Chapter Twelve
Crazy Love
Walt’s injured hand started to bother him during dessert, though he tried very hard to hide it from me. But I noticed the way he switched his fork from his right hand to his left, then gave up on his cheesecake altogether, a creased frown between his brows.
When I harangued him about resting and icing it, he bitched and whined that he wasn’t done having fun yet. He asked for an after-dinner whisky, because ‘that would make his hand feel better.’
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said.
“I’ll just sip it. Let’s talk some more. I like talking to you.”
“And I like talking to you. But I thought you weren’t supposed to drink alcohol.”
“No, I’ve just been avoiding it on principle. Don’t need people seeing me have a beer, saying ‘Oh, look at Walt Cook, drinking after getting a DUI, what a loser.’ I don’t have a drinking problem.”
“I know, I didn’t say you had a drinking problem. Shea told me you’re not a big drinker. But—”
“I had a couple beers the night I got in trouble because I was nervous going by your place, but I swear, it was the rain and the mud that made me crash. And...not paying attention because I was looking for you. But I wasn’t drunk.”
“Okay, but your hand is hurting, you’re gonna want to take more of those pain pills before bed. You probably shouldn’t mix them with booze.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “All I want is a little bitty shot of whisky. Have you seen the size of me? And I just ate half of Landing, plus cheesecake. I can handle it. Please? I don’t want the night to be over yet.”
I had a feeling that if I continued to date Walt, he was going to get his way with me a lot. I’d never been able to say no to him. And I still couldn’t.
I got him the whisky, and we stayed up a while longer, chatting and snuggling on the sofa. When he winced in pain moving a pillow, I had to put my foot down and get bossy, and finally he complied, letting me wrap an icepack around his hand while he laid propped up in bed. When his eyes began getting droopy, I got a glass of water and made him take the pain pills, and he complied with that as well, but got a bit goofy for a while after.
“Get back here,” he said when I left his side. “You can’t leave me like this!”
I chuckled, and leaned over, kissing his cheek. “It’s getting late and you’re hurt. Just keep the ice on and try to go to sleep. I need to shower.”
“No, get back here,” he said as I crept away again. “I wanna get you pregnant! Julien. Come back, we’re gonna make babies!”
“I knew that whisky was a bad idea.” I gave him another kiss, then made my way to the bathroom.
“Julien,” he called drowsily after me. “Come back after your shower. Sleep with me?”
“I will.”
“We’re having a sleepover,” he mumbled.
“I know we are.”
I did return to him after my shower, but he was sound asleep. Splayed out in the center of the bed, limbs akimbo, there was no way I was fitting in there with him. And I was not going to try moving him or waking him up. He’d had one hell of a day, and he needed rest. I shut off the lamp, covered him up, and retired to the other bedroom.
I awoke the next morning to Walt sitting at the edge of my bed, fully dressed and showered. He smiled and handed me a steaming mug of coffee. “I made coffee,” he said. “But I want to take you down the road for breakfast. This diner around the corner has the best French toast. You like French toast?”
“Yeah, sounds good.” I sat up, accepting the mug. I smiled, my heart leaping to my throat at the sight of him. He was in dark jeans and a white polo shirt that showed off his tan and his arms, and he smelled clean and delicious. “Looks like you’re feeling better. How’s your hand?”
He held up his hand, neatly wrapped in an ace bandage, the bulge of an icepack underneath. “Feels a lot better. But I wrapped it up so you wouldn’t give me shit.”
I examined it, impressed. “You did this all by yourself?”
He gave me a look that made me laugh. “Really, Julien?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
He leaned over and gave me a quick, hard kiss on the lips. “You always underestimate me.”
“I do not! I know you’re good at everything. But not everyone can wrap a bandage that neatly with one hand.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m really mad at you.”
“Why?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve been sleeping, what could I possibly have done?”
“You didn’t sleep with me last night.”
“Because you were spread out like an octopus, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
His hand slid up my thigh over the blanket. “A likely excuse.”
“It’s the truth. Shit, what time is it? I have to get back to Beaver Tail. Sundays are really busy.”
“Okay, but breakfast first?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
He took the mug from me, set it down, then wrapped me in one of his tight hugs. I sighed and hugged him back, basking in his warmth and scent, the feeling of strong arms around me. “I had fun last night,” he said.
“So did I.” I sighed, because I didn’t want to let him go.
He eased back, running a finger down my chest. “I’m gonna take a bit of time off from Beaver Tail. I’ll call your mom and tell her.”
“Oh. How come?”
“So my hand can heal, and I have some things I need to take care of. But I’ll be back soon to finish my time.”
I nodded. “Okay. You’re already way ahead in your required hours, you haven’t got long to go.”
He smirked. “You checked my hours?”
“I might have.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
His brow cocked. “A few days ago, you still had a date with my brother coming up.”
“So?”
“So, why’d you check up on my community service hours?”
“I was just curious.”
“Just curious huh?”
“I wanted to see how soon I’d be rid of you.”
“Liar.” He poked at my ribs. “You wanted to see how long you had me for.”
“Stop.”
“You were thinking about me,” he said. “Even before I came onto you at The Blindside.”
“Yes, okay?” I slapped his hand away. “I was thinking of you. Even though I didn’t want to be. Now stop poking me.”
He sighed, pinching my chin. “Will you send me that info we talked about?”
“What info?”
“Therapist.”
“Oh! Yes. I’ll text you with it.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I was thrilled he was still serious about therapy, and was sure Shea would be pleased too. “You’re really gonna do it? Go talk to someone?”
He nodded. “I’ve got my new place. Free of my dad. I’ve got...” He paused, eyeing me sheepishly. “Other things I’m excited about. I figure if I’m gonna give myself a clean slate here, I have to walk the walk. And I don’t want to start with a bunch of old shit in my head. I don’t want to carry these issues anymore.”
“Just remember to go easy on yourself,” I said. “None of it’s your fault, but years of trauma isn’t going to go away overnight.”
“I know, but I at least want to learn to cope better. I want to be my own man, and that means my father’s damage doesn’t get to tag along.”
“I like your attitude,” I said, and hugged him again.
“And me? Do you like me?”
I chuckled, releasing him. “You must be joking. After last night?”
“First time I asked you that, you weren’t so sure.”
“Ah...a lot’s changed since then, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I got to give you an orgasm.”
“Still on that, are we?”
“Well, it was really something.” He rubbed my legs. “Are you okay? With everything?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been all Walt drama all the time. But you’ve got stuff too. And a lot of it’s connected to me.” His finger traced my wrist. “You have bad memories of my family. And I did a bad thing to you when we were kids.”
“Yeah, when we were kids. And yes, it sucked and yes, I hated you.”
His eyes flashed with hurt. “Hated?”
“Okay, I thought I hated you. Tried to hate you. But after all we’ve talked about and all that’s happened, I’m leaving it in the past. Like you said.”
He smiled, but it was slight, and his eyes still shone with uncertainty.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked. “Something on your mind?”
Shrugging, he said, “I told you how sorry I am. About the past. But you haven’t said you forgive me.”
“I haven’t?”
“No.”
“I sucked your cock. I thought it went without saying.”
He continued to stare at me, expectantly.
“Walt.” I held his face in my hands. “I forgive you.”
He sighed heavily. “Thanks. I needed to hear it.”
“I forgive you on the condition we go get that French toast now. I’m starving.”
I was surprised to find Walt had already packed up everything into a car waiting outside. He told the driver to wait while we walked around the block to the diner. After which, the car would take us back to Gullport. For such a hot mess, Walt could be really organized when he wanted to.
The diner in Landing was small and clean, and Walt was right about the French toast being phenomenal. I tried to pay for breakfast but he wouldn’t let me, and after all the pampering last night, combined with the fact that I was currently wearing clothes he’d bought for me, I was feeling like a kept man this morning. I was looking forward to him coming back to Beaver Tail after his break so I could be the boss again, just to balance things out a little.
I knew Walt’s wealth didn’t represent him as a person, and he’d had to fight for what was owed him recently after standing up to his father. But I was still ready to leave the town of Landing and get back to Gullport, where Walt Cook was just a cliffside dude, and not a king.
We left the diner and were walking along the sidewalk, Walt discussing the landscaping he planned to do on his property, when a male voice called his name from behind us. Every muscle in Walt’s body stiffened.
“Walter!”
“Keep walking,” Walt muttered. “Don’t look back.”
“Walter, hang on. Walter!”
I kept walking, but of course, I looked back. Walt’s father was speed-walking after us, about fifteen feet behind, and I recognized him instantly. Despite some silver in his dark hair and age on his face, he was still tall and remarkably fit for his age, apparent in the trim brown suit he wore. I shivered, recalling some of the last words my father ever spoke. “That prick, Harry Cook.”
But Harry Cook was no longer the big, menacing presence I’d perceived as a boy. Because I’d grown bigger myself, obviously. And he was older, not frail by any means, but I’d definitely be able to take him in a fight—strange thought to have, but the man had hurt me when I was a defenseless child and violence was the only language he spoke. He was just a man, I told myself, no threat now. But memories of my father facing off with him made a lump rise in my throat, and my pace slowed for a moment.
“Keep walking.” Walt gently grasped my elbow. “Ignore him. Just get to the car.”
I looked at Walt, noting the sudden pallor of his cheeks, and that woke me up. And made me angry. I wanted to turn around and pop the old fuck right in the face, but knew that would be far from helpful. So, I did as Walt asked, and quickened my pace. I could see the car in the distance, still parked in front of the hotel, driver ready behind the wheel.
“Walter.”
We both jumped as Walt’s father bounded out in front of us. He must have sprinted up the street, his silver hair a bit disheveled from the breeze, but otherwise he was as polished as a mannequin, still handsome, and I could see some of Walt’s features in his face, especially when he smiled.
“What do you want?” Walt snapped.
“You’re back,” his father said, beaming. “I didn’t expect to see you back in Landing. What are you doing here?”
“I was just visiting. I have to go. Step aside.”
Mr. Cook’s gaze drifted to me, and he flashed his expensive dental work. “Sorry for the intrusion young man, I just need to speak with my son a moment.”
“There’s nothing to say,” Walt said. “Now step aside.”
“Please, Walter. You’ve made your point. Just come back.”
A choked laugh came from Walt. “Come back? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Come back and run the hotel. Let bygones be bygones. It’s where you belong.”
“You’re insane.”
“I love you, kid. Come on. All families fight. You don’t even have to pay back the money. Hell, I’ll even buy that heap you bought out in Gullport. Take it off your hands.”
“I’m not coming back, Dad, now let me pass.”
“Just come here, I’ve missed you so much, come on.”
The man reached out and Walt jerked back, bumping into me. “Do not hug me, Dad. Don’t even touch me.”
His father sighed and his arms dropped to his sides. “Do you know how much I love you, Walter? How precious you are? You’re worth everything to me. You’re more valuable than gold to me. What, you’re just never gonna see me again? I’m your father!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Walt darted around him, then reached back and grabbed my arm. “Let’s go.”
We hurried to the car, and when I glanced over my shoulder, Mr. Cook remained where he was, standing on the sidewalk with hands on his hips, a sad, forlorn look in his eyes. “I love you, son! So much. Please! Just come back. Please!”
“Get in the car,” Walt muttered.
“Okay.”
We both slid into the backseat and as soon as the doors closed, Walt said, “Drive. Fast, please.”
The driver complied. We passed Mr. Cook on the sidewalk, and he turned and watched the car go, still with the slumped shoulders and sad expression. Walt was silent until we’d driven a few miles and taken the exit out of Landing, then he looked over and rested a hand on my knee. “Are you all right?”
“Me? I’m fine. Are you?”
“Yeah.” He hunched over and rubbed his face with his hands. “Fucking hell, I’m sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.”
He leaned back in the seat, and glanced at me. “Sure you’re okay? I’m sorry you had to see him.”
I shifted and faced Walt, then reached over, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m fine.” He leaned into my touch, then shuffled closer, and I wrapped my arm around him. “I must say, I didn’t expect him to be like that.”
Walt huffed. “You mean with the innocent tone and the I love you and shit?”
“Yeah. That.”
“It’s what he does.” He rested his head on my shoulder and held my hand, stroking my palm. “It was always like that, a back and forth pendulum. In juvie, the therapist called it inconsistent parenting.”
“Yeah?”
“A few days after beating the piss out of us, he’d suddenly want to take us all to Disney Land or some shit. He’d be ridiculously sweet and lovey for a while. Buying us gifts. Then just when you’d start to relax, almost get used to it...bam!”
I jumped in my seat.
Walt straightened and looked at me. “Sorry.” He stroked my hair, then rested against me again. “You get the idea. The beatings would come again. The therapist said the back and forth pattern could be more harmful than if he was horrible all the time, consistently. Because it made us grow up not knowing who and what to trust. Afraid to be happy. Always waiting for the bottom to drop out of any situation.”
“Are you like that?” I asked. “Do you feel like that now, as an adult?”
His thumb made circles on my arm. “I try not to be. But sometimes I am. My house for instance. The new hotel. I keep expecting it to burn down or blow up or for someone to take it away from me.” He sighed heavily. “Always waiting for the sucker punch.”
I wrapped my arm tighter around his shoulders, then we were both quiet for the rest of the drive back into Gullport.
The car stopped at Walt’s place first, and the big white building looked cheery and welcoming, gleaming in the summer sunlight. A couple of guys I didn’t know were out in the field working on a small tractor, and they waved as Walt and I stepped out of the car. He turned and faced me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “Thank you. For last night. It was everything.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You all right?”
“I will be.” He gave me a quick, soft kiss on the lips. “I’m gonna call you.”
“Okay. I look forward to it.”
The front door opened and Kelsey stepped out, his platinum hair a messy mop, big smile on his face, wearing a checkered bathrobe and holding a mug. He waved to me and I waved back, then I ducked into the car when the two big dogs came trampling out, jumping on Walt and wagging their tails.
I closed the door. “Beaver Tail motel, please?”
“You got it,” the driver said, and we started back down the long driveway.
When I looked out the back window, Walt was on the ground, wrestling with his dogs, and I smiled. This was his home. And I hoped he’d figure out how to be happy here. Because I got a pit in my stomach as I watched him grow smaller the farther the car moved away from the house, until we turned off the road and I could no longer see him.
Fifteen years apart, and I was goddamn addicted to him already. I didn’t want him to disappear again. Not now. Maybe not ever.
****
“My God, that was exhausting,” Lindy said as we tossed the last of the beach trash in the dumpster. “Remind me to say no to Walt’s grand ideas in the future. Especially if he can’t even bother to show up to help.”
We both waved as the busload of kids from Lindy’s camp group left the property. I’d helped her out all day with the clam digging, and then the big barbeque and clambake on the beach. It was a lot of fun and the kids loved it, but it required the entire staff to make it happen, and we all agreed such events should be kept to a minimum in the future. I could see Gil and Damarcus hauling the big grills back up to the supply shed, and they looked equally wiped out.
“When is Walt coming back exactly?” Lindy asked.
“Mom said Monday or Tuesday.”
Lindy did a doubletake at me. “Mom said? You mean you haven’t talked to him?”
“Not since Sunday.”
“But it’s Friday.”
“I know.”
“So it’s been—”
“Five days, I know.”
My sister sighed. “Jude...”
“I know, okay?”
I’d taken Walt’s not-so-subtle advice and invited Lindy to my place for dinner last night, remembering his taunts that I didn’t even know what was going on in my sister’s life. I had, I realized, been a little self-absorbed lately. I learned she was seeing someone she liked, but it wasn’t serious yet. Then, unfortunately, everything moved on to my life. We drank too much wine, and stayed up far too late, talking about everything. And I’d told her everything about Walt. It felt cathartic as fuck last night, but today I was regretting it some, because now she was like a second conscience, calling me out on all my bullshit and highlighting my doubts.
“Come on, let’s go take a load off,” I said. “We’re off duty and there’s beer in the cooler by the boathouse.”
We began walking that way. Lindy was silent until we reached the boathouse, and I got two beers from the cooler, handing one to her. She eyed me, her expression troubled. “So he hasn’t called you at all?”
“No.”
“Texted?”
“No, but it’s not a big deal. He said he was taking time off and that’s what he’s doing.”
But it kind of was a big deal. I’d texted him Sunday night after dropping him off that morning, giving him the details on the therapist I’d recommended. He sent a text thanking me, then there’d been nothing since. To be fair, he said ‘I’m gonna call you’ when I left him that morning. He never specified when. And I was trying like hell to convince myself I didn’t have a problem with this. Which was difficult to do now that I’d spilled my guts to my little sister.
I sat down on the grassy hill, sipping my beer as the sun lowered over the water and made the marshes pink. Lindy popped the top off her beer and sat down beside me. She rested the bottle between her knees and tied her long black hair into a braid, then side-eyed me. “Don’t you think he should have at least texted you, after what went down with you guys in Landing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She went quiet, taking a sip of beer, but I could almost hear the gears spinning in her mind. “Well, if he’s never dated a guy before, maybe he just thinks you don’t need all that reassurance. Like a girl.”
I shot her an unfriendly look.
She chuckled. “I’m not sexist! I’m saying maybe he’s been conditioned to think that way. That men don’t need phone calls and follow-ups after sexy times.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I think maybe it is,” she said. “And I think maybe you should try forgetting about him.”
I frowned at her. “Why? I thought you liked Walt.”
“I do like him. But after everything you told me last night... Jude, you’re my brother. And he’s got baggage.”
“Everyone’s got baggage.”
“But you’ve dealt with yours. And he’s already fucked you over once in your life.”
“He was fourteen. He’s changed. Jesus, Lindy. We’ve all changed since that age.”
“Has he changed though, Jude? Has he really?”
“What do you mean?” I rolled my eyes and took a slug of beer, uncomfortable now.
“He supposedly liked you so much as a kid, but something scared him enough to outweigh his affection for you, and he sold you out. What if something scares him again?”
“I’m starting to wish I hadn’t told you any of this.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “You wouldn’t have told me any of it if you weren’t looking for some outside perspective.”
I shrugged, and squinted at the sunset. “I guess you’re right.”
“Look, I get it,” she said. “He was your first crush, and he’s hot, and your head’s in the clouds. And you deserve to be properly romanced for once. But he’s not the only guy you’ll ever find that with.”
“But what if he’s the right guy?”
“Just make sure you’re seeing things straight. I get you forgiving him because you’re adults now and so on. But the guy has problems, Jude. And it’s not your job to fix them. It took you long enough to fix your own.”
“I know.”
She nudged me with her shoulder. “But does he know it? Don’t let him treat you like a magic bullet to soothe all his woes. You don’t need to be anyone else’s security blanket.”
“So you’re convinced Walt is bad for me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you think he has selfish motives, whether he knows it or not.”
She shrugged. “You’re the one who told me about the awful shit he did to you.”
“Again, he was a kid. Should we judge him for stupid shit he did in the past?”
“I don’t know. Ask his ex-wife.”
I turned to her, and she raised her eyebrows. “That’s not fair,” I said.
“Why? Why shouldn’t that be part of the equation? That didn’t happen when he was a kid, Jude. He was married to her.”
“I know, but—”
“He has a pattern of betraying people close to him. And now he hasn’t called you in almost a week, after a whirlwind night of romance and treating you like the most important thing in his life. Don’t you think he romanced the fuck out of her at one point? And he still betrayed her and lied to her in the end.”
I found myself nodding. Lindy made some good points, and now I felt funny about everything.
“Maybe you should have stuck with the other brother. The swanky blond one.”
I snorted. “You mean Shea? He’s fucked up too. He’s just got a shinier coat of polish on the outside.”
“So you admit Walt’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, Lindy. He’s fucked up. I am listening, and you’re making sense. But I just can’t seem to say no to Walt Cook. I never could. And I’m not sure why.”
“Maybe you’re in love.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Jude.” She shook her head. “I know they say love is crazy. But it doesn’t have to be, you know. Certifiable crazy.”
“Shut up. He’s not that bad.”
“You’re seriously gonna trust this guy? The smasher of beavers and ruiner of childhoods.”
“Gonna try.”
“Then you better buckle up,” she said. “You might end up getting knocked around again.”
“But I’m older now. More experienced. If it happens, I can handle it this time.”
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I scowled, peeling my beer bottle label. “Well, Mom’s always saying I don’t take enough risks. So I’m taking one.”
“Choosing to trust your childhood nemesis.”
“Yes.”
“You could have started smaller,” Lindy said. “With the whole risk-taking thing.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I probably should have. Look, I know he’s not perfect. But he’s perfect for me. Whether it works out or not. He’s what I want. He’s who I want.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” She clinked her bottle against mine. “I hope it works out, then.”
After Lindy left for the day, I went back to my cabin and showered. Then I got comfortable and made a sandwich, ready for another exciting Friday night at home. I was just settling down in front of a movie when a text came from Walt.
“About time,” I muttered, frowning as I read it. ‘You have plans tonight? Can you come to my house?’
I sat there for a minute, re-reading and over-analyzing the message. It didn’t exactly sound warm and fuzzy, but maybe Lindy had gotten in my head. I’d only exchanged a couple of texts with Walt in my life, and they were always short and to the point like this. Maybe he was just better in person. I replied. ‘No plans. Why?’
Another five minutes, and my phone buzzed with his response. ‘I need help burying a body.’
My head jerked back. ‘What??’
He replied right away. ‘Because I’m dying to fucking see you, Julien. Why do you think?’
I smiled, then laughed. Now there was the wiseass I adored. ‘I’ll be right over.’
No sense playing coy. I was dying to see him too.