ELY BERRINGER HELD his breath, slicing forward through the strong current of the Caribbean waters as he pushed through his twenty-fifth lap along the beach where he was staying. One of his buddies still enlisted in the U.S. Marines was on a long tour in Iraq, and had offered the small, remote beach house in Antigua to his friends whenever they needed it.
Ely had needed it. Away from the touristy areas, the small house had few amenities, no close neighbors and challenging waters right outside the door. It was perfect.
Completing ten more laps, he finally started to feel the loose-limbed, warm exhaustion in his muscles that he sought every morning. He’d run later, after he did some fishing. He liked to catch his own dinner.
He’d followed that routine for the last ten days, without fail, and finally some of the restlessness that had sent him here in the first place was starting to ease. He’d slept through the night before, a rare luxury.
Emerging from the water, he paused, surprised to find a few bikini-clad women standing on the beach—his beach—watching in admiration.
“You ladies lost?” he asked as he grabbed a towel from a branch, wiping the salty water from his face.
“We saw the truck and thought Adam might be here,” one said, stepping forward and holding out a hand. She was gorgeous—perfectly tanned, curvy in all the right places, and nearly spilling out of the scant bikini she wore. “We have an open invitation.”
“Sorry, he’s lending me the place for a while. He won’t be back around for at least another six months.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said, smiling as she took him in. “We’re not at all disappointed.”
Ely smiled faintly; the offer was clear in her tone.
But he wasn’t interested. Burned by love, sex—or whatever else you wanted to call it—twice inside of one month, he needed time to think, to get his head straight.
“Sorry, I have plans already. But I’ll tell him you came by,” he said with a nod, turning his back and heading to the house before they could say anything else.
He was here to avoid distractions, and those ladies were born to distract. When he’d come home from Afghanistan a few years earlier, he thought he knew what he wanted. To be back with his family, and hopefully to find someone, get married and to start a family of his own. That was what he was supposed to want, right?
Finding out that the woman he thought he could have that with was already engaged—after she slept with him—had been the first error. Ely had never cheated on anyone—anything—in his entire life, and nothing had made him feel lower than finding another man’s ring in the desk drawer after he climbed out of bed with the woman who was supposed to be wearing it.
Falling into bed with the next woman who crossed his path had been the second error. A bigger one, since she was also the best friend of his new sister-in-law, Tessa. Lydia Hamilton was the goth, tattooed temptress who ran the business next door to Tessa’s. Ely had fallen into her bed within hours of meeting her and lost himself there in ways that he had never done before.
Ways that included satin ropes, handcuffs and letting Lydia see a part of himself that he hadn’t even known existed. He had liked it, but he’d also been…exposed. Made vulnerable in ways that he hadn’t ever done before. And unable to get it out of his head, until he’d figured out why.
He’d been thinking about things all wrong. Looking at relationships as long-term commitments, possibly getting married, settling down.
Why was he so eager to tie himself down? Lydia was a free agent, living her life that way, and that’s what had really affected him. So, he was turning over a new leaf, leading his life the way he wanted. Just as soon as he could figure out what that was.
But the one thing he knew was that he wasn’t getting involved in any long-term commitments anymore. Not until he was good and ready—ideally many years down the road.
Pulling on shorts and a shirt, he grabbed his fishing gear when his cell phone chimed—unusual, as he didn’t often have enough signal for calls here. It was Tessa. He clicked in, immediately concerned—Tessa would have no reason to call him unless Jonas wasn’t able to for some reason. Though his brother had gotten his sight back a few months ago, and was hale and hardy as far as they knew, they all worried about a relapse, though the doctors said it wasn’t likely. Still, brain injuries were unpredictable.
“Tessa, what’s wrong?” he answered.
The connection was scratchy. He could hear her speaking, somewhat, and roamed the house, stepping outside onto the patio hoping for more reception.
“Tessa, I can’t make everything out.... Give me the key words,” he said, agitated that he couldn’t hear her. For the first time, his self-imposed isolation didn’t seem like such a great idea.
“Something wrong…worried…your help.”
Ely growled at the phone, the message so broken up that was all he could get, but he hoped Tessa could hear him even if he couldn’t make out all of her words. He had enough to know he was needed back home.
“I’ll be on a plane tonight,” he said, and cut the connection.
Putting his fishing gear back, he dressed, packed his bag and headed toward town to the airport. Vacation time was over.
* * * * *