Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced) Page 2

  After the kids leave, she stares up at me. “Me go,” she says, pointing to the street.

  “Okay, okay.” I pull her costume from the foyer table, and we move into the living room to change her into her peacock costume.

  “Change her diaper,” Sam yells from the kitchen.

  I move us to the floor, change her diaper, and get her dressed into her costume as a pang of guilt stabs me in the gut. Brad is here, in Roosevelt, and he has no idea he has a daughter. I convinced myself it was better this way after I’d caught him with the blonde. That he wouldn’t be good for Em. He definitely couldn’t be the father figure she needed him to be. Once news traveled back to me that he was getting married, I further convinced myself it was for the best. He’d forgotten all about me and would do nothing but disappoint her. But after today, seeing him and all those feelings surfacing back up, maybe I was wrong. I went back into that hospital room to ensure he keeps his distance, and to confirm he doesn’t have a chance to rekindle things. Now, as I dress our daughter for Halloween, an annoying knot grows tighter in my stomach.

  Em eyes Sam, who is leaning against the doorway. “I’m peacock,” she says, and she holds my finger as she twirls around.

  “You’re beautiful,” I say, and she grabs her bucket.

  “Go, go!” She runs over to Sam and pulls his hand.

  “I’ll put the candy out on the table. Chili’s in the Crock-Pot.” Sam follows Em toward the door.

  Apprehension fills my veins because of this guilt inside me, which refuses to quiet down. Suddenly, it seems terribly unfair that Sam has taken on Em’s father role. Then again, a cheetah’s spots don’t change, and maybe I’m saving her from being hurt. Brad ignites flames of disappointment around his self-centered agendas. Maybe he’d want us now, but what if later, he decides something else is better? Where would that leave Em?

  Anger at what he did to me quickly replaces that regret. Men like Brad care about only one thing—themselves. They step on everyone who loves them, and the same would be true for Em.

  “You know there won’t be any candy by the time we return.” I glance at the overfilled candy bowl on the porch. Lucky for me, I purposely bought the candy I don’t like. The temptation to eat the whole bowl is eliminated and saves on my already wider hips.

  “Not our problem,” Sam says, fussing with Em to put her coat on.

  “No, coat.” She stomps her foot, and I bite my lip to prevent from smiling. She’s definitely got Brad’s stubborn streak.

  Sam blows a long release of air from his lungs, holding the coat up to me.

  “It’s okay. Let her go.”

  “If you’re sure.” He hangs it back up on the hooks by the door.

  The three of us leave the small house, which is mine, all mine. I watch Em scurry up the sidewalk with our neighbor, who we’d ran into. Chelsea is eight and takes good care of Em, protecting her. She comes over while I clean sometimes to help me with her.

  “So . . .” I kick the red leaves that have fallen from the trees. “Brad showed up today.” I don’t need to look at Sam to see how the news affects him.

  “Really?” he asks, and my heart breaks because I’m not blind. I know Sam likes me and he adores Em. Unfortunately, after my sister left again, we’ve made our situation appear like a family, and maybe our roles have blurred slightly. Sam’s my brother-in-law, still legally married to my sister, who left him over two years ago for her next fix. We haven’t heard from her and, honestly, we stopped looking. It’s hard to realize some people just don’t want to be found, which is more gossip that runs the stools of Carolle’s Tap.

  “He apologized,” I say, shrugging my shoulder as though hearing those words didn’t patch my heart up somewhat. There are still a lot of empty holes, but his apology was nice.

  “Anything else?” I know what he’s asking—did I tell him about Em?

  “No. I asked him to leave town.”

  His body relaxes and I hear his sigh of relief. We’re going to have to have a conversation about our situation soon. I could never repay him after all he’s done for me these past couple of years, but to be honest, I’m not over Brad. Maybe because when you still look into the same eyes of the one you love every night, it’s hard for your dreams not to be filled with thoughts of a love gone wrong. If only I could convince myself that Brad and I didn’t have something special at one time, then maybe Sam would be enough for me. If I hadn’t experienced such a deep love for Brad, I wouldn’t know the difference, but sadly, I do.

  Brad

  THE APARTMENT I SHARE WITH Dylan is dark. Dylan is my best friend, Tanner McCain’s brother. He just graduated from NYU with a degree in advertising. He got a job at what Forbes has called an up and coming firm. Hard to believe anything in Detroit can be up and coming. There are rumors it will be moving to Chicago if all goes smooth, which means he’ll be gone and I’ll be solo once again.

  My sister, Piper, and Tanner left for Colorado six months ago so Tanner can train for the Olympics—the Olympics that I didn’t make the cut for. It was the reason I departed on a drinking and drug binge my senior year of college, two and a half years ago, which had found me in bed with someone who wasn’t my girlfriend.

  I toss my keys on the kitchen table and plop down on the couch. I should call Piper, but she’s busy with the love of her life while I wallow in the loss of mine. Mindlessly, I watch some cooking show until I’m jarred from my numbness when the door opens.

  “Forget it. It’s not my problem. What do you want me to do?” Dylan’s voice raises the more he talks, and I look up to find his tie already loosened and his hair disheveled. I guess that’s what an executive looks like all stressed out.

  He notices me and shakes his head. “We’ll talk later.” He disconnects the call, and I watch him switch the ringer on vibrate before dropping it on the table next to my keys.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Bea,” he says, opening the fridge, grabbing two beers.

  He walks back to the couch, handing me one, and then throws himself in the chair.

  “I thought you said you were staying out of that?” Dylan and Bea, my sister’s best friend, have been flirting with each other pretty heavily since my no-go wedding six months ago. I’m fairly sure he’s nailed her, but Dylan doesn’t kiss and tell—not that I want details on how Bea kisses or anything else for that matter.

  “There’s something about her, but she’s going crazy.” He crosses his feet on the coffee table and I feel his eyes burning into the side of my head.

  “What’s up?” I ask, continuing to look at the television.

  “Jackass, you didn’t show up . . . again. I’m fairly sure you’re getting fired tomorrow.”

  Dylan found me a job at Deacon Advertising, but I hate it. My ex-fiancée’s dad got me fired from Lincoln Industries. I guess all the big people know a hell of a lot of bigger people. Turns out the owner of Lincoln Industries and Bayli’s dad were fraternity brothers. So, when I dumped his daughter, Lincoln Industries dumped me.

  “I’m not made to work in an office,” I say, and he rolls his eyes. Dylan doesn’t understand. He wasn’t a swimmer like me, Tanner, and Piper. He was always cooped up in his room, playing video games. He was a loner, really, until he came back from NYU a geeky tattooed God who girls fawn over, especially Bea.

  “You have to do what you can before you find what you want to do. The job pays you money, which in turn pays your bills,” he lectures like he always does, and it’s starting to become white noise to me.

  “I pay my bills, okay. That cubicle is like a prison. I can’t breathe.”

  I’m not even sure why I bother talking to Dylan. He doesn’t understand and never will. He’s in his element at Deacon, always kissing ass and appeasing everyone.

  “Maybe it’s a blessing if you get fired.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. But then I have to find something else.”

  “True.” He downs a long pull of his beer. “What did you do when you played
hooky today?”

  “I went to see Taylor.”

  He bolts up, his tatted forearms leaning on his thighs. I can even admit the guy is intimidating as hell. How he went from wimp-on-a-stick to bulk-as–a-brick is beyond me.

  “Whoa. What happened?” His eyes check out my foot. “Shit, man. Never mind. I take it things didn’t go well?”

  “You think?” I hold up my foot. “Shit, that hurt.” I slowly lower it down to the pillow.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Dylan asks. For being such a tough-ass, he hasn’t minded me babbling on and on about Taylor these last months.

  “Nothing to say. She asked me to leave town.” I shrug, downing the rest of my beer. Man, that went down fast.

  “And you listened?” He cocks his eyebrow at me and leans back into his chair. “And here I thought you wanted her back.” He relaxes into the chair, his phone buzzing along the kitchen table.

  I know what he’s thinking, but Taylor doesn’t want me. She made that clear by running over my foot.

  “You going to get that?” I ask, nodding to the phone teetering off the edge of the table.

  “No, she can cool off a bit,” he says, rising to his feet and venturing into the kitchen. He grabs the rest of the six pack from the fridge and comes back over. “Might as well numb it, bro.” He places the cold beers in front of me, takes one, and sneaks off into his bedroom. Without the annoying buzzing of his phone going off, my eyes check the table. Sure enough, the bastard grabbed the phone. He’s such a damn pussy.

  I sit there for a little longer, thinking I should make the half-hour drive back to Roosevelt. Crazy how I never realized she was this close to me all this time. For months I asked about her around Michigan’s campus, only to be told people had no idea. After graduation, she vanished into thin air, or people were hiding her from me. From how bad she wanted out of the small town she grew up in, I hadn’t thought she’d go back there, not in a million years. But she had, and I’m still curious as to why she would return to a town she so deeply despised.

  Knowing getting drunk isn’t going to help me, I put the beer back in the fridge and snatch my keys off the table.

  I drive the fifteen minutes to Creadle’s Aquatic Center, my foot killing me, reminding me I won’t be swimming today, but I can sink into a hot soak in the therapy pool if need be.

  Creadle’s is right between my town and Roosevelt, and the closeness to her isn’t lost. It’s a sign that we’re meant to be and live together happily ever after.

  I park and grab the packed bag I keep in the trunk. Heading inside, I walk into the locker room and change.

  The smell of chlorine eases my nerves. I dip into the therapy pool, envying the people swimming laps. How I would love to relieve the anxiety with the exertion of a good freestyle. Water has relaxed me since I was young. Once I knew how to channel my crazy behavior in the pool, it became my serenity.

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you in the therapy pool.” Cami bends down, her blue-tipped hair falling forward, tickling my bare shoulder. Cami is the manager of the Aquatic Center, plus the owner, Wes’s, girlfriend.

  “Hey, Cami. I hurt my foot today. Taking it easy.” I lift my bruised foot.

  “What happened?” Her mouth cringes as she looks at the black and blue skin.

  “I was in someone’s way.” It’s the best way to describe how my ex-girlfriend ran over my foot because of a dick move I made years ago.

  “Sorry, it looks nasty.” She clasps my shoulder before moving over to the lap section. She grabs a towel and waits for Wes to climb out of the fourth lap lane. He shakes his head and she backs up, making him have to wrap her in his arms, completing his mission of soaking her. The two of them laugh, and pang of jealousy stabs my heart. I did the same thing to Taylor so many times back at MU.

  Wes’s arm is swung over Cami’s shoulder as they walk toward me.

  “Hey, just the man I wanted to talk to.” He stops, handing the towel back to Cami. “Give me ten?” He kisses her cheek and enters the pool down the steps.

  “Why on Earth are you looking for me?” I ask, and his chuckle echoes off the walls.

  “You were the hotshot at Michigan, right?”

  I huff. “No. That would be my best friend, Tanner,” I say. He was the swim god, always has been.

  “Hey, man, not many people make the Olympics. That doesn’t make you bad.”

  “It doesn’t make me great either.” Time to end feeling sorry for myself. “What do you need, Wes?”

  “I had two swim instructors quit today. No notice. I’m in a bind.” His arms move through the water and I take a long breath. Swim lessons isn’t exactly what I’m looking for.

  “What kind of swim lessons? Like the swim team?” I look up at their flags hanging, showing The Sharks are a team to reckon with. At least in the four years the facility has been open.

  “Hell no, that’s me.” Wes is another swimmer who never continued after college, but found coaching was his drive to keep him in the water. “Lessons, man. Just until I can find replacements. It’s nights, so you don’t have to worry about missing work.”

  “Okay,” I agree, and his eyes widen. Guess he thought I would say no. But since I’m getting fired tomorrow, what choice do I really have?

  He rubs his hands together. “I thought that would take a hell of a lot longer. Be here at five thirty tomorrow. They’re private, so it’s one on one.”

  He wades through the water, clasping his hand on my shoulder. “Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Does that mean I get my membership for free?” I ask, and he laughs.

  “Half-priced, okay?” Behind me, I hear Cami squeal and can only assume she’s wrapped up in Wes’s arms. “Done, baby. Let’s go home,” he tells her, and I close my eyes, missing what they have. At least with Bayli, I hadn’t been alone—well, physically anyway.

  “Bye, guys.” I wave my hand in the air.

  “See you, Brad. Thanks again,” Wes says, and then it’s silent again.

  At least I’ll be in the water, I remind myself, and not choking for a breath in that cubicle.

  Taylor

  I hug Em tight to my chest, pressing kisses to her face. “I love you,” I whisper. I can’t shake the bad feeling hounding me ever since Brad’s reappearance this afternoon. Suddenly, I want to pack our stuff and run away again, but I know we can’t. I need to face him this time. After trick-or-treating, we sat around the table eating chili. Me feeding it to Em and Sam making her laugh, so I could barely get a spoonful in. It all hit me: it’s not fair that I have these moments with her and he doesn’t.

  Way to go, Tay. You really screwed up this time.

  I lay her down in her crib and she searches for a pacifier and sticks it in her mouth. Every night, I swear I’m going to try to break her of that habit, but I don’t want to take something away from her she apparently needs so much. Maybe because I know how horrible it is to live without what you want.

  “She’s fine, Tay.” Sam appears at the bedroom door and I inch back. He usually stays on the couch when he’s still here as I put her bed. It’s terribly intimate if both of us put her to bed.

  “Ssssm,” Em calls out, standing up in her crib. She holds out her pacifier, and when Sam tries to approach her, she puts it back into her mouth.

  They have such an easygoing relationship that there have been times I’ve been jealous of it. He lays her back down and I can’t help but envision this exact scenario with Brad. I always thought he’d be halfway to homeless by now. Never thought he’d clean his act up. With a sister who constantly promises but never delivers, it’s something I’ve never considered. Brad did just that, and he showed up at my hospital asking for a second chance.

  “I got it. Thank you, Sam.” I bump my hip with his, scooting him out of the way. He tilts his head in confusion and then blows a kiss to Em before escaping the room.

  “Good night, my little bug,” I whisper and press my hand to her forehead. Those br
own eyes peer up at me, and I see her lips curl around her pacifier. My hand smooths out her chestnut hair and she rolls over on her side.

  I turn on the monitor and nightlight, sneaking out of the room.

  Sam’s waiting for me on the couch, his arm stretched above his head, watching a game of some sort. I see the exposed patch of his stomach and a trail of dark hair disappearing down to his jeans.

  “So,” he says, and I know he felt the tension when I pushed him away a minute ago.

  I sit on the farthest cushion I can from him. He observes me with those hazel eyes, and his arms drop to his lap. “I guess I should be going.” He moves to stand, but I lean forward and touch his thigh. He freezes and relaxes back down.

  “Sam.” I take another breath. “I’m afraid I’ve put you in a bad position when it comes to Em and maybe us.

  “I have no problem helping you, Tay. You owe me nothing.” His words are always the same. He doesn’t help me for payback, but I’ve always felt guilty for somehow taking advantage of his time and generosity. He has a life to live, and our situation only delays the fact that we both need to move on.

  “You should have a date or party to go to, instead of being here with us,” I say, and he huffs.

  “I’m happy here.” His eyes stay focused on the television and shame washes over me. Can’t I do anything right? “You can’t live your life for us, Sam. She’s never coming back.” By she, I mean my sister. God, he’s tried to heal her, but she’s gone, and I doubt we’ll ever see her again.

  “I’m not waiting for her to come home.”

  “Okay. That’s good.” I sit forward, crossing my legs. I catch his eyes looking over, and if I’m the woman I think I am, it’s time for me to be completely honest with the man. “I’m telling Brad,” I spit it out fast as if he won’t catch it. That somehow it will ease the pain I’m sure he’ll feel.

  “I figured. Can I ask why?” From the hesitation in his voice, I know he’s hurt. Tears prickle behind my eyes.

  “It’s not right. He should know.”