Declaration (2 page)

But oh, there were seashells.

Dear God, there were seashells. Everywhere. And flamingo decorations—some with Santa hats. Yeah, cheeky, huh? And sunshine. So. Much.
Sunshine
. It was relentless and made me insanely homesick. Contrary to all of those stereotypical rumors about Seattle, we actually got sunshine. Plenty of it, in fact. It was just delivered in more concentrated, spaced-out doses. The zero sunshine thing was just a rumor. Kind of like Florida and the supposed influx of silver-haired retirees…only that one was apparently true. I’d only been in town one week, but one week was enough to know that Sanibel Island was the farthest thing from home, in every way that counted. When I’d chosen it from Kate’s atlas as my destination months ago, that seemed like the best thing.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

I rolled down the road in my rental car, gripping and releasing the steering wheel with antsy fingers. I needed to find a job, and I needed to find one fast. Funds for the motel I was crashing at and the spiffy rental I was now driving were running out quick, and there was no way I could bug my old man for another dime. He’d already given me so much, helping me get across the country after I’d briefed him on my crazy scheme to start fresh, far away from my hometown. He thought I’d lost it at first, but ever the loyal, loving father, he supported me from the moment he handed me the check to the second I stepped on that airplane at SeaTac airport. I must’ve bounced back and forth on actually coming here a million times before I finally booked the plane ticket. I’d first spoken to Ryan Douchebag Campbell about it—he was actually the one to convince me to take the leap, the prick. But then I wrestled with the thought of sticking around, thought about how much I’d miss my friends, my home. Then, in one heated moment, Ryan cheated on Kate, and I fucking lost it. It wasn’t that he’d cheated on her that sent me packing for Florida—that was reason enough. No, it was what happened after all of that.

Kate actually took the bastard back.

And before that, the night he’d confessed to cheating on her, I’d been stupid enough to kiss her. What followed was humiliation overload.

“You’re going to be okay,” I assured her that night. Dean and I had ushered her inside our place after Ryan had confessed, and Dean had left us alone. Since Kate and I had become friends, I’d seen her many sides. I’d seen the sorrow when she lost her mother; the strong will that had brought her to college and kept her bills paid, even when holding down a job and taking care of her mom was damn near impossible; and I’d listened to every sordid detail about her past back in California. The woman still worshipped Kurt Cobain and wore the most hideous pajama pants I’d ever seen when she was on her period. A good Pinot Noir never failed to reduce her to fits of laughter, and eventually tears. To see the woman look as if she’d been hit by a fucking train and dragged for miles after hearing what Ryan had done was just another side, but it was nothing like the others I’d witnessed.

Seeing that side was like seeing her dying, right in front of me, and me having absolutely no way to reverse the damage or ease the pain.

She was curled up in bed, her eyes frozen in a blank, distant state. She’d stopped crying, and her limbs were deadweight. “You can leave,” she whispered. I was lying next to her, my forehead pressed to hers. Staring into those empty, broken eyes was excruciating.

“Okay, if you want me to, I’ll go.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t move to leave.

“I just…”

“I know.” Rubbing her arm gently, I shut my eyes and exhaled. “This isn’t what you want to hear right now. But I don’t think there’s anything you need to hear more than this.” I opened my eyes, holding her gaze and praying to God that what I was about to do wouldn’t destroy what I had with her for good. “Someday, there will be someone else. Someone who makes you happier than him. You’ll feel whole again. Better. Even better than how you felt with him. It seems impossible right now. Probably will for a long time. But one day, you’ll be with someone who will never, ever hurt you the way he did. Just remember that, Kate, okay?” Before I could lose my nerve, I sucked in a sharp breath and hesitantly moved in, letting my mouth drift toward hers. Then my lips were pressed gently to hers, and I waited. Waited for her to stiffen, to wiggle away or gasp in horror.

But the rejection never came.

Instead, I was met with a soft whimper. At first, her mouth was lifeless on mine. She didn’t shift, barely breathed. Then something in her reaction changed, unraveling slowly before detonating into full-on need. Her whimper faded and her mouth began to move against mine, her hands extending out from her chest to grip at the collar of my shirt. She exhaled through her nose and her whole body relaxed as one of her legs hooked over mine. I wanted to open my eyes, wanted to see what was happening for myself and commit the image to memory, because dear God, I’d never thought I’d live to see the day that Kate Parker would be kissing me back—willingly and greedily. But I couldn’t open them. I was too wrapped up in her smell, her taste, and the desperation emanating from her warm skin.

An explosion of sunshine—that’s what kissing her felt like. Fireworks, puppies, intense heat, mint fucking chocolate chip ice cream and blinding, burning light. Everything I’ve ever loved, all wrapped up into one big, giant ball of surreal euphoria.

I responded immediately, tangling my leg tighter with hers to pull us closer, moving to cup her cheek with one hand. “Kate,” I whispered, digging my fingers into her soft, silky hair. “You know I love you. I won’t ever hurt you.”

Right there? That was where it all crashed and burned, friends. Granted, it wasn’t the first time I told her. But this time, she heard me. Really heard me.

Her arms stiffened and her hungry kiss slowed to an uh-oh-what-the-fuck-did-I-just-do crawl. Then her neck was jutting back and her lips weren’t on mine anymore. Bye, bye sunshine, puppies, mint chocolate chip, and glorious, blinding fucking light. Hello humiliation, meet your new best friend, failure.

“Carter, oh God,” she stuttered, sitting up on her elbows, slowly backing away. “You can’t…we can’t...” She covered her mouth, her eyes wildly searching the bedroom floor. “Oh, God.”

And, like the idiot I was, I just lay there. Completely fucking lay there, still as stone, waiting for…who knew what. Until she spoke again.

“I still love him,” she said. “I know that I shouldn’t. I hate that I do. But…I
do
, Carter. I’m sorry, but I don’t feel that way about you. I thought…I thought you knew that.”

That was when I decided to move, before the embarrassment could seep any deeper into my bones. “You’re right,” I said, sitting up and sliding off the bed to stand to my feet. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t.” She slid off the bed and stood to face me, her eyes still barren. And here I thought when she’d open them again, they’d have a little more life in them. As if my kiss could do that for her.

“I have to go.” I spun around and started for the bedroom door, everything tilting and rolling sideways. What the hell was I thinking? She wasn’t just in love with someone else, she was my best friend. She just broke up with her fiancé, for fuck’s sake. She needed me to be her friend right now. She didn’t need me taking advantage of her during her darkest hour.

My stride to the front door turned frantic.

“Carter,” she said quietly, her shaky hand gripping my elbow. “Hold on, okay? Let me just think about this.”

“No. I was wrong. This never happened.” With a turn of the doorknob, I was gone, dashing out into the hallway and far from the scene that was, without a doubt, the biggest mistake of my life. Because it would cost me. And it would cost Kate.

And I had been right.

It was still costing me now, as I sat in this rental car, driving on this island on the other side of the country. The debt would never go away. It was here to stay, and the collector was a bitch.

Come to think of it, all this reminiscing was starting to make me thirsty. It was time for a cold beer. It was also time to start looking for a place to work. The thing about flying across the country to an unknown place on a whim is that it’s messy. It’s nothing like the movies. You know, the road trip, coming-of-age kind that features the free-spirited lead who finds himself in the midst of a life-changing event. Somehow, he miraculously stumbles across the perfect little job serving tables at a diner, or he meets Mrs. Right by chance at the closest rest stop, only to run into her later in the town grocery store, where, of course, they hit it off and sail off happily together into the sunset before the credits roll. Bit by bit, the character slowly finds his way in his shiny new life. Things fall into place, and he is able to do all of this with, like, five bucks in his pocket.

Bullshit.

I’ve got 20 in my wallet right now, and another 100 in the bank account. That won’t last me until the weekend, and I doubt some lovely little thing in Daisy Dukes and a princess smile is going to walk out of the nearest gas station door and accidentally bump into me as I pass by, making me forget all about the irreplaceable, one and only Kate Parker. Sure, that would be nice. Actually, it’d be fucking peachy keen, but it won’t happen. Why?

Because this isn’t a movie, and I’m a broke son of a bitch running from the girl who broke my heart like a sad little Boy Scout who had his water canteen stolen.

Pathetic, party of one—right here.

A modest shack sporting the name “Pete’s” popped out at me as I caught the sun beginning to fall in the rearview mirror and I pulled over, rolling to a park in the gravelly lot. I let out a tired breath and stepped out of the car, eyeing the restaurant sign again before slamming and locking the car door.

A barrage of smells wafted toward me as I stepped inside. To my pleasant surprise, there were no flamingo decorations. There weren’t even any seashells in sight. Instead, the dimly lit pub felt like something I’d find near Elliot Bay...only it was New England style. If I’d ever been to Boston, I guessed this is what it would feel like to visit a pub on the harbor.

“What can I do for ya, son?” a bartender asked as I slid onto a seat at the bar. The leather on the stool chafed against my jeans and the smell of whatever cleaning chemical was on the bartender’s rag drifted over, making my eyes sting. He flipped it from one shoulder to the other, giving me another whiff. The man seemed to catch my reaction this time and laughed, tossing the rag under the bar.

“So, what’ll it be?”

“Beer, please,” I said. “Surprise me.”

“Alrighty then.” He nodded and quickly returned with a local beer I’d never heard of before, popping the cap from the bottle before sliding it in my direction. “Don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts. You been in here before?”

“Nope, I’m new in town.”

“Ah. You look new. Too pale.”

“Yeah,” I glanced down at my pasty skin and chuckled. “Seattleites aren’t particularly known for their sunbathing.”

“Holy shit, boy, Seattle? As in the Pacific Northwest?”

“Yup, you heard right.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. What brought you all the way here? Vacation?”

“Not exactly. I’m looking for work.”

“Ah, so you’re moving in?”

“That’s the plan. Any idea who might be hiring around here? You need any help serving?”

“Wish I could help ya out, but I don’t need any help here. Can’t think of anyone around here who’s hiring, either. Your options are pretty limited on the island.”

See? Not like the movies.

“Yeah, I figured that. Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Sure doesn’t.” He turned, thoughtful, rubbing his chubby cheek, and I watched as his eyes jumped behind me to the door. “You know...you might wanna ask this guy walking in right now. He works down at the marina. If you’re good with your hands, he might be able to help you out. There’s usually need for manual labor down those parts. Hey Jack,” he raised his voice, calling out to the guy who’d just walked in. “Come over here for a sec, will ya?”

The guy he called Jack was immediately sidelined by a table of busty blondes and he leaned over their booth to shoot them a smile and chat them up.

“Jackson!” the bartender hollered again.

Jackson lifted his head this time, rolling his eyes in our direction. “I’m comin’, Pete, shit!” He tapped the top of the booth table playfully and winked in the girls’ direction before saluting them goodbye, then confidently strode toward us.

“You’re Pete?” I asked the bartender.

“At your service,” he said with a smile, extending a hand.

“Carter.”

We shook and turned to find Jackson taking a seat next to me. “What’s the big fuss about, man? You’re messin’ with my game the minute I step through the door. Not cool.”

Pete slid Jackson the same beer as me, giving him a knowing look. “Where’s Emma tonight, Jack?”

“How the hell should I know? Probably out shopping for cleaning supplies with Whitney. It’s the highlight of her week, you know that.” He laughed and took a swig of his drink, sending me a sidelong glance. “So, what’s the deal? Who’s this?”

“This,” Pete began, “is Carter, from Seattle. He’s looking for work.”

“Oh?” Jackson nodded in greeting and gave Pete a confused look. “Ooookay. And this takes priority over those sweet little things over there, why?” He slid me another quick look. “No offense, man. But I need to score. It’s been too fuckin’ long, and the one I want isn’t interested. Makes for a painful existence, you feel me?”