Summer Sunsets (22 page)

For a moment, she doesn’t
say anything, and I know she wants to interfere. Sometimes it’s
difficult to change reactions, and she senses danger, kind of like
the last time Skye fell apart. This time is going to be different.
This time Skye’s going to talk to me.

Finally, she senses the
futility of objecting. Regardless of who feels what, I’m going to
find Skye, and she knows it. “All right. Just be careful and let us
know where you are.”

“
I will.” I reach out and
wrap my arms around her. Then I slip out the door and head for the
highway, so not looking forward to the long drive but just as glad
to be doing something as sitting around, waiting for a call that
may or may not come. Speaking of calls, I keep looking at my cell,
waiting for it to light up in the darkness, but it
doesn’t.

I rake my hand through my
hair and peer out into the blackness, knowing the road I’m driving
is the same one Skye has taken to flee. I just wish I knew from
what.

Hours later, I see the
ocean, the slow waves shimmering towards the shore beneath the
moonlight. I roll my window down and inhale the salty tang. While
I’ve been having doubts since I started the drive that perhaps I
was wrong, the minute I smell the ocean, I know I’m on the right
track. Both Skye and I find peace here when everywhere else seems
out of kilter and messed up.

I’ve been here enough to
know my way to the beachfront location where we also stay without
blinking. As I start scanning the rentals, I start to get nervous
because I don’t see her car right away. In fact, it’s only when I’m
at the last parking spot I see it cached deep behind a huge black
SUV that my shoulders sag as the tension drifts from me.

`This whole trip I’ve been
trying to tell myself there’s nothing to worry about, but when it
comes to Skye, I can’t help but worry. It’s kind of like
breathing.

I scan the lot for an empty
space. That’s when I discover I’m going to have to turn around and
go back a few yards. After that, I get out of the Jeep and look at
the beachfront cabins, any one of which Skye could be sleeping in.
There’s no guarantee she was able to rent the one we typically use,
not considering how ill-planned this whole trip was. Yesterday she
didn’t know she would need a reservation. No, she would have to
take whatever she could get, and I’m not sure which one it would
be. Unless I want to wake up every resident until I stumbled upon
her, I’m going to have to wait for morning.

I flip open my cell just on
the off chance she might’ve called. No such luck. Both my mother
and Warren have. No surprises there.

I closed the phone, get
out, and shove the keys into my pocket. I head to the beach so I
can watch the moonlight shimmer off the water and listen to the
roll and return of the waves. Although the air is slightly cooler
than the last time we came here, it still brings back memories of
the two of us playing on the beach, fishing or doing many of the
other things we’d done right after graduation.

I reach into my pocket and
feel the ring waiting there, patient as ever. One of these days,
I’ll be able to find a good moment to propose, and some part of me
has to believe that during that moment, Skye will finally
understand just how much I adore her, and she won’t say no no
matter how frightened she might be.

Finding a place where the
tide reaches the shore, I sit in the sand and ease off my sneakers
and socks before setting my feet directly into the water’s path.
The first wave is chilling as it washes over my skin, but I don’t
move. I just take a deep breath and brace for the next wave. That
one doesn’t feel as cold, and I love the feel of it coursing over
my skin. My mom used to joke I must have been Ariel’s brother or
something because I loved the water so much. She had trouble
believing it.

I wrap my arms around my
legs and look at a full, luminous moon, the light sparkles off the
water, dancing upon the crest of each wave, and tumbling with the
roll of water heading to shore. A slight breeze picks up, the
wind’s fingers tousling my hair unpredictably.

So what was going on with
Skye? This is really the first moment I’ve given much thought to it
because, up until now, I’ve been so completely focused just on
finding her. That was so much more important. Now that I’ve
discovered her whereabouts, I can afford to worry about the much
bigger picture—what had driven her so far away, and what was going
to happen when we finally speak to one another? Did I in some
strange, unknown way, have something to do with her need to run
away?

So many questions, and yet
she was the only one who had answers.

The more I think back to
making love to Skye and her strange behavior the next day, the more
lost I feel. Had I unwittingly done something wrong? I pull my arms
from around my legs and brace them behind me so I can lean back and
stretch my legs. Yeah, that definitely feels so much
better.

Now about Skye. I replayed
things again, looking for some small detail I might have missed.
The answer had to be there. I just couldn’t see her running from
her mom and Warren. Whatever she was running from, it had to do
with either her father, the asshole, or me, the clueless
one.

And I sure as hell wasn’t
comforted by the realization that I could’ve been the one to hurt
Skye when I never would have done that intentionally.

And what was she buying
from Walgreens? That was another mystery to add to
things.

I look back at the cabins.
All of them are dark. Closing my eyes, I think of my body merging
with hers, our heartbeats matching so perfectly it was hard to
believe they’re in two bodies. We belong together, so what had
happened.

Suddenly a thought dawns on
me, something I should have taken into consideration before but
didn’t. I have been so obtuse, when I should have been paying
attention and focusing on the important things.

We made love a few weeks
ago. Skye was now vomiting. She’d gone to a drugstore to get
something she didn’t want me to know about--her first secret from
me in a long time. Now she was panicking. I close my eyes and hang
my head as the pieces fall into place.

Skye is
pregnant.

“
I am so damned stupid,” I
mutter, suddenly wondering how I could ever have missed that. All
the clues had been there, and I had consistently missed them.
Shaking my head, I mentally got through the list of options, trying
to think about them in the same way I knew Skye would be looking at
them. She was unmarried and probably convinced I deserved more than
she could ever be—her perspective, not mine. Even if she thought
that, she wouldn’t ever consider having an abortion; the first one
had been too much for her to handle. Even now, years after the
event, she’s still reeling at times from her decision. It didn’t
take a genius to see she isn’t up for another go-round like
that.

Is she considering
adoption, or possibly trying to have the baby on her own? Is she
ever going to tell me?

Frowning, I get up and grab
my shoes, suddenly more disturbed than I had been. No matter how
terrified Skye might be about this, I’m excited. Granted, the
timing is incredibly bad. I would much rather have been able to
propose to her when there was nothing at stake so she would know
just how much I love her, but if this complication forces my hand,
I’m okay with it. I want Skye to be my wife. It really doesn’t much
matter how the circumstances have played out to make that
happen.

And I love kids—absolutely
love them.

Unsure what else to do, I
plant my butt back on the beach and lie down, my arms folded
beneath my head. No, sleep isn’t an option in this position, but I
pretty much know I wouldn’t be able to force myself to sleep,
anyhow, not with all this chaos between me and Skye. So instead, I
watch the heavens change from midnight black to a burst of fiery
pink that starts in a small eastern pocket and gradually flames the
whole sky until the ocean, too, glows sherbet.

Smiling, I stare, at the
sunrise, entranced until day finally banishes the pink, and there
is only one thing which would have made it better—if Skye had
watched it with me.

Skye.

I glance at my watch,
wondering if the office for the cabins would be open yet. There’s
probably no way to tell without actually going over there, so I
slip on my shoes, stand, and dust the sand from the back of my
jeans. I’ll probably carry a small pocket of beach home in my
jeans, but I don’t care. The time in the sand has definitely been
well worth it.

Although I don’t expect the
glass door of the rental office to give at my push, it does and I
smile. A bell over the door jangles at my arrival and I walk up to
the counter, where an elderly gentleman stands, typing at his
computer.

“
May I help you?”

“
Yeah, that would be great.
I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend here. I know she rented one of
the cabins, and she was supposed to call me, but my cell died on
the drive out. We come out here every year and usually stay in
cabin fifteen.

“
Does your girlfriend have a
name?” He cocks an eyebrow at me suspiciously and waits.

“
Skye Williams.”

He flips through some
paperwork before looking up at me. “Yeah. She’s in fifteen.” He
lowers his eyebrows at me like he’s thinking way too hard. “Yeah,
come to think of it, I remember seeing you with her. You
do
come every
year.”

I’m relieved he remembers
me after all. “Yeah. Skye’s a beach baby.”

He nods. “Perfect place for
it.” He turns and lifts a trembling hand to grab a key. “Here, this
will let you slip inside and surprise her.”

“
Thanks.” I take the key and
turn around, heading to the door.

“
That’s a pretty little
girlfriend you’ve got there.”

I stop at the door and
shoot him a smile. “Prettiest one I’ve ever seen.”

We give each other an
understanding nod, and I slip out, already trying to figure out the
best way to propose to Skye. Hell, I should be putting together a
battle strategy to get her to listen to me because that’s going to
have to come first. I can already hear her arguments; there won’t
be any shortage of those. Of that, I’m sure. Trouble is, when she’s
made up her mind, it takes a miracle to get her to change, which is
why I need to get to her as soon as possible. The future she’s been
carefully trying so hard to avoid is now staring her in the face,
and I fully intend to make her see my point, especially if she’s
pregnant.

I look at the cabins as I
walk, double-checking to make sure I’m headed to the right.
Although I don’t think the key will fit any of the others, I’d hate
to be wrong and give some ultra-macho jock a nasty surprise. I’m
not sure how I’d explain my mistake before he wanted to beat the
crap out of me.

I spot fifteen, and it
brings back memories of a few months ago when things were a little
less complicated—a place I’m definitely hoping to return to very
soon because all this tension is for the birds. Aware Skye might be
sleeping, I take care to muffle the sound of my shoes as I go up
the steps. I gently slip the key into the lock and twist the knob.
The door eases open. The rusty hinges protest as I nudge it open
wider and step inside.

Not far from the door, I
spot Skye’s bags, still packed, which is totally like her. She’s
probably just worried about decompressing. Two more
steps.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp
pain in my calf, and someone grabs my arm, hurtling me head over
heels into a full somersault that slams my body against the ground
hard enough to knock the wind out of me. I start gasping, trying to
take in enough air, but it won’t come fast enough.

Blinking, I see Skye
hopping around, trying not to stand on her injured
ankle.

“
Damn! Damn! Damn!” She
finally sinks onto the couch. “That hurt!” For a few seconds she
looks at her ankle and then turns to me, a horrified grimace pasted
on her face, and for the moment I’m relieved she seems truly
contrite for knocking me on my ass. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers
breathlessly, her long, dark hair cascading toward her face, the
curls unruly and tighter than usual, probably from the ocean’s
humidity.

“
Sure you are.” It’s going
to take me a few minutes before I can catch my breath. Hell, I’m
not so sure I even remember my name, considering how hard I
hit.

She sits there awkwardly,
her arms dangling uselessly at her sides as though she doesn’t
really know what to do with them. She’s wearing a Betty Boop
tee-shirt and matching sleep pants, and something tells me she only
came out of bed when she heard me moving around outside. So much
for my stealth mode.

“
When did you learn to do
that?” I manage, easing myself to a sitting position.

Shrugging, she said, “Last
year. I took a self-defense class because I thought it would help.
I’m not sure it did, though. Devin, what are you doing
here?”

“
Trying to talk some sense
into you.” I get up and rub the back of my head where it hit the
floor. “Of course, that was before I realized you were a lethal
weapon.”