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I can feel every hard plane and ridge of his body, and he feels exactly how I always imagined he would feel. My soul is on fire as his lips part mine and I suck in a sharp breath. I’ve imagined this exact situation a million times as I laid awake at night knowing he was only two floors away in his own bed. How many times did I imagine sneaking down to his room, crawling under his covers, and licking every inch of his body? Too many forjustfriends.
Jax is no stranger to sex. The girls at school talk, and I know he gets around. I don’t blame him, though. I can’t help but tangle my own fingers in his shoulder-length brown hair like I've always wanted to. He groans into my mouth as I tug hard enough to sting. A fire erupts inside me, making me wild for more of him. Suddenly, I can’t get enough.
Even though I know this is a bad idea, I kiss him back like a glutton for punishment with everything I have in me until he’s pinning me down to my mattress. I hear Cat jump off of the bed and settle somewhere on the floor. Jax’s tongue tangles with mine and I can taste the mint on his breath. I sigh and he groans before pulling my hair tighter, anchoring my face to his as if he can’t possibly get enough.
This is a goodbye kiss. I can feel it.
The ache in my heart extends to my bones and up through my skin. It tumbles out into the air until I’m sure he can feel it, too. This tether between us that’s always been here pulls taut, cracking my heart right down the middle.
I arch my neck back in a way that allows his lips to drift from mine and trail down to my collar bone. Raking my hands over his back, I grasp his gray shirt in my fingers and twist. I want nothing more than to rip the offensive garment off of his broad shoulders but I hold back. I can’t let this go too far...it would break me. I’m already cracked and shattered from the boys I never allowed myself to have. My heart doesn’t have the capacity for more ache.
I want this so badly it physically hurts. I want to scream, cry, throw up, and rage all at once, but it manifests only as tears that pour down my cheeks as he licks them right up. As if he feels my body beginning to lock up, Jax pulls away, but not before placing the softest, most heartbreakingly tender kiss on my forehead right between my watering eyes.
“Don’t forget me,” I whisper, sniffling as he drags his thumb across my cheek, drying up the wetness. “Tell me we’ll see each other again…”
He pauses, hovering over me with his strong hand cupping the side of my face in a way he never has before. His breath comes out ragged, and his chest heaves as his heart hammers against the hand I hold against his chest. We crossed a line tonight, and I can see it plain as day in his eyes that it’s been a dam pushing to break. “As if you could keep me away now…”
Nora
Islide into the Uber after hefting my luggage into the trunk of the car. There are quite a few bags thanks to my unhealthy obsession with cheap, paperback novels, but I absolutely refuse to leave them in New York. I have everything I own in the car save for a few larger items being shipped sometime next week, and a part of me feels a little bit pathetic about that. Maybe Jax had a point. Maybe it was almost time for me to broaden my horizons and move out on my own.
Not yet. There are too many things I need to do before I can even consider it.
When Mom told me about the move, I expected for her to travel with me like always. Back in the day, she’d always been right there by my side, comforting me when I needed it most. Before the Pembrokes, she was a nanny for a few families that we never stayed with for very long. We moved around a lot and I honestly didn’t mind it, but settling down right when I entered middle school was a godsend. The drive feels lonely as I stare at the empty seat beside me, wishing Mom was here to tell me everything was going to be fine and that I was worrying for nothing.
Apparently, love waits for no one. Or, at least that's what I try to tell myself as I race toward the ghosts of my childhood. Mom’s waiting for me, so there’s that at least. She couldn’t wait a single day to fly across the country to be with her new man. A man that lives in the same coastal town we vacationed in every summer.
We cruise down the winding coastline until the scenery begins to turn achingly familiar. Gone is the bustling city and bumper to bumper traffic and in its place are rolling hills dotted with trees that have dark-green moss hanging from their branches—reminding me of how much I truly missed this place.
I roll down the window and breathe in deeply, savoring the tang of sea air and luxuriating in the freshness of the wind on my face. My pale-blonde hair blows around my head in long waves, whipping me in the face but I don’t mind. Back in New York, the air was always stuffy and filled with smog. The city was stifling and any direction you looked, ugly stone buildings blocked out the view of a horizon.
But not here. After cresting the top of a particularly winding set of hills, a break in the rolling greenery reveals the prettiest sight I’ve seen in seven long years. The sparkling, blue ocean peeks through as we roll down the highway, taking a forked road that leads to Main Street. The ocean view disappears as we descend into the heart of the small, artsy city I used to spend my summers in.
I remember the first time we came here, back when my mom first started working for the Pembrokes. I’d been enchanted right off the bat. The town is a tourist trap for sure, but it never fails to give me the warm tinglies as I look around at all the familiar stores, restaurants, and coffee shops. It feels like home to me here.
To the right is a small antique store with elegant white lettering on its window advertising their awesome selection of new and old books. My heart leaps with a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness, remembering the hours and hours River and I spent on the old, faded carpet in the back of the store, our noses buried in old, dusty novels as we munched on some french fries from the restaurant down the street.
There's a hollowness in my stomach as the memories hit me. In my mind, I can picture him so clearly—that long, blond head of surfer hair that made me want to run my hands through it so many times even though I’d been too chicken to actually go for it. His jade-green eyes that were always a little too intense...a little too knowing for comfort, stand out in my mind's eye and making my stomach ache with the loss of them. I remember the way his lithe body had changed over the years, growing into his immense height and the way he towered over me when we realized I’d stopped getting any taller. River Sharpe, self-proclaimed prince of the ocean, surf god of this tiny beach town.
I startle when I feel wetness on my cheek and it’s only then that I realize I’m actually crying. I quickly wipe away the traitorous tears, wishing not for the first time that I had Cat here to comfort me. Mom insisted on bringing my baby girl with her a week ahead of time so I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of working it out myself. The only thing that seemed to cheer me up was the realization that she’d be waiting for me at home.
Home. Do I even have one?
I don’t know if I ever did. I mean, we’ve always lived with the Pembrokes. I try to block out the years before my mom landed the job that changed our lives as much as possible. We’d been living in the poolhouse of one of my dad's old drug dealers after he left us all those years ago. Mom bounced around from nanny job to nanny job but nothing stuck. We were poor and homeless, couch surfing just to keep a roof over our heads. I don’t remember much of that part of my life, but I do remember the hopelessness in my mom’s eyes every time she came home from another layoff, scrambling to find food in the house for me to eat while she went hungry.
I never blamed Mom for the hard years. I knew she’d been firmly planted under my father’s thumb since way before I’d even been born, and even after he disappeared, it was like the ghost of him still haunted her. They’d been highschool sweethearts at one point, and when Dad turned to drugs, alcohol, and gambling, the love he had for Mom withered away and morphed into resentment. Sometimes, I feel like a bad person for being glad he’s gone. I barely remember the man, but what I do remember I’d give anything to forget.
Coming back here chases those memories away, replacing them with cherished ones. Memories of long days under the blistering sun, slathering my skin in aloe when I fell asleep on the beach for too long. I can practically taste the chocolate-swirl ice cream cones from the diner on the corner or the ollaberry pie from one of the town’s famous bakeries. I promise myself I’ll go get one as soon as possible.
After leaving Main Street, we take a small road that winds through dense trees along the edge of the coastline, slanting upwards where houses appear to be perching dangerously close to the cliffs. From here, the water looks so close I could almost reach out and touch it. The homes are grouped together tightly, but not in a bad way. Each place is colorful, artsy, and beachy enough to command its own identity as they stack up onto the lush, green hill overlooking the water.
Some of them have surfboards on racks outside on decks, and others have seashells or old maritime decor like nets and rusty anchors up on the walls of their homes. Some even have brightly-painted murals depicting sunsets, islands, and marine wildlife. I smile as I recognize some of the houses, realizing not much has changed in the nearly decade since I’ve been away.
On the other side of the small road that separates the beach from the homes is a small foot and bike path that I know spans the entire length of the beach. I used to ride my bike down that path, racing Luca and River until we reached the very edge, dropping our bikes into the sand before leaping straight into the ocean. So many memories wash over me it’s almost overwhelming.
It feels strange as we pass by the beautiful house the Pembrokes used to rent out for the summers. The dark-green home with tall windows glints in the setting sun as we drive by. The lights are all on and I can tell another family has moved in. My stomach tightens at the thought. That place holds so many of the best memories of my life within its walls, the thought of it all fading away into memory hurts.
It only takes another minute for us to turn off onto a long driveway leading to what looks like a steep driveway and four-car garage at the base of a gigantic, sky-blue, wooden beach home that looks like it’s made of more glass than actual structure. The roof is square with an upper deck that peeks out from the very top. It’s slightly slanted with metal brackets and hooks that make up a hanging rack for wetsuits. Next to the double front door is a rack of about five surfboards of various colors.
