Full Steam Ahead (Sea Swept #1) (14 page)

I give him a startled look, which he returns with a raised brow.
 

“You’ve got all these walls up,” he says, “and only you can take them down. Will you try?”

I guess he wasn’t letting me off the hook after all, and I draw in a sharp breath. The sun blazes hot against my skin, and part of me wants to run around the base of the pyramid and escape, keep my family’s secrets to myself. But I’ve been locking them away for so long that I’m exhausted.
 

Running a nervous hand through my hair, I sit down on the bottom stone step and clutch my hands together. Jace settles next to me, close enough that our knees touch.
 

And I start talking. I tell Jace all about my spendy family, the mounting debts. How Hunter was going to be our way out. I don’t tell him about the real problem, about what I did two years ago and how I’m paying for it now, because I just can’t. Explaining money problems is one thing; admitting a crime is another entirely. But I tell Jace how happy my parents were when Hunter hinted he was going to propose, and how his family’s money was going to save us, keep us afloat. He was going to be our life raft.
 

It feels good to tell Jace at least part of the truth, like letting air out from an over pressurized balloon. When I’m done, however, Jace looks at me so inscrutably that my throat tightens. The silence makes me press my nails so hard into my hands that they start to sting.

“You see?” I finally whisper. “This is why I don’t tell the truth. Because it sounds so awful. I sound like a mercenary gold-digger with a family who only cares about someone’s bank account.” I swallow and stare at the grass until the sun scalds my eyes. “I sound like that because it’s true. God, I make myself sick.”

I start to push off the stone so I can dash away to throw up out of sight, but Jace stops me by taking my hand.
 

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Think about your painting, remember?”

I try to focus, but it’s not working. “I can’t do this—”

“It worked before. Try again. What colors are in it?”

“Purple, white …”

“Yeah? What else?”

“Green,” I whisper. Green like his eyes, which are as pretty as any O’Keefe painting I’ve studied.

“Why do you like it so much?”

“It’s … it’s part of a series she did about a flower. Number five in the series is a close-up, so close that it’s abstract, and unless you knew it was a flower you wouldn’t realize. It’s just a swirl of vivid colors. But they fit together, as part of the whole.” I realize that my stomach has calmed, and smile wryly. “Okay, you’re good at this. I feel better.”

“I had a lot of practice.”

Jace rubs his thumb across my palm, and something inside me goes still with surprise. He can’t possibly think much of me after all I told him about my family. But his gaze is gentle.

“Were your parents pressuring you to marry Hunter?”

I grimace. “They didn’t have to. We were perfect together.”

Jace smirks. “Bullshit. Hunter’s idea of art is a poster of the Saints winning the Super Bowl.”
 

A laugh tumbles out of me, because it’s true. Whenever I tried to talk to Hunter about my art history classes, his eyes would glaze over. He’d listen to me to be polite but after awhile I stopped bringing it up.
 

 
Jace knocks my shoulder with his. “Besides, if you were so perfect together, why did you break up?”

I hesitate. “Because I told him the truth. About my family’s finances.” That’s only half true though. I also told him about the scam my parents talked me into. Hunter could’ve shrugged off our lack of funds; it was the other confession he couldn’t stomach. “I don’t blame him for cutting me loose.”

Jace frowns. “You don’t blame him for deeming you unworthy because you’re poor? I’m calling bullshit again.”

Letting go of Jace’s hand, I cast about for a way to change the topic. This is making Hunter sound like an ass, when it wasn’t about the money. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Where do you go every weekend? Everyone says that you’re out hooking up with girls at other schools, or at strip clubs or whatever, but that’s not true, is it?”
 

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I spilled my guts to you, didn’t I? It’s only fair for you to do the same,” I counter.
 

He plucks a blade of grass from a clump beside his feet, then tosses it away before answering.

“It’s actually really boring. I work. I visit my mom and sister.” Hopping to his feet, Jace turns and jogs back up the ruin. Twisting to frown at him, I wonder if he’s running away from the question. Not that I have any room to throw stones, obviously. But I’m too curious to let it go, so I get up and follow.
 

My thighs are burning by the time I reach the top, but it almost feels exhilarating—yesterday I never would have been able to do that, not on an empty stomach. I’m almost looking forward to lunch.

“Explain,” I pant when I reach Jace.

“What’s to explain?”

“Now who’s got walls up?” I say, still wheezing. Jace grimaces sheepishly, then offers his hand. I take it, and he leads me down the steps toward the grassy inner courtyard again. I’m thankful for his steadying hand, as my legs are protesting at the unfamiliar exercise.

“I work at my uncle’s car repair shop on the weekends so I can save up money. I make sure I never have classes on Friday, so as long as there aren’t any Greek events I have to go to, I work Friday to Sunday and crash with my mom and sister. And stepdad. My mom got remarried last year.”
 

Wow. I honestly never would’ve guessed that, especially with Jace’s flirtatious personality and with his I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude. “Do you like your stepdad?” I ask, a bit hesitant because that’s a personal question. Of course, the two of us have been getting pretty personal lately.
 

“He’s a good guy and he’s good to my mom.” He pauses halfway down the massive stone steps. “I can’t complain, you know? My mom’s finally doing okay again.”
 

“Finally?”

“She had a rough time for a while. We all did.”

I wait for him to keep going, explain what he means, but he seems to be done.

“Jace, you’re killing me with curiosity here.”

He starts climbing down the steps again, but not before shooting a grin over his shoulder. “Good, now you know how it feels.”

We reach the bottom of the great stone staircase that is thousands of years old. The last step is the biggest one, and Jace has me stop while he hops down first. Then he reaches up, puts his hands on each side of my waist, and effortlessly swings me down.
 

My hands rest on his shoulders as my feet touch the grass, and I glance up at him. Our gazes collide, and I forget what I’d been meaning to ask him. Jace’s fingers tighten slightly, and a smile curls the edge of his lips. His hands slide up my sides, under the edge of my tank. I inhale, and flatten my palms on his biceps, letting my thumbs graze the lean muscle. The glare of the hot sun may be tiring, but Jace’s heat energizes me instead. I’m about to pull him into a kiss when a bell rings out and Jace straightens.
 

“That’s for us,” he says. “They’re handing out lunch before the bus ride back.”

I make a wordless noise of protest when he starts to release me, and Jace bends his head down so his lips brush my ear.

“Later,” he whispers, and we hike back to the bus.

The tour guide passes out a variety of bagged lunches—I end up with a ham and cheese sandwich, banana, and pretzels, all of which I eat—and soon we’re back on board the bus and heading into town. We spend a couple hours browsing the shops and street vendors; I pick out a bracelet for my mom while Jace gets a scarf for his sister. As we try on multicolored sombreros, I ask Jace if he and his sister are close.

“I pretty much raised her,” he says, then hesitates. “My parents …”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I say, but Jace plops a huge sombrero on my head and shrugs.

“My dad was drunk most of the time.” He goes on to tell me that since his dad couldn’t hold a job, they lived, as some of the rumors about him had said, in a trailer park, scraping by paycheck to paycheck. Not helping things was his mother’s manic-depression.

“I’m not sure how my sister and I didn’t wind up in foster care,” Jace admits. Silently, I think it’s probably a testament to how Jace was able to hold things together so it wouldn’t come to that. When he talks about the times his dad got violent, I remember the statues Jace said he would pretend to be, how that got him through. My heart breaks for his younger self, that kid wishing he were stone.

I listen and try not to say anything stupid. His stories floor me, and by the time he’s finished I’m shocked, and a little humbled. Sure, I have a mom for whom perfect was never good enough, and a dad who preferred to hide away in country clubs we couldn’t afford, but my childhood was clearly way more pleasant than Jace’s.
 

Still, I can’t help but be a little jealous of him, no matter how ridiculous that might sound. After all, his family has its shit together now. His dad was eventually sent to jail for something he did during one of his drunken sprees, and Jace’s uncle and aunt stepped in. They got his mom help and a divorce lawyer. Now she’s remarried and faithfully taking her medication, his sister is happy in her new school, and Jace visits them every weekend. They’ve passed through the worst and are stronger for it. While I’m stuck in the eye of a hurricane. On this trip everything is calm and peaceful, but once I get home …
 

Thinking about my problems makes my stomach lurch, so when Jace abruptly turns the conversation to which cheap touristy trinket he should bring home for his mom, I let him distract me. I’d much rather debate the pros and cons of a seashell necklace versus a hand-woven hammock than stress about my money issues.
 

As the afternoon fades, we head back to the ship. The rest of our Baxter friends are returning from their beer-filled day at the beach, and we all make plans to meet at the hot tubs instead of going to the sit-down dinner.

Once we’re back in our cabin, Jace grabs his swimsuit and changes in the bathroom. Meanwhile, I take a seat on the bed and cross my legs, waiting for him to come out.
 

“You know, we could skip the hot tub and stay here,” I say suggestively.
Later
means now, right? With Jace near me all day, throwing him down on the nearest bed is all I was able to think about on the ride back. But he doesn’t seem to get it.

“No way. My legs are sore from all of those steps. I can’t wait to soak it out.” He grabs his sunglasses and heads for the door. “I’ll save you a seat, okay?” Before I can say anything, he’s gone.

I make a wry face at the door, but step over to the dresser. I guess I’ll have to wait for
later
. Sighing, I pull open the top drawer and am rummaging for my bathing suits when the door opens again.
 

Jace ducks his head back in. “Hey,” he says. He looks uncertain, an expression I’ve never seen on his face before.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t … I don’t talk about my personal stuff around the rest of the group,” he says. “The stuff about my family.”

Oh. I get it. I make a zipping sound as I swipe my fingers across my lips, and Jace relaxes.
 

“I’ll see you up there,” he says before he takes off again.
 

I’m smiling as I change into my blue halter bikini. I’m glad that Jace confided in me. We’ve shared secrets—secrets I haven’t even told Yasmin—and I’m still here. I’m still standing. With Jace around, my life back home feels so far away. My stomach dips when I remember the problems awaiting me, but I think about
Jack in the Pulpit Abstraction No. 5
, and the anxiety gets manageable. It’s not gone, but I can handle it.

With what Jace told me about his past … if he could survive all of that, maybe, just maybe, there’s a way for me to survive what’s coming up for me too.

In any case, for the rest of this trip, I’m not going to think about anything but now. All I want to do is get lost in Jace’s eyes. Drive him crazy with lust like he does to me, so we can spend the next few days worrying about nothing but each other’s bodies. I grin, because I can’t remember ever feeling so … wild.

I start tying the halter straps of my two-piece together, but then my hands go still. This suit is flattering but modest, more prim than sexy. It’s how I was feeling when I packed for the cruise, but totally not what I want to wear now. Then I remember the string bikini that Yasmin bought me as a Christmas gift. It’s a deep red, barely-there string bikini that makes me blush just holding it up in front of me. But I packed it because Yas would’ve been hurt if I didn’t.

I wriggle into the red bikini before I realize that I should do a more careful shaving of my bikini line to wear it. Is it worth the time? Thinking of Jace’s expression when he sees me, I grin. Hell, yes it is. I’ll make
later
happen on my terms.

I dive for the shower.

Chapter 15

Jace

When I reach the hot tub area, it’s like stepping into an Alpha frat party back home. Loud music. Cups of beer. And plenty of Kappa girls lounging around, although they’re wearing a lot less clothing. Samantha waves from the pool as I pass her, but I only nod in her direction.
 

“Boo, you don’t want to talk to me?” Samantha calls out flirtatiously, giving me the trademark pout that makes several of my Alpha brothers drool. I wave vaguely, pretending not to notice her annoyance as she turns back to her friends.

I head toward the hot tubs and think back over the day. God, I can’t believe I told Georgia all of that stuff about my family. A couple of the guys, like Andy, know how I visit my mom and sister all the time, but I haven’t told
anyone
about my past in such detail since I arrived at Baxter. I mean, yeah, I’m the one who decided to open up to Georgia, but I didn’t mean to ramble so long about my mom’s problems and my dad’s abuse. The dark times in my family history aren’t things I like to share—and for good reason. Remembering the shock on Georgia’s face when I told her that my dad was in prison, my gut tightens.