Chapter Nineteen

Caroline

Even if I had checked the radar before I left, I wouldn’t have anticipated how furious the storm that took my plane down would turn out to be. For all intents and purposes it was the perfect Florida storm. Gory and treacherous, wild with surprise, and mild in warning. It took no prisoners. I spent four months recovering in St. Mary’s Hospital. Months that were brutal for many different reasons. My body and mind will never be quite the same, ever again. The hospital is inland several miles and I swear to God, you can’t smell the sea air that far away. It was like being trapped in another dimension. One in which a fern named Beatrice kept me company during the lonely night hours. I kept the plant alive. When everything hurt and tears were pouring down my face as I sat up in bed, watering that plant gave me a purpose. Water the fern. Eat. Water the fern. Sleep. Water the fern. Breath. Water the fern. It was the only mantra I lived by, watering that fern kept me alive.

Friends came and went, but after such a long time, the visits dwindled down. Aside from my mama bringing in lunches and dinners for the hospital staff a few times a week when she visited me, I was alone but for my beeping monitors and a night nurse named Felicia.

One person who wanted to be there daily wasn’t, because I wrote his name on the do not visit list. There’s really no such thing in a small-town hospital, but I made Felicia promise me she’d tell the office girls to make sure he didn’t get up those stairs to see me. I envisioned the employees swooning instead of obeying my wishes, but I haven’t seen him. Not even since I’ve been home. I only know he wanted to visit because my daddy told me so.

I moved in with my parents so they could help me maneuver around with the crutches, and if I’m being perfectly honest, I can’t bear being that close to the airport. The house up on the hill gives me the distance I need and assures me I won’t run into him. Or any of the memories that used to bring me happiness.

It’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday when my mama knocks softly on my door. I’m staying in my childhood room, the walls a soft blue, the color of the sky—the color it’s been since I was old enough to have an opinion. At the moment if they were black, they wouldn’t be dark enough for my tastes. I call out, “Come on in.” She does, slipping inside with a hot mug of water and a canister of loose leaf tea on a small tray.

Smiling, she puts it on a table across from my bed. “Whatch ya’ reading?” she asks, seating herself next to me.

“I really don’t feel like talking right now, mama. I know you don’t care what novel I’m reading right now, and it’s just your opening introduction to today’s pep talk. I’m going to be okay. I promise.”

She sighs, and the guilt hits me square in the chest. She’s worried about me and only wants to help. Logically, I know she’s just being a good mom. “A month tomorrow, darling. Since you’ve needed the crutches. Dr. Taylor says you’re as good as healed. It’s not getting any better. When do you want to try on your old life again, honey?”

There it is. The annoying pep talk. “You don’t want me here anymore?”

Mama looks thoughtful for a second, her gaze reaching away from me. “I don’t,” she deadpans.

“What?” My tone is shrill, the worn paperback that smells like an old friend falls to my lap.

She shrugs. “It’s the only way to get you out of here and back to your life. Daddy told me you don’t want to fly. Caroline, I love you, but you’re an adult now and Mays pick themselves up by their bootstraps and get on with it.” Her hand shakes between us, but she decides to lay her hand on my calf, in the end. “People are…talking,” she adds. “You say you don’t care, but you still live here so you must, in some way, care what your friends think.”

Do I love flying? Yes. Will I always love it? Probably. Do I want to fly? No. A million times no. Who knows how long I’ll feel that way. What if that happens again? I was told a dozen times how lucky I was that Shell Island existed, that otherwise I would have never made it out alive.

Leaning my head back against the wall I contemplate the way this conversation is going to go. “Fine. If you want me out, I’ll go back home.”

An annoyed noise escapes her. “Did you hear anything else I said?”

“Yes, yes. I need to go on with my life and pretend I didn’t almost die. Check. Thanks, mama. That tidbit was su-per helpful. Not like that’s something I’d do if I could, or anything.” I groan, and face my mother. Living in this house makes me feel like a teenager.

She squeezes my calf. Hard. “I know you may not be healed all the way,” she says, her gaze dipping to the center of my chest. “You march on anyways. There’s a party,” she says, turning away.

“I cancelled my housewarming party the first time Malena visited me in the hospital. There’s no party I have to attend.”

“It’s not for you, darling,” she quips, a sparkle in her eye. “The world has moved on without you in it.” The thought slices me, but I can handle the truth. Especially when it hurts. That’s when it means the most. “The B&B is opening for business this weekend. The whole town is invited. It’s going to be a great time. I’m helping cater, though it’s so big June Bug from the Italian restaurant is also providing food and drinks. It’s in three days, figured if you had a few you could get yourself ready.” She leans over and picks up a limp, dingy strand of my hair. “Or at the very least wash your hair.”

Firstly, I’m irritated. Why didn’t Shirley mention this when she stopped by yesterday? Why didn’t Malena text me. Or call me. It’s a one-two gut punch to know I’m not that important anymore. How come no one told me he was going to open it as a B&B? I’ve been swallowed whole by the accident and my decisions following it. “Oh, please. I haven’t left the house in weeks and you think the best way to reintroduce myself into society is by going to a party where every single person I’ve ever known will be in attendance? No pressure.” I cross my arms, and turn to the side. The blue walls comfort me even if they haunt me at night. “No one even told me,” I say, sniffling once. Mama stays silent. “I don’t even have a thing to wear, anyways. I’d need something prettier than a sundress if I’m rising from the dead.” I shuffle my feet, but her hand stays firmly on my leg. “It would be awful. I’d have to make small talk and heaven knows I’d have to relive the accident at least a hundred times.”

When the silence between us grows to be too much, she whispers, “And?”

I meet her worried gaze. “And he’ll be there,” I say, bottom lip trembling.

She pats me a few times. “And you have to get used to that. It’s always easier to tear off the bandage quick. You know that.”

“Does he even ask about me?” I ask, voice low, offending every drop of pride I have left.

Mama stands, moves to the table and begins fixing my tea. The light shining in the window showcases the thick silver streaking through her hair. It reminds me how much time has passed us by. How much time we have left. The finite seconds that leave before we have barely welcomed them.

She sighs as she stirs, the tinging of the brass spoon on the inside of the mug. “Caroline, this isn’t a game of telephone. You aren’t sixteen. Go talk to the man. I know he’s respecting your wishes by staying away, but who knows what’s running through his mind. You’re healed,” she says, her eyes narrow, “You’re have to move on. This is it. The moment that you can define, or let the accident define. It’s your decision, honey.” She offers me the warm cup without averting her gaze. I can’t help but shrink back into myself a touch as I accept the cup. She’s using her firm voice. The one that let me know how much trouble I was in as a child.

She’s right.

Shirley said the same thing. Malena did, too. Daddy just looks at me with sad eyes and I know he’s thinking what everyone else is. Will Caroline recover?

I nod my head, and she leaves, closing the door behind her. It wasn’t just about recovering from the accident. This recovery was something deeper. Something far more painful than broken ribs and a burned body. Over the rim of my mug, I eye my open closet door. The tea, sweetened to perfection, sears down my throat. Maybe I’m not ready to fly, but I am ready for this. I have to reclaim a slice of my life back. It’s time. Standing, I walk to my closet. I’ll pack my things and go back to my hangar. I touch the fabric on one side of the wall. All sundresses I haven’t so much as looked at in half a year. I’ll relieve my daddy of the airport duties. My hand stops on one, particular piece of clothing. I’ll go to this party and face down my demons.

And I’ll wear the white dress.

****

As soon as I step out of my Daddy’s truck, I’m convinced this is an awful idea. The whole town is here. Cars are lining either side of the road and we have to walk about a half a mile to the main entrance of the Homer property. When we are finally standing in front of the new white picket fence, Daddy pats me on the shoulder and heads toward the gaggle of catering tents off by the water in search of mama.

People are mulling about as far as the eye can see, the lush green grass is manicured to perfection on all sides of the large house. Ladies are wearing their bright dresses, and men have donned their fanciest khaki shorts and polo shirts. The scent of Chanel No. 5 hits the salty breeze like a Bronze Bay calling card. It’s one of the only fragrances carried at the general store so almost everyone wears it. I’m so busy trying to avoid eye contact that I missed the large sign hanging above the tree-lined drive. Easy Days Inn & Bar. It’s wrought iron with a sun setting behind the words.

The whole thing looks like a completely different place—something out of a storybook, a venture that doesn’t look suited for a town so small. So much work has been done it’s hard to tell what hasn’t been touched.

“Caroline May!”

With a sigh, and a silent prayer, I turn toward the sound of my name. “Malena!” I return, with a little less enthusiasm than she used.

“I thought that was you. You look beautiful. I’m so glad you decided to show up,” she says, stepping into my personal bubble.

Backing away a touch, with a smile on my face, I reply, “It’s time I got out of the house. I’m feeling so much better now. This place looks amazing.” I swallow hard, thinking about how much time has passed since I stepped foot in the foyer here.

“I know, right? Tahoe did such a fantastic job,” Malena coos. My stomach sinks at both her casual use of his nickname and the fact she knows something I don’t. “He’s been working like a madman on it so it’s not that surprising,” she adds, tossing her long hair over one shoulder. Even the sun decided to play nice for the occasion. It’s not blaring down on us relentlessly today.

I raise my eyebrows and try nonchalance. “Yeah? He did this all by himself?” I ask, waving an arm around. There’s a flower garden with a sitting area in the distance and the dock has been extended to wrap around the property on both sides. Now boats can tie off and frequent the bar. Get too drunk, and then stay the night. It’s a genius idea.

“He did. I know Leif and the boys helped with some of the manual labor, but this is Tahoe’s brain child. When you refused to talk to him, I mean, after the accident and you needed to recover,” she says, opening and closing her mouth when she realizes her blunder. “He was upset, Caroline,” Malena decides on. “This is the product of that. You should see the inside.”

My heart squeezes. The smile I offer is weak, something in absence of words. “He’s inside greeting guests. Go say hi,” Malena says, grinning. “I know he’d love to see you.”

I’m rubbing the sides of my dress between my fingers—nervous, scared, excited to finally lay eyes on the man that ripped my heart wide open and stepped inside like he’d always lived there.

“I’ll go see if mama needs my help first,” I say.

Malena clears her throat. “No. She’s fine. I was just there.”

I quirk one brow. “Oh?”

She nods quickly. “Go inside. They have your favorite profiteroles on a table in the foyer. The ones we were going to have at your house warming party. Remember?” Her face falls. Malena does love to plan a party. I’ll have to let her plan something again.

She is trying too hard, but I can’t deny that I’m anxious to see the inside. If the outside looks this amazing, the inside must be top notch. She pats me on my back and I take my leave, trying to keep my head down as I approach the front of the Inn.

A few older ladies who are friends with my mama say hello. Their faces are friendly, but I see the pity in their kohl rimmed eyes. It’s the same look my mother wore when she told me to move out and get my life together. I rub the numb spot on my leg. One of the reminders of my accident. The burns on my leg were bad enough that I had to endure multiple skin grafts. I’m lucky my leg healed as much as it did. I should feel lucky for a million reasons, apparently. Right now, I feel anything but. I move on from the latest person who feels bad for me, with a new sense of purpose. Everyone is giving me exactly what I need without realizing it.

The stairs leading up to the porch and front door are stained a dark walnut, and the new double doors are a vivid blue adorned with a skeleton of a frog etched in the glass panel. One side is open, so as quietly as I can, I slip inside.

There are just as many people in here, so I’m safe, undetectable, for at least another moment or two while I take in everything. He redid almost everything, but the staircases are still the same. He left those intact. The walls are a bright white and the beachy feel meshes with the masculinity of the dark, sleek décor. It’s an odd combination I wouldn’t have put together, but it works well. It’s Tahoe. I close my eyes and take in a breath. This is my new reality. One I need to take control over regardless of how much it hurts. He is integrated into my world. In my absence, even more so. SEALs are around, chatting, drinking, being friendly. I haven’t recognized any of them as Tahoe’s friends. They’re just another indicator of my new reality.

Spotting the profiteroles, I grab one and a small plate and head for the stairs. When I’m at the top, my breath catches. “How much money did he throw at this thing?” I gasp. There’s a huge bay window that overlooks the bar, the docks, and the bay in the distance. The view is something from a beautiful painting. I look down and see the terrace that he left untouched, where Tahoe first kissed me.

I take a bite of the confection as I let the memory play softly in the background.

“It’s rude to ask prices. Where did you learn your manners anyways?”

With a mouth full of sugar and cream, I let the voice, his voice, soak in. I knew I missed him, but I didn’t realize how much. I avert my gaze from the window, to him. Nope. The mere sight of him makes me weak in my knees. There’s no way I’ll be able to coexist with this man. The town is too small. I hate it. I despise myself for this flaw, knowing it will be the greatest challenge I’ll face in this lifetime.

He smiles. It’s crooked. A dimple pops. His gaze dips to my body, the dress I picked out specifically for this reason. His gaze lands back on my face and holds. He heaves a long breath. “Caroline,” he says, voice cracking. He swallows hard. “You came.” Relief washes over him, his shoulders rising and lowering in a deep breath.

I set my plate down on a small console table next to the window. This is why I came here, right? To get this over with. “It looks fantastic, Tyler,” I say. His eyes narrow. Suspicion. “This is something to be proud of. It will be great for tourism and Bronze Bay residents alike.” The panty scorching smile drops from his face. At least this will be easier now. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for our small town.” Polite. Concise. Everything a southern woman should be. “We appreciate it.”

“Caroline,” he repeats. “Say something.”

I clear my throat, and turn my gaze to the hardwood floor. “I just said multiple things, Mr. Holiday.”

“Mr. Fucking. Holiday? What the fuck are you playing at?” he growls. “You avoided me for months. Half a year I tried to talk to you. Tried to see you. You’re finally here, finally. And you’re going to pretend we’re strangers?”

I shake a finger at him. “Not strangers. Friends. You broke up with me. I’m just trying to get on with it. You’re living here for the foreseeable future?” I ask.

“Of course. You knew that,” he replies, waving a big arm to the Inn.

“So am I. Let’s be civil to each other.” I make a move to leave, but he blocks the stairs with his body—his sheer size a deterrent to any further movement forward.

“Talk to me. Please, God. I’ve waited so long for this. You’re killing me here. Please,” he pleads. I see the desperation in his eyes and I want to erase it, but then I’m reminded of how quickly he threw everything we had away.

Folding my arms across my chest, I say, “Talk to me then.” I meet his blue eyes and it’s a mistake. My insides quake back to life, calling out for him.

“Will you come with me?” he asks. “Somewhere private?”

My traitorous body answers for me, walking past the stairwell toward the rooms. He calls from behind me, “Last on the left.”

I walk in. It’s a white room and it’s decorated in the fashion one might find in an inn, but it has personal items draped here and there. A black shirt hanging on the back of the desk chair, a uniform hanging in the open wardrobe. Man products on the counter in the bathroom. It’s his room. The king-sized bed looms large to my right and I bypass it to sit at the table under a large window. The door clicks closed, and I hear the deadbolt slide home. My pulse speeds, and my stomach swirls with the unknown. As he approaches his footsteps reverberate, vibrating a vase on the bedside table. It reminds me of jack and the beanstalk. The giant is coming. He’s coming for me. I’m defenseless, armed only with my feelings.

I keep my gaze focused out the window to control my thoughts. He sits in front of me and waits. I stay silent. He waits some more.

Sighing, I blink slowly, and look at him. “What? What can you possibly have to say?”

His eyes are sad. “I have everything to say to you. You gave me months and months to concoct the perfect thing to say to you, Caroline. When you wouldn’t see me, I didn’t blame you. At first. I did a bad thing, said awful fucking things, but I told you I wasn’t a good person. You knew it the whole time. Then, after a few months went by and you didn’t return any of my calls or letters I got angry. So angry that I thought I might torch Bronze Bay to the ground.” Tahoe pauses, breathing heavy through his nostrils. His rage permeates the air. “I didn’t deserve that.”

I want to tell him he did. He broke my heart and acted like an immature jackass, but I can tell he’s not finished yet, so I let him continue. “I threw myself into the Inn, hoping I could distract myself from you, our past, and your accident, but that didn’t work. After all of this time has passed I look at you and I never want to look away. I’ve missed your sun so much and I am so, so sorry.”

An apology. I never expected that from a prideful man. “You hurt me,” I reply.

“And you hurt yourself,” he says, looking me over, shaking his head. “I thought you weren’t going to make it. I was there, you know? At the site. I’d just gotten home from New York when it happened. It was the last time I saw you.” He closes his eyes and he’s taken back to that dark, rainy day when Caroline May did something stupid.

I knew he was there. My friends told me as much, but I didn’t think about it much after that. Or how it would affect him. “Don’t remind me of my mistake please. Now I look at you and think about the accident. You left me here. We had plans, Tyler. I gave you everything despite having reservations and you threw it back in my face. Your motives were questioned for good reason. Look what you did.” A tear slips and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. “I do have a question for you.”

He makes a grab for my hands in the center of the table. I fold mine in my lap. Touching him will be a mistake. Shaking my head, I close my eyes. “Why? The real reason you freaked out that night and ran away.”

He runs his hands through his hair, his biceps bulging with the movement. “It was because I thought I couldn’t be with a virgin.”

“That’s lame,” I reply. He smirks, shaking his head. “If I never told you, you would have fucked me to next Friday,” I continue.

He clears his throat, his posture changing. I chose my words very methodically. “Don’t swear,” he chastens.

Laughing, it’s my turn to shake my head. “You’re going to have to tell me more. What’s wrong with me? It’s not because I’m a virgin.”

“So you still are?” he asks, eyes lighting.

Scoffing, I quirk one brow. “You’re serious? Of course I am. Men don’t find a hospital bed the best place to have sex. I could be wrong though. Maybe I should have tried a bit harder with my physical therapist. Those exercise balls are quite the rage in the bedroom, aren’t they?”

He looks at the table, embarrassed. “I heard you were trying to date guys so I couldn’t be sure. I’m glad you didn’t do anything out of spite.” Of course he heard. He’s the one who reverse cock-blocked me.

“Do you even know me at all? Don’t be my superhero. Keep your goals obtainable, Tahoe. Save the world. Not my virginity.”

He stands. “I do know you. And what if I can save both?”

My mouth is open, ready to retort, but his question takes me aback, and I don’t have a quick reply. “What is that supposed to mean? How do you propose you save my virginity?”

He paces to his bed, picks something up, and strides back in front of me. “You didn’t want to see me so I wasn’t sure this was ever going to happen. I had a perfect plan, you see? But I feel like if I don’t do this right now. Right this second, too much time will have passed. In my quest for perfection, I realized that sometimes perfection can be defined in different ways.” His words are passionate, and my heart wants to leap out of my chest when his gaze scans my body. “Caroline, you are perfection and it scares me that I’ll never be able to live up to those kinds of standards. You deserve the best. Perfection as defined by the Merriam Webster Dictionary. While you were avoiding me all of these months, I came to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “Because no one is going to love you as perfectly as I do. That’s what matters. I was scared of my feelings before. If I did one wrong thing I’d scare you away, so I left before I could fuck it up.”

I turn in my chair to face him, tears pricking my eyes as the emotions he’s speaking hit me square in the chest. Tahoe clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being scared. I’m sorry for not defining my love for you earlier, Caroline. I love you more than anything. I’ll always love you more than anything. Even if you say no. Even if I sit in this house by myself for the rest of my life and watch you find happiness with someone else. It’s only going to be you for me. I know that now.”

“Say no to what?” I ask.

His lips press in a firm line, as his gaze darts to the side. “Whatever it takes. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have you. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life.” In a life-sized move, most only dream about, Tahoe drops to one knee, a red velvet box in one hand.

“I can save both, to answer your question. Your response to my question decides one fate.”

I’m too shocked to say anything, to even move an inch. He must sense my confusion, because he takes my left hand into his right and works the box open against his chest.

“Marry me, Caroline? Will you be mine forever?”

A tear rolls down my cheek. “You realize you could have just asked for my virginity,” I reply, smiling through the barrage of wetness flowing down my face. “I probably would have told you yes. No one else in this town will take it.” I wipe at the tears, while laughing.

His confidence bolstered, he slides closer, the square diamond sparkling against the dark velvet. He pulls it from the box and slides it on my finger. “I want you. All of you. Every single part. Forever. I never want to wake up without knowing you’re mine in all ways. I can live without you. I’ve done it for a while now. I checked my pride at the door when I fell for you, because I know without a doubt, and against all odds, I don’t want to live without you.” He shakes his head, and moves in closer. “Love is a luxury men like me don’t indulge in. You’ve made it essential. I need it to live.”

I think of all the things left unsaid, all of the sadness and grief after my accident. How angry I was with him for breaking my heart. He’s mending it, or at least trying to. He’s dangling an olive branch in front of me in the form of a lifetime commitment. I blink a few times to make sure I’m not dreaming, and he’s still there, still as handsome as ever, and still holding my hand. As I look at the beautiful diamond on my finger, and then his eyes as he awaits my response, I know that I feel the same way as he does. My fresh start doesn’t look the way I thought it would. It looks like something out of my dreams. A kiss the sky, blue hue, dream come true. “This isn’t just a grand gesture to apologize?” I ask, my voice wavering.

He sighs, then grimaces. “Would sky writers be too grand?”

I widen my eyes, horrified. “I’m joking, I’m joking,” Tahoe says, laying a hand on my knee. “I wasn’t even sure you’d show up today. I hoped you would.” He rubs the bare skin on my thigh, and a shiver hits me, reminding me of the monster in the room. Unchecked Desire. “Marry me and let’s define happily ever after for ourselves,” he says.

“You’re sure?” I ask. I’ve loved him in every way you can possibly love a human. I think I’ve also hated him in every possible way you can hate a human. “I love you, Tahoe, and while this is probably the best way to earn my parents’ love and respect back,” I say, pausing, trying to think of how best to phrase what I want to say.

In the pause, he slides forward, between my knees and pulls me forward for a kiss. My eyes flutter closed as every sense in my body is wracked with Tyler Holiday. With one hand, he works my head, to tilt toward him, slanting his lips over mine. After feeling nothing for so long, feeling everything is almost too much to bear. I can’t control anything except my need for him, and it’s peak. Prime. I break the kiss to utter, “I love you so much.”

My confession sends him into primal mode. He grabs me under my ass and picks me up from the chair. A second later, I’m on my back on his bed, the coolness of the duvet in stark contrast to the fire raging from my face down to my toes. My flip flops fall to the floor, as I scoot back on the bed. “I couldn’t wait another second to taste you,” he says, brushing my blonde tangle of hair from my face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” I reply. “Kiss me more,” I say, mesmerized by the ethereal quality of the moment. I love this man so much.

I lift my head, seeking his mouth, but he leans away. “You didn’t answer my question.” There’s a sly hint to his voice.

Can it really be that simple? I say yes, and everything unfolds the way I imagined six months ago, minus a veil? Would everything work out? Running my hands down his face and neck, I relish the feel of him under my palms. I wasn’t okay living without him. Even if I convinced myself my misery wasn’t tied to him, my happiness rests next to him. I’m sure of that, and it’s a start. “Will I marry you and let you save my virginity from the dark corners of Bronze Bay?” I ask.

“If you want me to take it now, I will,” he says, his smile falling. “Whatever you want, Caroline. Say the word. I’ll take it.” He leans down, and drags his lips across my neck. He’s tense now—body rigid, and he wasn’t before. It means something to him.

It. Means. Something. To. Him.

I never considered that before. My virginity means something special to him. His kiss on my neck is tender and molten at the same time. I take his face in my hand and shift him so he’s looking down at me, his blue eyes hesitant and turned on. I lean up and kiss him gently on his mouth. Neither of us close our eyes. We watch this magic moment. A moment that when you consider all things, shouldn’t be happening.

“Save it for our wedding night, big man.”

I’ll never forget his smile, that particular one, for as long as I live.

Or the orgasms he gave me with his tongue directly following.