Chapter Six
I swear, it was broken when I got here
The closer I got to the cliffside, the angrier I became, and by the time I arrived I was livid. I’d been softening to Walt somewhat as of late, but now I was working myself back into a good old-fashioned hate. A hate I’d been stewing for fifteen years. Now the timer had popped on that hate, and it was time to take it out of the oven. And Walt was gonna get a taste.
Night had fallen, the moon lighting the marshy fields, and the air was sweet and cooler out this way. As I drove past the misty, salt-scented cliffs, I kept running through all my conversations with Walt since we reconnected. His taunts. Calling me a flamer. Sending his brother text messages about me. I hadn’t been particularly bothered by these things when I thought he didn’t remember me. But now, everything mattered.
Walt’s house looked creepier than ever, a big dark mountain against the night sky. But something was different. One side had been painted a cheery white, contrasting with the washed-out gray of the other walls. And the sagging deck had been replaced with a larger, more solid one, newly stained. Walt really was fixing this place up, and he was making progress fast. Lights were on inside, and I began to regret this decision when the dogs started barking as soon as I stepped onto the porch. Those fucking dogs.
I was surprised to hear a soft female voice. “Gator, Lucifer, calm down now.” The door opened, and a blond woman in her forties blinked at me, holding the collar of one of the German Shepherds. “Hello.” She immediately waved me inside. “They’re in the back. Come on in.”
I stepped into a broad foyer, and after a vigorous sniffing, the dogs lost interest in me, trotting off down a hallway. I smiled at the woman. “I’m sorry. Who’s in the back?”
“Oh.” Her brows lowered. “I assumed you were one of Walt’s workers. Have you come to help with the bar?”
“No. I’m Jude. I just came to talk to Walt.”
“I’m Maggie.”
She held her hand out and I shook it as another bout of nostalgia rocked me. Maggie. The housekeeper who was kind to me that night at the Cook house. “Hi,” I said. “Is he available?”
“Sure, just let me go check. Make yourself at home. Jude did you say?”
“Yeah.”
Maggie disappeared down the wide hallway. There was a large, cozy sitting room off to my left, but I opted to poke around while I had the chance.
Nosy.
The place was in much better shape than I’d expected. While the first room I walked past had rough floors, a wood buffer alongside drapes of plastic and construction equipment, things changed as I moved farther down the hall. The ceilings were cracked in places, and the floor creaked, but the house was gorgeous in a gothic, old-fashioned way, like a museum under construction.
I passed a wide staircase that curved elegantly up to another level, then several rooms with freshly painted walls and polished, gleaming wood floors. I turned left and drifted into a kitchen. While the only furniture was a small wooden table with four chairs, the appliances and cabinets looked new, a modern, bell-shaped light fixture hanging over the table.
“Oh, there you are.”
I turned around as Maggie stepped into the room. “Sorry, just looking around. This place is something.”
She smiled. “It’s going to be a great hotel once it’s finished. It’s been tough but we’re determined to make it beautiful.”
“Are you involved in this project?”
“I will be, yes. Been helping out where I can. I’m one of the managers at Walt’s hotel in Landing. I plan to come work for him here when things are completed, though. Listen, I’m sorry, but Walt said he’s too busy for a visit right now. The new bar came and they’re installing it in the back room.”
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I smiled and nodded. “Too busy, huh?”
“That’s what he said.” Maggie appeared awkward and a little embarrassed, but she returned my smile. “He does a lot of the work at night here. Rarely takes time for himself. Work, work, work.”
“Maybe he could use some help. Should I go ask him?”
Her smile slid away. “Oh. Well, he said—”
“He said to send me away. Right?”
Shoulders sagging, she sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know why.”
“I do. Look, I don’t want to cause any trouble. But would you mind? If I went back there to have a word with him? He can at least tell me to leave himself.”
Her brows rose, a twinkle in her eye. “Most people avoid confrontations with Walt. He can be volatile when challenged.”
“I understand, but I’m willing to take that risk.”
“All right. I’m not his bodyguard. All the way to the end of the hall. Through the glass doors.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. He’s in a bad mood.”
I made my way cautiously down the hall, passing more rooms with draped plastic across the doorways. Another wood sander. Cans of paint and brushes. Strips of carpet. Finally, I came upon a set of glass French doors, one propped open, and I heard Walt’s voice among other male voices inside.
When I stepped through the doors, I spotted Walt and Kelsey with another man who looked to be in his late fifties. A long, cherry wood bar sat at an unnatural angle near the wall, and they were all hunched over, hammering on something at the bottom. They didn’t see me yet, so I looked around, agog, realizing this ‘room’ must be the bar and restaurant. It was enormous, taking up the entire rear of the house with a wall of glass windows overlooking the bluffs, the Gullport Lighthouse blinking offshore. By day, the view must have been staggering.
The floor gleamed, and the walls smelled newly painted. High ceiling with hanging chandeliers, it was like a small ballroom, empty except for some kitchen equipment in the corner. Kelsey spotted me first. He looked surprised, then smiled. “Beaver guy!”
Walt rose to his feet, mouth dropping open when he saw me. He was still in his jeans and white tee shirt from earlier, but the shirt was caked in dust now, his hair a disheveled mess. “I’m busy, Jude.”
“I can see that. Don’t suppose you can spare a minute?”
The older man with them was comically dressed in cutoff jean shorts with white athletic socks pulled up to his knees, work boots on his feet. His long salt and pepper hair was tied back in a ponytail. When he stood and spotted me, a hammer slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. “Tommy?”
Walt looked at him. “No, Rafe, this is Jude Applegate. I’ve been doing some work for him. Out at Beaver Tail.”
“Oh, son of a bitch.” The man approached, crow’s feet appearing at the corners of his eyes as he smiled. “Jude. Of course. I’m sorry.” He put his hand out and I shook it. “I knew your father. Shit, for a minute I thought I was seeing a ghost. You’re the spit of him.”
My anger forgotten, I beamed. “You knew my dad?”
“Oh yeah, quite well. I’m an electrician. Did some work at your beach cabins way back, but you probably don’t remember. You were...” He held his hand out. “About this high. Just a little one.”
Walt shuffled around awkwardly, avoiding my eyes.
“That’s cool,” I said. “It’s really nice to meet you.” I chuckled. “Again, apparently.”
“Yeah, right?” He pointed at me, grinning. “Again. Been years. How’s your mother?”
“She’s well, thank you.”
“Good, good. So how do you know Big Walt?”
I glanced at Walt. “Oh, we go way back. Go on, Wally, tell him the story.”
“Rafe,” Walt said. “Let’s call it a night. Can finish this tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying until it’s done.”
“That’s okay,” Walt said. “I’m tired, and anyway, Jude and I do have some business to discuss.”
“Come on, Rafe,” Kelsey said. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Okay then. I’ll come by tomorrow. Nice to meet you, Jude. Again.” Rafe chuckled. “Damn, it’s uncanny! You look just like Tommy.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Nice to meet you, too.”
Once they left, Walt shut the French doors, leaving us alone together in the big room. He turned and strolled over to the wall of windows, hands on his hips, staring out at the sea. “Pretty pushy move, Julien.”
“Julien?”
“It’s your name.”
I walked over and stood beside him. “So you’re not pretending anymore.”
“What’s the point? I can guess where this is going.”
My anger had deflated during my interaction with Rafe, so I wasn’t feeling as bold as when I’d arrived. Stalling, I said, “This is a great room.”
Walt turned his head and scowled at me, then stared out the window again. “Yeah. Gonna be the restaurant. Getting a big sign up on the roof that can be seen from the water, so people out on boats know we’re here. The Lighthouse Inn.”
“Lighthouse Inn,” I said. “Huh. Not using the Cook name?”
“Fuck no.” He glanced at me. “Enough with the small talk. Will you just say what you came to say? I’m not good with suspense.”
“You lied.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve lied a lot in my life.”
“You pretended not to remember me.”
“Well, of course I did!” he shouted. “What did you expect?”
I jumped at the unexpected outburst.
Walt turned and stormed off to the other side of the room. Hands on his hips, he paced a circle, then looked over and pointed at me. “But you did the same thing. Fuck, Julien. I really thought you didn’t know who I was. I was relieved. I was fucking thrilled you didn’t remember me. Thought maybe I’d been granted a fresh start. But you were faking the whole time!”
“Oh no, you don’t get to turn this around on me.” I walked toward him. “I’ve waited years to confront you about what you did. Frankly, it pissed me off that you could have forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I know what I did,” he said. “I threw you under the bus to avoid a beating. And I’m sorry. But it was my fourteenth birthday. Fourteen. I was a kid.”
“I know.”
“But you still hate me for it,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“I don’t. It’s more complicated than that.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes, remembering what Shea said about Walt putting himself between his little brother and his father’s fists. Walt wasn’t just fourteen when it happened. He was an abused child.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “I don’t hate you. I did for a long time. But you’re being flippant like it was just a stupid, single incident. But it stuck with me. It followed me, Walt. For years.”
“It followed you?” He huffed. “Well, it followed me too. You have no idea.”
I moved closer to him. “Do you have any idea how I was treated at school once you left?”
He blinked slowly. “Yes. And I’m sorry.”
“Do you also know my dad died after we left your house that night?”
“What?” he whispered, taking a step closer. “Your father died that night?”
This revelation stopped the momentum; Walt appeared truly stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, then said nothing and just blinked.
“I’m not blaming you. But he had a stroke when we got home.”
Walt’s brow lowered. “Jesus Christ, Julien! You never told me.”
“You told your brother I MOLESTED you. Think I was gonna call you up after this?”
“No. I know but, Jesus! That’s...awful. I’m sorry.”
“In addition, your father broke my wrist. So let’s just say that night was memorable.”
Walt went very still. “My father...my father broke your wrist?”
“Yes.”
“When? How?”
“In the kitchen. Shea got out of bed and was talking to me. Your dad didn’t like that. So he yanked me away from him.”
“You’re serious? He fucking broke your wrist?”
“Yeah.”
Hands going to his head, Walt closed his eyes. “I’m gonna be sick.” He turned and stumbled over to the wall, resting his head against it. He stayed there, silent.
I carefully approached and stood behind him. “What are you doing?”
“Trying not to puke,” he rasped.
I watched him, wringing my hands, nervous now.
“Did he know?” Walt asked softly. “That he did it?”
“He knew he’d injured me. I never told anyone it was him. My dad suspected but...then he died. My mom thought it happened fighting with you.”
A soft sound, like a hushed whimper came from Walt.
“Walt?”
Another groan, then a gag. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “He hurt you. I wanna die. Please let me die right now.”
“Breathe,” I said. “Take a deep breath.”
He did as I asked, inhaling audibly, shoulders trembling as he let it out.
I had broken Wally Cook. I’d thought that was what I wanted. To break him. But now I wanted to take it back. To unbreak him. I’d never considered what this information might do to him. I hadn’t cared. But now I was shaken to discover I did care. He was so big and tough and obnoxious, I didn’t think he could be broken. I’d expected him to fight me. I had not anticipated this reaction. “Are you all right?”
“No,” he whispered.
“Can I...can I do anything?”
“No,” he said, his voice cracking. Turning around, tears were streaming down his face. He leaned back against the wall, then closed his eyes. “My dad hurt you, Julien. I feel sick. Feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
His face wasn’t just pale, it was practically green. He started to slide down the wall. “Whoa, whoa, easy.” I grabbed his arm and aided his fall. “Here, bend over. Put your head between your knees and take deep breaths.”
Walt did as I asked. I could hear him breathing. But for a long time, he didn’t speak. My hand, I realized suddenly, was still on his arm. I removed it, and shuffled back, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. “Are you okay?”
He lifted his head. Some color had returned to his cheeks. “I think so.”
“Still feel nauseous?”
He shook his head, then after a pause, said, “I wish it had been my dad who died that night.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I mean it.”
“You don’t know what that kind of grief does.”
“I wouldn’t have grieved him,” he said. “My mother died, and I didn’t grieve her. He’s a monster. And she was complicit.”
I was silent for a while. This was not going as planned. “I’m sorry Walt. I’ve blamed you for so much for so long, it didn’t even occur to me that this...the details of it would affect you.”
He looked directly at me. “It occurred to you. But you wanted it. You wanted to hurt me. To shock me. To make me feel your pain.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “Maybe I did.”
“Does Shea know? That our father hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“What does he know?”
“Nothing. He doesn’t remember.”
“I don’t want him to. Please. Don’t ever tell him.”
“Why?”
“Well, it doesn’t exactly paint me in a good light, does it? Plus, Shea had to witness and endure a thousand nights like that. He had to grow up around constant chaos and trauma, he doesn’t need any reminders.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks. I am so sorry my dad hurt you. I’m sick over it. But I can’t go back, Julien. I can’t change anything.”
“I know.”
We were both silent for a time, just sitting on the floor, in our own thoughts. “Did you know right away?” I asked finally. “When I came to get you that day? Or did it take you a while to recognize me?”
Walt snorted, then chuckled.
I smiled, only because I was happy to see him somewhat returning to normal. “Is that funny?”
“Seriously? Julien, I knew who you were before you ever showed up that day.”
“How? Paperwork?”
“No. I already knew it was your motel and cabins. It wasn’t an accident I was up there the night of the crash.”
“What?”
“Hitting that beaver wasn’t planned, believe me. But I was driving by your place on purpose. It was raining and I wasn’t watching the road because I was...hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”
My breath grew shallow. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been thinking about you ever since I moved to Gullport.” His lips tightened, and he swallowed hard. “You’re my biggest regret.”
I stared at him, my heart thumping. His biggest regret? Heavy words. He appeared nervous, holding his knees and rocking slightly, but there was something else in his gaze. It reminded me of that secret smile he used to give me when we were kids. But more intense. “So...you mean...you regret what you did to me all those years ago.”
“Of course I do,” he said softly. “You have no idea.” His hand lifted, knuckles brushing my cheek. “But I missed you. And I... regret what I never got to do with you, too.”
I inhaled sharply, then waited.
He chuckled, gaze lowering. “The way you used to stare at me in school. God, after everything went to shit, I missed that. No one ever looked at me that way before.” He met my eyes. “Or since.”
My mouth went dry. “You...you remember that?”
He nodded. “In excruciating detail.”
“Come on. You do not.”
“You always wore that orange and blue thread bracelet. You’d twist it on your wrist when you were nervous. Like what you’re doing now.”
I looked down to find I’d been rubbing my wrist. I rested my hands on my knees. “Shit. Yeah. I had that stupid bracelet for years. It finally just disintegrated.” I looked at Walt. “You really do remember.”
“I remember a lot of things. I’d catch you staring at me in homeroom, and I’d smile at you. You’d always look away and start doodling on your notebook. Like you hadn’t seen my smile. But I knew you had. Because you’d blush.”
Ancient feelings of longing and humiliation came crawling up from my murkiest depths. “So you knew I had a crush on you. Why are you telling me this? You think that matters now? I’m not that ugly, insecure kid anymore. You can’t embarrass me.”
“I’m not trying to embarrass you! And ugly?” He frowned, shaking his head. “Are you crazy? You were never ugly.” He leaned in close, deep voice in my ear. “You were perfect then, and you’re even more perfect now.”
I stared into his eyes as he eased back to look at me, his face still close. His eyes darted to my lips, full of emotion as he met my gaze again. A rush of excitement blew through me unbidden, an electric current of lust I couldn’t stop. It was both sexual and emotional, more powerful than anything I’d felt with Shea. More powerful than anything I’d ever felt. It shocked me so hard it brought me to my feet. I stared down at him, summoning my anger, because I was terrified to confront the other emotions churning inside. “What the hell are you doing?” I snapped. “What...what are you doing right now?”
Walt stood too, expression hardening. “Jesus, relax. I wasn’t gonna kiss you. I love my brother, but I don’t want to taste his dick.”
“Knock it off. I haven’t had your brother’s dick in my mouth.”
“No?” He took a step toward me. “You saying you want me to kiss you?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You felt the need to correct me though. Let me know you hadn’t had Shea’s dick in your mouth.”
I flushed. “Can we stop talking about your brother’s dick?”
“Happily.”
“I know you’re not bi, Walt. So what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not bi?”
“Bisexual. I know you don’t like guys so quit teasing or whatever your motivations are.”
“How would you know what I do and don’t like?”
“Shea said you told him being gay was a choice.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He turned away, then spun back around. “I told him that so he wouldn’t catch a beating! He was planning to come out to my dad, for Christ sakes. The fucking naïve fool had no idea what he was playing at!”
“So you...don’t think that.” I cleared my throat. “That it’s a choice?”
Walt stared at me for several long moments, then he turned around, giving me his back, and unbuckled his belt.
“Wh...what are you doing?”
Sliding his jeans down, he exposed the top curve of his ass. Each cheek had raised, white scars, bumps that looked like half-moons.
A breath shivered out of me. “What is that?”
“Metal rod.” He pulled his jeans up, then turned and faced me. “Once we got to a certain age, my dad felt it wasn’t appropriate to use his bare hands to beat our asses anymore. Now that would be obscene. So he used tools. Had us stand against the wall in the basement. If we fought, he’d shackle our hands over our heads.”
“Walt...Jesus.”
“It was only that one time he actually left scars. Made sure he only hit my ass so no one would see the evidence. It was the day I told him I was bi. That you didn’t touch me against my will. It was the day I confessed that I wanted you to touch me that night.”
My head spun with dizziness. “You actually told him the truth?”
“The guilt was getting to me.”
“But you had to know what would happen.”
“I knew he’d hit me. Had no idea it would be that bad, to be honest. He gave me the worst beating of my life.” He glanced down, then lifted his chin, a defiant look. “So yeah. I told Shea I thought being gay was a choice. He was only fifteen. He was vulnerable, and I couldn’t watch his back all the time. It was part of a conversation where I warned him never to tell. I was terrified when he told me he was gay. Terrified for him. There was no way I was gonna let my father do to him what he did to me.”
My mouth went dry, and now I was the one feeling nauseous.
“So you see, Julien? You’re not the only one who carried that night for years after. I still carry it. On my body. I didn’t forget you. I never could.” He looked at the floor and mumbled, “Besides, I was practically in love with you.”
He started to turn away and I grabbed his arm. “Walt...”
He turned back, giving me soft, hopeful eyes. “What?”
I started to move toward him, but stopped myself. I let go of his arm.
“Julien. What?”
There were a thousand things I could have said next. Things that would have been a fuck of a lot better than what I did say. Smarter things. Kinder things. More sensitive things. But my head was spinning, my emotions a mess. “I’m going to your cousin’s engagement party with Shea.”
Walt blinked, his jaw tightening. “You are?”
“Yeah. He invited me. And then to...stay over somewhere.”
I saw Walt’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Why you telling me this?”
“I thought I should. Be honest with you. I don’t want to come between brothers.”
“Well no. That would just be gross.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” he said. “You’re into Shea. It’s fine. I wasn’t coming onto you.” He turned away.
“Look, Walt, this is all pretty intense. I don’t know why I just said that. I was shocked by what you told me and I said the wrong thing. I want to be honest with you, but I’m so confused right now I’m not sure I can even be honest with myself.”
“Just leave.” He walked to the windows and stared out at the dark ocean. “There’ve been more than enough confessions for one night, don’t you think?”
I caught his eye in the reflection on the glass. “Yeah. It’s been a lot.” He stayed silent. “I’ll just...” I jerked my thumb toward the door.
“That would be best.”
I left Walt’s house in a daze, and barely remembered driving home. When I got back to my cabin, I tried to avoid thinking about it. Cracking a beer, I sat in front of the TV, watching anything I could find to distract me. It didn’t work.
I went to bed, staring at the ceiling, going through everything Walt said to me. I’d blamed all the bad things in my life on Wally Cook, and had no idea about the bad things that happened to him as a result of my presence in his life. Christ, those scars he carried.
Hugging my pillow, I squeezed my eyes shut. Pushing the image away.
But as I drifted off to sleep, my thoughts softened and shifted to that exciting, confusing moment when Walt touched my cheek. Those crazy words he said. “I regret what I never got to do with you, too.”
And then the words that nearly destroyed me.
“Besides, I was practically in love with you.”
I needed to push that out of my head most of all. Everything was upside down. We were supposed to be enemies. I was supposed to be dating his brother. Walt had to complete his community service. I couldn’t be thinking of him this way. I needed to forget. Forget the way my body and my mind and my heart responded when he said those things.
“I wasn’t watching the road because I was hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”
“Fuck,” I said to my pillow.
I was back to square one, not knowing what to do. I did feel something for Shea. But now, I knew unquestionably that I also felt something for Walt. Something different than what I’d felt for him as a kid. Something new. More turbulent, more complicated. Something that ran deeper. So deep, I sensed I was about to drown.