Rock the Boat (25 page)

“Do you mean that?”

“Do you want to be with me, Lark?”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. We live in two different places. And if I’m being honest, I know nothing about you.”

With a devious smirk, he leans forward and kisses my lips. “I wouldn’t say you don’t know
anything
.”

“Easton, that’s not what I mean. We’re good at the physical, it’s the rest I’m not so sure about. I can’t be with someone who won’t let me in. Your past makes you who you are, whether good or bad.”

Easton drops his eyes so he’s staring at the sheet on the bed instead of me. They open and close slowly before he says, “Her name’s Shay. They’re her wings.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, maybe a little about his family or where he’s from, or even how the band got started. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to willingly bring up
her
. “Will you tell me about her?”

“I got the tattoo the night before her funeral service. I’ll never forget how raw my back was, and how every single time someone hugged me, it hurt like a mother fucker. It ended up being a welcomed distraction—a different kind of pain to focus on for a while. I can’t even see it unless I look in a mirror. I just trust that it’s there.”

“It’s beautiful. She must have meant a lot to you.”

“Shay was born with cystic fibrosis. Essentially, she was living with a death sentence from the moment she took her first breath. It was only a matter of time before her body would give up on her, long before she deserved. She didn’t deserve to die.”

I lay my hand over his heart, each beat strong against my palm. “You loved her anyway, despite the sentence. That says a lot about your character, Easton. Not everyone would have stuck around knowing she was going to die.”

“I’m no saint,” he replies, quickly. “She was always the strong one.”

“You were both strong, Easton. Now that I know a little bit about her, I think the wings are beautifully symbolic.”

“She talked a lot about the afterlife toward the end. I would catch her reading articles about the other side and what it was like to cross over. At first she was scared nothing would happen when her heart stopped beating—that life would end in that moment and she’d never see another day beyond it. That was when I asked my grandpa to come talk to her. When he was almost seventy, he had a stroke. He was never a religious man, but when he was in the emergency room fighting for his life, he swore he saw a white light and spoke to God. This is a man that lived through WWII and being shot.”

“Did he help ease her fears?”

“Yeah, they talked every day after that. When she passed, he was the one who convinced me she was an angel. That same night, I was in the chair at the tattoo shop in town, getting new ink.”

Hearing him talk about her brings tears to my eyes. I’m amazed at the love I still hear in his voice, only I’m not the least bit jealous like I was with Gina. His connection to Shay proves how hard he’s capable of loving. If we’re given the chance to explore our relationship beyond this ship, then I’ll have more of him than I could ever imagine. That makes my tears fall a little faster because I almost threw it away. “Thank you for telling me about her. Maybe sometime you can tell me more.”

“Maybe.”

“I think I accepted whoever those wings belonged to before I even knew the truth.”

“Why?”

“Because if someone meant that much to you then the wings are exactly where they belong.”

“I haven’t been in a serious relationship since I lost her. I was selfish when I got the tattoo. I never considered how any other girl would feel about it, because at the time, I never imagined there could be anyone else.”

“And then you met me.” When he doesn’t try to kiss me or hold me, even after hinting he’s ready for us, I know there’s more. There’s something he’s still keeping from me. “What is it?”

He hesitates for a couple seconds and then says, “This doesn’t change me and you, but she was my fiancée. I proposed to her right before she passed away. I would have married her right then and there, but she wouldn’t let me go through with it.”

“You did?” He says it doesn’t change what we have, but a fiancée is so much more than a girlfriend. He was going to spend the rest of his life with her. She was it for him. Only her disease won the battle before they had a chance to walk down the aisle.

He brushes my hair from my eyes and kisses my lips, each stroke of his tongue against mine a silent request for me to be okay with this. Even though I’m still trying to process what his engagement means, I kiss him back. I can’t be mad at him for having a life before me. Not when I had a life with another man before him, too.

He pecks my lips three times before finally pulling away. He grabs my hand instead, interlocking our fingers. “Lark, when I say I proposed to her right before she passed, I mean right before she passed. Listen to me, baby.”

When I raise my head, I do listen. I take in every single word he’s saying to me.

“Her last few days, I didn’t leave her house. She was with hospice, and we knew the end was coming. The doctors couldn’t do anything for her—it was simply a matter of time before she stopped breathing on her own. All I wanted to do was make it better for her, so I pulled up a jeweler on my phone and told her to pick a ring. Of course, she laughed and said I was crazy, but she’s also a sucker for sparkly shit, so she chose one to humor me. I texted it to her mom and she picked it up for me. Later that night, I got down on one knee next to her bed and asked her to marry me.”

My throat’s clogged with so much emotion, it burns each time I try to swallow. “And she said, yes.” It’s not a question, but rather a verbal confirmation for my heart.

“She was actually pretty hesitant because of what it would mean for the girl who came after her. It was just like Shay to be more worried about someone else than her own happiness. It’s how she was with everything.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“I’m not telling you any of this to rub it in your face or make you think I’ll never be able to care about you the way I cared about her. All I’m saying is, I was engaged once—for ten hours and seventeen minutes. And I hope you won’t think less of me for it because Shay will never have children of her own, a house of her own, or the job of her dreams, but for a little bit of time before eternity, she had me.”

“Less of you?” My pulse is thumping so wildly, I can feel the whooshing in my ear. “Easton, I would think less of you if you hadn’t asked. I would never want you to let go of any of your memories because they’ve made you an incredible guy I happen to have a thing for.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes a little bit. “You might eat those words once you find out more. I wasn’t so great once she was gone. I drank a lot, lost my temper almost daily, I was a real asshole to be around. Things really fell apart for me fast, I won’t get into all the gory details, but I hit rock bottom. That’s why I took the band out of the spotlight and took to the sea. I knew if I kept going the way I was, I would have lost it all—for all of us.”

“You reached a breaking point after some heavy shit. You needed to get your life back. There’s nothing weak or pathetic about that, Easton.”

He reaches for my chin, holding me in place with his thumb as his tongue darts out and licks the seam of my lips. “My life, especially my past, is a lot, Lark. I’m not trying to overwhelm you. I’m just trying to be honest with you. So you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I don’t want you to hide a single detail from me, but I’ll never force you to discuss things you would rather keep between you and Shay. You don’t owe me any part of that relationship—it’s yours.”

“It’s not a deal breaker?”

I would be a hypocrite if said it was. “I planned on marrying Grant someday. We were about to move in together. Just like with you and Shay, I saw it all with him. Up until the night I walked in on him, he was my past, present and future.”

Easton rolls onto his back, his eyes closed and his thumbs smoothing his eyebrows. “So, you’re saying it makes it impossible for either one of us to be jealous because we both were headed toward the same goal.”

“I love what you did for Shay, and the way you gave her something to cherish. But I’m a girl, and as much as I love the romantic, mushy stuff, it’s hard not to be jealous of what you shared. I’m trying as hard as I can to remember the circumstances surrounding it.”

He rolls onto his side, smirking at me. “That’s actually a relief.”

“Being jealous of your deceased fiancée is a relief?”

“Well, no, but I’m so fucking jealous of Grant, Lark. That he had you for so long. That he touched the same body I worship. And that you loved him. It makes me want to kick his ass.”

“He’s not worth being jealous over. He’s not a good person like you are.”

“You loved him. You fell for him.”

“I know I did.”

“How did you meet?”

It’s a simple question and one I can give an answer to because meeting Grant meant falling in love and I’d never been in love before.

“You look awesome, Lark,” Noelle says, as she finishes putting the final touches on her slutty referee costume. She knows nothing about sports, yet she said it was a sure fire way to get guys to notice her—by tricking them into believing she liked football.

“You do too, but I thought you wanted to be Minnie Mouse.”

“I don’t think a guy would be into a mouse. It had no sex appeal and I wasn’t about to do Disney an injustice with some kinky costume.”

I’m not quite as comfortable showcasing my assets as Noelle, so I go for a slightly less trampy version of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, ruby slippers and all. I even have a little basket with a stuffed Toto to complete the look. “Well, this is as good as it’s getting, ready?”

Noelle nods her head and we file out of the apartment, but I’m not even off the front porch before my costume backfires. The neighbor whistles, and hurries to catch me before I make it to the sidewalk. “You know, Lark, I bet if you click your heels together three times, you’ll end up in my bed.”

Noelle rolls her eyes and pretends to gag. I ignore him entirely, instead hoping the guys at the party will be a little more mature, or at least see my costume as iconic and not a one-way ticket to freaky street.

But as soon as I fend off one overly eager asshole, the next is already approaching. Only this time, I’m prepared. Before he can speak a single syllable, I hold up my hand to stop him. “Listen, I’ve had about all I can take for one night. Please, leave me alone.”

I start to walk away, but he grabs my arm, spinning me back around. “You look really pretty,” he says, his tone completely polite and not at all how the other guys spoke to me. He’s neither sarcastic, needy, or degrading. In fact, I actually believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Will you at least tell me your name? I promise I’m not looking for anything other than that.”

“Lark.”

“Now that’s a name worth remembering.”

One simple smile followed by one simple comment and for the first time tonight, I don’t want to run away. I want to stay exactly where I am and find out more about the guy dressed as a piece of bacon. Because let’s face it, who doesn’t love bacon? “Are you here with an egg? Or are you frying solo?”

He tips his head back and laughs the most infectious laugh I’ve ever heard. “I’m frying solo. Do you want to dance?”

I nod my head as I sit my tiny basket on the table by the door. “Sure.”

The song is upbeat, not at all slow enough to rock back and forth together, but he holds me close anyway, grinding against me as we move. We stay like that for the next song, and the two after. Each new song brings us closer until our lips are doing all the dancing our bodies are supposed to be doing. I already know I like this guy and I don’t even know his name.

When we finally pull apart, he stays close, resting his forehead against mine. “Can we go outside and get some air?”

“Sure.” He takes my hand in his, and leads us through the crowd that’s slowly thinning out. We sit on the banister of the porch, talking about anything and everything for what feels like forever.

He asks easy questions, but the more we laugh, the easier it becomes to talk to him. And the fact that he actually cares about my answers, only draws me in more. Because let’s face it, you have to have roots before you can have branches. And so far, we have roots.

The minutes turn into hours until we’re watching the sunrise between two oak trees in the backyard. It’s the first time I’ve ever stayed out all night, and I’m already hoping this is the beginning of a lot of firsts with Grant. He finally tells me his name when he asks for my number. Now that I have it, I feel like I have it all.

“I should probably walk you home,” he says reluctantly. No more eager to part than I am.

“A true gentleman,” I joke, but the compliment earns me a belly-flopping smile that seals my fate a little more.

It only becomes more evident when he holds onto my hand the entire way home, stopping to kiss me every couple of steps. Each kiss becomes more intoxicating the closer we get to my room. By the time we do get there, neither of us are any closer to saying goodbye. Instead, my back is against a tree in front of my dorm with our kisses deepening.

“When can I see you again?” He peppers kisses up and down my neck while he waits for my answer.

“Now, in five minutes, whenever you want,” I tell him, as I hang onto his biceps for support. If I’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that Grant’s an empowering intoxication that consumes my soul. He’s everything. Everything I’ve been waiting for and then some.

And now he’s mine.

But a lot has changed over the years. I may have had Grant from the second we met, but we were just that—an explosion that slowly fizzled into obligations and unwanted responsibility. Grant didn’t want me. He wanted the idea of me without the work or commitment.

“You’re still thinking about Grant aren’t you?” Easton asks when he realizes I’ve been staring into space not hearing a single word he’s said for the last five minutes.