Tidal (15 page)

Dave out of the cafeteria, down a wide

hallway, and into his office which was

cramped by stacks of books, paperwork,

and at least a hundred pictures of his

family. I sat on the other side of his desk,

scraping my hands together in my lap and

waited for him to tell me what the hell

was going on.

“Willow . . .” Dave began, and it was

in one of those exasperated voices that

automatically made me sink my teeth into

the inside of my jaw. He was frowning, as

if he was trying to find the right thing to

say and then he sighed. “We almost

declined your lawyer’s request to allow

you to work for us, but we believe in

second chances.”

Well, thanks for letting me know that.

I started to speak, but when I opened

my mouth it was impossible to talk past

the giant lump in my throat. So I nodded

my head slowly.

“A lot of our residents are children,

like Hannah, who have been hurt. The last

thing we want is for them to get their

hopes up.”

“I wasn’t making her promises or

getting her hopes up. She had a question

about a band she likes. I”—I bit my

bottom lip—“know one of the members

pretty well.”

“We’d prefer you not to answer

questions like that.”

And then it hit me. Dave wasn’t just

admonishing me; he was asking me not to

have contact with the residents of the

shelter. I didn’t want to be affected by

what he was requesting, and yet it felt like

someone was punching my chest from the

inside.

It seemed like the shittiest second

chance ever.

I struggled to keep my body, and my

voice, calm as I told him, “I’m not going

to tell her I won’t talk to her.” I didn’t

care if that meant I’d lose my job or lose

the sixteen hours I’d worked so far—I

refused to ignore anyone like that.

Coming to this conclusion made my

heartbeat race because the other Willow

—the Willow Dave was basing this

conversation on—would have shrugged it

off even if it made her feel like shit.

Apparently, there was less of her in me

than I’d realized.

“I won’t refuse to speak to Hannah if

she talks to me,” I said, this time my voice

steely.

Dave gave me a courteous but

frustrated smile. “We wouldn’t dream of

asking you to do that. Why don’t you call

it a night and we’ll talk to everyone

staying here with us this evening?”

He wasn’t firing me, but it still felt

like I was losing. “Sure,” I said.

“Willow,” Dave said in a soft voice.

“We’re not trying to hurt your feelings, but

at the end of the day, our top priority is

helping the women and kids who come

into our shelter.”

“I understand,” I said. And I did. To

him, I was the flighty actress with two

trips to rehab before the age of twenty

under her belt. I could see why Dave

wouldn’t want me to be around the

residents of the homeless shelter.

Understanding the reasons behind his

decision only made the pressure in my

ribs squeeze harder, suffocating me.

As I did the march of shame to the

exit, I sent Miller a text message.
Come

pick me up, please
. He wrote me back

almost as soon as I hit send.

6:38 p.m
.: Already in the parking lot.

Even though he was especially chatty

about a fight he’d broken up at the strip

club he worked at, I didn’t talk much as

Miller drove me across town to my

lesson. I nodded in the right places and

laughed when he said something funny, but

I was barely listening.

I was still thinking of Hannah, the kid

who liked cartoons full of adult innuendo

and had a tween crush on my ex-boyfriend

and how my boss had slapped my wrists

for talking about both with her.

For the first time since my surf lessons

began, nobody was in the shop area at

Cooper’s place or coming out of another

part of the house to greet me—probably

because it was so late in the evening.

When I stepped inside and the little bell

hanging over the doorway rang, Paige

yelled from the kitchen, “In here, Avery.”

Following the mouthwatering scent of

marinara sauce, I found the three of them

—her, Eric, and Cooper—at the round

kitchen table with heaping bowls of

spaghetti in front of them.

“You’re early,” Cooper pointed out,

but there was a smile on his face,

extending all the way to his clear blue

eyes. For a brief moment, my throat felt

dry and all the stress from this afternoon

started to blur. Then he linked his fingers,

slid them behind his head, and asked,

“How goes the toilet cleaning?”

Way to yank my ass back to reality
, I

thought as I gave him a sarcastic smirk. I

crossed the room and sat on one of the

stools behind the granite counter. “At least

I don’t have to practice popping up to grab

the cleaner and toilet brush.”

“Careful or I’ll send you out back to

practice now,” Cooper said, his blue eyes

issuing a challenge.

Eric snorted. “Cooper’s bedroom is

upstairs, second door on the right. I’ll

totally give you guys all the condoms I’ve

got if you take your verbal hate fuck up

there,” he said, and Cooper and I broke

eye contact to glare at him. “What? That’s

what you’re doing.”

Paige smacked the back of his head,

hard, and practically knocked over her

seat jumping up to make me a plate.

“Come sit with us. There’s plenty for—”

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

But she was already standing on her

tiptoes, rifling around in a high cabinet.

“Don’t tell me you’re on a low carb diet

or something?” She closed the cupboard

door, holding a red plate in front of her

like she’d go all
Tangled
on me and hit

me with it if I argued with her.

I thought of the whole wheat waffles I

forced myself to eat every morning and the

personal trainer I’d never called, despite

Kevin constantly texting me about doing

so. “No, no diet.”

“You should call Hulk back and see if

he wants any,” Paige said as she spooned

the pasta onto my plate. When I told her

that Miller was probably already in the

gym, she motioned her head from the

counter to the table. I slid in the spot

between Cooper and Eric.

“You look like you lost your best

friend,” Eric said.

I held back a snort. Jessica was still

the only friend I’d spoken with since

coming to Honolulu and contact with her

had been sporadic at best. She was in the

middle of filming a pilot for a new TV

show—at least that’s what she swore

whenever I called and she rushed off the

phone a few minutes later.

“No, I . . .” I was grateful that Paige

chose that moment to slide the plate of

spaghetti onto my placemat. My stomach

rumbled painfully because it smelled so

good and I hadn’t eaten anything since my

waffle and egg whites this morning. Three

sets of eyes burned into the top of my head

as I dumped a bunch of mozzarella cheese

onto my pasta and then dug in.

“We’ve got seconds, Wills. And thirds

if you’re that hungry,” Cooper teased, and

I shot him a look. When he flinched, I

groaned.

“Sorry, it’s just been a bad day,” I

said.

He frowned, sunk his fingers into his

blonde hair to scratch his head, and then

said hesitantly, “Did someone say

something to you?” The dangerous tone

that had been in his voice when I told him

about Tyler had returned, and out the

corner of my eye, I saw Paige and Eric’s

eyes dip to their laps.

“No, not like you’re thinking,” I said,

part of me surprised at how honest I

wanted to be with him. Even with other

people around. It was his eyes, I decided.

The way he looked at me made me want to

spill my every secret. “I, um . . . my

community service boss basically told me

to stay the hell away from the residents

today.”

“Why?” Paige whispered.

At first, I had no plans to tell them

anymore. I was fully prepared to shrug it

off. But then I realized that I was already

in too deep—that I’d already peeled away

several vulnerable layers of myself. As I

sat there stuffing my face with Paige’s

cooking, I unloaded everything that had

happened today on three people I’d barely

known a week.

When I was finished, Eric’s usual

lopsided, playful grin had turned into

something thoughtful and he was

scratching his out-of-control beard. I was

grateful that he didn’t say anything,

especially since I’d probably just

solidified myself as the Psycho Sally of

the year, actress edition.

“It’s still pretty light out,” Paige said,

breaking the silence. I flicked my eyes

across the table to find her glancing at the

window. She met my gaze with a big

smile. “And I’ve got the coolest boss on

the planet who’s going to go easy on his

client today so she can soak up the rest of

it with me. She’s looking pretty pasty.”

“She looks perfect, but whatever,”

Cooper said, his words causing my heart

to hammer wildly.

A few minutes later, Paige and I

carried our boards out to the deck. She

was right, it was still sunny out, but the

beach was empty, save for a few people

playing a horribly uncoordinated game of

volleyball.

Before she hopped off the deck, she

said, “Just so you know, I love
Adventure

Time
, too.” When I leaned over the railing and raised my eyebrow, she shrugged,

adding, “What’s not to love about a show

with a hug wolf?” Then she took off into a

sprint toward the sea. Halfway there, she

turned, cupped one of her hands over her

mouth and yelled, “Come on! I’m going to

show you what Coop Taylor wishes he

could do.”

He chuckled behind me. I turned,

pressing my back against the wooden

banister. Our gazes tangled. And it wasn’t

until Eric’s tall form shuffled past him,

toting a beach chair that we looked away.

As soon as Eric was out of earshot,

Cooper pushed away from the opposite

side of the deck, reaching me in two long

strides. He grabbed my face between his

hands, pushing back wisps of my dark hair

that had fallen over my eyes.

“You’re not a bad person,” he said.

They can see us. They can see what

you’re doing to me!

I swallowed hard. “Don’t think I ever

said I was.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I jerked away from his grasp, feeling a

tingle on my face where his fingertips had

touched. “I better get down there with

Paige before she comes to drag me.” I

raked my hands through my hair and

skimmed my body past his. Cooper

opened his mouth to say something, but I

shook my head and cut him off. “You don’t

know me.”

“I know that the media turns everyone

who makes a mistake into a monster,” he

said, and there was a bitter edge to his

voice.

Hugging my arms over my lower

stomach, over the fabric of my t-shirt and

the stretchiness of the one piece I wore

underneath that, and the scar that

symbolized the only secret of mine the

media had never gotten their hands on, I

matched my smile to his tone of voice. “I

deal with it.”

“I bet you do.”

“Stop trying to figure me out,” I said,

remembering his words the other

afternoon when he’d called me difficult. If

I was so difficult, why wouldn’t he just let

this thing with me go? Hell, why couldn’t I

just let this thing go?

His eyes challenged me. “You can’t

take it?”

“Just . . . stop,” I whispered

pleadingly.

He shook his head to each side in

amazement. “Fine. When you want to give

this thing between us a go, you let me

know. You be the one to change the

game.” When I didn’t say anything, he

motioned out to where Eric was sloshing

through the waves, with Paige sitting on

his shoulders, her short legs wrapped

around him and her tattooed arms flailing

wildly. They looked happy. So fucking

happy I felt my stomach burn.

“You should probably go before I

change my mind about doing what

Dickson’s paying me to do,” Cooper said.

For a moment—hell, longer than a

moment—I wanted to turn to him and tell

him I didn’t want him to just do what

Dickson was paying him to do. That I

wanted so much more from him. By the

time I’d worked myself up enough to

speak, the door to the house was clanging

shut.

Swallowing hard and cursing at