to find him standing across the room from
me, watching. “Whose house is this?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a rental. After graduation
I needed a change. Someplace to be alone for a while. The lease is up next
month.”

My brows shoot up. “What are you going to do
then? Move back home?”

He sinks down on a chair. “No. Not that.” Shit. A
feeling of dread contracts my stomach. I don’t like the sound of that. “I
can’t. I would have moved out when I turned eighteen if Linda hadn’t asked me
to stay through graduation.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

His expression only feeds my worst fear.

Bobby lets out a huge breath. “Listen, Kaley—”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

I can hear him speaking, but the words, their
meanings, are lost in my fast rising panic. He’s going to say goodbye to me
again…

I rush across the room, sinking down on my knees
in the space between his legs, stopping his words with the press of my hands.
“Please, stop. Don’t say whatever you think you have to tell me yet. Not yet.
Let me say what I need to say first. My dad told me I shouldn’t rush after you.
Hang back, see how it goes. Even Graham told me I should play it cool. Not be
obvious. But I don’t care. I am
obvious
with you. I always have been. I
love you, Bobby. And I can’t take another moment not knowing if you still love
me.”

His eyes go wide. “Still? I never stopped loving
you, Kaley. You’re all I think about. I love you. That’s never going to
change.”

My breathing quickens as everything starts to hit
me—being home, being with Bobby, the words he was about to say, the words in my
head I haven’t yet said, and the feelings in my heart—and my body is screaming
fuck
the smart move.

I don’t have to play it safe.

I don’t have to hold back.

Not with Bobby.

I can’t wait a second longer to touch him. I lean
in, kissing him with everything in me. My mouth moves, urgent and demanding,
against his, and I can feel his pulse going faster and faster. He’s matching my
kiss, moving with me.

Why doesn’t he take me in his arms?

If he doesn’t touch me soon…

I break the kiss and stare up at him.

He cups my face with his palms. “I love you,
Kaley. But we need to talk first.”

His voice is breathy. Ragged. Intense.

His words make me feel like crying. He’s such a
good guy. Never unfair. But I don’t want what comes next for us, not if it’s
not good. Oh no, not yet.

Tears sting my eyes.

Damn.

I don’t want him to see them.
I wrap
my arms around his neck and tuck my face against his shoulder.

“I’ll listen to everything you want to tell to
me. Later. Just not now.”

“Kaley—” He groans and it sounds like he’s in
physical pain. “Don’t think I don’t want to, but —”

I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in
my life.
Even if we’re over after we talk, even if all I get of him is
this
—him making love to me one last time—I want it.

I start kissing his neck, nipping and touching my
tongue to all the spots I know get him crazy. My hand moves to his nape,
dragging him back to my mouth, as my other hand slides down his torso to cover
the glorious hardness in his jeans.

“It doesn’t matter what happens after we talk,” I
whisper.
“I won’t make it through today without being with you. Make
love to me, Bobby.”

I can feel he’s struggling against me, but he
starts touching and kissing me back. “We should talk first.”

“I don’t want to.”

I ease back so he can see my face and his eyes
start to shimmer in response. In a flash I’m scooped up from the floor, and we
start moving down a hallway, his lips trailing across my face as I’m lowered to
the bed.

He covers me with his body and we are kissing and
touching in the way two people who love and haven’t been together in too long
do—as if we can’t feel or taste or get close enough to each other.

We pull off our clothes in a hurry and it still
doesn’t feel fast enough. Not by a long shot.

I mold my body into him, feeding the starvation
of my pulsing sex, brushing against his erection as I struggle to match the
heated thrust of his tongue and the force of his kisses.

I hear the rip of a foil square and my eyes open
to see him sheathing himself. I feel him searching at my entrance with his cock
and fingers, and, without delay, he plunges into me.

A hoarse moan—need and relief—escapes with my
rapid breaths as my body tightens around him. He needs to be in me. I need to
have him in me. After four months our hearts and bodies are in sync without
effort, the need to feel complete by being together beyond any other need in
both of us.

My body races to match his thrusts. He is moving
in me as if he can’t get deep enough. I arch my back as I lift my pelvis into
him. I tense, everything heating and coursing through me at once.

I love him.

He still loves me.

Whatever there is left for us to get through,
everything is going to be OK.

I can feel it.

For the first time in too long, I am complete.

CHAPTER 32

I
lie with my cheek on Bobby’s chest, passion-damp and physically drained, my
limbs pressed closed to his, savoring the feel of his fingers lightly brushing
my flesh.

The hours have passed like it was our first time
together in Santa Cruz. Intense, fiery sex. Total emotional and physical
connection. Glorious climaxes. Complete contentment. Breathe. Breathe. Then it
all starts back up again, as if we’re so hungry for each other, no matter how
often we’re together, it’s never enough.

Us.

From the first touch.

Even still today.

I open my eyes and stare out at the balcony
beyond the bedroom. It’s dark. I’m not sure what time it is. I don’t care.

The way we’re clinging to each other makes me
anxious about what comes next and I can tell that Bobby is holding back the
things he wants to tell me as if he’s not ready to go there either yet.

Maybe he’s debating if he should.

Or still wants to.

I’m not sure which.

I lift my chin and study his face. It doesn’t
matter either way. There isn’t a chance I’m letting him go ever again.

I meet his gaze squarely. “You want to talk.
Let’s talk.”

His arms tighten around me.

His lips touch my hair.

He lies back, eyes closed, and for a few seconds
I’m in agony as I wait. “I love you, Kaley.” There is an edge to his
voice—regret?—as if his feelings for me are warring with something he’s not
sure he still wants.

“I love you, too.”

He lifts his lids and his pupils are dilated,
filled with tenderness, want, and—yep—uncertainty.

“I only stayed in Southern California after
graduation because of you. I couldn’t leave without talking to you first.
Without seeing what was still possible between us.”

“Everything is still possible between us.”

“When the lease is up on this place, I’m leaving.
I don’t know for how long or where I’m going or even if I’ll ever come back.”

My insides go cold as my heart thumps against my
breasts so rapidly it’s painful. “Leaving? You can’t go. Not now. We’re
together. Stay—”

The look in Bobby’s eyes kills my words.

His smile is a touch sad. “I can’t, Kaley. I need
to do this now or I will never do it. I’m going to head out on the road. No
destination. Travel from city to city. See things. Experience things. Try to
figure out if anything out there feels right to me.”

No, no, no.

He can’t leave.

I roll off him and sit up. “I don’t know how you
can think that’s more important than us.”

He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly. “I
don’t know who I am, Kaley. Not really. I want to take off and see if something
out there connects with me. Feels the way it should. Like a part of me that’s
been missing that I haven’t known yet.”

He pauses for a moment as if he can see I need to
catch up with what he’s saying. “I need to figure out who I am. You’ve only
just started working through who you are. You still don’t know what having the
truth about your dad means to you. And what it’s going to mean to your life.”

I brush at my tears. “I can’t believe you’re
ending us again.”

His eyes widen as his gaze bores into me. “Ending
us? That’s not what I’m saying. I stayed for you because I want you to come
with me. I want us to figure all this out together. You and me. Like it’s been
this year. The best year of my life. Like it should be always for the rest of
our lives.”

With him?

Like that?

Just leave Pacific Palisades, our friends, our
families, everything we know and everything familiar?

“You want me to come with you?” My mind is
spinning. “How would we live? What would we do?”

He pulls me tightly against his chest. His arms
are quivering and everything rushing inside him pulses beneath me.

He buries his lips in my hair. “It’s not like
we’re broke, Kaley. I have money and so do you. We’ll live how we want. Do what
we want. Stop where we want. You can film your documentaries. I bet there are
hundreds of interesting films out there waiting for you. You can blog about
whatever you want. And I can try to see if something out there connects with
me.”

Connects with me?

Instant comprehension.

We are so alike.

Mismatched pieces.

In some ways perfectly matched.

In the important ways perfectly matched.

He leans in, brushing my lower lip with his
before he kisses me. “Come with me, Kaley. You’re the only part of my life I
can’t leave behind. The only piece of me that feels right. Take off with me. Be
with me. Us. Loving each other, through anything.”

I want to say yes. It’s crazy how quickly the
impulse in me to say
yes
screams from my core.

His mouth closes over mine, and we are kissing
hot and hungry and needy again despite having spent all afternoon making love.

By the time he pulls back, I know what I’m going
to do.

I press my cheek against his chest.

His arms tighten around me.

I peek up at him. “Are you really asking me to
run away with you, Bobby?”

He flushes at my wording, but his smile grows
larger. “I guess I am. Will you run away with me, Kaley Stanton?”

Shaking my head, I sink back against his chest.

This is crazy.

But it makes sense.

Definitely better sense than how I resolved my
issues with my father.

“This is nuts. Do you know that? And I shouldn’t
even consider it—I’m enrolled in USC film school for this fall and I’ve worked
damn hard to get there—but I’m seriously thinking about it. Do you want to know
why? It’s not just because I love you. It’s exactly something my Grandpa Jack would
say or do or encourage. He always says the best thing a person can do is get
lost for a while. Let it all go. That sometimes it’s the only way you can find
yourself.”

When Bobby pulls back there’s a sheepish grin on
his face. “Who do you think I’ve been hanging out with and talking to the last
four months while you were away? Working through things with? Getting advice
from?”

Oh no.

It can’t be.

“Grandpa Jack?”

“I spent a lot of time surfing in Santa Barbara
while you were away, Kaley. Had a lot of long chats sitting on a board out in
the ocean with Jack.”

My eyes grow large. “You have?”

With his thumbs he brushes the corners of my
lips. “I missed you so much, baby. Spending time with your grandfather was the
closest thing I could get to spending time with you. You may look like your
dad, but in here”—he taps the spot above my heart—“you are your grandfather.”

That was kind of sweet.

Still—

He did dump me four months ago.

Shit, am I really considering taking off with him
on our first day back together?

I need to slow this down.

Think.

I crinkle my nose. “Grandpa Jack is the closest
you could find to me?”

Bobby’s eyes shimmer. “You’re pretty much all we
talked about. I needed to talk to someone. So much had happened. I love you so
much. It was my mom’s idea. Jack is a good listener.”

My brow crinkles. “You know, you could have just
choked down your pride, hopped a plane, and joined the tour if you missed me.”

“No. I couldn’t.”

My temper flares. “Why not? Was being right more
important than being with me?”

He rolls his eyes, exasperated.

“You could have come to me, Bobby,” I repeat
stubbornly.

He leans in until his forehead is resting against
mine. “No. I couldn’t. And it didn’t have a thing to do with pride or being
right. Your dad threatened to kick the shit out of me if I didn’t stay away for
the entire four months. I’m almost positive I can take him, but to be honest I
didn’t want to because I knew he was right when he asked me to do that.”

What the fuck?

I pull back from him, staring in disbelief. “What
are you talking about? You stayed behind because my dad asked you to?”

He nods. “Yep. He showed up at my house the night
before he left California with you. He asked that I stay behind, not go on tour
with my family, and I respected him for it and so should you. He wanted some
time alone with his girl without interference to work on his relationship with
you. I had to respect that. Give it to him. Even if you were pissed, didn’t
understand, and mistakenly thought I’d broken up with you.”

What?

My emotions explode in a leveling array.

“
Mistakenly?
” I counter heatedly. “You did
break up with me. I remember every word you said the night before I left. You
broke my heart. Do you think a girl gets something like that wrong?”

He gives me a contrite expression. “I pretended
to break up with you. I didn’t want you skipping out on your dad and coming
home to be with me—”

My cheeks burn red. Jeez, why are all guys, even
the good ones, totally conceited jerks at times? “As if,” I taunt, grimacing.

“You needed to work through things with your dad.
And you have. Now it’s time to work on us.”

“I should be pissed at you. That was a mean thing
to do, Bobby. Not to explain. To let me think we’d broken up four months ago.”

His lips make a slight curl downward. “It was the
hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Letting go, not telling you why so you
wouldn’t get more pissed at your dad, and letting you be where you needed to be
without me. I love you, Kaley. If that doesn’t prove it, nothing ever will.”

We stare into each other’s eyes.

“This is crazy, Bobby. One minute you’re dumping
me; the next asking me to run away from home with you.”

“Not crazy at all. And I’m not asking you to run
away with me. I’m asking you to get lost with me.” His hands close on my
cheeks, holding my face with his palms as his intense green eyes claim me
lovingly. “Get lost with me, Kaley Stanton. I want to spend the rest of my life
lost with you.”