Starless Nights (Hale Brothers Series Book 2) (4 page)

“Is that the notebook I bought you?”

Panic is written across his face. “Yeah, so?”

I can’t believe that he kept this notebook. I gave it to him five and half years ago right before my family moved away from the island. It was meant for him to write down all of his adventures to share with me, only he didn’t and we didn’t talk again for almost three years.

“Can I hold it?”

“No,” comes out almost immediately. His eyes harden, his lips pinch down into a thin line, and his jaw is locked tight.

“Why not?” It’s not like I plan on reading it. I think I just want to feel it because it connects us to a time when we were happy.

“Because it’s private.”

“Like a journal?”

“Isn’t that what you told me it was for?” He takes a step back putting more distance between me and journal.

“No actually, if I remember correctly that is not what I told you it was for.” Understanding flares in his eyes. I let out a deep sigh and drop my gaze to his waist knowing that the journal is right behind his back. His chest is moving up and down rapidly like he’s breathing really hard.

“Yeah, well you didn’t really give me a way to share things with you, now did you?” I can hear anger and sadness blended together in his tone.

“I can’t believe that you kept it all of these years,” I say as I look back up into his beautiful face.

“You gave it to me. Why wouldn’t I keep it?” And this is it. Right here. That one sentence sums up my entire relationship with Beau Hale. It’s been twelve years now and he’s still sending me mixed signals. He’s made so many comments like this one to me over the years, but then he’s never wanted to be with me or really given me the time of day. I’ve never been enough for him.

“Whatever. You came in here. Did you want something?” I can’t stand here and look at him anymore. Being reminded of years and years of rejection has me needing to get away from him.

“Coffee would be great. Any kind,” he says quietly.

“Still like it bold, two sugars?” I hate that I know how he takes his coffee.

“Yep.” His eyes travel up and down the length of me. I can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t just looking at me; he is remembering me. I’d like to say that I wish I could forget him but that would be a lie. Most of the best memories that I’ve ever had include him. I’ve had enough and I walk off to the back. The coffee is behind the counter but I need a minute to collect myself.

My eyes fill with tears. Tears for a love that I’ve had for him for so long and tears for a love that has never been wanted or returned. I thought I was doing better. I thought I was getting over him. Nope. One glance from those beautiful hazel eyes and I am right back there again, being consumed by him.

Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together. I walk out of the saloon doors and see that he hasn’t sat back down. I’m trying my hardest not to look at him but I can feel him watching me. I grab a large coffee cup, pour in two packets of sugar, and fill it to the top. Time’s up, I can’t stall anymore. One by one, I place each foot in front of the other and walk back to him. He takes the cup from me but doesn’t take a sip and doesn’t sit down.

“How are you?” he asks me.

“Good. You?” It’s not that I intended to keep my answer so short and brief, I just don’t know what to say to him.

“I’m good.” His eyes look away from me, he tucks the journal under his arm, and he shifts the coffee cup to his other hand as he says this to me. He’s not telling me the truth. Realization of this hurts a little because there used to be a time when he would never lie to me. He always told me the truth.

“I didn’t realize that you had moved here already. Ali never mentioned anything.”

“Oh, yeah they don’t know yet. I had planned on the middle of the month, but I just needed to get here and get settled. Matt drove up with me. He’s staying for a few weeks and then will go home with my mom after Drew’s beach house weekend.”

“How is Matt?” I don’t know Matt as well as I do Drew. Matt is so much younger than us. He doesn’t talk a lot but every time I see him, he smiles at me. Beau and Drew have always been very protective of him.

“He’s exactly like a thirteen-year-old boy should be: hitting puberty, staring at girls, thinks he knows everything, and he is full of attitude.” Beau smiles a little and it makes my heart squeeze. “He’s perfect.”

The door pushes open and the tinkling of bell echoes through the cafe. I should turn and greet whoever it is but I can't take my eyes off of Beau. It’s like we are locked into a staring contest that isn’t really a contest. Our eyes are making up for lost time.

An arm slides around my waist and the distinct smell of Charlie drifts up to my nose as he presses a kiss to my forehead. I lean into him.

Beau’s eyes harden and leave mine. His whole body has stiffened as he watches every move and every touch Charlie makes. I know the moment that Charlie recognizes him because his hands squeeze me.

I am so glad that Charlie is here. I need some strength to be around Beau and Charlie is just the person to give it to me.

I slide around in Charlie's arms so we are face to face. He looks down at me and my eyes grow really large. He chuckles. He knows.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Why didn't you wake me before you left? I would have come in with you?”

Oh my god, I know exactly how that sounded.

“I know but we were up late and I wanted to let you sleep,” I say this quietly. Even though I know Beau can hear me. I feel like saying it any louder would be as if I was throwing it in his face.

“But yet here you are, looking just as beautiful as always.” He smiles down at me and I can see genuine affection in his eyes. I offer a small smile, feel his confidence and energy sink into me, and think to myself . . . I can do this.

I HEARD SOMEONE walk over and approach me. I probably should look up to acknowledge them, but at the moment, I just don’t care. My eyes are tired, my head is pounding, and I need a cup of coffee.

Of all the voices in the entire world, I never expected to hear hers. Having just heard her screams, for a second I think that I am still in bed and still dreaming.

Her voice has always been like a warm breeze to me, as it blows over and calms me. Hearing it so soon after that nightmare, after it has been so long, literally makes me want to cry. I close my eyes for a brief second to freeze this moment.

Looking up and seeing her beautiful face, I think my body goes into shock.

For months I know that I have been somewhat sliding. This past year, being on the island, without Drew, Ali, and Leila was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Drew and I, although we were together daily, it was mostly just in passing and for years we kept to ourselves. It wasn’t until a few months before he moved that we finally started talking again. And although technically Leila and I weren’t together, I didn’t realize how much not seeing her on a regular basis would cause me such anxiety.

Every time I see her, she reminds me how dull my world is. I continually move through life in the dark. Everything feels like it is in shades of grays, black, and white. Then she walks into my vision and it bursts with color.

This past year has treated her well and she is more beautiful than I ever imagined. Her hair is still the most amazing strawberry blonde and it is long and full of curls. She is thin but toned, and not in a cardio kind of way, more like yoga. She isn’t wearing any makeup, just a little lip gloss, and every part of me is reacting to her.

How is it possible that in a city of this size, and of all the coffee shops out there, I walk into hers? I’ve never been one to believe in fate, but why is it that it seems like whenever I need someone the most, she suddenly appears?

I can feel her eyes scan over me and my heart flashes back to the last time that we were together. I never should have walked away from her that night, but I couldn’t take her rejection one more time.

I see her spot my journal on the side table next to the chair, and suddenly everything drops into slow motion. She reaches for it and all I know is that I have to beat her to it. She cannot see this; much less open it. Honestly, I never even wanted her to know about it. I grab it quickly and shove it behind my back.

“Is that the notebook I bought you?” Curiosity and astonishment comes through in her voice.

“Yeah, so?”

“Can I hold it?” Not a chance in hell. I don’t even want her looking at it. I know there is no way that she can read the contents with it closed and hidden, but just the thought of it scares the shit out of me.

“No.” I probably said this a little more harshly than needed, but she needs to understand that there is no way I am going to let her touch it.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s private.” My fingers are squeezing it so tightly the skin is stretching across my knuckles.

“Like a journal?” Why can’t she let this go?

“Isn’t that what you told me it was for?” Needing more distance, I take a step back. It’s not like I see her tackling me to get it. I just need her to stay away from it.

“No actually, if I remember correctly that is not what I told you it was for.” The memory of us sitting on the bench, down at the end of the dock on Bean Point hits me with such clarity that for a split second I feel pulled back in time.

Bean Point is our place. It is on the very tip of the island, and not a lot of people go there because the riptides and currents are too strong to get in the water. A wooden dock leads over the dunes, held together by sea oats, and down to the beach. Coastal Pines line the backdrop and throughout the summer months you will find dozens of undisturbed turtle nests. The beach is quiet, and to us, it is our secret get-a-way.

Leila’s family moved away when we were fourteen. On the last day that I saw her, we were sharing a bag of salt water taffy, laughing at some of the stupid things we had done together over the years, and that’s when she pulls the journal out of her bag.

“So, I bought this for you. We’ve had years and years of adventures together and well, I would still like to be a part of yours going forward. If you’ll write them down and then share them with me, it’ll be like I never left.” I take the journal and look down at it. It’s leather, light brown, and has a long leather strap that wraps around it to tie it shut. The thoughtfulness in her gift moves me so much that without thinking I lean over and kiss her.

It is my first kiss.

Our first kiss.

I know that I startled her but she doesn’t back away. Her lips are warm and her breath, as it fans across my face, smells sweet, just like the salt water taffy. Never wanting to forget this moment, I place my forehead against hers and close my eyes.

“Thank you, Leila. I promise to write in it as much as possible.” She pulls back and her crystal blues eyes sparkle at me with happiness.