CHAPTER 8:
JUNIPER
What the hell was a ghost crab?
And why was this Lilly Davenport person some crab master, expert ghost crab catcher? Seriously, what the hell!
I had the world's strongest case of the heebie-jeebies. Ben and I were running around on the beach, in the black of night, shining flashlights on the ground, trying to catch these little white crabs with freaky beady eyes that stuck straight out of the tops of their heads. In our bare feet, no less. He'd insisted that half the fun was being barefoot. If one touched my foot, I was going to chuck my flashlight at Ben.
“Okay, so the trick is for one person to shine the light on them—which momentarily stuns them,” he explained. “Then the other person grabs them from behind. If you grab them by the shell from behind they can't pinch you. Okay? Then you throw them in the bucket. How come you don’t remember? You were always the best at catching them.”
If I ever met the real Lilly Davenport, I'd slap her in the face for this.
“It's all starting to come back to me,” I lied, pretending I knew what I was doing. “You don't need to tell me how it's done. Watch and learn, Ben, watch and learn. I got this.”
He laughed. “Okay, let's see then. There—” he shouted, spotlighting an extra-large, extra creepy ghost crab, scampering in the dark. Sure enough, as he shined the light on it, it froze. “Grab him! Now, Lilly!”
Oh, crap. The only type of crab I'd ever touched in my life was a dead, cooked, Maryland Blue Crab. Pretend it's one of those. Pretend it's one of those. Like ripping off a bandage, with my eyes pinched shut, I lunged and grabbed for the crab. I snatched as fast as possible, hoping for the best, hoping to prove to Ben that I was as bad-ass of a crab catcher as the real Lilly Davenport was.
But instead of getting the crab by its back…that little sucker got me by the finger!
“Ahhhhh!” I squealed, dropping my flashlight. It had pinched onto my skin! Completely freaked, I shook my hand, which subsequently sent the crab flying in Ben's direction. (Serves him right for making me do this.) He squealed too, even louder than me, apparently equally afraid of them, dodging the crab. His flashlight dropped and the light went black, lost in the sand somewhere.
Now that I'd touched one, my fear of another one touching me or one scurrying over my bare feet intensified by ten. “Okay, that's enough,” I shrieked, leaping onto Ben's back. My legs automatically wrapped around him and my arms clung around his shoulders. I could not stand in the sand another second longer. He wobbled under the sudden, unexpected weight of me.
What kind of freaky game was this?
“I'm not as brave as I used to be,” I cried out, trying to play off my fear.
He found his footing, steadying himself, keeping us both from toppling over into the sand. He was laughing—wholeheartedly, as if my fear was the most hysterical thing. “Can I put you down now?” he asked through the laughter.
“No,” I yelped. Which only made him laugh more.
It was a good sound, hearing him laugh. A contrast to the anxious and hurt Ben I’d seen earlier in the night when he’d run into his ex-girlfriend. I guess, if it made him happy, playing his stupid crab-catching game wasn’t so bad.
Once his laugher died down, I figured he’d set me back down on the ground.
He didn’t.
It was dark, and getting late. My legs and arms were still wrapped and locked tightly around him. The sound of waves crashing filled the night air. Neither of us made a move to untangle ourselves from the position we’d ended up in. I was suddenly no longer afraid of the crabs that would possibly scurry beneath us—my only focus was Ben and the breaths he was taking, his body so dangerously close to mine, my heart beating like a drum inside the walls of my chest.
“I faked my own death,” he suddenly said. “I was in the Coast Guard—joined after my junior year of high school. I graduated early, finished the last credits I needed at the local community college, and I got the hell away from North Carolina. Then I fell overboard…stupidly, and I nearly drowned. But I didn’t drown and instead washed up on Malibu Beach. The opportunity to let the world think I’d died fell into my lap, so that’s what I did. I let everyone believe I’d died. I stayed hidden while my family had a funeral, buried an empty casket, and said their goodbyes.”
“Wow,” I breathed. It was the only word I could manage. When everyone commented on his death, part of me had assumed he'd been in an accident, maybe coded on the emergency operating table, and nearly died... or something along those lines. In reality, his actions had been deliberate. I didn't know how I felt about that.
“It gets worse,” he went on. “My sister Georgina tried to commit suicide that night...the night of my funeral. She almost died because of me. So, there it is. My shitty life in a nut shell. Oh... and add to that nine months in prison because the military found me guilty of desertion. So, there's that too. Not only did my family have a fake funeral that everyone attended, they then had to tell everyone, ‘no, he wasn't dead after all, and surprise, he’s in prison.’ I couldn't care less what people think about me. But I let my family down. I hurt them because I was too cowardly to deal with the shit in my life. It's unforgivable what I did.”
There was so much pain in his voice, it made me want to squeeze my arms around him tighter and hold on forever. He found his mistakes unforgivable, but they didn't really matter to me. It wasn't like I was going to stop being his friend because of them. He was home now, he was trying to make it right. He showed remorse for his actions. That was the thing about Quinton, he never showed remorse. Not once for hurting me. Ben cared so much. It was an amazing quality to find in a man and my heart suddenly ached in longing. Breathing became difficult and a giant lump lodged itself in my throat. I realized how much I cared for this man, how much I wished I'd met him before Quinton, how much I wished he could be the father of my baby.
It was a scary, terrifying thought.
One that left me breathless.
One I only let myself think about for a fleeting second before I shoved it from my mind. Because a wish like that was unrealistic and pointless and something that would never come true.
So why waste even a single moment thinking it?
“We all make stupid mistakes sometimes. That’s part of being human,” I said, in some attempt to comfort him. I wasn't just talking about his mistakes either. The words I'm not Lilly Davenport were on the tip of my tongue. It suddenly felt like the right moment to tell him the truth about me. Except, he let his grip of my legs go.
My body slipped down his back and my toes hit sand.
“The buzz I had going is wearing off,” he said as he took a step away from me. In the moonlight, I could see his face well enough to see that it had hardened. He’d dropped his guard with me for a moment, but his walls were back up now and seemingly more fortified than ever. “And I’m not really supposed to leave the house after eight. So…”
I understood. He wanted to say goodbye now.
I didn’t though. I wanted more from him. Which was completely wrong of me. I realized how sweet Ben was. And attractive. Suddenly exactly my kind of attractive. And how completely off limits he was.
Wow, life sure had a way of kicking you in the gut when you were down. On top of being pregnant, broke, scared, and alone—I now had feelings for a guy I couldn’t have.
Thank you, irony.
“Goodnight, Ben,” I muttered. I moved swiftly, standing on my tip-toes, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away. I left him, jogging up the beach in the direction of the Davenport’s house. I didn’t look back as I went inside.
* * *
I’d barely seen much of Ben in the last couple weeks.
Something had changed that night on the beach. There was a tension between us now that had been non-existent before. Now whenever we saw each other, a heavy fog of electricity would clog up the air and this tightening feeling hit me hard in the chest—like my heart was being squeezed in a vice. When he looked at me, his blue eyes had this way of cutting through me like knives. The few times we’d seen each other, although brief, had been rather intense.
Hormones.
Hormones.
Hormones.
I tried to blame whatever it was he made me feel on pregnancy hormones. But that didn’t explain why Ben seemed to be avoiding me, too. Maybe he was avoiding me because he felt all of this as well. Or maybe, more likely, he was evading me because he felt awkward after telling me everything from his past.
If that were the case and he did feel awkward, then he didn’t need to. None of his past mattered to me. I’d thought about it a lot, actually. And the only conclusion I'd come to was that we were the same.
We were both runaways.
Except, he was tackling his demons head-on. I was still hiding from all mine.
Instead of facing Quinton and the consequences of our toxic relationship, I'd just up and disappeared. I estimated I had to be nearing 10 weeks pregnant now, and I had yet to even go to the doctor. I'd already practiced with Rhett's band six times and we had our first gig together happening in exactly one hour. After which, I'd have a fresh, easy five-hundred dollars in my pocket. So tomorrow, I decided, it would be time to find an apartment of my own, a legitimate job that could provide health insurance, a lawyer to help me in case Quinton ever tried to come after me, and an OB-GYN for the baby.
It was time to get my life in order.
It was time to grow up, stop living in fear, and start being an adult.
I just had to make it through tonight first.
“Ben’s not coming?” Rhett asked, playing a few chords on his guitar, adjusting the strings one last time. It seemed he could have a conversation and do whatever he was doing simultaneously.
“No. I doubt it.” I shrugged, trying to mask my disappointment. “When I saw him last, I mentioned that we were playing today. But he has his curfew and all. So…um, no. He won’t be here.”
The five of us—Rhett’s band—were all on stage, working to set up the instruments and the last of the equipment. Most of it was heavy, and too complicated for a rookie like me, so I basically just stood there, hanging around waiting and watching the rest of the guys.
My stomach turned like I might vomit—not from morning sickness this time but from nerves. So, actually, it was better Ben wasn’t here. I’d rather embarrass myself in front of complete strangers than in front of him.
“Oh, finally. There’s Sydney.” Rhett gestured to a pretty blonde girl who approached through the crowded bar. She had a large bag slung over one of her shoulders. “I had her bring you some clothes.”
“Excuse me?”
Rhett ignored me, setting his guitar back in its case. He then hopped off the stage and made a big show of kissing his girl. I knew she was typically away at college. She went to Luke University. And they only saw each other once a week. She’d made a special trip from school for this show.
Once Rhett finished kissing her hello, he broke away and gestured forme to come down off the stage. A little reluctantly, I joined them down on the floor.
“Hi, I’m Sydney,” the girl said, her voice kind and friendly. “Rhett thought you might need something to wear for tonight, so I brought a few things. I hope that’s okay.”
Great. What the hell had she brought me to wear? Sydney wore a tank-top style black dress that she’d paired with black ankle boots. The dress was jersey-cotton, hit her mid-calf, and it hugged the lines of her body perfectly. She had dyed light blonde hair and a minimal amount of makeup on her naturally beautiful face. Overall, I liked her style. It seemed to suit her perfectly. So, I hoped that whatever was in her bag wouldn’t be dreadfully awful. Still…the rest of the band was dressed casual. Was my D.C. sweatshirt really that bad that Rhett had noticed and told his girlfriend to help me?
Actually, that was probable.
“I’m June,” I said, introducing myself. Crap! You’re not Juniper, remember, you’re Lilly! For a moment, I hadn’t even been thinking straight, too distracted by my impending doom of singing, and I’d forgotten my lie. “Sorry, I meant Lilly,” I quickly corrected. “Lilly Davenport. Wow, pregnancy brain. I guess that’s a real thing.” I tried to laugh off my mistake, but I’m pretty sure I sounded like a total spaz.
“Oh, Rhett told me. Don’t worry, Lilly.” She winked. “I won’t say anything until you’re ready to tell people. So—let’s go get you changed.” She turned to Rhett for a moment. “You all go on in fifteen, right?”
“Yeah,” Rhett said. He seemed more interested in something Mike, the drummer, was talking about with Owen, the keyboardist. Yes. Rhett’s band had a keyboardist as if this was 1985. “I’ve got to help the guys. Love you, Sydney, thanks. I’ll come find you between sets.” He gave her one more quick kiss and then said to me, “Hugs—if you don’t like any of Sydney’s clothes then the sweatshirt is fine. I know you don’t have any other clothes in North Carolina with you, so I figured you might want something else. Sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”
Wow. This was incredibly nice of him. Rhett was loud and little bit abrasive sometimes, but Ben’s assessment of him had been correct. He was a good guy. “Thanks,” I told him. “I don’t mind. I appreciate it.”
Sydney and I went off to the women’s restroom so I could change. She’d brought very nice, designer clothes. “My mom buys me clothes constantly. Half of it I never wear. So you can keep whatever you want.”
“This is expensive stuff. I can’t keep it.”
“My parents have money. Trust me, I can’t stand when my mom tries to dress me like I’m a doll. So most of the time I end up donating the stuff she buys me. You can have whatever. If you want, I can bring more stuff the next time I come to see Rhett too. This dress—” she said, pointing to her own dress. “Fifteen dollars at Target. This is more my style. Not the designer stuff.”
Part of me wanted to hug her right then and there. She didn’t even know me and yet she was so kind to me. Her Target dress was more my style, too. But I didn’t say that out loud because I had a feeling she might have taken it off and given it to me if I had. Instead, I picked out a pair of jeans with lots of holes, a silky white shirt, and a leather jacket. The leather jacket was the nicest, most comfortable, fitted jacket I’d ever worn. Easily several hundred dollars. If she was willing to give up something like this then she must truly come from money.
“I thought that outfit looked especially rock star when I was going through my stuff,” she told me once I’d changed. “That’s why I picked it. It looks good on you.” I checked myself out in the mirror, pulling my hair from its ponytail and letting it fall over my shoulders. I had a small pregnancy bump now, but the shirt was loose enough that it covered it. Normally I wore a size smaller than Sydney’s clothes. But I guess, despite all the throwing up, I’d put on some weight.
All in all, I looked pretty good.
I looked the part.
Our fifteen minutes were almost up. Ready or not, this was it; it was time for me to go on stage. We left the bathroom. Sydney went off to find some friends she was expecting, while I went for the stage.
My skin itched. My heart pounded up in my throat. This had to be the most nerve-racking thing I’d ever done in my life. Oh God, the restaurant had dimmed the lights. Rhett had started fiddling with the microphone. The chatter in the place died down as people were turning their attention to the stage. It was time.
That was when I noticed… Ben.
Here.
Now.
But it was after eight?
My heart jumped as my eyes connected with his. And then my stomach churned. Oh no, I was going to throw up. No doubt, no question, something was about to come up. “One minute,” I mouthed to Rhett, turning before I’d even had stepped a single foot onto the stage.
I rushed for the restroom.