The Tenderness of Thieves (25 page)

When we reached the boardwalk, we climbed the ramp and headed down the center of the pavilion toward the exit where a million cars were probably already fighting their way out of the parking lot. The snack bar to our left was packed with patrons buying food. Not a table and chair in sight was unoccupied. But to our right was the quiet labyrinth of old, rickety bathhouses where the townspeople who lived too far from the beach to lug their stuff down every day locked up their umbrellas and chairs. Handel steered us into the maze, then made a left down one of the aisles that was darker than the rest. The lightbulb at the end had burned out, and no one had bothered to replace it.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” I asked, laughing.

“What, are you scared?”

“Terrified.”

“That’s too bad,” Handel said, even as he led me further into darkness. “We can go back down to the beach if you’re worried about being alone with me.”

“Maybe it’s you who should be worried about being alone with me,” I said with a swish and a sway of my voice.

“Now
that
I might believe. Especially after you took advantage of me last night.”

“I did not,” I protested, giving him a little shove.

He stopped, resting his back against the wall at the end of the aisle. “Oh, so
now
you’re pushing me away.”

I leaned against the wall directly opposite. Tried for some flirty distance, though the space was narrow. “Only because you deserve it.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” Handel asked.

His gaze set my skin alight. I lifted my knee and pressed into his thigh with my toes. His jeans were rough against the bottom of my bare feet. “I can think of a few things.”

“Oh?” His fingers wandered up to my calf.

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.” Watched as they traveled higher, all the way to the center of my thigh, then stopped.

Gently, Handel lowered my leg to the ground. He pushed off the wall so he was standing close. His eyes were so serious. “You don’t have any regrets? I mean, you’re okay with what happened last night?”

I looked back up at him with all the honesty I had in me. “I’m more than okay with it. It’s what I wanted. And I want it again,” I added in a whisper.

“I’m glad,” he said.

This made me laugh. “You’re glad that I want it again?”

He laughed now. “That, too. But I’m just glad you’re okay with everything. I want you to be okay—no,
more
than okay, like you said. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy, Jane. It’s what I want, too. All I want.”

“You do make me happy,” I told him. I leaned in to kiss the triangle of skin where his shirt was open at the neck. “And right now, I could think of a few things you could do that would make me even happier.”

“What—
now
?”

I kissed just below his jawline. “You sound surprised. That isn’t why you brought me here, down this long, dark, empty corridor?”

“I thought it would be a good place for making out.”

I pulled away and gave Handel a surprised look. “Oh wait! You thought I meant
sex.
I was only talking about making out, too. Just like you.”

Handel groaned. “Have I told you how much you drive me crazy?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“That’s because you do. All the time,” he said. He looked at me, his eyes wide open with emotion, his face lit up by a smile. “I love you, Jane Calvetti. You change me.”

“I love you, Handel Davies,” I told him back. “You change me, too.”

“I do?” He sounded surprised. A little worried about what that might mean.

I nodded. “Now let’s make out. I can’t take it any longer.”

“You want me that bad, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, even as I rose on my toes and pressed my mouth against his, letting the night and everything around us fall away. And somewhere in the middle of all of it I thought to myself: I couldn’t be happier than I am right now.

It was a happiness that felt like it would last forever.

F
OR DAYS, THERE WAS
no room for anything else in my head other than Handel. Handel and I kissing. Handel and I gazing at each other. The sound of Handel’s voice. His voice saying,
I love you, Jane.
Those eyes that could level me and make me swoon. The silky feel of his hair in my hands.

And a million other things.

Thoughts about my past melted away. So did thoughts about all that might happen in the future. There was only now, and now was about Handel and being in love and being loved. Cloud nine became the bed where I slept.

I walked around in a perpetual, dreamy haze.

Everyone knew why, too. Handel and I became a big source of gossip again.

I was too happy to care.

Then one afternoon I was headed down to the beach, flip-flops dangling in my left hand, bag bumping against my hip. I was even humming. Out of nowhere someone stepped onto the sidewalk in front of me, and I was forced to look up.

Joey McCallen, all six-foot-square ugly of him, was blocking my path.

Maybe if I’d paid more attention, I could have avoided running into the oldest McCallen brother. I would have seen him sitting out on his stoop drinking a beer and turned left at the previous corner instead of walking straight on by. But I was too busy thinking about what Handel and I did out on his boat last night with the moon shining down on us and only the waves as our audience.

“Jane, we need to talk,” Joey said, the freckles on his face darker than ever after so much time in the summer sun.

I forced myself not to look away. “I thought we said all that needed saying last time. Your brother Patrick found those boots. I heard you. What more is there to discuss?”

He took a long swig of his beer, draining it. Then he crushed the can and tossed it onto a burned patch of lawn. “You hanging around all over town with Handel Davies.”

“Why is that any of your business?” I asked, trying to keep my tone smooth, even as my heart sputtered a little.

His eyes were hard on me. “It’s a bad idea.”

I dropped my flip-flops to the ground to give myself an excuse to focus on something else. I slipped my feet into them, one by one. “Is there something you know that I don’t?”

When I looked up at Joey again, there was a flash of panic on his face. Like he hadn’t thought through where this conversation might go and, now that we were having it, he regretted starting it. How strange, I thought, to see someone like Joey McCallen get nervous.

“The Davies family isn’t good for you,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to Mrs. Davies.” I was getting defensive. “She’s good to me and so is her son.” Handel had been bringing me around to his house when either no one was home or if only his mother was. To say that she was happy about me hanging out with her son was an understatement. But Handel kept me far away from his brothers.

Joey stared at me, unblinking, despite the fact that the sun was at my back. “I’m giving you some sound advice.”

I tilted my head. Narrowed my eyes. “So the Davies boys aren’t good for me and the McCallens are?”

Joey took a step back, like he’d been hit. If it was possible to hurt the feelings of a McCallen boy, it seemed like I might have just done it. “Don’t listen to me, then. I’m only trying to protect you. I’ve always—
only
—wanted to protect you.”

I took a step forward, feeling bolder now. “And why would it be
your
job to protect me?”

“Your father was a good man,” he said, the emotion in his voice unexpected. “He helped me out once. And now that he isn’t around to look out for you, I thought somebody else should.”

I let out a big breath, my body deflated. “Oh,” I said, unsure where to go next. I shifted my bag to my other shoulder, trying to find something to do, my nervous trick. “I didn’t know you knew my father that well,” I went on, gaining a little confidence. “I really appreciate the gesture and you wanting to help me out, but I’m a big girl and I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you do,” Joey said, but his attention was already on the front stoop, where another beer was sweating in the sun, waiting for him.

“It’s nice to see you, Joey, but I’ve got to go,” I said, and got up the nerve to walk past him, swerving to avoid the place where he stood on the sidewalk. I assumed he’d immediately go back to his beer and his people watching, or whatever it was that Joey McCallen did on a hot July afternoon. But when I turned around for one last look, he was still watching me. He raised a hand to wave good-bye.

It was this image—of Joey McCallen waving on the sidewalk, seeming so helpless—that somehow knocked away thoughts of Handel for the first time in what felt like forever.

• • •

“What’s wrong?” Bridget asked when I reached the girls’ spot on the beach. “I haven’t seen that look on your face in, well, you know . . . since . . . um . . .” She trailed off.

“I get it,” I said. “I’m fine. I guess. I just had a weird encounter with Joey McCallen,” I added, but as soon as this was out, I wanted to stuff it back in. I didn’t really want to talk about what he’d told me.

But Michaela was going to try and make me, of course. She looked up from her magazine. “What kind of weird encounter?”

“Forget it.” I plopped down on my towel and immediately lay on my back. I pulled my shirt over my face to block out the sun.

Michaela tugged it away. “Spill.”

“It was nothing.” I felt around for my sunglasses and put them on, then set the shirt aside again. “Where’s Tammy?”

“Off somewhere making out with Seamus,” Bridget said with a laugh.

“Really?” I asked, a bit of happiness returning. Those two were finally acting like the couple they were meant to be. I looked over at Michaela for confirmation.

Her eyes were on her magazine again. “We don’t know that for sure.”

Now I looked at Bridget on my other side.

“But we have our suspicions,” Bridget said.

“Where’s James?” I asked her.

“He’s with his family today.
Golfing.
” She rolled her eyes.

I smirked at her. “Who knew that you would date a
golfer
this summer.”

“Oh yeah?” She took her sunglasses off and smirked back. “Who knew that you’d be
sleeping with
Handel Davies every chance you got this summer.”

My skin flushed hot. “Not
every
chance.”

“Right,” Michaela said, trying to sound bored about it.

“Like you should talk,” I said to her. “Ms. I’d-rather-be-kissing-Hugh.”

She turned a page of her magazine. “Maybe. But at least I’m not sleeping with him.”

“Now you’re judging me for having sex?”

This time, when Michaela went to turn another page, she snapped it so hard it tore in half. “Shit,” she said under her breath. Then she looked at me. “I’m not judging you for having sex. That’s really not it. I’m judging you for having sex with
Handel.
”

I sat up. “Handel loves me.”

“So he says.”

Bridget gasped. “Michaela!”

Now I got up, grabbing my bag and stuffing my shirt inside. “I don’t need this today. Or any other day. You’ve had a problem with me and Handel from the very beginning, Michaela, and now it’s turning into a problem I have with you.” I grabbed my towel from the sand so quickly the sand flew up into the air and landed all over Michaela.

“Hey,” she protested, turning over, brushing it off the side of her face, and shaking it from her hair.

It was so satisfying I almost smiled. “I’m leaving. See you, B.”

Bridget’s mouth was hanging open. She closed it. “Jane. Don’t go.”

“If it was just you, I’d stay. But certain people are making me feel unwelcome,” I added, turning my back on Michaela to wave at Bridget before stalking off. To where, I wasn’t sure. Definitely not toward Joey McCallen’s stoop, though. I’d had enough unpleasant encounters for one day.

• • •

Or not.

I hadn’t thought much about the direction I was taking when I left the beach, but for some reason my feet headed over to the rich side of town. I was there before I thought about it. I found myself entering that fancy coffee shop, the one where I’d met up with Handel when we were still hiding from his friends. It was empty except for that same girl who pronounced her syllables totally and completely working behind the counter.

And Logan—Miles’s friend Logan. The one who hadn’t taken an interest in any of us girls this summer. Or if he’d had an interest in Bridget, he’d lost that fight.

Logan glanced up from the table where he was eating a bagel. “Jane?”

“Hey,” I said, going over to him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Or Miles,” I added.

He took a sip of his iced coffee, then set it down again. Shrugged. “I’m the odd one out among you and your friends,” he said, but not in a way that sounded bitter or angry. Just like he was stating the truth.

“But Miles isn’t, either—”

Logan stopped me from finishing with a look that said
really, Jane?
“He may not be dating one of you, but we all know he’d like to. And
who
he’d like to. As do you.”

I studied the floor. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Logan’s eyes were on me. I could feel them. “He’s a really great guy.”

There was something about this big confident boy advocating for his friend that made me want to cry. “I know he is.”

“You shouldn’t have led him on. Miles would treat you like a queen if you went out with him.”

I sighed. Guilty. “I know that, too.”

“Then why don’t you?”

My toes were nudging the leg of the table. I still couldn’t bring myself to meet Logan’s eyes. “Because I’m with someone else.”

“Miles is better than that other guy.”

“Not for me,” I said, finally looking up at him. “I care about Miles. I do. But not in that way.”

For the first time Logan lost his composure a bit, and scoffed. He was shaking his head, like I’d disgusted him. “You never gave Miles a chance.”

Anger flared in me, as it had all day. I tried to tamp it down, but at this point I’d had too much of it. Too much anger and too much judgment from the people around me. “That’s because he never had one. Miles is no match for Handel, and Miles knows it.
Logan.
” Logan sighed long and disapproving. I turned around and stalked out of the coffee shop without buying a thing. I could feel his disapproval hit my back and stay there, hovering around me, following me everywhere I went.

I couldn’t shake it.