After We Fell (16 page)

Glittering blue water meets the shoreline, creating a gorgeous contrast. The grass is brown, though, dead from a harsher-than-normal Washington winter. I can't imagine how beautiful this place must be in the summer.

“Here we are,” Ken says, pulling into a long driveway.

I look toward the front of the car and see a large wooden cabin. Clearly, the Scotts' definition of “small cabin” is very different from mine. The one I'm looking at is two stories tall, made entirely of dark cherrywood, and has a white-trimmed porch wrapping around the ground floor.

“Hardin, wake up.” I run my index finger over his jawline.

His eyes open, and he blinks rapidly, confused for a moment, then he sits up and wipes his eyes with his knuckles.

“Honey, we're here,” Ken says to his wife, and she lifts up her head, followed by her son.

Still a little dazed, Hardin carries our bags inside, where Ken shows him to the room we're staying in. I follow Karen into the kitchen while Landon takes his bags to his room as well.

The cathedral-style ceiling in the living room is repeated in the kitchen on a smaller scale. It takes me a moment to figure out what's so peculiar about this room, but then I see that the kitchen here is a smaller, yet equally elegant version of the Scotts' kitchen at home.

“This place is beautiful,” I say to Karen. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Thank you, dear. It's nice to finally have company in it.” She smiles and opens the refrigerator. “We love having the two of you here. I'd never have thought that Hardin would come along on a family trip. I know it's a short one, but this means the world to Ken,” she says, speaking softly to ensure I'm the only one to hear.

“I'm glad he came along, too, I think he'll enjoy himself.” I say the words hoping that once they're out there in the air, they'll come true.

Karen turns and grabs my hand warmly. “I sure will miss you when you go to Seattle. I haven't had much time with Hardin, but I'll miss him, too.”

“I'll still be around. It's only a couple hours away,” I assure her. And myself, really.

I'm going to miss her and Ken. And I can't even allow my mind to wander into thoughts of Landon's looming departure. Even though I'm leaving for Seattle before he leaves for New York, I'm not ready for him to be so far away. Being in Seattle, I'll still be in the same state at least. But New York is far, so far.

“I hope so. With Landon gone, too, I'm afraid I'll be lost. I've been a mother for nearly twenty years . . .” She begins to tear up. “I'm sorry, I'm just so proud of him.” She dabs at her eyes with her fingers, stopping the tears, and looks around the kitchen, like she'll find a task that will stop this feeling she's having. “Maybe the three of you can run to the store down the road while Ken gets the boat ready.”

“Yeah, of course we can,” I say as the three men enter the room.

Hardin comes up behind me. “I left the bags on the bed for you to unpack. I know I'd do it wrong.”

“Thank you,” I say, grateful that he didn't even try. He likes to shove things haphazardly into dresser drawers, and it drives me mad. “I told Karen we'd go to the store for her while your father gets the boat ready.”

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“You, too.” I turn to Landon, who nods.

“Landon knows where it is; it's just down the road. You can walk or take the car. The keys are hanging by the door,” Ken says as we head out.

The weather is forgiving today, and the sun makes it feel much warmer than it should be this early in the year. The sky is a clear blue. I can hear the waves crashing and smell the salt in the air each time the wind blows. We decide to walk down to the small store at the end of the street, and I'm comfortable in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.

“This place is so nice, it feels like we're in our own world,” I say to Hardin and Landon.

“We
are
in our own world. No one bothers to come to the beach in fucking February,” Hardin comments.

“Well, I think it's nice,” I say, ignoring his attitude.

“Anyway”—Landon looks at Hardin, who is kicking at the rocks as we walk down the gravel road—“Dakota has an audition for a small production this week.”

“Really?” I say. “That's so great!”

“Yeah, she's really excited. I hope she gets the part.”

“Didn't she just start school, though? Why would they give the part to an amateur?” Hardin's voice is calm, wondering.

“Hardin . . .”

“They would give her the part because regardless of her being an amateur or not, she's an excellent dancer and has been studying ballet her entire life,” Landon fires back.

Hardin holds up his hands comically. “Don't get testy, I'm just saying.”

But Landon defends his love. “Well, don't, she's talented, and she's going to get the part.”

Hardin rolls his eyes. “Okay . . . damn.”

“It's nice that you support her.” I smile at Landon in an attempt to break up the tension brewing between him and Hardin.

“I'll always support her, no matter what she does. That's why I'm moving all the way to New York.” Landon looks at Hardin, and Hardin's jaw tenses.

“So this is how this trip is going to be, then? The two of you fucking ganging up on me? Count me fucking out, then. I didn't even want to come on this shit anyway.” Hardin spits.

The three of us stop walking, and Landon and I both turn to Hardin. I'm thinking about how to calm him down, when Landon suddenly says, “Well, then you shouldn't have come. We'd all have a better time without you and your sour attitude anyway.”

My eyes widen at Landon's harsh remark, and I feel the urge to defend Hardin, but I stay quiet. Besides, Landon's right, mostly. Hardin shouldn't make it his goal to ruin our trip by having an attitude for no good reason.

“Excuse me? You're the one with a fucking ‘attitude,' because I said your girlfriend was an amateur.”

“No, you started being a jerk in the car,” Landon says.

“Yeah—because your mum wouldn't stop singing along to every fucking song on the radio and yelling state names”—Hardin's voice rises precipitously—“while I was trying to
enjoy
the
scenery
.”

I step between them as Hardin tries to move toward Landon. Landon takes a deep breath and stares at Hardin, challenging him. “My mom is trying to make sure we all have a nice time!”

“Well, then maybe she should—”

“Stop it, you guys. You can't fight like this the entire time we're here. No one will be able to stand it, so please just stop,” I beg, not wanting to take sides between my best friend and my boyfriend.

They look at each other for a few more tense moments. I nearly laugh at the way they behave like brothers despite the fact that they try so hard not to.

“Okay.” Landon says finally, and sighs.

“Fine,” Hardin huffs.

The rest of our walk is silent, aside from Hardin's boots kicking
at the rocks and Landon's soft humming. The calm after the storm . . . or before it.

Or just between them, I suppose.

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO
wear on the boat?” I ask Landon as we walk up the driveway to the cabin.

“Shorts, I think. It's warm right now, but I'll probably bring a sweatsuit.”

“Oh.” I wish it was warmer so I could wear a swimsuit. I don't even own one, but the idea of shopping for one with Hardin makes me smile.

I can picture him, saying crude and perverted things; he'd probably end up in the dressing room with me.

I don't think I'd stop him.

I need to stop thinking these types of things, especially while Landon is talking about the weather, and I should at least appear to be listening.

“The boat is insane, it's so big,” Landon says.

“Oh . . .” I cringe. Now that we're closer to the boat ride, my nerves are beginning to take over.

Landon and I go into the kitchen to unpack the groceries, and Hardin heads into the bedroom without a word.

Landon looks over his shoulder to where his stepbrother disappeared to. “He's pretty sensitive when it comes to talking about Seattle. He still hasn't agreed to go, has he?”

I look around the room to be sure no one can hear us. “No, not exactly,” I say and chew on my bottom lip in embarrassment.

“I don't get it,” Landon says, looking through the bags. “What's so bad about Seattle that he won't go with you? Does he have some sort of history there?”

“No . . . well, not that I know of . . .” I start to say, but then Hardin's letter comes to mind. I don't remember him mentioning
any hardships he'd gone through in Seattle. Could he have left them out?

I don't think so. And I hope not. I'm not ready for any more surprises.

“Well, there has to be a reason, because he can't even go to the bathroom without you, so I can't imagine him being okay with you moving away without him. I thought he'd do anything to keep you close to him . . .
literally
anything,” Landon says with emphasis.

“Me, too.” I sigh, not knowing why Hardin has to be so stubborn. “And he does go to the bathroom without me. Sometimes,” I joke.

Landon laughs along. “Barely; he probably installed a hidden camera on your shirt to keep track of you.”

“Cameras aren't my thing. I'm more of a tracking-device type of guy.” Hardin's voice makes me jump, and I look over to find him leaning in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Thanks for helping prove my point,” Landon says, but Hardin chuckles, shaking his head. He seems to be in a better mood, thank goodness.

“Where is this boat? I'm bored listening to you two talk shit about me.”

“We weren't, we were joking,” I tell him and walk over to hug him where he's standing.

“It's fine, I do the same when you're not around,” he says in a mocking tone, although I can't help but detect a hint of seriousness behind the words.

D
ock's a little shaky, but sturdy enough. I need to get someone out here to remodel it . . .” Ken muses as we follow him out to the where the boat's moored.

With their backyard leading directly to the water, the view is incredible. The waves crash along the rocks lining the shore, and instinctively I step behind Hardin.

“What's wrong?” he asks quietly.

“Nothing. I'm just a little nervous.”

He turns around to face me, sliding both of his hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “It's only water, baby, it'll be okay.”

He smiles, but I can't tell if he's mocking me or being sincere. It's only when his lips brush my cheek that my doubt disappears.

“I forgot you don't like water.” He pulls me closer.

“I like water . . . in swimming pools.”

“And streams?” His eyes glitter with humor.

I smile at the memory. “Only one stream in particular.”

I was nervous that day, too. Hardin only convinced me to get into the water by bribing me. He had promised to answer one of my endless questions about him in exchange for me getting into the water with him. Those days seem so distant—so ancient, really—but the ongoing theme of secrecy still litters our present.

Hardin takes my hand in his as we follow his family down the dock to the incredibly intimidating vessel waiting at the end. I don't know much about boats, but I think this one may be a giant-sized
pontoon boat. I know it's not a yacht, but it's bigger than any fishing boat I've ever seen.

“It's so big,” I whisper to Hardin.

“Shh, don't talk about my dick in front of my family,” he teases.

I love this playful yet grumpy mood he's in; his smile is contagious. Then the dock creaks beneath my feet, and I squeeze tight against Hardin in panic.

“Watch the step,” Ken calls back to us as he climbs onto the ladder connecting the boat and the dock.

Hardin's hand moves to my back as he helps me up the ladder. I try to force myself to imagine that it's just a small ladder at a playground, not something attached to an enormous boat. The reassurance that comes with Hardin's touch is the only thing keeping me from running back up the shaky dock, into the cabin, and hiding under the bed.

Ken helps us each onto the deck, and once there, I can see how nice the boat is, decorated in white wood and caramel leather. The seating area is large, big enough for all of us and then some to sit comfortably.

When he tries to help Hardin aboard, his son waves him off. When he's fully on the deck, he looks around and says plainly, “It's nice to see that your boat is nicer than Mum's house.”

Ken's proud smile fades.

“Hardin,” I whisper, tugging at his hand.

“Sorry,” he huffs.

Ken sighs but seems to accept his son's apology before walking over to the other side of the boat.

“You okay?” Hardin leans into me.

“Yeah, just be nice, please. I'm already nauseous.”

“I'll be nice. I already apologized.” He takes a seat on one of the lounges, and I join him.

Landon takes the grocery bag and leans down to unpack cans
of soda and bags of snacks. I gaze across the expanse of the boat and out onto the water. It's beautiful, and the sun is dancing across the surface.

“I love you,” Hardin's says softly into my ear.

The boat's engine comes to life with a light hum, and I scoot closer to Hardin. “I love you,” I say back, still looking out onto the water.

“If we get out far enough we may see a few dolphins, or if we're lucky, a whale!” Ken says loudly.

“A whale would surely knock this boat over in no time flat,” Hardin remarks, and I gulp at the thought. “Shit, sorry,” he apologizes.