Mia
Present Day
Beckett Brooks’ visit to my house only confuses me more. Why did he jump out of the truck to come to my rescue? Why did he tell me to get down ten years ago? Why does he say he wants to tell me what happened that night but can’t?
Once he leaves, I pull myself together and go for a stroll on the beach. For hours, as the water rushes over my toes, I try to get Beckett out of my head.
It’s not just the questions about my brother that plague me.
I’m attracted to Beckett. As much as I should hate everything about him, all I’ve done since seeing him at the courthouse is think about him and the way he looks at me. I’ve not been around many men. The boarding school I went to was all girls. The college as well. I’ve had little social life and rarely dated. I’ve never even had a serious boyfriend.
Being alone is more comfortable. I don’t have to answer questions about family life. I don’t have to create stories around why I’m not going home for the holidays. I don’t have to hide my past or worry about waking up in the middle of the night, screaming in fear, with someone next to me asking me to explain.
The presence of Beckett is like a never-ending hum of energy against all my cells. And that’s without him touching me.
In his arms, fear and disgust should thrive. All I feel is safe and wanting more. And I hate myself for it.
The sun is setting, and I’m lost in thoughts about how Beckett’s rock-hard body felt against mine.
He was wearing the shorts he wore the night he killed Clay. Blood of your brother is on that swimsuit, and all you can think about is how much you want to be back in his arms.
I curse myself for the millionth time and turn around to head back to my place. I’m passing a beach bar, and the smell of hamburgers and other food fills my nostrils. My stomach growls, and I try to think when I last ate. I realize it’s been two days.
I amble up to the bar and choose a seat. There are tables full of families and friends laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Children play in the sand in view of their parents.
As the tide crashes against the shore, my own waves of sadness pass through me. Family and friends—I had both once upon a time. I didn’t realize it when I had it. Then, boom, everything changed.
No more friends. No more family. Just a life of loneliness.
“Ma’am, what can I get you to drink?” The bartender flashes a smile and puts a square napkin in front of me. Something seems familiar about him, but I push the thought aside because I don’t know anyone here.
Well, at least not anymore. I used to know people.
I’ve never been much of a drinker. “Something fruity.”
The bartender, whose name tag says Connor, eyes me up. “On vacation?”
I almost say no, but I decide it’ll be easier to pretend. “Yes.”
“Try the fishbowl, then. It’s every tourist’s favorite.”
“Sure.” I open the menu.
He makes my drink and sets it in front of me. “That’s on the house.”
“Thank you. Can I get a grouper sandwich, too?”
“Coming right up.” He winks at me and punches the order into his machine.
I consume the fishbowl, which tastes like sweet Kool-Aid, a little faster than I usually drink. I had left the house hours ago and didn’t bring any water.
Halfway into my cocktail, my sandwich comes, and I eat half of it. I whip some cash onto the bar and finish my cocktail.
“Another?”
I shake my head and stand up, wobbling, and reach for the bar to steady myself.
He chuckles. “Guess you know your limit.”
I laugh, too. It feels good. I don’t remember when I laughed last.
Connor joins me on my side of the bar. “My shift’s over. I’m heading home. Where are you staying?”
“Off Pine.”
“I’m going that way. Care to have some company?”
“Sure.”
“I’m Connor.” He holds out his hand.
I shake it. “Mia.”
“Nice to officially meet you, Mia. I’m ready if you are?”
We leave the bar and make our way down the sidewalk.
“How long are you in town for?”
“I don’t know. I’m staying with my grandparents.”
He groans. “That’s typical. The island is full of retirees. Where you from?”
I almost tell him Florida but say, “Michigan.”
“That’s typical, too. You here by yourself?”
“Me, myself, and I,” I chirp, the alcohol having a good effect on my social skills.
“It’s not really the season anymore. Are you just visiting your grandparents for the fun of it? Or are you here for another reason?”
What the hell. Just tell him you live here now.
“I’ll tell you a secret, if you want.”
Connor wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m all ears.”
“I just moved here. I’m staying.”
His grin gets wider. “Really?”
“Yep.”
He does a victory pump in the air. “The island gets another young person. Yes!”
“It can’t be that bad.”
He raises his brow at me. “You have no idea.”
“Maybe I should run while I can, then?” I tease.
“Tell you what, before you run, why don’t you come to a party with me? Then you can meet some people and decide if you want to stay or not.”
A party? Meet people? Hmm. Why not. I have nothing else to do.
“Okay. Your friends won’t mind if I tag along?”
“It’s actually a party my mom is hosting. Everyone should be feeling pretty good by now.”
“Are they drinking fishbowls?”
“Probably not, but I have no problem making you one if that’s what you want to drink.”
I giggle as the alcohol hits me further. “I don’t normally drink. I think I’m probably good for a bit.”
He leans toward my ear. “Okay, then. I’ll make sure I load you up on water or something else without any side effects.”
“You won’t leave me to fend for myself?”
His hand flies in the air. “Not a chance. Scouts honor. I’ll stick by you all night.”
“All right. I’ll go with you.”
“Awesome.” He grasps my hand and maneuvers me onto the lawn between several houses. “Let’s cut through.”
“Is this the back alley of Anna Maria?” I tease.
He laughs. “Something like that. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“Good to know.”
Connor leads me between several more houses, and we pop out into a backyard full of people, food, and music. A patio has become the dance floor, and a pool is lit with several people in it.
A mix of people, both younger and older, are at the party, and, sure enough, people seem to be feeling pretty good as Connor predicted.
Connor releases his grip on me then puts his hand on my back, guiding me through the groups of people, nodding and saying hello as we pass.
“Let’s go inside so I can introduce you to my family. I don’t see any of them out here.”
“Okay.”
We are almost in the house when a man with gray hair puts his arm out across the door. “Connor! Shot to pass.”
Connor groans. “Dave, I swear you’re still pretending you’re at the frat house from 1970.”
“Ouch.” Dave pretends to beat his chest and be hurt then hands Connor and me a shot.
“You don’t have to do that,” Connor tells me as I throw it back. “Or you can.” He downs his.
I grimace as the liquor burns the back of my throat and hand the glass back to Dave. He allows us to pass, and I hold the back of Connor’s arm to steady myself as we make our way through the house.
“Honey, why are you so antisocial? Everyone has missed you. Go outside and mingle,” a woman’s voice says.
“Jesus, Mom. I’m not into your my-son-just-got-out-of-prison party.”
My gut drops, the hairs on my neck stand up, and I suddenly have a hard time breathing.
“Do you know how hard it was to keep our friends after everything happened? Please don’t be rude.”
“Sorry you had to go through what you did, but I’m still not interested.”
I freeze and dig my nails into Connor’s arm.
He turns. “Mia, you okay?”
Behind the woman, sitting in a chair, is Beckett, and he’s gaping at me.
I let go of Connor and start to move toward the front door.
How could I be so stupid? Connor Brooks. We went to school together. He’s a year behind Gabriella and me. Of course, a Connor who lives on the island with his family would be him.
The house has been remodeled, but everything seems familiar in my drunken haze.
A chair crashes on the floor and Connor and Beckett call out, “Mia.”
I get through the hallway and am almost to the door when I run into Gabriella. “Mia! What are you doing here?”
I stumble past her. The front door opens as more people come in, and I shove between them.
“Mia!” Connor and Beckett call out again.
I think I’ve made it outside when everything spins. I fall on the grass, and my hand slides into something mushy.
Get me out of here.
A burning sensation scorches my palm and forearm.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I scream in pain, holding my wrist.
“What’s wrong? Did you break your arm?” Connor asks.
“Oh my God! Why is my arm burning?”
Beckett kneels beside me. “Shit. Fire ants. Connor, grab a bunch of ice and the first aid kit.” Beckett rips off his shirt and swipes the ants off. In one graceful swoop, he picks me up as he stands.
Connor stares at him.
“Go!” Beckett barks.
Connor runs back in the house.
I’m gripping my arm and crying on Beckett’s chest, but I still feel the beat of his heart as the burn moves into my biceps.
Beckett takes a step, but I cry out, “Don’t take me back inside.”
“Shh. I’m not.”
Connor reappears with the first aid kit and an entire bag of ice like you would get at the grocery store. “Let me help you, Mia.”
“How much has she drunk?” Beckett demands.
“A fishbowl at the bar and a shot Dave made her drink out back.”
“Has she eaten?”
“She had part of a sandwich at the bar.”
“Ow...ow...ow.” Another bout of stinging heat flies through my arm.
Beckett takes the first aid kit and ice from Connor. “Have Mom fix a plate of food and bring it down to her house.”
“How do you know where she lives?” Connor asks.
“Because he killed my brother,” I slur.
“What?”
Beckett carries me down the street.
I curl up into his chest.
“Just do as you’re told,” he calls back.
“Beckett!” Connor yells.
“Connor, stop wasting time. Food, now.” He continues down the street.
I’m whimpering. When I close my eyes, the world spins, so I try to keep them open.
Within minutes we are outside my front door.
“Where’s your key, Mia?”
“I didn’t lock it.”
“You didn’t lock it?” Beckett opens the door and steps into the house. He sits me on the couch, disappears into the kitchen, and returns with several towels and a big bowl. He sits next to me, puts the ice in the bowl, and opens the first aid kit.
“You can leave now,” I insist.
He squirts something from a tube on his hands.
“Just go. I’m used to it. Everybody leaves me eventually.” I try to get up, but Beckett holds me down.
“Well, I’m not everybody. I’m not leaving you.” He clutches my arm and applies the cream.
“Ouch!”
“Shh. I’m sorry, I know this hurts.”
I press my face into the couch as he finishes applying the cream then wraps the offended area with a brown bandage.
“Stay here,” he instructs.
“Not sure where you think I’m going. This is my house, or did you forget that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
He brings several pillows from a bedroom, puts one behind my head, and props my limb on the other. He wraps ice in a towel and positions it on my arm.
He places the back of his hand and puts it on my cheek. “Do you normally drink?”
I shake my head.
There is a knock on the door. Beckett hesitates for a moment then stands and opens it.
“How is Mia?” Connor asks.
“She should be okay. I’ll talk to you later,” Beckett replies.
“Gee, Beckett. It’s nice to see you, too,” Connor snarks.
“I’m sorry, Bro. It is good to see you. And I promise we’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure. We can talk tomorrow, but I brought Mia there, so why don’t you go back and I’ll stay here and take care of her. It is your party after all.”
“No. That’s not happening.”
“Listen—”
“I’ll be the only one taking care of Mia. Go back to the party. And we don’t need to ever have this conversation again,” he sternly says.
“Look—”
“Goodnight, Connor.” Beckett shuts and locks the door.
He comes back to me with the food Connor brought, and I glare at him. “That was rude to do to Connor.”
“He’ll get over it.” Beckett sits on the floor next to me. “Is the burning any better?”
I sniffle. “A little.”
“Good.” He unwraps a plate and holds a forkful of potato casserole to my mouth.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need to take an antihistamine, and you’ve been drinking. Eat.”
I roll my eyes.
“You want the burning to go away?” He raises his eyebrow and holds the fork to my mouth.
I take a bite, chew and swallow. “My grandma used to make this.”
“I remember. I think she gave my mom the recipe.” He holds another forkful to my mouth and smiles at me.
Staring into his brown eyes, I eat several bites.
He puts the plate down and opens a bottle of water then holds it to my lips. “Drink this, Mia.”
Wrapping my hand around his on the bottle, I drink half the bottle, thirstier than I thought.
Beckett turns the box of antihistamines and reads the package then removes the paper with all the side effects. When he finishes reading, he looks up. “I don’t think you can take this right now. We need to wait till morning.”
I’m struggling to keep my eyelids open.
He stands and scoops me up in his arms.
I freeze. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to your bed.”
Suddenly, I’m wide awake.
“I can go myself,” I quietly tell him.
He carries me to my room and places me on the bed. “Let me get the ice.”
My heart is pounding in my throat, and I’ve forgotten that I hate him.
As quickly as he leaves, he returns with the ice, towels, and bottle of water.
“Mia, what do you sleep in?”
I motion to the dresser. “Top drawer.” If I hadn’t been drinking, I would never tell him to open it. But I’m not thinking straight.
My top drawer has all my underwear, bras, and several spaghetti-strap nightgowns. I may not be wise to the world or experienced, but I’ve always liked sexy undergarments. Beckett opens the drawer and freezes. The muscles in his back shoulders flex.
“The pink one,” I tell him.
He retrieves the satin gown, taking a deep breath. When he turns, the heat in his eyes creates a sea of flutters in me. “Let me know when you’re done changing.”
He hands it to me and leaves the room, and I quickly slip out of my shorts, tank top, and bra. Dressed in the gown, I call out, “I’m done.”
Beckett stops in the doorway, gulps, and stares.
“Beckett, why are you still here?”
He comes over and replaces the ice packs on my arm. “I told you. I’m not leaving you.”