Coast (Kick Push Book 2) (The Road 3) (40 page)

I blow out a breath.

“You know what?” He moves behind me until I’m settled between his legs and his arms are around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder and says, “Just type it and I’ll watch. This way you can’t delete anything without me seeing.”

I kiss his cheek and refocus on my phone.
What I wanted to say was that after the internship over the summer, I realized that I was going down the wrong path…

“Yeah? Too much journalism and not enough photography, right?”

I nod.

“I was wondering if you’d think that.”

You did?

“You just didn’t seem happy when I asked you about it, that’s all.”

You do see me!

He squeezes me once. “Of course I do. So where’s your head at now?

I’m not really sure. I just know that I want to photograph anything and everything. I don’t want to have to write about it, though. I want the photograph to speak for itself, you know? And I don’t want to just do it here. I want to do it all over the world.

“Okay…” he says slowly. “So… what does that mean? You quit college?”

No,
I type quickly.
I can’t quit. And I don’t want to. For the same reason I couldn’t stay in North Carolina with you. I feel like I’ve been through too much to get here, and I deserve this. And I want to finish. Not just for me, but for Grams, too, because she would’ve wanted that.

“So what’s the plan?”

I glance at him quickly, trying to hide my smile, my enthusiasm evident.

Well, I was thinking how good it would be to travel the world once I graduate. I have the rest of this year and next, but after that, I’d definitely want to do it. How stunning would it be to see all the different architecture and lifestyles and meet people from all different walks of life? I mean, even for a year, it would be amazing.

“A whole year?” he asks, his voice soft.

I nod and type,
Then I realized something…

“What’s that?”

My amazing boyfriend travels for a living…

Josh’s entire body tenses and he smiles against my shoulder. “He does, huh?”

And he has money to support my artistic dream…

He chuckles lightly, “He sounds like a great dude.”

He’s the best!
I spin around until I’m sitting opposite him, my excitement evident. “So, Josh Warden,” I sign, grinning widely at him. “Will you save me? Take care of me?”

His weight slams into me, then lifts as he eases me onto my back, his eyes holding mine, while his smile brings me back to the first hotel room we ever stayed in, the first time he made me his, all those years ago. He kisses me gently, his lips warm against the frigid air. “I would love nothing more than to be your hero, Becca Owens.”

*     *     *

I awaken the
next morning to a cold and empty bed. Outside my bedroom door, I hear movement, shuffled steps and the television blasting. I reach for my phone on the nightstand, wondering where the hell my boyfriend is. There are no messages on my phone, so I send him one.

Becca:
Way to make a girl feel special, Warden.

Josh:
Had errands to run.

Becca:
What’s her name?

Josh:
Why? You gonna go all trailer-park on her?

Becca:
If the situation fits.

He sends through a picture of him and Tommy holding a random stick.

Josh:
I promised I’d take him to the park to throw sticks at people rollerblading.

Becca:
Why?!

Josh:
Because rollerblading is for losers. Duh.

Becca:
I do not want to partake in those activities at all.

Josh:
You were a rollerblader, huh? Loser.

Becca:
When can I see him?

Josh:
Tommy?

Becca:
No, the stick.

Josh:
You’re such a cranky pants when you wake up. Go out and have a coffee with your old man. My mom organized a lunch date for all of us. He has the address and time to meet up.

Becca
K.

Josh:
Becs.

Becca
?

Josh:
I may have accidentally stolen your underwear again.

*     *     *

Dad already had
plans to go golfing with a couple of his friends he met at a bar. Their names are Paul and Howard. One is a finance investor and the other works at a gas station. One is married. One is divorced with two kids. His kid’s names are Sasha and Sarah. Why he told me all this random information, I have no idea. A simple “No thank you” to my lunch invitation would’ve sufficed.

I get in my new car, the one Josh had bought me—a small economical Ford—tap in the address he’d given my dad into my phone and wait for it to calculate my route. Ten minutes later, I’m slowing to a stop on a dirt road with no cafes or restaurants in sight.

Becca:
I’m here, but I think you gave me the wrong address.

Josh:
What are you looking at right now?

Becca:
Nothing really. There’s a fence and some trees.

Josh:
Is the fence green?

Becca:
Yes.

Josh:
Drive up the driveway and park at the bend of the arch just by the front door.

Becca:
Is this someone’s house?

Josh:
Just go. Tommy’s waiting, he’s excited to see you.

With that image in mind, I put the car back in gear, and steer into and up the long driveway, parking where Josh told me to. There are no other cars in sight, but I figure there might be a valet inside who’ll move it later.

Becca:
Okay. I’m here. Do I just go inside? Is it fancy? I’m not dressed for fancy.

Josh:
Just hurry up. We’re waiting, and I’m starving!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I calculate twelve
steps to get to the front door of what looks (at least to me) to be a mansion. I push down on the handle slowly and peek inside. The place is empty. And I’m not talking empty of people, I’m talking
empty.

No furniture, nothing on the walls,
nothing.

Nothing but dozens of pictures littered on the floor.

I squint, trying to make them out, and gasp when I realize they’re pictures of Grams, of me, of Josh, and of Tommy. I step inside and pick one up, my heart racing, my hand going to my mouth. With shaky hands and tear-filled eyes, I pick up another, and then another, following the trail from the foyer, through the living room, into the kitchen and out the back patio where more pictures await. I breathe for what seems like the first time since I opened the door, letting the cold air hit my lungs, reminding me that I’m alive, though I’m pretty sure I left my heart beating somewhere by the front door. I glance down by my feet and take in the next image before picking it up. It’s of Grams and Tommy sitting on the steps leading to Josh’s apartment. He’s handing her flowers, clearly picked from her garden, and she’s smiling… the kind of smile that took hold of the atmosphere and made everything as bright and happy as she felt. I follow the photograph down the patio steps and into the soft dewy grass. I keep my head lowered, picking up every single picture and studying them a moment before going to the next. The further I move, the pictures begin to change. Josh and Tommy together. Me and Josh together. Me and Tommy together. Until I get to one of all three of us and I pick it up and stare at it the longest. It’s one Josh had taken on his phone from the sand-stealing night at the beach. The night of the first kiss, of the first shared feelings we’d kept secret, simmering just below the surface. Tommy looks so young. We all do. My gaze moves, searching for the next picture, but there isn’t one there, and when I see what’s in place of it, my breath catches, and everything stops.

Everything.

Josh and Tommy stand side by side, in matching gray suits… beneath the arbor Josh had made my grandmother for her sixty-fifth birthday. I swallow forcefully and let the tears fall as I look at the arbor, and at them, then at our parents standing beside them. Then something strange happens. Something I can’t explain. A force pushes me forward, like hands on my back, urging me toward them, and I move… one foot in front of the other, my hand still covering my mouth. I exhale a shaky breath and stop a few feet away, knowing, but not really believing that all this is happening and it’s happening to
me
. I’m a sobbing mess by the time Josh takes my left hand in his. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Love,” I whisper back, because it’s the only thing I can say, the only thing I feel.

He smiles, but beneath that, I can see the nerves, the fear, and I want to assure him that he has nothing to be fearful of, but he hasn’t yet asked and maybe I’m wrong… Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. But then he pulls out a ring from the pocket of his slacks, a giant square emerald surrounded by diamonds. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, his eyes glazed and his voice soft when he says, “Remember that night when I told you I wanted you back, and I asked you for a sign that you felt the same way?”

I nod quickly and wipe the tears from my eyes because I want to
see
everything. I want to
see
him.

“Do you remember kissing me?”

I nod again.

“I went out the next day and got you this ring because I knew…”

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t
anything
.

“…I knew we’d eventually be here. I’ve been carrying it around with me ever since, waiting for the right time…”

I look over at my dad, a man who stepped up and took me in, no questions asked. Then I look over at Ella, a woman who loves me as her own. And then to Tommy…
my best friend.
“Now, Daddy?” he asks, pulling out a plastic, green ring from his pocket.

Josh’s eyes penetrate mine, searching, questioning, reminiscing. Then he smiles, allowing me to drown in the joy of our memories “Now, Buddy.”

In sync, they get down on one knee, each holding one of my hands.

I force time to stand still so my mind—my heart—can capture the moment.

Josh places the ring on the tip of my finger, and the words leave his mouth, each one spoken with purpose, with clarity, with confidence. “Coast with
us
, Emerald Eyes?”

—Becca—

T
he house with
the green fence and the long arch driveway was ours. Josh said he’d been in town for a whole week prior to my awards night, dealing with realtors and finding us the perfect space. And it was perfect. A little on the big side, but Josh said it was the only house he could find that had everything he wanted: a basement apartment for my dad to stay in when he was home from work so he didn’t have to pay rent for his old house, a small cottage for his mom at the back of the property by the pond. Yes, a pond! He didn’t want to leave his mom alone in North Carolina, and having her with us meant she could be close to Tommy and help out when he was traveling—which he did a lot less of. He didn’t want me carrying the weight or the so-called burden of taking care of Tommy once I was done with classes and work, and he still wanted me to enjoy being a college student, drinking at the bar with my friends until the early hours of the morning. I appreciated that, as much as I appreciated him.

Tommy enrolled at the local elementary school and started attending actual classes with actual kids, meaning he had an actual routine to live by. It was hard on him at first, not being the center of attention, and mixing with kids his own age, but after a while, he settled in, and a few months later, Natalie and Justin bought their first house as newlyweds only four blocks away. They wanted to be close to Tommy, and Tommy—he couldn’t be happier.