Always In: The Shore Series Book 2 (5 page)

"He stayed by you for the better part of six weeks. He slept in a chair by your bed, showered when your doctors assessed you, read to you and talked to you. He never left. Never."

"Never?" I ask.

"Never, ever. He lost his job ’cause he refused to leave. At first, Mom and Dad tried to convince him to just visit, but he was afraid if he was away from you, you’d open your eyes and he wouldn’t have had the chance to tell you he loved you. After that, they knew he wasn't going anywhere."

"And then I woke up."

Craw nods and I know what happened after that.

I pull my hands away from Craw's, burying them in my lap. Tears fill my eyes and I think about his sadness. I wish this damn brain of mine would just remember, then he wouldn't be suffering.

Perhaps then I wouldn’t feel this overwhelming guilt. I hate that I am causing this man to hurt so badly. I wish I could take that hurt away. Why do my friends ask how I’m feeling? I simply can’t respond. The words don't come out and it’s not because I have none. I have a million words I could say right now, but
their
words do not change how
I
feel. Why did this happen to me? Did I deserve this? I don't remember us together. I don't remember being in love. I don't remember a fucking thing. Pieces of my memory are missing and some things I can grasp. I can actually deal with not remembering them. But loving someone the way I loved him? I should remember. I should be able to recognize what my mind and my heart felt for him, but I don't. It's almost as though it was wiped away. All the time we spent together vanished. It didn't exist.

That's why their words don't change the way I feel. Unfortunately, all I feel is sorry that Cruz is going through what he's going through. My heart, it's not cold, but it doesn't feel love for him, or the love I felt for him. Right now it's just empty. I know I need to tell him thank you and maybe the slate that was wiped away can regain some of its uses, and the friendship we once had can be remedied.

***

I forgot how much I love being in Sandy Cove. It's such a quaint seaside town. It's full of nice shops, excellent restaurants, and beautiful sunsets. Laying here on this beach relaxes me. I’m still a bit embarrassed that Craw and Porter had to carry me down onto it. Sand and crutches really don't go hand in hand. It's difficult to maneuver myself on them when the ground beneath me is so unsteady. Hell, I’m still unsteady.

Last night was still fun even after my little breakdown after learning of all the things Cruz did and went through for me before and after I woke up.

I couldn't dance like I love to do so I sat and rocked along to the music that was playing. I had a few drinks but I can't really drink a lot. The headaches I get often really don't get along well with alcohol.

It was great being with everyone again. Something is definitely up with Thea and Porter. They danced an awful lot together last night. Close, too. Thea's really guarded with things sometimes, not really opening up to us about her crushes or guys she likes. I’ve seen her hook up but that's about it. She's never had a serious boyfriend nor do I think she wants one. I get the sneaky suspicion that there's some kind of attraction there between the two of them. It would be nice, but for now I'll sit back and watch for anything to unfold, if it ever does.

I sit up and take off my sunglasses rubbing my legs because they are aching. I have to keep them covered from the direct sun because of the skin graphs. Craw sees me doing this and rushes over to me.

"Oh God, are you in pain? Want to go back to the house? Porter, let's get her back. Max, grab her stuff."

I swat his hand away as he tries to get me to stand.

"Christ, Craw, I’m fine. They ache every day. Today's no different."

I snap and I don't mean to. He looks to me somberly.

"Craw, I’m sorry. I’m just tired. I didn't sleep well last night. I kept thinking about the things you all told me about Cruz. I’m worried about him."

Willow throws the Cosmo she was reading down onto the sand. "Damn it, I knew we shouldn't have said anything to her."

"No, Wills, you're wrong. I’m glad you told me. I knew a little but not as much as you told me. I asked for it. I insisted. But now it's time for me to make things right between us. I want the guys to set up a meeting between the two of us. Cruz and me. I’m leaving tonight and I won't be back in Sandy Cove for a while and this is just something that I need to do. I need to talk to him and thank him."

Porter and Max look flustered, not knowing if this is a good idea, but I could care less what they think. If they don't set this up, I'll take matters into my own hands.

When I give them “the look” their faces change and they know I mean business.

This needs to be resolved. This needs to happen. Cruz needs to know how thankful I am for all he did for me, and I need to acknowledge what he did from the heart, even if my brain doesn't remember.

***

I sit here outside of this little cafe sipping a chai tea. The sun is shining and it's a perfect beach day. Too bad I’m headed home in a few hours. I know this has to be done though. I know I need to talk with Cruz. It's not that I’m nervous, but a small part of me is feeling anxious. It’s so hard to process that at one time this man meant so much to me, yet I recall nothing. I didn't want everyone telling me details of our relationship, but when I got Cruz's letters, at that time, it was all I needed to know. I haven't seen him since the day he came in to give me one of his letters after I had woken up. It was a brief encounter. He just handed me the letter and told me to get better. That was it. And I was left with such mixed emotions. I had no point of reference to know what to feel about his letter or his departure. I just knew as I watched him walk out the door, that he was hurting, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. To some degree, I still feel the same way. But, I feel I have to try. Somehow.

The sun’s warmth on my face feels good. I turn up to look at the rays streaming on my face and I shut my eyes, the brightness still felt through my eyelids. When I open them I need to readjust my eyes to see, and that's when I see him walking down the street.

Baseball cap sitting low on his head, sunglasses, hands in his pockets. The way he walks is different than I remembered, but I know it's him. It's sort of slow and as he raises his head to catch my glance, he pulls out one of his hands out of his pockets to give me a small wave. When he reaches the table, I push myself up, still unsteady, but I manage to stand up. He immediately rushes to my side of the table to help me. When I get a steady hold of myself, I motion for him to sit. He makes his way to the other side of the table, keeping his head down. I plop down in my seat. Sitting back down is much easier than getting up sometimes.

"Hi," I say softly. He stands there until he knows I’m seated.

"Hey, Harlow. It's good to see you." His voice is soft and monotone.

"Yea, it's good to see you, too. Please, sit." He does reluctantly, shuffling his feet until he finally drops into a chair. He's much, much thinner than I remember. His facial hair is stubbly. His lips look dry and cracked. No, no this is not how I remembered him.

I ask him, "Do you want something from the coffee bar?"

"What are you having?" he asks.

"Chai tea."

He laughs and shakes his head.

"Chai tea?"

I smile at him. "What's so funny about chai tea?"

He grabs my cup and smells the contents and makes a funny face like he just smelled a pile of dog shit.

"There's no way in hell you would've drunk that stuff. You were a coffee girl through and through. We drank it all the time together out on the dock." Right after he says it, he appears to have regretted it. He puts down the cup and I look at it. Thoughts of how Craw bringing me a cup of coffee in the hospital once I could eat and drink on my own, remind me of the one sip I took which made me want to vomit. Since that time, I haven't had a cup. I can't do it. Craw says my blood was full of coffee at one time. Just something else in the long line of things I can't remember.

"I’m sorry. I didn't mean...."

I reach across and touch his hand. He pulls it away like my fingers were hot coals touching his skin. He rubs his hands on his pants. This may be harder than I thought.

"I...um, I wanted to see you because I wanted to apologize for our friends taking it upon themselves to blacklist you from me. They don't mean to, they're just trying to protect me."

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably and takes off his sunglasses and rubs his eyes. I watch carefully. His eyes look different. There are dark circles beneath them. The light is gone from them. That confidence I do remember when it came to him and his one-night stands with women.

"It's okay. I know what they're trying to do. They care about you and want what's best for you."

I know this and I want him to know that it's not necessary to keep him away.

"I don't want that, though. We were friends. I remember that. Believe me when I tell you that I don't want to lose you as a friend. I know that there's more to our story, but I’ve lost so much already and I'd hate to lose your friendship." Our eyes meet briefly and he sticks his sunglasses back on, fumbling quickly to do so.

He breathes in deeply and seems to struggle with what he wants to say next.

"There's really no more story to tell, Harlow. I don't want to lose our friendship either. I'll admit, at first it was hard for me to come here, but now that I see you, I can tell you're doing great. You look great. I’m happy that you are doing better. I’m doing better, too."

I know he's lying because he can't look at me directly. His focus, when he talks, is on the people walking the sidewalk in front of us. I think no matter what I say, I won’t make it any better, but I have to get my point across.

"Cruz, things are different and I wish they weren't. I wish with my whole heart I could remember what happened between us, I really do. I try all the time to remember but I just don't."

He breathes in sharply as though I just twisted a knife deeper into him. He grips the edge of the table, looks out onto the sidewalk. I try to control my emotions and tell him something I've wanted to say for a long time.

"I wanted to say thank you for being there all those weeks in the hospital. Everyone filled me in. That's why I wanted us to meet. They said you lost your job because of me. I’m sorry about that and I’m sorry I wasn't aware of it.”

He sighs, then smiles at me warmly.

"You don't have to thank me. It was my job. See the problem is though, Har, is that I am aware of it. That it all happened. I remember. " His bottom lip quivers and my heart sinks.

"You being here, sitting across from me, it's hard. You think of me as a friend and it went much, much deeper than that. But um...I think I'll be okay ’cause I know you'll be okay. You still seeing Dr. Goldberg?"

I’m surprised he knows about Dr. Goldberg. Then I remember that Dr. Goldberg came a few times to visit me in hospital when I was in the coma and Cruz was there.

"Oh, I forgot you met Dr. Goldberg. Yes, I do see him a few days a week. Therapy is helping, like it did before."

He claps his hands together on top of the table, and I can see his knee bouncing up and down from under it.

"That's...that's good, Tur...I mean, Harlow."

I smile at him remembering that in the letters he called me his nickname for me, Turnip.

I hadn't remembered that. The letters reminded me, but didn't spark any sort of recognition. Frustrated, I change the subject quickly.

"I’m going back to work this week." He looks surprised.

"You sure you're ready for that? I don't mean any disrespect by asking."

I shrug. "I don't take offense. I need to move onward and upward. I love teaching and I can't just sit in my house every day and do nothing. I go to physical therapy three days a week and see Dr. Goldberg, but I need more. I need to go out, I need to teach, and I need to meet new people."

Cruz bites his lip and crosses his arms in front of him.

"You are a great teacher so you'll be fine with that. And meet new people…as in…guys?" I have to laugh. Meeting guys is the furthest thing from my mind.

"No, not guys. I have to work on me first, and I really don't think we should talk about that anyway."

"I’m sorry, Harlow. I didn't mean that, but that's the first thing that came to my mind." He leans in a bit more toward the table, uncrossing his arms, releasing his defensive posture. "You need to know that when I wrote those letters it was because before the accident, you were my everything. The thought of someone else...I can't...right now I...I’m sorry I just couldn't deal with that. I’m sorry if that question about guys came out wrong, and I’m…I’m sorry I just said all that. I know it doesn't make a difference."

I feel bad and this is not going as well as I hoped it would. It's getting too personal. I need to tell him that we are friends and I want to keep it that way.

"Cruz, it's fine. I understand. Listen, I have an idea what we shared just from the letters and what people chose to tell me, but I have to move on and so do you. We will see each other in the summers and I really want you to come to Princeton and hang out when you can, if you can. If you're okay with it. I want you to be okay, Cruz. I want you to be happy and live your life with me in it as your friend."

He looks so uncomfortable.

“Did you read my letter I wrote to you after I woke up?"

He shakes his head no.

"Why not?" I ask.

Once again he looks toward the street and says, "’Cause I already knew what it was going to say, so why torture myself any more."

Shit.

He stands up, my neck wrenches up to look at him, his large frame blocking the sun from my eyes.

"I'll be fine, Harlow. I'll be okay." He steps to my side of the table and reaches down with one hand to cup the side of my face. I welcome it because it doesn't scare me.

"You know, when I told you how I felt about you the first time, when I ran to Jax to see you? I know you don't remember and that's okay." He touches my hair, running a strand between his fingers. His touch is soft, tender.