Beach Side Beds and Sandy Paths (19 page)

What the hell just happened? I stare at the door, thinking maybe Ryan will come back in. Hoping. We finally consummated our relationship and we have one day left at the place where it happened and now…now he’s gone. The door goes unmoved and my heart sinks to the wood floors.

Last night I didn’t have a single nightmare. Instead, I dreamt about our last day here and when I woke up I had so many plans. I should know better than to plan anything. It always goes to shit.

S
adness washes over me, but when I turn away from the door, and see Brett holding his hand and rubbing at his knuckles, that sadness is replaced with anger. If I was a teapot, this is the moment steam would shoot out of me.

“You!” I say to Brett, pointing my finger and walking towards him.

“Me?” he exclaims, taking a step back, eyes wide, lip curled, looking at me like I’ve completely lost my mind. Maybe I have. But this has gone on long enough and I’m
done
.

“You,” I repeat. “You did this. You need to fix this.”

“I didn’t do shit.” His eyes narrow into dark slits, and he goes to walk away, but I grab his arm and whip him back to me. Those slits turn into wide circles.

I poke my finger into his chest.
“Really? Because what I just saw says the total opposite of that.”

“You’re just defending him.”
Brett’s voice elevates and I can’t help but smirk at the likeness to his brother.

“I know you haven’t been around that long, but you’ve been around long enough to know that I always side with the right side whoever it may be. Right now you’re not that side. For the first time since you got here, Ryan actually took an interest in you. He was being nice. He was being an older brother. And you basically spit in his face.”

Brett’s lips move, but no words come out. He takes a deep breath and steps back. “I called Kara.” There’s a long pause before he looks up and meets my gaze. “It didn’t go well.” The tension in his face eases into a sadness that can only be described as someone’s who heart has just been broken.

“I’
m sorry,” I mumble because I am. I may not know his whole story, but there’s enough in the look on his face to tell me there are many layers. Most of which are probably full of heartache, struggle and betrayal.

“Me too.” His fingers reach for the back of his neck
, and he rubs. “I never should’ve called her. Last time we spoke, she said she never wanted to see me again. Not that I blame her, really. But I’m also sorry about Ryan. I should never have hit him. Said what I did. He just picked a really shitty time to finally care.”

I rest a hand on his s
houlder and give him a smile. “He’s never been good with timing.” I walk to the freezer and grab the ice tray. I crack a few into a wash cloth and hand it over to Brett. “For your hand.”

He takes the ice and pushes it into his knuckles.
“Thanks. He has a hard face.”

We both laugh
, and I welcome the change in atmosphere. “Now do me a favor,” I say.

“What’s that?”

“Fix this. I don’t know where Ryan went, but I don’t like the fact that he’s out there driving, pissed off, when he has no clue where the hell he is.”

“What do you want me to do? Go walk the streets until I find him?”

“No. That’s stupid. Take Nate’s car.” I take the keys off the hook and toss them at Brett.

He catches them with one hand. “You sure Nate will be okay with this?”

“As long as you don’t wreck it, he’ll be fine. Now go! And don’t come back until you find him,” I say but give him a wink so he knows I’m not entirely serious.

Brett walks to the door and when his hand reaches for the door knob, he stops. “Lexie,” he
says, his lip quirking up at the corner, “I really am sorry.”

“I know. Just make it right.”

He nods and then takes off. I look out the window and watch as he pulls out of the driveway and heads down the road. I watch until I no longer see the car. God please let him find Ryan. Please let them work this out.

I turn back to the cabinet and take out a box of Apple
Jacks.

“Where is everyone?” Kaylee bounces into the kitchen in her pink string bikini.
Her hair damp, parted off centered into two braids.

“Ryan and Brett got in a fight. Brett punched Ryan. Ryan took off. Brett just went after him.”
I wave to the door and rest my hands on the counter, closing my eyes for a single moment before gaining the energy to reopen them..

Kaylee’s mouth practically hits the counter.
She hitches a finger over her shoulder. “How long was I at the beach?”

I look at the clock on the stove.
“Fifteen minutes.”

“Wow. Those two
waste no time now, do they?”

“Nope. None at all.” I hand her the box of cereal and a bowl.

“Do you think it’s wise for Brett to go after Ryan? I mean. I know how worked up Ryan can get. Brett hit him once, and I have a feeling if any more fists are thrown Brett’s going to be the punching bag this time.”

I drop my spoon into my bowl with a loud clank.
I didn’t really think about that when I sent Brett after him. As long as Ryan doesn’t kill him, what’s a few punches? Maybe that’s all they need to get this out of their systems. Men. “I thought sex was supposed to decrease stress. Relax you. This is so not relaxing!”

“
Aww, bestie.” Kaylee reaches out and rests her hand on mine. “Once Ryan works this thing out with his brother, I’m sure we’ll all be a lot more relaxed. It’s just been this dark cloud over their heads. All of our heads.”

“Do you think they’ll actually work it out?”
I ask.

“I do,” she says
, and usually I take comfort in her words. So why is it that my stomach is twisting in knots?

Lex: I love you. Hope you’re okay.

Me: I’m just testing out the Lincoln and getting some air.

Lex: Okay. Where at?

Me: Nearest mountain. Test the incline.

Lex: Well, hurry back.

Me: I will. Try not to worry.

Lex: Hard not to.

Me: Just try. I’m gonna pay attention to the road now.

Lex: Okay.

Me: I love you too by the way.

I set the phone down on the passenger seat and ignore the buzz that comes after Lex texts me back.
It’s not enough that I’m blowing smoke out my ass with those texts, but the Lincoln isn’t faring too well on the uphill. I knew I shouldn’t have let it sit all week. But at least spending all day under the hood will keep my head occupied and my hands from strangling my brother.

The GPS tells me to take a left to the nearest Auto Zon
e. A quart of oil and a giant Powerade later, I reprogram the thing to take me up a mountain somewhere. It’s about a half hour drive to the base, and the Lincoln seems fine even though it’s pulling a little to the right.

I roll down the window and stick my arm out, letting the California mountain air waft over my skin and cool the fire blowing on my neck. Every time my jaw pulses another pang of anger flits through my brain. Part of me wishes I would’ve just hit him back—that punching this out might be the only solution.

The engine’s RPMs rise as I take an uphill bend, and I wait for them to drop when the car shifts gears, but they don’t. Pulling my arm in and settling it on the wheel, my brow furrows as I watch them steadily climb over 5000 RPMs.

“Shift, damn it,” I say to the dash, but the engine groans
, and as I reach a steeper incline, the RPMs shoot up again.

Shit. I feel it ten seconds before it actually happens. The Lincoln slows, then the RPMs finally drop… to zero. The car sputters, and I force it to the side, dangerously close to the ledge, but it’s the only flat spot I can see, and I don’t want to roll back. I shove in the emergency brake, blow out a breath, and get out. The hood is
boiling hot when I place a hand on it.

There’s no hope for this thing. I killed it. If I had a hat
, I’d place it over my heart.

“Sorry, girl.” I walk to the side near the edge of the mountain, grateful I’m not scared of heights as I look down. She made it pretty far up before dying. Maybe if I hadn’t been punching it through the city she’d be fine, but then again, I’d always known she’d die one day. And soon. Why not when I’m
a thousand miles from home with a swollen jaw?

“Shit,” I say out loud as the whole crappiness of the situation catches up with me.
A few other choice words fly from my mouth, and I turn around and kick the damn tire. “Shiiiit!” I growl so loud it echoes around me. I forgot about the bruise on my foot, and it feels like I just slammed an anvil on it.

Heat shoots from my foot all the way up through my chest and neck, and I curl my fingers into fists and start beating the metal. I know it’s pointless. I know I’m making things worse. But as my hands leave marks along the hood, I get a tiny bit of satisfaction that I’m at least putting a dent in something.

The satisfaction leaves when I pull my shaking hands back and examine my swollen knuckles. Yeah, I’m a damn genius.

Leaning my head against the top of the car, I take some calming breaths, feeling the pulse in my neck slowly go back to its normal pace. Now that I’ve let it all out, I feel better. Less angry at least. I feel a little stupid too, to be honest, but I’ll just head back and spend my last night with my kickass girlfriend and avoid Brett.

The Lincoln dying could be a good thing too, since we’ll probably have to squish in Nate’s car on the way back home and there will be more people to use as buffer. And I doubt Lex will force me to work anything out with Brett now that he socked me. A tiny grin hits my lips at that thought because I love that she’s protective of me. When I froze my balls off on the ski trip she forced me into a piping hot shower so I didn’t die of hypothermia.

I clear my throat and reach through the car window for my cell. My finger swipes the call button for Pop-pop, and as it rings I take a step back.

A giant jolt tosses through my stomach. My foot tries to go down on ground but catches nothing but air. The phone leaps from my hand and lands twenty feet away from me. My feet slip off the edge of the mountain, and I grapple for anything to hold onto. Something jerks in my stomach, and my heart slams in my ears as I slide and bump down the side, swollen knuckles stinging as dust flies through my vision. I yell at the mountain, and I don’t even know what I’m saying. It feels like I’m forever falling, and there’s a split second when the panic gets so damn deep that I know I’m going to die. Shit, I’m going to die!

My fingers scrape against the rocks, my cheek pressed firm against
them as I try to get a hold of something, but my feet hit solid ground first.

There’s no way in hell I’m going to move. My heart’s still slamming through my brain
, and I chance a peek under my arm.

I landed on a tiny ledge
, enough to hold me as long as I’m hugging the mountain. Beyond that… it’s nothing but dirt, trees, and rocks. I thought I wasn’t afraid of heights, but I think I’m going to piss myself.

“Oh hell. Damn it, damn it, oh shit, Ryan…” I’m sputtering as I try to maneuver on the sliver of space I have. I manage to turn enough to look up toward the Lincoln. Maybe I can climb back up. What felt like an eighty mile fall was really
only ten or twenty feet. But I can’t reach the edge.

Taking a deep breath so I don’t freak myself out more than I already am, I look over my shoulder at the narrow and secluded place I’m at. And high. Very, very high.

“Well,” I say to no one. “Shit.”

After Ryan’s text
, the tension in my muscles lax and the random breaths I keep holding release, allowing oxygen to flow freely through my lungs again. My arms fall to my sides and I let my phone fall to the cushion as I rest my head back against the wall.

I close my eyes and listen to the waves crashing on the shore and recall every detail from the night before. I smile, thinking of how Ryan rolled me on my back and hovered over me, keeping
his weight from pushing down on me. Pure happiness.

My eyes snap open that damn nagging feeling back in my gut. What is that about? Maybe it’s just gas. Banana or not I did help myself to an extra serving of pancakes.

I look down at my
Can’t Let Go
nail polish and the stupid nagging feeling dissipates. I’m so stupid sometimes. Even after all this time, after all the things Ryan and I have been through and all the things he has promised me, I still randomly fear that one day he’ll leave me.

But last night. The way he looked into my eyes, brushed my hair out of my face and stared deep into my soul, I know without a doubt, he isn’t going anywhere.  He won’t let go of me. There’s no chance in hell.

He will hold on until the very end, and I will do the same because there’s no hand I’d rather have. For so long, I thought I was unlucky. That I was dealt the shittiest cards, and I really must have pissed God off in a previous lifetime. Despite being abandoned by my father, my mother being the town drunk (now reformed, thank the heavens) and barely having enough money to pay our bills, it turns out, I’m pretty damn lucky.

I met my soul ma
te when I was seven. My belief has always been that things like that only happen in the movies, but I’m proof it can happen in real life. I would take that shitty hand again in a heartbeat because in the end I know I will find my happy ending.

Ryan is and always will be my happy ending. The North Star in a sky full of uncertainty, the light at the end of a dark shitty life and even though I’m not a magician like Nate, Ryan is the rabbit to my hat.

It’s time to let my fears go. Most of all. It’s time to let the past go. There is nothing I can do to change that time in my life. My dad left me, yes, but Ryan is the only man I need in my life.

So I push that stupid feeling aside and pick up my phone, scrolling through all the pictures I took this weekend.
I upload a few to my Instagram and tag Ryan, Kaylee and Nate. I have a few of Brett, but for some reason I doubt he has an account. I’ll have to set him up with one. He’s one of us now whether he or Ryan like it or not, and that means many more pictures to come.

I’m so caught up in the memories I don’t hear Brett walk in
. I practically jump thirty feet off the couch when he comes to a stop in front of me, dropping the keys on the coffee table.

His hair is sticking up like he’s been tugging at. The cocky smile he usually has going on is lost to a frown. “I couldn’t find him,” he says
, and it sounds like it physically hurts him to admit this to me. “Sorry,” he mutters, running his hand through his hair and making it stick up even more.

I swat my hand at the air.
“Don’t be. Ryan texted me.” I hold up my phone. “He’s fine. Just taking the Lincoln for a test drive before we head out tomorrow.”

“Where? I’ve been all over this God forsaken town looking for him.”

“He said nearest mountain. He wanted to test the incline whatever that means.”

Brett shakes his head
. “Son of a bitch,” he says and tugs at his hair again, this time with a little more force. Something flashes across his eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s anger, annoyance or fear.

“You can talk to him when he gets back. He said he’
d be back soon,” I say and watch Brett for another reaction. While he and Ryan are similar in so many ways, the one thing he has over Ryan, is a poker face. I can’t quite make out what is going through that head of his. “Why don’t we head out to the beach? He’ll come find us when he gets here.”

Brett doesn’t look like he’s listening.
I get up to get his attention, but without another word, he swipes the keys he dropped on the table.

“Where are you going,” I call out, but the only response I get is the door slamming shut.