Page 28 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Twenty-Seven

EVIE

C al waits for me on the jetty as Em slips his big-ass boat in beside it. I can’t sit still. One day—twenty-four hours—away from him and I’m climbing out of my skin. And I fully intend to climb him like a tree the nanosecond Reese leaves with Em.

Em moors the boat, and I’m down the steps and flying up the jetty with no care for my bag left on the cruiser. Cal’s big, wide grin splits his face. I jump up as I reach him, wrapping myself around his waist. His hands palm my face. His mouth crashes to mine.

I open, luring him in as deep as I can. So deep we can never fully recover would be just about far enough. He follows, devouring me. His hands explore my face as my own crawl through his hair. I wonder how long it will take him to notice what’s missing.

God above, I missed this man.

A voice clears behind me, and I ignore Em. This is my reward for going without my heart for one night. And no gorgeous Coast Guard big-brother type is going to steal our moment.

Cal doesn’t break either. We’re both as desperate as each other.

“Get a room,” a voice says from behind Cal, lined with the disgust that can only come from a kid witnessing their parent kissing.

I pull away, breathless.

Briefly closing my eyes for courage, I lean to one side to find Reese standing with his hands in his pockets, trying to look anywhere but at Cal and me.

And this feels weird.

I knew it would.

My stomach twists, sending my nerves aflame. A blush creeps up my neck, dousing my face in its heat.

“Sorry,” I mutter, letting my legs unravel and my feet touch the wooden surface of the jetty.

Cal turns back. “Hey, not your home, bud. You don’t insult a woman in her own home.”

Reese stares him down.

“Okay, well, here’s your bag, Miss Evie. Reese, I’m your ride, if you’re ready?”

It’s then we all notice the absence of his backpack.

“I’m good.” He simply rocks on his heels and folds his arms over his chest.

Chip. Off. The. Old. Block.

“Well, radio back when you change your mind. Otherwise, I’ll see you two in a few days.” Em waves as he climbs aboard.

Cal pulls me into his arms, sinking his head into my neck, face smothered in my hair.

“No glasses, baby?”

I smile up at him. Took him long enough.

“Contacts are easier than those bulky things. Mostly.”

“Good. I like seeing your face. So fucking beautiful, mo ghràdh.”

“I missed you. Lying in that bed without you was hell .”

He chuckles, and we head for the house, my bag in his hand, his other laced with mine. The house looks the same. I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t. The door to the shack is open, and Reese moves about inside. Avoiding the cringy adults, no doubt.

“He’s staying?” I ask.

“Ava kicked him out. I can’t turn him away.”

He doesn’t have the heart for that. And I am one hundred percent certain when he looks at his son, he sees himself.

I do.

It’s like a window into the years of Cal’s I missed.

“Why did she kick him out?”

“Hasn’t said. Guess it’ll come up soon enough.”

“Guess so. You want to go upstairs, or do you need a hand with your chores?”

“Later I will. You got writing to get to?”

“I do, actually. But is my stuff still in the shack?”

“Ah, fuck. Yeah, it is. Told him not to touch your things.”

“It’s fine, I doubt he’s an avid romance reader.” I make my way to the shack and knock politely on the door. Is this how Cal felt when some random twentysomething woman turned up that one time?

I smile at the memory of our beginning.

The door opens, and Reese stands with a frown. “Yeah?”

“I need to grab my work stuff?”

Why am I asking? All those months of learning to say what I want are nowhere to be found.

He waves a hand and steps to the side. I try my best to shoot him a smile, but I doubt it reaches my eyes. Neither of us seem comfortable with this situation.

He moves across the small space and drops onto the bunk. He picks up his phone, tapping the screen, but tosses it back to the table.

“No service. At least, it’s rare here,” I offer.

“Figured.”

Man of few words. I know one of those. In my experience, they just take some warming up. I’ll give him his space. If he’s anything like his father, there’s an amazing man in there somewhere. Under all that angst, attitude, and gruff exterior. The roughness he wants the world to see.

Luckily, a few of us can see past that particular shield.

Iris, Em, and I being the most notable.

I gather up my belongings and select a couple of reads, not really knowing how long he’ll be here. Just in case he’s here longer than a few weeks...

“You done?” he snaps.

I toss the last book onto the growing pile in my arms and turn to him. “Ah, yup.”

He waves to the door.

Wow, okay.

I hold my stare on him for a beat before heading back to the house.

Well, that was pleasant.

The fire crackles in the fire pit, and I pull the light blanket around my shoulders, my gaze stuck on my book, the book light hanging precariously from the side as I flip the page with more enthusiasm than I can hold back. Cal walks behind me, dropping a kiss to the crown of my head. “Good book?”

I nod quickly and wave him away.

He chuckles, dropping into the Adirondack seat beside me.

His son, who has been sitting out here with me for the last twenty minutes, scoffs.

And it’s the shortest sound he’s made since I sat out here.

I swear to god, if Reese talks to me again while I’m reading, I’m going to sail—drive?

—him back to the mainland in the dark myself.

And like clockwork . . .

“So, this is your Friday night, hey?” His words have a slight slur, the kind tipsy brings.

Glancing at him, I don’t respond before tracking back to the paragraph I was on.

“Bud, unless you want your balls served up for your breakfast, don’t interrupt the woman while she’s reading.”

“Yeah, unlike her husband, I’m not pussy-whipped.”

I snap my head up.

Husband.

I swallow past the emotion swelling with the idea.

Reese’s stare finds my face, and he frowns before sipping his beer. “What is it all about? Money? You into old guys or something?”

The warm fuzzies I had a second ago are sucked right out of existence. Confused, I can only try to form words that won’t eventuate.

“Watch your mouth, Reese.” Cal’s voice is low, and when I turn back to look at his face, it’s pure stone.

“Whatever, I need to piss.”

He pushes out of the chair and wanders inside. Cal rises and moves to go after him. I rest a hand on his forearm. “It’s okay, he’s probably out of sorts with everything that’s happened.”

“No, Evie. This is your home. He’ll learn the boundaries and maybe some goddamn manners.” My hand slips from his arm, and he stalks inside.

A moment later, Reese reappears. Instead of an apology, which I had assumed Cal went inside to tell him to give, he sinks into the chair and takes another beer from the pack and twists the top off, tossing it into the fire.

“What are you, like five years older than me? What’s your angle here?” He points his beer toward me. “I would go for gold digger, but there’s nothing worth digging for on this island. So what is it? What’s your angle, Eve Holland?”

I set my book down, fumbling to turn off the light as I formulate my response.

Cal simply leans against the doorway to the house.

His large figure catches both of our attention.

“Her angle is kindness and selflessness. But I doubt you have matured enough to possess those traits yet. Another syllable of disrespect from you, and you can find your own way back to the Bay first thing in the morning.”

Reese slumps back in his Adirondack chair, chugging another sip. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair and closes his eyes. I study his face for a moment, waiting for another insult to slip. But he seems to be put in his place.

I pick up my book and continue where I left off.

The hurt sinks in as the silence takes up every inch between the three of us.

I know he’s rough around the edges. I know he’s hurting from having his life upheaved in the most complicated way possible.

I knew this would happen, and it’s more uncomfortable than I imagined.

Cal sits by me, his face tense, his gaze alternating between me and his son.

After I reread the same sentence four times, the page blurs. I swallow past the stone wedged in my throat and gather my things. “I’m going to bed.” I rise, kissing Cal’s cheek.

He grabs my wrist. His eyes are tight as he shakes his head.

“It’s okay, I’m tired.”

I slip from his hold and mutter a goodnight to Reese as I pass him in his chair.

His eyes are still closed, like he can’t look at me.

Not able to witness the hurt he caused. Inside, I pop my blanket and book on the sofa and pad upstairs.

The stairwell outside our bedroom is cold.

I close the door behind me and pad toward the shower.

A nice, long, hot shower will right my ragged feelings.

I shuck my clothes and step into the steaming stream of water. The weight crushing my logic and reason falls away.

Reese is just a kid.

He may only be seven years younger than me, but his parents were too young.

I’m older, even more so if you gauge age by life experience.

He needs a stable adult and a place to crash.

I’m not saying I’m part of that, but I won’t make his life harder than it already is.

If not for the broken young man downstairs, I’ll do it for the man I love. For his chance to be a father.

I find myself rubbing my hands over my belly. The thought of it swollen with Cal’s child.

The moment I would tell him he’s a father. Watching him with his child from day one.

Tears course down my cheeks, washing out with the water running over my face.

All the life we have to live yet...

All the life we can create.

Anywhere we want.