Always In: The Shore Series Book 2 (10 page)

Oh, well.

"So what school did you get into and where's the job?"

My answer? Frozen beneath my rough exterior because silence speaks louder than words. Not that I’m afraid to tell him...well, actually, yea I am. A bit.

"Cruz?" My name is spoken in an accusatory tone. But I haven't even been accused of anything yet.

Wait for it...

"Cruz!" My name is spoken in harshness.

"North Ridge, okay? In North Ridge. For the job I turned down before Harlow got in the accident. I went to them, told them the situation and they put me on as part time for now. I got lucky and I’m grateful ’cause luck hasn't been on my side lately."

"Jesus Christ, Cruz! What the hell are you thinking? It has nothing to do with luck."

It kind of does. I let that job go a long time ago for fear that
granny
would somehow destroy my chances of being happy and to start a life with Harlow. That's why I did what I did. I literally begged the North Ridge Police Department, pleaded a case that goes beyond traditional begging. I was so desperate I would have gotten on my knees and sucked the Captain's dick to get the job I turned down.

Not really, but maybe a hand job.

"Craw, you are in Princeton and I’m in Sandy Cove. Alone. Want to know what that's like to just text you to find out how she is, or get an e-mail from Willow about how she's taking it day by day? It fucking sucks. I’m in a constant state of anxiety, she's all I think about, and I need to do something ’cause I’m going out of my mind here."

I made so many wrong choices and I just need to make good on the ones I made bad. In all the wars I have fought in, and in all the pain I have seen, it doesn't compare to the pain of living without her.

"Cruz, I understand, I do, but Harlow needs space, she needs time. You working a town away from where she lives doesn't help with that. It makes it worse. I...I just don't know what you're thinking."

"I’m thinking about your sister, Craw. I’m thinking how it's my fault she's not with me. I’m thinking of how it all could have been different."

I hear a click and I know he's lightening a cigarette. I hear him let out the smoke in an overdrawn exhale.

"How many times do I, or my parents, or our friends, have to tell you that it's not your fault? It's no one's fault."

"I have to get her back, Craw. I can't live without her."

"And you think that getting a job near her where you can run into her at any time is going to get her back? You think you seeing her on the street and talking to her is going to make her remember?"

There's more to it, Craw.

"I’ve done my homework, Craw."

"Homework?"

"Retrograde Amnesia. That's what she has and I know what it's going to take to help her remember."

He chuckles and it's cocky, but I let it slide because he knows I’m grasping at straws here.

"Yes, I know what she has, and I know certain things can trigger her memories, but do you think you in a cop uniform will make her remember? In all honesty, and I know she's my sister, but she saw you
out
of that cop uniform more than in it."

"Watch it," I bark at him.

"You know what I mean. And school? Guess it doesn't take a genius to figure out that it's around here."

"Yea, it is. It's in Ryland. A small college."

"Of course. Ryland. Ha, it's practically on her doorstep. Jesus, man. I know you love her and want what's best for her, but this is not the path to take. It has to happen naturally."

As far as I know Craw has never been in love so he has no clue what this is like. Hell, up until a year ago I didn't even know. My newly found knowledge of love has changed all that.

"Oh, fuck the paths, Craw. Every path I take is the wrong one except for her. She was the only right path I took. The only path that led me to where I now know I’m supposed to be, who I’m supposed to be. With her. I’m supposed to be with her."

"I get it, Cruz."

He doesn't.

"No, Craw, you don't. You have no idea what it's like to be in my situation. I want her to be happy, I want to be happy and the only way I will be happy is if she's with me. I have no choice."

"Kinda." My voice almost sounding like a child.

"Kinda?"

"Yea, but that's where you come in, my friend."

***

So after a lot of convincing and what I’m sure was a whole pack of cigarettes smoked on Craw's end from nerves, I do in fact convince him. I convince him to let me live with him from now till May. I'll pay my half of the bills and I'll sleep on the damn sofa. I could care less. The plan is in place. Craw's not crazy about it, he tells me he'll have a lot of explaining to do once my Turnip finds out, but Craw's a loyal guy and he didn't forget what I did while Harlow was in the coma. Not that it would warrant a "you owe me" sort of thing. That's not how I roll. No one owes me. I did what I did because I loved her, still love her. It took me years and years to figure out that I did need love in my life. Not the kind I get from Antonio and Bella, but the true, honest, earth-shaking, toe-curling, can't-go-a-day-without-touching-you-and-holding-you kind of love. The one you can't live without. Picturing her not in my life is not an option. That's why my plan has to work.

My body was once my outlet for feeling things on the outside. The dozens and dozens of women I have had in my bed didn't make it count on the inside. All the feelings that sex brings, they matter to a certain extent. With sex, you feel euphoric when you come, but when you're in love, I mean when you are
REALLY
in love, that euphoria stays with you and not right after you shoot your load. Day in, and day out. Sex is sex, love is love. When the two get together, it can be explosive. That’s how it was. We just did it a little backwards. I fell in love with her and it wasn't because of the sex. The first time we were together, yea explosive. Crazy explosive, but that's not why I fell in love with her. I fell in love with her because she made me a big, huge pussy. I explained to her when I told her how I felt that I wasn't the mushy-gooshy type. I wasn't a romantic. Well that particular plan went down the shitter. She created a monster. A lovey-dovey, Christmas-light-hanging, old-movie-watching pussy.

I’m not complaining. It's the way it is...or was.

Saying goodbye to Bella, Tony and the baby was hard. I'll come back for Christmas and when I’m not working, I'll visit. I'll miss Matteo the most. God, for someone who didn't want kids, that little bastard has me wrapped around his finger. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately, kids. I'd want that with Harlow. If it means going to the ends of the earth to adopt one with her because she can't physically have one, I'd do it. If that's what she wanted. If it's not, just spending the rest of my life with only her will be plenty for me.

My classes started a few weeks ago. I'll be a little behind but I'll catch up. My job starts next week so I have time to adjust to living in North Ridge, which is where Craw lives. I won't see much of him since he'll be student teaching. Oh, and he'll be doing it at Harlow's school, Grayson-Elders. Lucky him. He gets to see her every day. Part of the deal I made with Craw was to keep my distance from Harlow. At least for a little while. So I guess stalking is out. I agreed. I’m not sure I'll keep up with my end of the bargain though, but I'll try out of respect for him. I know sooner than later I'll be like my crack-head mom and need my fix, but I have to keep this cool, keeping the plan in place. I’ve organized platoons and surprise attacks on enemy lines. A surprise attack is not what I have in mind. Subtlety is what I have spinning around in this fucked-up mind of mine. Baby steps. Tiny, little baby steps.

Craw's not sure how she's going to react to me living there but she'll have to get used to it. I’m not letting her go without some kind of fight.

CHAPTER 7

Getting To Know You

"Willow, I can't wear this, or this, or that." I rummage through my closet, pulling out every article of clothing that I could wear, I should wear, and I don't really want to wear. Willow sits on my bed, flipping through a
Cosmo
and paying no attention to anything I’m doing. She allows me to go on and on and on. My clothes scattered all over the floor, my hair all over the place, and I swear my deodorant has stopped working completely.

"How can you just sit there and read a magazine, Willow, when I’m in a fashion crisis here? I need your help so get up off your ass and get in this closet with me!"

Yes, I’m yelling, yes, I’m acting childish, but with good reason.

Willow doesn't take her eyes off the magazine, but addresses me. Her tone soft and easy, "I’m not helping you with a thing. You're a big girl, Harlow Jeanne. You'll figure it out."

I wing a flip-flop at her and knock the magazine out of her hands.

"Hey, what's your deal? You could have hit my freaking face!"

Placing my hands on my hips and blowing many a stray hair away from my face, I tell her, "Well then I would have made an improvement to it." The flip-flop flies at my head and I duck just in time.

"Why are you being like this? You are supposed to be helping me, Willow. I hate all these clothes. I can't even remember buying them. They just aren't me. Who let me buy them anyway?"

Willow gets off the bed in a huff.

Tough shit.

She goes into the closet, pushing me aside. Her hands inspect each item, then slides across the closet pole, not satisfied with what she's seeing. She grunts, moans, and shakes her head.

"There's no way you are getting laid with any of the clothes in this closet."

"Dear God, Willow, I have no plans for that. That's not what this is. We are going out for ice cream. I wouldn't be surprised if he's bringing his son."

She peers over her shoulder at me.

"He's not bringing the kid."

I don't know this for sure, but I’m assuming he is.

"It's not a date, Willow. He's a co-worker. He's new to America, to Princeton. It's...it's not a date."

She pulls out a black cardigan, wrinkles up her nose and tosses it with the other stuff on the floor. Her eyes tell me she thinks something totally different.

"It's a frickin’ date. I mean really, let's see. How long has it been?" She begins to count on her fingers.

"Um, okay, New Year’s. That's the last time you kissed anyone, got some man meat, or rubbed up against something nude other than soaping up your own boobs in the shower."

She's so gross.

I’m sort of feeling a bit melancholy about the whole thing. Is this or isn't this a date of sorts? Something inside is making me second-guess my decision. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. Maybe it is too soon for me to go out with Daniel. I’m working really hard on getting my life back together and I’m just not sure a guy fits into that right now. I still think about the pain that Cruz is in. Yes. I think about Cruz. Even though I can't remember our relationship, I think about how he is doing and I know he could be better. I know Craw talks to him and he fills him in on my progress. It's going to take Cruz time. But I do remember what he said about he'd rather have me in his life as a friend than not at all. I’m good with that. I can't even imagine what it was like for him and what it's like for him now. I’m not sure if it’s guilt that is making me feel this way. I’m not sure of a lot these days.

"Wills? Do you think it's too soon? I mean to go out with Daniel?"

Quickly and without thought she answers, "No."

"Do you think I shouldn't think too much of this? I mean, it's just ice cream, right?"

While her face is buried in the closet she speaks to me, "My hope for you, darling, is that by midnight that ice cream you are supposedly going to get tonight winds up all over your body and that a hot British, single man licks it off of you."

She drives me crazy and wants me to have a romp fest with someone I don't even really know.

Wait...never mind. I’ve done that.

I ignore what she says. It's the way Willow is. Blunt, forceful, full of energy, and always by my side. Always
on
my side.

"I just don't know how I bought clothes like this. Did my style change when I was in the coma?"

Willow takes her hands and places them on my shoulders and looks me dead in the eyes.

"A lot about you has changed but for the better, sweetheart." She winks at me and turns back into my closet.

I’m wondering what that means. She’s so engrossed in my wardrobe that I’ll ask later.

"Now let's see what we can find something in here so we can get you laid before your hymen grows back."

***

I never remember being this nervous before. I don't want to tell my family I’m going out on a “date”, or whatever you call it. I don't really know how I’m going to get through this dinner with them. They know me, and they will see right through me.

When I walk into Greta's I’m already getting surprised looks from everyone. See what I mean? Plus I’m only sporting one crutch tonight.

"What's everyone looking at?" My parents, Craw, and Greta's husband, Jeff, stare at me like they've never seen me before, like I’m the bearded lady with three eyes at the carnival.

Mom shakes her head to release herself from her trance.

"Oh, nothing, sweetie. You just look...absolutely amazing."

Willow worked her magic on me. For some reason I wanted her to do my makeup. I wanted more on my face than usual. Nothing heavy, but a little more drama to my eyes. I’m still questioning why, but I just felt like I wanted something a little more daring and this dress I’m wearing, it's Willow's. We went to her house after nothing in my closet was acceptable. Not like I’ve never worn a dress before. And yes, it's a little shorter than the things I have been wearing lately. I’ve been choosing to wear the longer skirts and dresses because of the scars on my legs but Willow tells me that I should embrace them because they are my battle scars. It shows that I won my battle.

At least I’m trying to win it. I know I still have a long way to go, with lots of things.

My dad comes over after moments of awkward silence. He kisses me on top of my head and takes the potato salad out of my hands.