Venture Forward (6 page)

His chest tightened as memories that had long since been buried accosted his mind. Pent-up rage bubbled to the surface at the mere mention of his father. White knuckles grasped the empty crystal highball glass as his carefully controlled exterior slowly withered. “Why are you telling me this? I don’t give a shit about that bastard. He can rot in the hospital for all I care.”

“Listen, I know this isn’t easy, but don’t you think you should just—”

“What? Reach out? Reconcile after he beat Mom within an inch of her life? After he tormented me for years, flicking lit cigarettes at me for not taking out the trash right after dinner? For forgetting to brush my teeth before bed?” He drained the rest of the glass and slammed it on the table. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t ever want to see that sonofabitch again. He took enough of my life. Let him waste away alone.” The misery his father had caused obscured their early lives like an ominous black cloud. After they’d escaped, he vowed to never look back. Except he couldn't seem to move forward either.

“Calm down. I just think it would be good for you to get some closure. I know what an asshole he was to you and how you always protected Mom and me. But maybe it’s time to finally let it all go and move on with your life.”

“Opening old wounds won’t help me get c
losure.
I did what I had to for me, for you, for Mom. But I’m sure as hell not giving William the satisfaction of seeing me at his bedside. I don’t want him to think I give a good goddamn that he’s sick and close to death. The world doesn’t need a low-life piece of shit like him in it.”

“Take some time and think about it. I’m not saying you need to hop a flight to Connecticut tomorrow. But don’t leave these feelings unresolved. You say you’ve blocked it all out, but that’s bullshit. It bleeds into every aspect of your life — the way you work, the way you deal with women, the way you shy away from anything that could compromise your control over a situation. It’s going to eat you alive.”

“I don’t need one of your ten-cent therapy sessions. If you feel the need to say goodbye, fine. Get your closure and leave me out of it, okay?” Harrowing memories he’d laid to rest years ago suddenly consumed his consciousness, extinguishing all salacious thoughts of Avery. His breathing grew ragged as the disturbing images flashed through his mind. Suddenly, he was a teenager again, back in Connecticut, in the house of horrors. The events of that final day were forever seared into his memory. There was blood, so much blood. The din of the bar faded; all he heard were the sounds of shattering glass, the piercing screams, the— His pulse throbbed in his throat, and a sharp pain shot down his left arm. Fuck, he was about to have a panic attack. He tossed a few bills on the table. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’m just trying to help. Don’t shut me out. If you need to talk—”

“I won’t. Trust me. I know you’re only looking out for me, but I need to live my life
my
way.” He pressed his lips together and stalked out of the bar. Evan didn’t have any idea what he’d shielded him from all those years.
He’d been too young to remember, and it had been a miracle William had left him alone.

Paul grabbed his keys and jumped into the car, wheels screeching out of the parking lot as he floored the gas. The Bentley careened around the bend, the speed matching the pace of his heart. He released a labored breath and punched numbers into the dashboard.

“Hello?”

“Sami, it’s me. I need to see you.
Now.
”

“Mmm, okay.” Her voice sounded husky. “I’ll be waiting.”

YOU LITTLE BASTARD! HOW
dare you defy me like that! I’m gonna fucking kill you now!

Paul awoke with a gasp, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. Sami was sprawled next to him, naked, her long black hair cascading over the pillow. She was his temporary escape, nothing more. No headaches, no aggravation. Just rough, cold, detached sex, a physical release that momentarily rid him of the demons tirelessly hunting him.

He leaned against the headboard, chest heaving. Sami had played her part perfectly and helped him bandage up the now-raw wounds. Dammit, why did Evan have to unlock all that shit again?
He’d become an expert at compartmentalizing his life; he did it to survive.

Careful not to disturb her, he crept out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. The face staring back in the mirror was pale and drawn. Tortured. He steadied his shaky arms on the sink as the breathing eased. Harsh words that spewed from his lips the night before were back to besiege him.
I have everything I could possibly want. I’ve moved on. I don’t need closure. I’m just fine.
Each statement was a bigger lie than the last.

He had to get out.

Sami had given him a well-needed diversion, but it was only a break from the painful reality that was his life. He grabbed his jeans and yanked them on. Evan was only looking out for him. It wasn’t fair to unleash all that anger and then walk away, but that was the person he’d become, a cold-hearted bastard desperate for every ounce of control he could grasp. In his mind, control was the only thing that could make him whole, and anyone who challenged his efforts to attain it was the enemy.

He revved the engine and sped out to Pietro Point. It was early, still dusky. No other cars were in sight. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when he grabbed his board from the BreakOut shed. Surfing at that hour in his mental state would be a mistake of epic proportions. But he felt like being reckless. He needed a release; otherwise, he’d succumb to the ever-present cloud of despair that darkened his existence.

Because he just didn’t fucking care anymore.

AVERY PULLED HER SPARE
board from the roof of the Range Rover, shivering in the chilled air, unable to rationalize what had led her there at such an ungodly hour when she should have been huddled in her bed at home. But the beach was her one source of comfort, where she could hide from the guilt, pain, and ugliness haunting her. Sometimes, she was powerless to fight against it, seeking refuge in the one place that connected her to the one she’d lost.

Thoughts in the form of bullets exploded in her mind.
Tara sick… Daddy leaving… scared… alone… dying… help… please!

She rubbed her temples, trying to force out the disturbing images to no avail. The reflection of the rising sun glittered atop the breaking waves. So beautiful. Tara had loved the beach. Sick as she was, Avery had taken her to their safe haven, to experience the beauty of the ocean, the smell of the sweet salty air, the spray of the surf as waves crashed against the shore.

A few deep breaths did nothing to console her broken heart, and the tears finally flowed. Sobs wracked her body as she sank to her knees in the wet sand. The loss of her sister was crippling; it tormented her every day. Knowing she’d never again be able to hug her, laugh with her, listen to her beautiful voice… Oh God, she missed Tara so much.

Avery sniffled and wiped her eyes, tightly clutching her too-thin cover up.

“Are you okay?”

A loud yelp escaped her lips as she jumped in the direction of the intruding voice. Jesus, did he have some kind of sixth sense? “You.”

“Yeah, me.” Paul sank down next to her. “I’m going to excuse the fact that you were a complete bitch when I saved your life the other day, but only because you’re kind of a mess right now.”

“Thanks for noticing, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I never offered to listen.” A playful smirk lifted his lips.

Despite herself, she let out a chuckle. “I’m sorry about the other morning,” she whispered, swiping at her eyes. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I know. Most women are pretty eager to get me in that position, so pardon my surprise.”

“Wow. And exactly what kind of lines do you use to get these girls to submit so freely?”

“Who says I need lines?”

His eyes burned a path directly into her soul. A shiver ran through her as she clenched and unclenched her fists. Shit. Why was her pulse thundering in her throat? One look and she was ready to melt into a puddle of goo? How pathetic. She didn’t want to feel anything for this guy. He was a total womanizing asshole.
But, mmm, he smells so good…

“Are you cold?” Paul pulled a sweatshirt out of his bag and draped it over her shoulders.

“Thanks.” Her teeth were chattering, but was it from the cold or something… some
one
else? “I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you’re okay.” He wrapped his arms around his knees, a faraway look in his eyes.

What was he even doing there, acting all concerned and nice? What was his angle? Guys like him always had one. She clutched his sweatshirt around her quivering body.

They sat in silence as the minutes passed, bright orange rays rising behind them, glinting on the surface of the breaking waves. Her breath caught as the startling realization struck. Sitting next to Paul Emerson actually made her feel better. How could he possibly elicit any feelings other than nausea? He was despicable!

But if that was the case, why was her heart hammering so hard? His mere presence set her insides ablaze. The whole experience was so surreal. He was the enemy. How could his presence possibly comfort her? And why was she aching for him to wrap her in his arms and… argh! She swallowed, only to find what felt like a golf-ball-sized lump in her throat.

His piercing gaze spurred on the butterflies as they took flight in the pit of her belly. “Why are you out here? It’s not safe for you to be alone.”

“I know, but I, um, I guess I needed to clear my head. Coming here kind of gives me perspective, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Something like that.”

Those fiery eyes were guarded, making his thoughts impenetrable. Whatever had led him to Pietro Point was for him alone to know. A sudden pang struck her heart. Why did she even care? It wasn’t like she was about to expose her deepest secrets to
him
.

“Come on.” He pulled her to her feet. “We came here to surf, right?”

“Yeah.” A jolt zipped up her arm as their fingers entwined.

“Think you can manage to stay on your board this time?”

She yanked back her hand. “And there it is. You know, I’ve won surfing competitions. I’m not some amateur.”

“I guess you’ll have to prove it to me. I’m not convinced.”

She tossed him the sweatshirt and sauntered to the shore, board secure under her arm. With a glance over her shoulder, she flashed a playful grin. “What are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the view.”

“Uh-huh.” She waded into the water and shrieked. “Cold!” A quick dip under the water eliminated the shock, and she resurfaced to find Paul next to her, a sexy smile playing on his lips.
Oohh, those lips look so deliciously kissable…
Stop! Had she forgotten everything? Maybe that blast to the head had done more damage than she’d thought.

“I believe you were going to show me something.”

“I thought you said you didn’t use lines.”

“Who said it was a line? I just want to see your moves.” He climbed onto this board and paddled out.

Oh God, did she ever want to show them off.
She bit back a smile and hopped on the board. What the hell was happening here? Flirting with the enemy?
Really?
What was next?