Chapter 14: Genevieve
GENEVIEVE
The sun creeps in slowly at first, then all at once, an explosion of light prying my eyelids open. I wake up with sand in my butt, and I can’t even blame a hangover. Because it’s him. It’s always him.
Still naked on the ground from the night before, I haul myself up to fish for my clothes. I find my phone half buried and my underwear hanging out of the pocket of Evan’s jeans. There are a dozen missed calls and texts from my dad and Shane asking where the hell I am. I’m more than an hour late for work, and judging by their increasingly worried messages, they’re about ready to send out a search party and start calling hospitals.
Evan is still asleep on the blanket. I’ve got hell waiting for me at the shop, but still I can’t tear my gaze away from him. The long lines of his body, tan and strong. Memories of last night skitter across my limbs like a flurry of tiny sparks. I’d do it all again, pick up right where we left off and to hell with responsibilities and obligations.
And that’s the problem.
He rolls over, exposing his back, and I realize for the first time what was too dark to see last night.
On his lower back, just above his right hip and tucked in among his other tattoos, there’s an illustration of a small beach cove with two distinctive palm trees bent from hurricanes and crisscrossing each other. Identical to the ones behind me. It’s our spot. Our one perfect place on earth.
Which only makes this harder.
Evan stirs as I’m wrapping my hair in a bun and digging my keys out of the sand. “Hey,” he mumbles, adorably drowsy.
“I’m late,” I tell him.
He jerks upright with a concerned expression. “What’s wrong?”
It’s only when I rub my eyes that I realize my vision’s blurry with tears. I inhale deeply, exhaling a feeble sputter of air that makes me feel a bit wobbly. “This was a mistake.”
“Wait. Hold on.” He grabs his pants and shakes them out to start getting dressed, a hurried panic evident in his movements. “What’s happened?”
“I told you we couldn’t do this.” I ease backwards, blinking away the moisture in my eyes. All I want to do is run. Get away from him as fast as I can, because every second I linger in his presence weakens my resolve.
“Gen, hey. Stop.” He grabs my hands to still me. “Talk to me for a second.”
“We can’t keep doing this.” I implore him to understand what I already know is beyond his reasoning. “We’re no good for each other.”
“But where’s this coming from? Last night—”
“I have people who are counting on me.” Desperation clogs my throat. “My dad, my brothers. We’re all working on keeping the business afloat. I can’t blow them off to hide out with you all night.” I gulp down a massive lump of sadness. “As long as we’re around each other, I can’t
trust myself.”
“What’s the big deal?” He turns his back in frustration, tugging at his hair. “We had a good time and no one got hurt.”
“We’re both late for work because we stayed up all night fucking like teenagers whose parents are out of town. When are we going to grow up, Evan?”
He rounds on me, dark eyes blazing with frustration. “What is so wrong about wanting to be with you? Why do you want to punish us for this?” he demands, gesturing between us. “Why are you punishing yourself for caring about me?”
“I’ve just decided to start caring about myself more. That means being responsible for the first time in my life. I can’t do that when every time I see you I forget anything else exists. That’s why I didn’t say goodbye to you before I left. Because I knew—” I stop before the rest of that sentiment can escape.
“You knew what?”
I hesitate, remembering the pain I’d seen on his face last night when he’d confessed how much my leaving had affected him.
A huge piece of me broke off and was just gone.
I’d hurt him badly, a hell of a lot more than I’d realized. And hurting Evan makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t like doing it, and I don’t want to do it now, but … I’m not sure I have a choice.
“You said last night that you wish I’d told you about the showdown with Randall,” I finally say.
“Yeah …” His tone is wary.
“Well, I tried. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I stayed up all night thinking about what I’d done, stewing in my humiliation. It wasn’t a total rock-bottom moment, but it was definitely a wake-up call. It was obvious the partying had become a problem and was starting to cloud my judgment. There’s no way I ever would’ve showed up on Kayla Randall’s doorstep in the middle of the night if I’d been sober.”
I shake my head in disgust. At
myself, not him. Although, I certainly hadn’t been impressed with him either, the morning after my unhinged visit to the Randall house.
“I knew you were out with the guys that night and would probably sleep in, so I waited around all morning for you to call or text,” I tell him. “And when you didn’t, I finally drove over to your place so I could tell you what happened with the Randalls.”
A frown touches his lips. “I don’t remember you coming over.”
“Because you were still passed out,” I say flatly. “It was one in the afternoon, and I walked into your house to find you snoring on the couch, empty bottles and full ashtrays all over the coffee table. There was spilled beer on the floor, all sticky under my shoes, and someone must’ve dropped a joint on the armchair at some point, because there’d been a hole burned into it.” I sigh softly, shaking my head again. “I didn’t bother waking you. I just turned around and went home. And started packing.”
Now he looks startled. “You left town because I was hungover after a night with the boys?” There’s a defensive edge to his voice.
“No. Not entirely.” I try not to groan. “It was just another wake-up call, okay? I realized I’d never be able to change my ways if we were together. But I knew that if I told you I wanted to leave, you would convince me to stay.” There’s a bitter taste in my mouth, but I know it’s not Evan’s fault. It’s mine. “I can’t say no to you. We both know that.”
“And I can’t say no to you,” he says simply. He exhales a ragged breath. “You should’ve just talked to me, Gen. Hell, I would’ve gone with you. You know that.”
“Yes. I knew that too. But you’re a bad influence on me.” At his wounded look, I add, “It’s a two-way street. I was an equally bad influence on you. I was worried that if we left the
Bay together, we’d just bring those bad habits to wherever we ended up. And I was done with those habits. I’m done with them now.”
Gathering my shoes, I steel myself for what comes next. After all this time away, it hasn’t gotten any easier. “You ought to think about getting your shit together too. We aren’t kids anymore, Evan. If you don’t make a change, you’re going to wake up one day and realize you’ve become the thing you hate most.”
“I’m not my parents,” he grits out between clenched teeth.
“Everything’s a choice.”
I hesitate for a beat. Then I step forward and kiss him on the cheek. When his gaze softens, I step out of his reach before he can change my mind. Because I
do
care about him. I care about him way too fucking much.
But I can’t take responsibility for his life when I’m barely capable of running mine.
After stopping by the house to change clothes, I finally make it into work, where my dad’s waiting for me in the office. I know it’s bad when he’s sitting in Mom’s chair. Well, my chair now. Dad hardly ever comes into the office and absolutely never sits down, preferring to be out at the jobsites and meeting with clients. The man hasn’t stopped moving since the day he first went to work for his dad when he was eleven.
“Let’s talk,” he says, nodding at a chair in front of the desk. “Where’ve you been?”
“I’m sorry I’m late. I was out and overslept. Won’t happen again.”
“Uh-huh.” He sips his coffee, chair tipped back against the wall. “You know, I was sitting here waiting for you, and I got to thinking. And it occurred to me I never really
disciplined you as a kid.”
Talk about an understatement. Although Dad was never the overly strict type, I probably got it the easiest, being the only daughter in a house full of boys. It’s one of the reasons we got along so well.
“And maybe I need to take some responsibility for how that turned out,” he says slowly. Pensive. “All the partying and getting in trouble … I didn’t do you any favors letting you carry on like that.”
“I’m pretty sure I would have done what I wanted either way,” I admit.
He answers with a knowing grin.
“At least this way I didn’t grow up hating you.”
“Yeah, well, teenagers are supposed to hate their parents at least a little, at some point or another.”
Maybe that’s true, but I prefer it this way, knowing the alternative. “I am trying to do better,” I tell him, hoping he can see the sincerity on my face. “This was a slip, but I promise I won’t make it a habit. I want you to know you can count on me. I understand how important it is to chip in around here right now.”
He sits forward. “We can both do better, kiddo. Truth is, you’ve been great around here. Got the place running smooth. Customers love you. Everybody’s always going on about what a charming young woman you turned out to be.”
I grin. “I clean up nice when I want to.”
“So.” Dad gets up and comes around the desk. “I’ll get out of your hair. Consider this your first official reprimand, kiddo.” He pats me on the head and strolls out.
Oddly, I think I kind of enjoyed that, talking with my father like adults. I appreciate that he respected me enough to tell me I messed up without beating me over the head about one mistake. And I’m thrilled that he thinks I’m doing well here. When I agreed to run the office, I was terrified
I’d screw it up, drive the whole thing into the ground, and leave Dad bankrupt and broken. Instead, it turns out I might actually be
good
at this stuff.
For once, I’m not a total disaster.