Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Understatement.” He forks his fingers through his hair. “Let’s get to it, then.”
We work all morning, sifting through shelves and drawers. His grandfather’s collection includes bent postcards, yellowing notepads, hats, used books, and fishing apparatus, all crammed into any available space. We stand side by side at the dining table, either pitching junk or filling empty boxes with anything that might be usable for donation.
I hold up a brightly colored lure that resembles a small fish with a poofy tail. “Have you been lately?”
“Fishing?” He shakes his head. “He left me his boat.”
“He still owns it?” It seems like forever since he worked on the docks.
He nods. “According to Rosie, he wants his ashes spread on the water.”
“It is still in decent shape?”
“It better be. No way I’m fixing up his house and boat.”
I laugh, but I also can’t help thinking that Old Man Malone put one over on him even after death.
Micah pitches a handful of broken trinkets that maybe Grandpa Malone told himself he’d fix one day. Everyone seems to have a junk drawer in their house, but this is on a different scale. “So, how’s the fam? Is Cain still surfing?”
I nod. “He gave us a good scare last summer when his surfboard washed ashore and we all went searching for him.”
He pauses with a damaged light socket in his hand. “Holy shit, that had to be scary.”
“It was, and June… Fuck, I hated that haunted look in her eyes.”
“Probably felt way too familiar.” He frowns. “So what happened?”
“He had wiped out and washed up farther down the beach than he’d anticipated. He was weak and a little beat up but perfectly fine.”
“Thank God,” he says, lobbing a few packets of screws into the box. “June still working at the diner?”
Bobbing my head in affirmation, I say, “She enjoys it there. Between that and helping Aunt Dina at Honeycomb, she keeps herself busy.”
“It’s like I never left,” he teases.
“In some cases, sure. But plenty has also changed.”
“Well, not everything…” He throws me a flirty look. “You’re still hot as hell.”
I groan. “God, Micah, don’t do that.”
“What? I’m only stating a fact.”
“Okay, fine. Here’s another: you’re still the best fuck I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, same,” he says, and I love seeing the flush across his cheeks. “Hey, no one ever said there can’t be husbands with bennies.”
I laugh because it’s not like we haven’t taken advantage of that very thing, but it’s been years. I sober when his attention strays to the urn again, and I have to remind myself he lost a family member, and that’s why he’s in town.
“By the way, what were you going to ask me yesterday at the bar?”
He averts his eyes. “I…I dunno.”
I step closer. “Yeah, you do. Try me.”
“It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you—”
“When my parents died, you showed up here and knew what I needed. Maybe you need the same?”
When our eyes meet, I see desperation and sadness in his, so instead of second-guessing myself, I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. This is Micah, the love of my life, and no matter how much time passes, I’ll never not feel this way about him.
Micah sags against me with his nose at my throat while I kiss the top of his head and take in his scent. Coconut lime, like he just walked off the beach instead of using a scented body wash.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he says, and it makes me shiver.
“Apparently not enough,” I tease.
“You know that’s not true.”
“Yeah, I know.” Besides, what’s my excuse? I’ve considered showing up in LA to be with him countless times. “If only we were able to be in the same town.”
He draws back. “I…think about it—relentlessly sometimes. Just packing it all up.”
“Does that mean you’re still sure of me?”
He blinks a couple of times. “Fuck, I almost forgot about my letter.”
“Still have it.” I sigh. “But that was a long time ago.”
“It’s still true. To this day, you’re the only one I’m sure of. My love for you hasn’t weakened, J.”
I pull him back into my arms because maybe I need the comfort too.
“I tell myself that if you hadn’t pushed me to leave, I would be miserable never knowing what Hollywood’s like.”
That was the exact reason I did it. “And? Any conclusions?”
“That it’s not as easy or glamorous as you think when you’re younger.” He pulls back to look at me. “You also have to get used to doing other things while waiting for your big break.”
“Like working as a server?”
“Uh-huh. It’s a different lifestyle out there. Crowded, busy, noisy.”
I shudder for effect, and he cracks a smile.
And then he sobers as we stare at each other, our bodies close, our lips only a breath away. “J, I know I shouldn’t, but…”
“I want it too.”