Someone to Love (27 page)

Cruise, Molly, and I follow the ambulance to
a hospital situated by the cape. We sit in a waiting room for hours
as the doctors assess the damage.

Cruise sits on the couch hovering over his
laptop while Molly flips through an old issue of
People
. But
it’s the view outside that captivates me, casts its spell over me
and makes me linger. From the large picture window, you can see the
Atlantic seize against the icy shore. A blanket of fog penetrates
the vicinity as the moon slices through its shallow curtain, but
you can still make out the jagged shoreline as it illuminates
through the mist. The whitecaps glow as they release against the
sand in a fit of sensual delirium.

I had lived all my life near the ocean and
never witnessed such magic, such brazen prowess exhibited by the
stormy sea. The anxious waves thrust their hips against the shore,
roaring as they push deep into the pliable sand until it smooths
into submission. The water trembles over her tawny expanse until it
ejaculates all of its foaming affection, reducing itself to a
whisper. The waves roll back into themselves in a bionic rush, just
to repeat the effort. Cruise is the sea, insatiable and hungry, all
whispers and roars.

Molly creeps up beside me while Cruise
continues to work diligently on his thesis. I can’t help but give a
private smile. I feel like a leading character in a book he’s
writing.

“It’s almost time,” Molly sings it low and
mean like a bully. “A week and a half and we’re good to go.” She
pulls at one of her blond curls and lets it spring back into
shape.

“Good to go for what?” I feel a threat coming
on like a cold.

“You know…” Her eyes bug out as if I should
finish the sentence. She plucks at the pendant dangling from her
necklace, inadvertently showing off her chipped black polish. Looks
like Molly steers clear of the Not-So-Happy Hair and Nail Salon,
and for good reason—“skunk” isn’t exactly the latest hair
craze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I
can hardly walk, let alone recall anything from our last encounter.
God
—how I’d like to forget our last encounter.

“The
pill
.” She elongates the word as
if it had special meaning, but I’m still not picking up the
psychotic connection. Come to think of it, I’d much rather Molly go
skunk
than
skank.
Why did I ever drive her to the
free clinic to begin with?

“I don’t know what the
hell
you’re
talking about.” I curl my L in the same manner. I wouldn’t put it
past little Ms. Manipulation to fake some conversation just to make
me feel senile.

She draws back with horrified surprise, and
her mouth squares out as if she’s truly shocked by something. “Did
you have sex with my brother?”

“Shh!” I give a little spastic dance on my
tiptoes. The last thing I want Cruise to hear is Molly and I
shooting the sexual breeze. It’s all kinds of wrong for me to be
talking to his little sister about S-E-X.

I dart a look over to Cruise, who sits
blissfully unaware of the fact I’m busy discussing pills and coital
encounters, with, of all people, his bratty little sister.

“Sorry,” I whisper, “that kind of classified
information just might get me arrested.” I’m totally alluding to
the role-playing game Cruise initiated and give a private smile
over to the sexy sheriff himself.

“You
did
!” She belts out the
accusation, probing me with a hostile stare.

“Keep it down!” I grit it through my
teeth.

“You know what that means?” She bares her
fangs with a haughty little smile.

“No.” I panic. “What does it mean?” It
so
doesn’t mean anything. The only “mean” thing around here
is Molly.

“It means we’ll be right back here in less
than nine months, dumbass.” She jets out her leg in a defiant
stance, awaiting my reaction to her oh-so-vague declaration.
“Unless, of course, you were pulling double duty and made sure my
poor sucker of a brother put a hat on it.”

I take in a quick breath. Back here in nine
months?
Hat
?

He didn’t wear a hat!

He didn’t wear a hat!

I fight the sudden urge to run in a spastic
circle as all out hysteria sets in and I’m not entirely sure
why.

“Weren’t you listening during orientation?”
She rocks back on her heels in disbelief. “Those stupid little
pills are worthless.”

Dear God! Why am I such a dumbass? A
question, I’m sure, Cruise will be asking in the very near
future.

“No, I wasn’t listening during orientation. I
was too floored over the fact you weren’t getting a
refill
,
remember?”

She scoffs at my gynecological misstep. “The
pills are worthless until after the first solid month. You may as
well be downing tic-tacs. So, I guess I’m going to be an aunt.” She
shoots an angry look over at Cruise as if somehow his penis just
took down all three of our lives.

“You are
not
going to be an aunt.” I
spit the words out, quiet as possible. “Cruise and I are
responsible adults who understand the importance of basic
protection. I also happen to know that seventeen is way too young
to be experimenting with pills and penises. So, steer clear, missy,
or I’m so going to sic your brother on that hypersexual boy toy of
yours. And, trust me, there is nothing more embarrassing to bring
to prom than one of your own relatives. Don’t think for a minute
he’d ever let you out of his sight again.”

I try to bolt from her den of insanity, but
she snatches me back by the elbow.

“You know what else he’s not going to take so
well?” She sets her pretty little face in a snarl. “The fact his
bimbo girlfriend let him put a bun in the oven because she doesn’t
understand the basic principles of procreation!”

I seize at the thought before yanking myself
free from her evil little clutches. Technically, I totally
understand the basic principles of procreation. I have the perfect
letter grade in AP Biology to prove it. It’s the basic principles
of the birth control pill that seem to have eluded my good senses,
and suddenly, I’m virally pissed at the entire pharmacological
industry. I might just fire off an angry email to the manufactures,
who may have unwittingly assisted in the conception of my first
child, and suggest they outfit that pretty little compact they gave
me with a fucking skull and cross bones. I’m a visual learner. And,
after years of institutionalizing myself in all things scholastic,
I’ve practically trained my brain to mentally checkout during an
orientation of any kind.

I stalk off to crash on the sofa.

She is
so
not going to be an aunt.

Is she?

Cruise’s mother managed to break her leg in
three different places—spiral fracture of the Tibia and Fibula and
a clean break of the Femur. The orthopedist took us to the back and
showed us the X-rays. He even let us assist in wrapping the gauze
before he set a cast over it. He was sort of an ass though,
clamoring on and on about how he was itching to take his girlfriend
to dinner and wasn’t expecting an emergency. So I kept reassuring
Sam she did nothing wrong, even if the asshat of a doctor alluded
to the fact she managed to have an ill-timed fall.

And after pulling a shift at the hospital, I
sort of feel like a doctor now myself.

Cruise starts a fire while I shower and
change.

“You know you kill me in that T-shirt,” he
says as I saunter into the living room.

For most of my life, all I’ve ever slept in
is a nice long T-shirt, so if Cruise thinks I’m doing it for him,
all the better.

“I’m so sorry about your mom,” I say,
circling his waist in front of the crackling flames. “They’ll take
good care of her at the clinic once they move her.”

“She can’t go.” He swallows hard. “Insurance
won’t cover it, and it’s thousands of dollars a day. We’d lose the
bed and breakfast in a week.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Set up a room for her downstairs. Molly will
help, and I’ll have to take over the business for a while.”

“Can you handle all that with school?”

“I’ll have to.” Cruise closes his eyes a
moment, looking completely fatigued.

“I can think of a few ways to help you
relax.” I wet my lips in the event he needs a compass to direct
him.

The idea of a laugh trembles from his chest
as he pulls us down in front of the fire. Cruise rocks me gently in
his arms as we sit mesmerized by the blue and purple tongues of the
flames—the same colors that the snow offers in the shadows. The
fire, the ice, it’s all related on some level.

“I can’t lose my mom.” It comes out morose—as
though he considered the options life had to offer and found this
one unacceptable.

“Give her some time. She’ll be okay.” I
tighten my grip around his waist. “Believe me, my brother has
cataloged a ton of broken bones. She’ll be back to her old self in
a few weeks. I promise.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“She’s always been there for you, hasn’t
she?” I can feel his love for his mother, the only real family he
has, outside of Molly.

“She’s been a rock, and I let her down. I
used to run the house while she took care of the salon. Last summer
I more or less gave life the kiss-off and a part of the fallout was
leaving the business square on her plate. She’s had me working
shoulder to shoulder with her since I was twelve and I abandoned
her. I guess a part of me wanted to forge out on my own, and all I
managed to do was morph into a giant asshole.”

“And that’s how we met.” I give a tiny laugh
and brush my lips over his neck. “Cruise”—I glance up at him, his
handsome features reflecting the hues from the flames—“what
happened last summer?”

He pulls me in, burying his face in my neck
and lets out a warm breath.

“I escaped a fire that I didn’t even know I
was in. Then I ran around feeling sorry for myself when what I
really should’ve done was move on, hold onto who I was and not turn
my life into a testament to condoms.”

My face ignites with heat when he says the
word condom. God—what if there’s a miniature person with us in this
room right now, swimming laps inside my belly? Cruise is going to
hate me for being so virally stupid.

“Anyway...” he says, slipping his hand up my
shirt and landing it flat against my stomach. “I think we met our
quota on drama for the night. We’ll save it for some other time. It
was one of those backward life moves that could have really screwed
with my future. I’m glad it’s over, and I’m very glad you’re
here.”

I shrink a little at the thought of
unintentionally screwing with Cruise’s future and assisting him in
any more “backward life moves.” Those stupid pills probably work in
reverse if you don’t take them correctly and I’ll be prone to
having one of those “litter” pregnancies with six or eight babies.
God—we’re going to be on the news.

“I’m especially glad, things turned out the
way they did with me and you.” Cruise rides his oven-hot hand a
little higher and cradles my breast, full in his palm.

I take an unexpected breath as I relax into
him.

He moans into me with a kiss. “I’m so glad
you were at the party that night. I’ve been thanking God every day
since I laid eyes on you.” He seals the sentiment with a
mouthwatering kiss that lingers. His tongue sears over mine, hotter
than a live coal.

Cruise plucks off my T-shirt, and our lips
hardly miss a beat. His hands smooth over my skin, covering every
inch of my body with a few lusty swipes. He pulls back and inspects
me, twitching his brows in a naughty manner.

“Going commando?”

“I thought I’d surprise you.” I give a little
wink. “Underwear are just a formality at bedtime.”

“Best surprise since this afternoon. You
really know how to brighten a person’s day.” He purrs like a
motor.

Cruise unbuttons his dress shirt, and I peel
it back revealing his chiseled chest that glows underneath. I run
my lips over the wall of flesh, drag them up over the hard ridge of
his neck until I meet with his mouth.

Cruise lies over me, nudging his body between
my thighs, and the idea of him firing off his baby-making missiles
sours my mood.

I spike up on my elbows. “I think we should
change things up. You know—you should put a hat on it.” I wince
when I say it, should he be quick to do the irresponsible math.

“A hat?” He ticks back a notch, with a
playful grin because I just don’t think he gets it. “I got a hat
right here.” He plucks a baseball cap from under the coffee table
and secures it to his head before diving over me with more of his
delicious kisses.

“No”—I press a kiss in close to his ear—“not
that kind of hat. I mean, you know, a condom.”