Things Left Unsaid, page 15
“Lyndie?”
“Go away!” She practically spat the words at him without looking up.
“I’m sorry,” Tucker said as he knelt in front of her.
Finally, she met his eyes. Her face was stained with tears, and his thoughts turned to yesterday, the way she’d taken care of him after his string of stupid decisions. He owed it to her to do the same. He owed her so much more than that.
“Why are you here?” she slurred.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Tucker said, not daring to touch her.
She laughed. “That’s funny. You want to make sure I’m okay.”
Tucker stood over her, wondering if this was the fallout of what he’d done. Is this who she’d become?
“Just go away, Tucker. Go find Tess. I’m sure she’ll give you what you want.”
Ouch.
No question about it now. Lyndie hated him, and he could never make up for the way he’d treated her.
But he’d no sooner admitted defeat when she said, “I didn’t mean that.” She used the end of her shirt to pat her cheeks dry. “I never drink.”
It was too much to hope anything more than alcohol was warming her to him just now. But Tucker would take any chance he could get to make things right with her.
“Everyone else drinks,” she went on. “You drink. You get to forget about everything. I wanted to forget about everything, too—just for one night.” She looked away. “Instead, I made everything worse.”
Tucker sat down next to her. “It happens to the best of us.”
They sat in silence, backs against the side of the boat, staring up at the stars. Tucker wished he had the right to put an arm around her, to comfort her, to prove to her he wasn’t the same guy he’d been back then.
“The trouble is, and I learned this the hard way,” he said, “everything is still there in the morning.”
“You protected me,” Lyndie whispered as her head tipped down, resting on his shoulder. He wanted to pretend she’d done it on purpose, and not that she’d simply lost the will to hold her head upright—but how could he? He knew better. By morning, her hatred for him would return.
“Of course I did.”
She sat up and looked at him. “Why?”
Her eyes dared him to tell a truth that she couldn’t possibly know. The way she looked at him set something inside him off-kilter. He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, fingers shaking as his skin grazed her cheek. She looked up at him—eyes wide, expectant—and in a heartbeat, he was back in that same spot ten years earlier.
Lyndie had been more innocent then, before anyone had broken her heart. Before he had broken her heart.
He’d been around long enough to know when a girl liked him, and he’d caught Lyndie staring at him more than once. And though Tucker had pretended not to notice when she’d grown out of her little-kid body, he couldn’t help it. He’d noticed. On the beach. At his house. At band practice. She was also smarter than every girl he’d ever dated, and she scared the heck out of him.
But she was Cassie’s best friend. He was supposed to think of her like a little sister. And he’d promised he’d steer clear. But then, Tucker had never been very good at doing what he was supposed to, had he?
He’d tried his best, though, by dating just about every other girl in Sweethaven—all the while pushing Lyndie further and further away. He’d told himself that’s what was best for her—though when she saw him out with someone else, the longing in her eyes told a different story.
And then one summer, things changed. She didn’t feel as off-limits as she had before. Something was happening between the two of them, but neither had the courage to say it out loud. Keeping it secret was easier, but so much more complicated.
That night a decade ago, he’d worked late at the pizza parlor, and by the time he’d gotten off work, his friends were all out. Dewey and Travis were supposed to be at the beach, so he’d headed down to the dock. When he got there, he found Lyndie sitting in the gazebo alone, legs pulled up underneath her, just as they were now.
He strolled up the dock, still smelling like tomato sauce and baked mozzarella. “Hey.”
She turned toward him, then dropped her feet to the ground in front of her. She wore white Converse tennis shoes with no socks, a pair of shorts and a green T-shirt from some Bible camp she’d attended one year.
“Aren’t you supposed to be out with my sister?”
She shrugged.
When he sat down next to her, he could’ve sworn every muscle in her body tensed. He could put her at ease with a single touch, and he knew it. He’d done it before, so many times with so many other girls.
The thought shamed him. It’s not who he wanted to be, but resisting temptation wasn’t his strength—and why should he? He was having the time of his life.
It didn’t matter that he had a deep emptiness inside. Maybe Lyndie would be the one to fill it.
“What are you doing here by yourself?”
Lyndie sniffed, then looked away. Was she crying?
Tucker angled himself toward her, inching closer. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes flicked upward, lashes fluttering as if trying to hold back tears. “Cassie and I just had a fight. A really bad one.”
Tucker frowned. In all the years she and his sister had been friends, he couldn’t remember those two ever fighting. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’ll blow over.”
“No, Tucker.” Lyndie’s voice hitched in her throat. “I said some really awful things. It was so stupid. I was so stupid.”
He watched her shift under his gaze. “I’m sure it feels like that now, but you guys have been friends forever. Just tell her you’re sorry, and everything will be fine.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand.” She pulled her feet back up onto the bench and hugged her legs to her chest, head tipped down onto her knees.
He sat still for a few seconds. Then, as if in slow motion, he reached out and put a hand on her back. Her breathing seemed to stop, but she didn’t move away from his touch. He slid closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her body closer to his. At first, she stiffened, but he let his hand drift down the side of her arm, as if he could brush away the sorrow. After a few brief moments, she began to sink into him.
He’d planned to comfort her. That was all. He wanted to do anything he could to make her feel better. But it took only one quick glance to turn everything sideways.
She stayed still for what felt like a long time—and just for a minute, he let himself enjoy the warmth of her. He inhaled the clean scent of her hair, rested in the way her body felt against his. He hadn’t been this close to Lyndie his entire life, but something about it felt perfect, like he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time and hadn’t even known it.
She turned and faced him, her eyes shaded in the darkness of the night. “I feel like such a baby.”
His gaze fell to her lips, soft and full and begging to be kissed.
He’d been here before. He had a choice. He could do the right thing and walk away—after all, she was vulnerable, emotional. Or he could . . .
His hand found its way to her face. He wound his fingers behind her neck and up into her hair as his thumb brushed her cheekbone. Time stopped. The world stood still, and every thought slipped out of his mind. In that moment, there was only Lyndie.
As if by some unseen force, she sat up straighter and brought her eyes level with his. He squared off in front of her and drank her in, for the first time seeing her the way he’d been forcing himself not to for years.
“Lyndie,” he whispered. “I see you now.”
Her eyes fell, but he lifted her chin, forced her to hold his gaze. He took her face in his hands and kissed her—carefully, gently, intentionally—the way she deserved to be kissed.
She was tender, special, pure.
She was pure. But he didn’t want to think about that now. All he wanted was to get lost for a little while, to give in to the feelings he’d kept at bay for too long.
Their kissing turned into something else—something more—and he let it. He was older, wiser and more experienced, and he knew the second she turned toward him that she was his for the taking. His suspicions of her feelings were confirmed, and he liked the way it felt to be wanted. He let his ego drive the night, knowing Lyndie would do anything for him. That’s exactly why he should’ve walked away.
Why didn’t he walk away?
Afterward, he could see the shame on her face. She gathered her clothes from the floor of the gazebo, then sat a few feet away from him, turning that purity ring around on her finger, staring out at the water.
Tucker dropped his head in his hands. He was supposed to protect her, like an older brother would’ve, and it turned out the only thing she needed protecting from was him.
They walked back to his cottage in silence, though how he resisted the urge to run away, he’d never know. When they turned the corner onto their block, they saw the lights of a squad car at the corner house. His house.
They walked inside and found two police officers standing in the living room and his parents sitting on the couch. His dad had an arm around his mom, who was crying softly.
“What’s the matter?” Tucker asked. “Where’s Cassie?”
“Where were you?” His mom stood. “Where’ve you been?”
Tucker glanced at Lyndie, whose cheeks were flushed, her eyes full of guilt.
His parents did nothing to fill the awkward silence in the room.
“I had to work late,” Tucker finally said. “I ran into Lyndie at the dock.”
“Why weren’t you with Cassie?” His mom’s voice cracked.
“Mom, what happened?”
“She’s gone, Tucker. Your sister is gone.”
The words knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t remember anything that happened after that. Just that he’d run out into the street and kept running until he’d reached the beach.
While his sister was dying, he’d been out robbing her best friend of her purity. He would never forgive himself for that.
Now, here they were, back on the same dock, surrounded by the sounds of night, and Lyndie waited for his response to her question with an expectancy that set his pulse racing. Why had he protected her tonight?
Because I should have all along.
His eyes slid to her lips—soft and full and, once again, begging to be kissed.
He’d convinced himself Lyndie was just one in a string of countless girls, but he’d never felt about anyone else the way he did about her, not before or since. After that night, his relationships had grown even more shallow and meaningless. He didn’t deserve anything more than that, and Lyndie certainly deserved better.
He’d never even called her. His family had gone back home to Indiana, Lyndie had gone off to school, and Tucker had pretended the whole thing had never happened.
He’d cleaned himself up since then, sure. He went to church and read his Bible. He gave to charities and took care of the less fortunate. But no amount of penance would ever make up for what he’d taken from Lyndie.
Kyle was right. It was time to make amends. Tucker owed her an apology, but not like this. Not when she likely wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Not sitting down here by that gazebo, with the regret deeper and fresher than it had been in years.
“Why did you come down here, Tucker?” She blinked twice, slowly, eyelids looking heavy as the night wore on.
He turned toward her and clapped a protective hand on her knee. “Come on, Lyndie, you know you’re like a little sister to me.”
The tension in the air shifted. She sat up straight and pulled her gaze from his, a remarkable hurt settling in her eyes. “Right. A little sister.”
“We should get you home.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice caught in her throat. “Just leave me alone.”
Tucker drew in a deep breath. He didn’t want to leave her alone. He wanted to stay there and take care of her. He wanted to walk her home and make sure she was safe. He wanted to make up for the way he’d treated her once upon a time, to prove to her that, despite the way he’d acted, she wasn’t like all the other girls.
But as he walked away from the dock, the memory of a night so long ago still fresh in his mind, he told himself that leaving her alone was the best thing for her.
Chapter Sixteen
Karen watched the clock as if doing so would calm her weary nerves. When midnight rolled around, she flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, the streetlight outside illuminating her husband’s sleeping face.
How did he do it? How did he find peace in spite of everything that could go wrong? Did he notice that the air between Tucker and Lyndie was tense? Did he wonder where they’d gone off to or if they were still together or why they weren’t home?
“They’re adults, Karen,” he’d tell her.
And he would be right. Of course they were adults, but that didn’t stop her from worrying. That didn’t stop her from imagining disaster every time she closed her eyes. No wonder she was still wide awake.
She threw the covers off, tossed one more irritated look at a sleeping Davis and trod out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she turned in a circle like a rat in a cage.
Was she losing her mind? Was being here a huge mistake? Was planning a celebration of life—for a daughter whose life had been cut far too short—sending her into an anxiety spiral?
She walked over to the window and looked outside. What had she thought—that she’d find Tucker and Lyndie and Elle magically arriving at that exact moment?
“You’re losing it, Karen,” she said aloud as she snapped the curtains shut.
Her mind raced through all the places the kids could be: At the beach. At the bars. At someone’s house. They couldn’t get into much trouble here in Sweethaven.
But then, if that were true, her daughter would still be alive.
She opened the refrigerator and stared inside. She wasn’t hungry, and she wouldn’t eat, she just didn’t know what else to do with herself.
“Karen?”
She closed the door and turned toward her husband’s voice. Davis stood in the doorway of the living room, sleep still in his eyes.
“Is everything okay?”
She felt caught. What would she tell a patient suffering from worry-induced insomnia? Once upon a time, she might’ve told them to read their Bible, to rest in the promises of a God who never leaves us or forsakes us—but it had been a long time since she’d relied on scripture to get her through anything.
What would Davis say if he learned she’d lost her faith?
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
He watched her from across the room, as if deciding whether to stay. She could still remember the nights when Davis would’ve known exactly how to calm her worry. He always seemed to have the right words. He would’ve sat her down at the kitchen counter and made her a cup of mint tea. She’d make sure it was decaffeinated, and he’d toss her that look that said, What do you take me for—an amateur?
He might even smile at her and tell her this wasn’t his first rodeo with sleeplessness.
The kettle would whistle and he’d pour her a cup, adding just a touch of milk and a little bit of sugar, and then he’d sit down across from her, and his gentle voice would calm her down.
It’s the way it had gone when the kids were little, before the accident, before their world was turned upside down.
She met his tired eyes. Was he remembering it too?
He pressed his lips together, then gave one solid nod. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”
She nodded as her gaze fell to the living room floor.
Davis left the room, and Karen’s eyes wandered over to the stove, to the empty teakettle, where she did her best to banish the memories that seemed to bring only more sorrow.
When Travis had told her the whole gang was going out to Third Rock, Elle had initially been excited, a part of her craving the way things had been when they’d all spent their carefree days down at the beach. But being back there, all of them together without Cassie, had only reminded Elle that her carefree days were over.
Not that her days had ever been fully carefree to begin with.
Travis had said going out on the boat would be good for her—a way to put the past behind her, to help her finally come to terms with Cassie’s death. But Travis didn’t know the details of that night, and Elle wasn’t about to tell him. Her only recourse was to pretend she was fine. She’d gotten pretty good at pretending.
After all, she’d been doing it most of her life. She was still playing a part. Still trying to fit into the lives of the people she called friends, still trying to be good enough for Travis.
She’d hoped the tension between her and Lyndie would’ve dissipated by now, but Elle still felt like an outsider, trying to scale the wall her old friend had built up around herself.
What had she expected? Elle had practically blamed Lyndie for the accident, even though she knew who was really at fault. She should apologize—maybe then everything between them would go back to normal.
But bringing it all back up felt like so much work.
They’d docked Dewey’s boat just before dark—Elle’s only condition on going out, as if darkness had caused the accident. Then someone had started a bonfire on the beach, and Elle’s mind tumbled back. How many summer nights had they spent out here, under these very same stars? There’d been days when Elle thought she’d never get out of Sweethaven. Days when she thought she would jump straight into the same cycle as her mom—deadbeat boyfriend, too much alcohol, unwanted pregnancy.
But look at her now. She’d done it. She was out—and about to marry one of the kindest men she’d ever met.
“Is that Elle Porter?” A guy’s voice pulled Elle’s attention. He was tall, thin and looked a lot like someone her mom would’ve brought home after a shift at the bar. “It is you. I’d recognize those luscious lips anywhere.”
