Down By The Water (28 page)

FIFTY SIX

“
I need a couple of minutes, Dad,” I said.

We were standing in front of the Reilly's home. I'd packed up my things, thanked Mr and Mrs. Reilly and hugged Ty in his room. I told him I didn't want some long goodbye and didn't want him to come outside with me. He'd resisted at first but I'd held my ground. I promised I would call him the next day and I meant it. I would. I knew I was going to miss him. He finally relented, gave me one last long kiss and I'd gone downstairs and out to Kyle's car. My dad had texted me when he arrived at the hotel and I told him I'd meet him there.

Except he was waiting in the driveway, the engine of his car running.

“
What are you doing here?” I'd asked.

“
I've already lost two daughters,” he said, his voice sharp. “Cut me a little slack and at least let me show you the way to the hotel?”

Any irritation I'd felt had instantly melted away.

“Didn't you already say your goodbyes?” he asked.

I tossed my bag in the backseat of Kyle's car. “Yeah. But I need to say goodbye to one more person. Alright?”

He thought for a moment, obviously torn about letting me out of his sight. He sighed and nodded. “Okay. I'll be here in the car.”

“
I'll just be a few,” I said and headed down the trail.

I wandered down the dusty path a few hundred yards and found Dave and Cheryl Phillips sitting in camp chairs around an empty fire ring. Jake sat in the dirt, directing a fleet of toy cars on an imaginary road. He looked up, offered a smile, and continued playing. Cheryl stood when she saw me. Her husband followed her gaze and stood as well.

“Hi,” I said, holding up a hand.

Dave immediately frowned, but Cheryl smiled, a sad, almost apologetic smile. “Hello, Lily. We heard what happened.”

“I'm sorry,” I said, my breath catching. “For what my sister did.”

Cheryl shook her head. “No. Don't apologize. I'm sorry for you.”

Dave shuffled his feet, but didn't say anything.

“
Are you okay?” Cheryl said, her eyes moving to my neck.

My hand instantly flew to the scrapes and cuts on my skin. “I'm fine. Thank you.”

We stood there awkwardly for a moment. I looked past them, my eyes settling on the camper.

Annie was in the window, watching.

“I'm leaving,” I said. “In a few minutes.”

Dave and Cheryl exchanged looks.

“But I was hoping I might be able to say goodbye to Annie,” I said. “I...have something for her.”

They exchanged glances again.

“I promise,” I said. “It'll only take a minute.”

“
I'm not sure that's a great idea,” Dave said, frowning.

Cheryl touched her husband's elbow, but she looked at me. “I'm not sure she'll come outside, Lily.”

“I know,” I said. “Could I maybe tell her through the window? If she doesn't want to come out, I can leave it with you.”

Dave scuffed his feet against the gravel while Cheryl took a moment to think. “Alright,” she said. “It's okay.”

Dave looked at her disapprovingly, but she squeezed his elbow gently, then nodded at me.

I walked past them toward the camper. Annie stayed in the window, her head tilted to the side, like she was wondering about something. She didn't smile, but she didn't seem unhappy, either.

I reached the window and held up my hand. “Hi, Annie.”

A half-smile flitted across her face and disappeared.

“I'm leaving,” I said, touching the window. “I wanted to say goodbye. And thank you.”

The half-smile flickered again. I knew she had no idea what I was thanking her for, but I felt like I owed her everything. For surviving in the river. For recognizing Jenna. It was her actions that had answered all of the questions. She was the one that was setting me free from the past. Even if she didn't know it.

“I have a present for you,” I said. “If you'd like to have it.”

She stayed there for a moment, the half-smile flickering like a dying candle, then disappeared from the window, the curtain fluttering in her place.

I waited a moment, but the door to the camper didn't open.

I looked at her parents. Dave was staring at the ground but Cheryl gave me a sympathetic look. A creaking noise pierced the silence and I looked back to the camper. Annie was standing on the first step, holding the door open.

I looked at Cheryl. She smiled and nodded.

I walked slowly toward Annie, not wanting to spook her. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out what I'd brought for her. When I reached her, with her standing on the top step, we were at eye level.

“My sister made me this,” I said, tears blurring my vision. “A long time ago. She drew it for me. And I wanted you to have it.” I held it out to her.

She stood there for a moment, that half-smile still flirting with her lips, then held out a tiny hand. I slipped the paper into her fingers and they closed over it. She shuffled forward, letting the door close behind her, unfolding the paper with both hands.

“Do you know what that is?” I asked when she had it completely unfolded.

She stared at it, entranced.

“It's a rose,” I said. “And that was my sister's name. Rose.”

She continued to stare at the picture, her finger tracing the outline of one of the crooked petals my sister had drawn over ten years ago.

“You look a lot like she did,” I said. “So I wanted to say thank you. For bringing back the good memories.”

And she had. Yes, there was a lot of bad stuff—new bad stuff that I'd have to deal with. But there was also closure. It would take me a while but I knew I would stop blaming myself for my sister's death. I would realize that it hadn't been my fault. And I would let the good memories—the memories of my sweet, little sister—back in. I'd be able to remember Rosie without all of the baggage. I could let that go. Annie had given me that.

So I wanted her to have something to remember Rose by.

“
I have to go now, Annie,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “I hope you have a wonderful life.”

She finally lifted her eyes from the picture and held it to her chest, hugging it like you would a stuffed animal. I laughed softly through my tears and glanced back at her parents. Cheryl was smiling and Dave was watching, not frowning.

I figured that was good as it got.

I held up my hand. “Goodbye, Annie.”

The smile showed itself again and she hesitated, then reached out with her hand, with her palm up.

I looked at Cheryl. She nodded vigorously.

I turned back to Annie, but even through my tears, I knew what I saw, what I was reaching for. I held up my hand and pressed my palm gently to hers.

“
Goodbye, Annie,” I whispered again.

Inwardly, I whispered another goodbye. A different one.

Goodbye, Rosie.

THE END

ABOUT ANNA

Anna Cruise has been writing and drooling over boys since middle school. Lots of years have passed but some things never change...

DOWN BY THE WATER is her fifth novel. You can find Anna on
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and you can follow her
blog
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Additional titles include:

IT WAS YOU

IT WAS ME

IF I FALL

MAVERICK

SET IN STONE

Keep reading for an excerpt of MAVERICK

MAVERICK

PROLOGUE

I stared at the papers and pictures spread out on the bed in front of me. Advertisements. Articles. Candid shots. One person stared back at me.

Kellen Handler.

I tried to focus on the task at hand, the task I was being asked to do. No, I amended. I wasn't being asked. I was being told. Ordered.

I saw his sun-kissed hair, thick with salt and sweat from hours on the waves. I saw blue-green eyes that matched the color of the ocean. I saw browned skin and the smooth, ripped abs and chest that screamed surfer.

The cocky smile as he hawked sunglasses or board shorts. The look of intense concentration captured in photo spreads as he navigated the waves or eased himself into the barrel of some epic wave.

I tried to detach from who he was and all that he represented. But I couldn't.

He represented everything I'd loved.

And everything I now hated.

I swallowed hard and repositioned myself on the bed. I tucked my hair behind my ears and stared down at the pictures again. I played with the gold hoop in my ear, fingering it with my thumb and forefinger, then shifted so I was toying with a lock of hair. Winding it around my finger, as tight as I could, then releasing.

It wasn't him, I told myself. I didn't know him. I'd never been part of the pro surfing world. But the locals? The boys I'd grown up with? My brothers and their friends...and my friends, too? Those were the guys I'd spent my life with. Following them to the beach and out into the water. Letting them try to teach me how to ride the waves when I was younger. And, when I was older, accompanying them at the crack of dawn to watch them shred and do their best to, if not tame the waves, at least ride them for a little while before being tossed to shore.

I'd spent my entire life as part of them. Cheering them on. Encouraging them. And loving them. My brothers. My friends. And Luke.

I felt the tears threaten and I blinked several times, trying to stem them.

Kellen Handler was not Luke. Would never be Luke.

He was a job.

ONE

Something—no, someone—was rubbing against my leg. Soft skin, silky smooth, gliding back and forth over my calf. My thigh. Fingertips traveled from my hip to my stomach.

I grunted and forced my eyes open. A naked chick with blond hair was curled up next to me. A naked chick whose name I couldn't remember.

She bent her head close to my bare chest and her lips grazed my skin. She glanced up. “Good morning,” she said, her voice soft.

Her long hair was a mess of tangles and her mascara was smudged but she was still beautiful. Tan and thin, her tits the best money could buy. She looked like half the other chicks in Southern California. Hell, she looked like
all
the chicks in SoCal.

I yawned and the odor hit me. She smelled like cigarettes and stale beer. And sex.

Or maybe that was me.

“Hey,” I mumbled.

She smiled and lowered her head again. Her tongue danced in circles on my skin as her fingers trailed down my stomach. I should have felt something, some little spark in my gut, some twinge in my cock. But I felt nothing.

Chelsea?

Cheryl?

What was her name? Something with a Ch. I was pretty sure of that.

I swallowed. My mouth was bone-dry, like someone had shoved a handful of cotton down my throat. I rubbed at my eyes and glanced at the nightstand. Four cans of Bud Light littered the top, along with a flashing alarm clock and a discarded black lace thong. I pushed the panties to the floor and picked up a can. Empty. So was the next one. The third was half-full and I downed the warm, flat beer, washing away the cotton in my mouth.

I set the can back down and looked at the top of Ch's head. She'd stayed glued to me, her hand traveling lower, her fingers brushing the tip of my dick. 

“Yo. I gotta go.”

Her tongue licked at my nipple and she kicked at the sheet so she was fully exposed. My eyes traveled the length of her body and I drew a quick breath. At least I hadn't been so drunk that I'd brought some sea hag back to my room. I could have done worse. Much, much worse.

I closed my eyes, trying to remember. Chantelle? Charity?

“Hey,” I said, rubbing my temple and re-opening my eyes. “You hear me?”

Ch lifted her head and gave me what I'm sure she thought was an incredibly seductive look. “You can be a little late,” she said, tightening her grip on me.

The bummer part for her was that I'd seen that look a hundred times before. And I'd see it again the next morning. Same look, just different faces.

“I already am,” I said, easing out from under her. My legs were heavy, tired, as I set them on the floor. Wasn't gonna be good for the waves. “So I gotta jet.”

“Come on, baby,” she said, sliding her body across the sheets. “We can be fast. Get your blood pumping before your heat.”

I rolled my eyes and started searching the hotel room for my board shorts. I didn't need her to get my blood pumping. The only thing that got my blood pumping any more was the water. I'd probably said something to her in the bar the night before. Something clever, something that made her feel like I really wanted to be with her, something that got her excited, knowing she was going to get to fuck the best surfer in the world.

But I couldn't even remember her name.

I found my shorts, light blue and white, wadded into a ball under the desk. I reached down and pulled them out. I unrolled them and slipped them up over my legs.

“No time,” I said, tying the drawstrings tightly around my waist.

She sat up and tugged on the sheet, covering her ass but leaving her tits exposed. “Well, I guess we'll have to save it for tonight then.”

I could feel her eyes on me as I crossed the room. It was a nice hotel—the best Huntington Beach had to offer—but to me, it was just another place to crash. A place to sleep before I woke up and started the same shit all over again. I grabbed a container of mints sitting on the dresser and popped two of them in my mouth, feeling the mint burn away the lingering taste of alcohol. I rolled them around with my tongue, making sure I hit every spot. The tour frowned at alcohol on my breath at check-in. I kept thinking they'd get used to it, but it hadn't happened yet.

“Kellen?” the girl asked, pulling the sheet tighter around her, sort of like a topless toga. “We can hook up tonight? Right?”

I crouched down, looking for my t-shirt. I found more of her discarded clothing—a black lace bra, a skirt that looked like it hadn't covered nearly half her ass—but couldn't find mine.

I straightened myself and looked at her. “What?”

“We can hook up tonight, right?”

I frowned. What was her name? Cheyenne?

“We hooked up last night,” I said.

She smiled at me. “I know. So we should do it again. Because we, like, totally clicked.”

We hadn't. I knew exactly why she was naked in my hotel bed and it wasn't because I'd suddenly decided she was the one. I'd been drunk. I hadn't wanted to be alone. And she was beautiful.

I knew there was no way she could believe what she was spewing, either. She didn't give a shit about me. She didn't even
know
me. She wanted to do me because of who I was. She wanted to hang on. She wanted to tell her friends she was hooking up with Kellen Handler.

I tossed my stuff in the beat-up blue duffel flattened on top of the dresser. My boards were already on the beach, waiting for me. Along with about three thousand spectators. And Jay's ghost.

I slid my feet into my sandals. I ran my hand through my hair and offered her a half-smile. “Stay as long as you want this morning. Think checkout's at noon.”

Her face fell and I'd seen it before. Disappointed, mad, maybe even sad. Nah, I thought. Not sad. She just wanted the conquest, thinking she was the one who was finally going to reel me in.

“Don't you want my number?” she asked. “I'm not some psycho that—”

“I don't even remember your name,” I said, trying not to sound too harsh. “And I'm sure you're cool, OK? But it was one night. I'm outta here tomorrow. So there's really no point.”

She loosened the sheet, pulling it up over her breasts. She'd lost a little of her confidence. “Yeah, but next time you come through, you could call me. We could hook up again.” She offered a tentative smile. “Pretty sure you had fun.”

My temples throbbed, and it wasn't just from listening to her babble. I'd put away twice as many drinks as I'd planned to last night. Like usual.

If Jay had been there? He always cut me off when I was getting close to the line, especially during competitions. He knew when to stop me and he knew I'd listen.

But he wasn't around anymore and I didn't listen to anyone.

“Did I?” I asked. “Because I don't even remember.” I picked up my phone and checked the time. “I gotta roll.”

“You really don't want my number?” she asked, disbelief in her voice.

I wasn't going to stand there and explain myself. I could tell her it was me and not her, but that would sound like a line. Didn't matter if it was true or not. I could tell her I didn't know when I would be coming back through again and I didn't want to get her hopes up. But I didn't want to waste my time. Or hers. It all just sounded like bullshit and she wouldn't get it and then she'd start asking questions and then I'd get pissed and it would just get worse.

I hoisted the bag over my shoulder and opened the door to the room. I glanced at the girl in my bed whose name I couldn't remember and said the same thing I'd said a hundred times before.

“No,” I told her. “I really don't want your number.”