Over the Moon, page 9
“Jesus, I’m sorry.”
I shrug and give him a soft smile. “Thanks. What about your dad? Were you two pretty close?”
Kingston snorts and shakes his head. “My dad and I couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. I think maybe he always resented me for my mom’s death. To him, I was such a fuckup growing up. My grades were shit if I got anything less than an A, and he hated sports with a passion. I took all kinds of odd jobs growing up to fund my own sports to play. Didn’t matter, though. He told me I’d never amount to anything. In his eyes, I never did.”
“What?” I laugh, despite the utter disbelief swirling inside me. “You play for the NFL. Doesn’t he know how many kids come through this camp who will only ever dream of accomplishing what you have?”
Kingston grins. “Right, well, my old man doesn’t see it like that. If I’m not in some high-rise corporate building, wearing a suit and tie every day while practicing law, then I’m scum. Doesn’t matter that I make more money in one contract than he ever has in his entire life. Doesn’t matter that I’m doing what I love, what feeds my soul. I’ll never amount to what he desperately wanted me to become.”
I shake my head, completely dumbfounded. “That’s really unfortunate.”
“Yeah, well, now it’s your turn to tell me about your dad so I can feel better about mine,” he teases.
Cringing, I shake my head, pushing aside the lurch of discomfort in my chest. “My dad was amazing, actually,” I say softly. “But he died when I was sixteen.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
I never know what to say to someone else’s apologies over the death of my father. I believe them, and I appreciate the sentiment, but sorry doesn’t bring him back. “Yeah, so I’m not sure I can help you with your feelings about your dad. At least you have one.”
“Well, fuck.” Kingston blows out a breath and faces forward, his head tilting toward the moon. “We’re a hot mess, the two of us.”
“Ah, speak for yourself. I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing.”
A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “Why did you want to become a nurse?”
“I guess the simple answer is that my father was a doctor. A surgeon. I grew up worshiping the fact that he saved lives on the daily, but it wasn’t all that simple for me. When I first moved to the camp, I was given all these odd jobs. The Bexleys wanted to see what stuck. I think I tried every single position until they started connecting the dots for me. I loved being a lifeguard because of the training classes and the fact that I was helping people.” I point to my swimsuit and laugh. “Hence where I got the suit.” His eyes don’t leave mine this time. “I was always the one accompanying the kids to the nurse’s office, until eventually, Miriam Bexley asked me to work for her as her assistant.”
“Bexley? She one of the owners?”
“Yup. Miriam is Andrew Bexley’s wife, mother to all five of the Bexley boys, and now a happily retired world traveler. Anyway, of course, I agreed to be her assistant. The rest just happened kind of slowly, but naturally. It’s funny how things work out the way they should, in ways we never would have imagined.”
“I agree with that.”
I smile with pinched lips. “Do you? That’s not the sense I got when I met you.”
He chuckles and turns back to face the water. “All I know is that I was dreading being here until I met you.”
I try to ignore the rippling sensation in my chest. “You almost left yesterday,” I remind him with a coy smile.
“But I stayed.”
“Why?”
“Because you gave me a reason to.”
His eyes drift back to mine. Even in darkness, his green eyes have the ability to suck me in and hold me to him like a magnet. Two opposite forces, connected in a way that almost feels magical. But while there’s no question that I’m intensely attracted to Kingston physically, it’s what comes out of his mouth that I just can’t see past. Normally. Because you gave me a reason to. His words mix with the cool wind and shake me a little.
“I just gave you blankets, Kingston. It’s really not that big of a deal.”
“Maybe not to you, but it’s a big fucking deal to me. No one is ever that nice to me.”
I tilt my head a little, for once wanting to see past the guard of Kingston’s big green eyes. “Maybe you make it a little hard for them to be nice to you. You’re not exactly the warm and affectionate type.”
“Be careful with those assumptions, Nurse Silver. I might just have to prove you wrong.”
I wish my heart didn’t just catch in my throat. I wish the damn flutters would stop erupting in my chest whenever he says something clever. I wish I didn’t see the layer of Kingston Scott that I saw tonight, because now I know there’s more to him than a cocky mouth and arrogant demeanor. There’s a deeply buried pain, which festers and brews but he manages to contain, thanks to the many defenses he’s erected over the years.
He’s hiding something. Just like me.
10
THE PLAN
SYLVIA, 8 YEARS AGO
Headlights flicker as I approach the underpass, my duffel bag weighing down my injured arm. Everything hurts, there’s a stabbing pain in my lungs every time I breathe, and I know I look like I just walked out of a boxing match.
I reach the white rented Civic, yank open the passenger door, and jump into the car as if it’s about to take off without me. “Good news,” I breathe, using whatever energy remains. There’s not much left. After swallowing, I suck in more air. “She’s not dead.”
“Thank God,” Harvey declares with relief. “That is good news.” His head rolls back onto the headrest, then he lets out a loud sigh. “And how are you?”
I wince as my seatbelt clicks into place. “How do you think I am?” Snapping isn’t the answer, but what kind of question was that? “Anyway, you know what this means, right?”
He bends his brows together. “We stick to the plan.”
My eyes widen. “What? No. We go to the cops. We tell them everything, then I file a restraining order against her. She’ll have to stay away from me. And she’ll never have a chance of claiming the money after that.”
“And then what?” Harvey challenges. “It’s your word against hers? Didn’t you say you thought you killed her? What if she goes to the cops and tells them you’re violent? You know she’s been looking for any excuse to get her hands on your father’s money. This is what she wanted, and now you’re going to play right into her hands.”
A ball of emotion builds in my throat as I shake my head. “But she attacked me, Harvey. She’s in the wrong, not me. I’ll claim self-defense. I’ll win.”
“And what if she wins? Then what, Sylvia? Then your inheritance will be as good as gone. Do you really want to take that chance?”
“So, what?” I say, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. “I just disappear?”
I can’t believe this is really happening. Even though Harvey told me he was setting up a safe haven for me to live until I became old enough to claim my inheritance, it never felt real. In fact, I rejected the idea at first. It wasn’t until Lucinda’s efforts became more vindictive and I was being dragged into legal mediations constantly that I decided Harvey’s idea might be the only way to survive this. I couldn’t stay with her anymore, and since she was my appointed guardian until I turned eighteen, it wasn’t like I could move out to get away from her.
“We need to stick to the plan,” Harvey says while laying a comforting hand on my arm. “I’ll keep you safe, Sylvia. It’s what your father would have wanted. And it will keep Lucinda away from any plot to take your father’s money for herself. Trust me.”
“And what if she calls the cops? She’ll play the victim. Won’t it look worse if I run away now?”
He bows his head. “I guess you need to make a decision. Do you go to the cops and take the risk? Or do you keep yourself safe, start over, and claim that money when you’re legally able? By then, this should all blow over. The way I see it, you don’t really have a choice here.”
The way he puts it, I don’t feel like I have a choice either.
“Okay,” I finally say, though my words are so shaky and quiet, I’m not sure if he hears them. “Let’s stick to the plan.”
72 hours later
Harvey drove all night from that underpass in Phoenix, Arizona, to a bus station in Las Vegas, Nevada. From there, he gave me enough instructions to get myself to a specific hotel in Anacortes, Washington, where my new identification and instructions would arrive. Harvey had arranged it all through a private protection program.
Now, here I am, alone in a strange hotel room, looking like a completely different person, ready to embark on an adventure that no seventeen-year-old should have to embark on. But in the six hours Harvey and I spent together in the car, debating all the ifs and buts and coulds and woulds, I came to the same conclusion as Harvey. There’s simply no other safe option.
After a hard swallow, I suck in a deep breath and reach a shaky hand toward the door handle. I let the hotel door shut behind me, then I cross the deserted street toward the harbor. It’s still dark out when I reach the small building with all the transportation signs in its window.
The woman behind the glass just stares at me, her forehead lifted like she was annoyed before I got here. “Can I help you?”
Just the simple question is enough to send a flock of jitters through me. I panic and lock eyes on the first destination listed on the wall behind her. “Y-yes. One ticket to Orcas Island, please.”
The woman nods and pushes buttons on her keyboard. “The next ferry leaves in forty minutes? Is that the one you want?”
“Yes, thank you.” I say quietly.
“Great. That will be seven dollars and twenty-five cents.”
I shuffle through my bag until I find the manila envelope. At quick glance, I see that there are quite a few hundred-dollar bills. I don’t have time to ogle at the money now, so I find one of the smaller bills and hand it to the woman, who returns my change promptly. As I’m sticking my change back in my wallet, I catch a glimpse of my new ID. Harvey even managed to Photoshop my hair enough to look exactly like the color I dyed it only an hour earlier. And then I see the name I’ve been given and my heart feels so heavy I have to hold onto the counter so that I don’t lose my balance. It’s the nickname my father came up for me during one of our many discussions about the moon, when my eyes caught the light just right.
“Enjoy your ride, Ms…?”
My eyes flicker back to the woman, and I stare at her for a brief moment too long before opening my mouth to reply. The words taste foreign before they’ve even left my mouth. “It’s Livingston,” I say against my next swallow. “Silver Livingston.”
PHASE III
FIRST QUARTER MOON
“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams.” — Edgar Allen Poe
11
FRIENDLY COMPETITION
KINGSTON
Competition is my drug of choice. It fuels me, inspires me, and pushes me. It doesn’t matter if I’m on the field or off. I need to be the best at whatever I do. Football, working out, partying, or sex. The adrenaline that charges through me before any of those activities comes purely from an insatiable need inside me.
It’s day one of camp for the first group of kids, and I’m feeling that same competitive drive as I’m leading drills up and down the field. I was assigned fourteen kids for the week, and I won’t deny that Zach might have been on to something with this gig. While these kids may idolize the ground we walk on, they’re here to play football. Just watching my group of boys tear across the field in a race to catch the ball I’m about to lob down the center is a dopamine shot straight to my soul.
From the second the teen boys hopped off the bus and saw who was waiting for them, their reactions lit me up in a way I’ll never forget. It’s one thing to be in a stadium and be the reason for all the crowd noise, but in a way, this just feels… bigger.
“Hey, King.”
I look over to find one of the kids, Lincoln, limping back over to me with an annoyed look on his face. I’m still learning their names, but I remember his because he caught my eye from the second we started morning drills. The kid is fierce and fast, and he has a rocket for an arm. He doesn’t seem the least bit phased that he’s not on track to make many friends here. He reminds me a little bit of myself.
“What happened, dude? We’re just getting started.”
“Got caught up in my pivot.”
I look down at his feet and chuckle. “Thumpers growing too fast for that body of yours, eh?”
The corner of his mouth tips up, telling me I nailed it on the head. “Feels that way.”
“Yeah.” I clap him on the back and blow my whistle to signal for the rest of the team to run the drill back toward me. “I’ll walk you over to the tent to get Dr. Blaine to check you out. How does it feel?”
He shrugs, the hard look on his face never letting up. “Not too bad.”
“All right, tough guy.” I turn toward the bleachers where Zach is just wrapping up an interview with the BelleCurve camera crew and wave him over.
“What’s up?” he asks when he’s close enough for us to hear him.
“Lincoln here tweaked his ankle.”
“Oh no,” Zach says while looking down at Lincoln’s leg. “I can take him over to the medical tent.”
My gaze travels over to where a ten-by-ten tent is pitched, the door flaps held open. It’s set up like a small examination room with a long, padded table and plastic drawers filled with medical supplies lining one wall. Dr. Blaine is standing out front, assessing another kid’s injury, but he’s not alone. A bombshell blonde dressed in khaki shorts and a white Camp Dakota tank top stands at the other end, handing out water cups to the approaching players. She’s got a full-on smile on her face, and I can already imagine how sparkly her gray eyes look against the perfectly sunny day.
Zach’s face scrunches with sympathy before he holds out his arm for Lincoln to take.
“Actually,” I say with a step forward. “I should probably go with him. You know, since I’m responsible for him. Can you finish drills with the guys?”
Zach throws a quick glance at the medical tent, and I swear I see understanding flicker in his eyes before he agrees on the exchange. “Yeah, sure, no problem.”
From my peripheral, I know Silver spots me walking with Lincoln, but I ignore her for the time being. I’ll let her get her eyeful. Lord knows she couldn’t stop checking me out last night at the lake. She thinks she’s sly, but I saw her. I chose not to call her out because I liked it too much, and I knew she would stop if I embarrassed her.
Last night, Silver and I bonded on another level. She hinted at her past, and I gave her a glimpse at mine. That is more than I offer anyone in my life, because what’s the point in bringing up all that darkness? With Silver, though, it didn’t feel like I was confessing my darkness. I felt like she was bringing light into it.
Dr. Blaine looks like a joke. I recognize the haughty air about him the moment we approach. He greets us with a smile that’s all teeth, no personality. His dark-blond hair is slicked back with enough product to make a person choke. And his long white lab coat is a fucking laugh, given the setting we’re in. This guy looks like he stepped straight off the set of Doogie Howser, M.D.
“Well, hey there, buddy,” he starts with an exaggerated smile. “What can I help you with?”
“His name is Lincoln.” I pinch out a smile, trying not to call attention to my instant dislike of this guy. “He thinks he tweaked his ankle while running drills.”
“Oh, no,” Dr. Blaine says, the horror on his face dialed up a few notches. He bends down to get eye-level with Lincoln. “Let’s take a look at it, shall we?”
Is that the way he thinks he’s supposed to talk to kids? Jesus Christ. He’s a sixteen-year-old kid, not a toddler.
Lincoln throws me a worried look. Even he can see straight through this phony of a doctor.
I shrug and give the kid a look of genuine sympathy, because it’s all I can do. Dr. Blaine takes Lincoln aside, and I meander over to Silver like I hadn’t planned to all along. “Didn’t know you would be gracing us with your presence today.”
She shoots me a side-eyed look that I’m sure is supposed to show her annoyance, but all I see is sex eyes and fuck-me lips. I was right about how light-gray and shimmery her eyes look in this light too. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m certain she’s clueless about it.
“It was a surprise to me too. Doctor Blaine thought I would be more help out here on the field.” She hands one of the plastic cups of water she’s holding to the next kid who jogs up to the tent, then raises her brows. “See? Very helpful.”
I chuckle. “In Dr. Blaine’s defense, you are providing critical hydration to nearly three hundred boys and men. We are all so grateful for your services.” I pluck the remaining cup from her hand and wink. “Thank you. I needed this.”
She rolls her eyes, but this time, a big smile comes with it. I almost can’t believe it, and if I didn’t see it with my very own eyes, I wouldn’t have. I made Silver smile. Suddenly, it’s the only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.
I’m mesmerized, even more so after our conversation last night. I drifted off to sleep thinking about what she said about the moon and just how fitting her passion seems to be. Silver is like the moon—partially hidden, yet all I see. She’s someone who seems to live her life cloaked by daylight and illuminated in darkness—always changing with each phase exposing different sides of her beauty.
