Elliott
I tell my mother the surprise is for a woman I care about, but I can’t bring myself to share that it’s for Sailor. That day will come soon, but I don’t want to risk having my mom refuse to help me.
Once we’ve come up with a plan, I end the call and get ready for bed. It’s going to be difficult to sleep with Sailor right down the hall. After all these years, it’s surreal that she’s so close.
Ten Years Earlier
While hanging out with my friends around a small bonfire on the beach, I realize it’s been a while since I’ve seen Rebecca. I look around and spot Sailor on a blanket with her girlfriends, but there’s no sign of Becs.
I walk about a hundred and fifty feet along the sandy beach back to Thatcher’s. He’s standing by his lounge chair, talking to a couple of chicks.
“Have you seen Rebecca?” I ask him.
“Uh, earlier–with Sandra. They were playing drinking games with some other people.”
“I’ll check inside the house then. Thanks.”
He grabs my arm. “Stay here. I’m sure she’ll be out soon.” Abruptly releasing me, he slides a hand along the side of his light brown hair while taking a drag off his cigarette.
“Why do I need to stay here?”
“Have a beer with me? Girls, can you give us a minute?” The two chicks, drooling over the dollar signs at the end of Thatcher’s last name, smile and leave us alone. Leaning over, he opens his cooler, which has sunk in the sand, and pulls out a cold bottle.
I look up toward his parents’ home. Along with the moon, the many lights on inside the house plus those surrounding the pool help me see in the dark.
“Since when do you want to drink with me?”
He grins. “I invite you to my parties, don’t I?”
“More likely, Rebecca invites us to your parties.” He shrugs and holds out the beer he opened.
“You’re stalling me. Tell me what the fuck’s going on.”
He sighs. “Elliott, don’t go in the house. I’m sure Rebecca will be out later.”
“Fuck. She’s in there with a guy, isn’t she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. I bet she’s with that punk cousin of yours, Jake? I’ve seen him sniffing around her all summer.”
“Watch it, Roberts. I think you need to reevaluate who’s sniffing who.”
I shove his chest, and as he stumbles back, he holds the bottle in his hand up so it won’t spill.
“I’m going inside, and you better not try to stop me.” I tear off toward the house, wishing the sand under my feet wasn’t making it so damn difficult.
“Fuck,” I hear him say as he follows behind me. Once I’m on the patio, I stomp up the white wooden steps that lead to the deck off the first floor of the elevated home.
The French doors are open as I maneuver around people to get through them. I don’t see Rebecca, so I walk inside each room, looking for her.
Discovering that her friends are hanging out in the kitchen without her, I grip my hair and blow out a breath. I know what I have to do, so I head to the staircase.
“Elliott, don’t go up there,” Thatcher says.
“Fuck off, and yes, I’m kicking his ass if he’s anywhere near my girl.” Once I’m upstairs, I walk down the long hallway, opening doors as I go. There are too fucking many, but I guarantee she’s in one of them. “Rebecca! Rebecca!”
After checking inside an office, a bathroom and three guest bedrooms, I get to the last door and fling it open. Thatcher’s cousin looks over his shoulder as he fucks my girlfriend!
“Oh, shit,” he says before he gets off her and the bed.
“Elliott...” Rebecca pulls up her bikini bottoms and lowers her swimsuit cover. As I storm toward the asshole, he barely gets his trunks up before I grab him by the shoulders and shove him against the closest wall.
I don’t know how many people are yelling, but I hear my name and the word stop said repeatedly as I lay punches into this guy’s face and stomach. He’s bleeding and groaning, and I want to kill him.
Guys pull me off, dragging me away, and it snaps me back from the dark place I’d gone to. After being someone’s punching bag all my life, it’s gratifying to have one of my own. Maybe this fucker did me a favor.
Sobbing, Rebecca steps in front of me.
“Elliott, I’m so sorry.” She tries to grab my hand, but I jerk it away and bring it up to look at it. Blood is squirting from my knuckles, so I fold the bottom of my t-shirt up over them. “Talk to me,” she adds, her cries echoing between each word.
“Get the hell out of my face.” I take off around her and push through the crowd that’s waiting outside the bedroom door. I hear her yelling for me as I run down the stairs.
She chases me like she’s always done after she’s been a royal bitch, but this time she gets the title of Royal Slut.
“Please let me explain.”
I come to a stop once I’m outside on the balcony.
“I can’t wait to hear your excuse for why a different guy had his dick inside you.”
Wiping her eyes, she pushes the dark hair off her face that’s clinging to her tears.
“I’m drunk, and I didn’t think about what I was doing. It just happened. Sandra and I were drinking shots—”
“Shut up. You seem perfectly capable of thinking now. I’m leaving.”
I stomp down the stairs, and once we’re on the patio, she grabs my arm, tugging on it until she can step in front of me.
“You’re taking me with you. We have to fix this.”
“We’re not fixing shit. You can find another ride home.”
“Hi,” Sailor says as she walks up on us. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say. The sweet girl doesn’t need to be dragged into another fight between Rebecca and me. She’s seen enough of them.
Taking hold of my hand, Rebecca wipes the blood off it before looking up at me. The water works begin again, the heaviest damn tears, and they shimmer in the moonlight as they fall to her cheeks. Fuck, I hate when she does this to get what she wants.
“Please, Elliott. Can you take Sailor and me home, and you and I can talk?”
I glance at her sister. Her ebony eyes are wide with worry as she bites on the corner of her lip.
“Um, I’ll go away so you two can talk.”
That’s the last fucking thing I want to do.
“Sailor, come on. I’ll take you two home.”
“OK,” she murmurs. “Wait, have you had a lot to drink?”
Over the irritating sounds of Rebecca’s cries, I try to remember how many beers I drank. Four maybe, but I couldn’t be more alert. The fury coursing through my veins is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
“I’m fine to drive. Let’s go, and for Christ’s sake, shut up, Rebecca. You’re not the victim here.”
As I stride to my Range Rover, I sense the girls trying to keep up with me in the grass. We’re hiking up the small hill at the side of the house, around to the front drive, where the cars are parked.
I’m the first in the vehicle, and after Rebecca gets in the passenger seat, Sailor walks around to my side and climbs in the back. I don’t know why she didn’t get in on her sister’s side. Maybe she doesn’t want to watch her cry.
I’ve learned over the years that Becs is the queen of manipulation, and I’m her most trained peasant, bowing to her and taking the blame when I shouldn’t, but not this time. I’m done with her bullshit.
Once we’re on the highway, I drive toward her home, which is only about a mile away from Thatcher’s in Southampton. A breeze is blowing in the open windows, but it’s still humid as fuck, which is typical in August.
Turning on the tears again, Rebecca tries to touch me, but I flinch and pull away. “Stop. We’re finished, and I definitely don’t want you touching me. Your damn tears aren’t going to change that.”
“You can’t forgive me for this one mistake?”
“Since I’m certain you’ve made more of them, the answer’s no.” I glare over at her, wishing like hell she’d say something that could make all the pain vanish, make what I saw minutes ago not true, but I could stare at her pretty face forever, and it wouldn’t change the toxic person behind her beauty. A bitch and a slut–that’s all I see now.
“Elliott!” she screams. Her eyes widen as she stares ahead. I jerk my eyes back on the road, and headlights are headed right toward us…
I notice the odd, acrid smell first, like burnt ashes have been shoved up my nose. I cough, inhaling a powder, and as I open my eyes, I see the dust. Panicking, I press my hands against the airbag in front of me and attempt to straighten.
Sailor’s screams register with me, so I look around for Rebecca. Where’s Rebecca? She’s not in the Rover!
Sailor runs past my door of the SUV, so I unbuckle and hurry from the vehicle. She’s on the passenger side now, probably thirty feet off the road, almost in the brush, squatting next to her sister’s body.
The headlights are still on, shining enough light for me to see that Becs is face down. Her body is twisted, and the second I’m by her side, I spot the puddle of blood in the grass below her head.
“Rebecca!” Dropping to my knees, I roll her onto her back. Her eyes are open, blood seeping from her nose and mouth, and I think she’s already gone. “Sailor, call 911!”
Not finding a pulse, I give Rebecca chest compressions, but I can’t breathe into her mouth from the blood pooling inside it. I try scooping it out like I’m removing every mean word I ever said to her.
“I’m sorry, Becs. I’m so sorry.” I attempt chest compressions again, but her body only moves from the force of mine, the gurgling sounds a false hope with every push on her sternum.
“No, you can’t die!” I lift her torso from the ground and hold her to my pounding chest, wishing I could jump-start her heart with mine, but my prayers are futile as I stroke her hair and cry. “No, Becs, no! I’m sorry.”
Sitting up in bed, I palm my eyes, wishing I could erase the nightmare that brought me out of my sleep. I lean over the bed and grab a bottle of water out of the mini fridge I have next to it.
As I down a long drink, I notice I’m sweating, and my heart is thundering, too. Fuck, I pray I’m not going to have to constantly endure those disturbing memories now that Sailor’s here.
Hunched over, I rub my forehead. “Alexa, tell me how to right this wrong.”
“Hmm … I don’t know that one,” the lady’s monotone voice from my Amazon Echo replies.
“Alexa, you suck as a therapist.”
“That’s not nice to say.”
“You’re right; I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me, too. Alexa, play Miles Davis on Amazon Radio to help me sleep.”
“Shuffling songs by Miles Davis.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before I lie back in bed and pray for peaceful sleep.