Safe Harbor (Scoops Series Book 1), page 13
He turned the curve into Sandy Cove, driving slowly across the sand. She wished the truck would move even slower, not wanting this moment to end. She looked at him as he parked the car in front of cottage five, wanting desperately to lean in again for a kiss, to make sure it wasn’t all just a dream.
The cottage was dark and silent. Melanie wondered if they were all sleeping, and if Duncan made it home safely. But her heart twisted when she didn’t see his car in the gravel driveway.
“Hey,” Calvin said softly. “Here.”
She turned to him and saw he was holding out a fat stack of bills. “You did win, fair and square. I didn’t even come close, not with that fifty.”
Melanie smirked deviously as she unbuckled her seatbelt, sliding across the seat as she closed the space between them. She reached for the money but rested her hand on Calvin’s slightly, her face dangerously close to his.
“I know what you’re doing and it won’t work,” said Calvin, his leathery laugh making Melanie’s toes curl again. “I am the textbook definition of patience.”
“Didn’t seem very patient tonight,” Melanie taunted. “Just couldn’t wait to get your hands on me.”
“That was before I knew that your first kiss was on the line,” he said. “Trust me, I’ll make it worth it.”
Melanie pouted. “How long do I have to wait?”
Calvin slipped his hand around her cheek and to the back of her neck, pulling her in close, his nose brushing against hers. Then he froze. “Not long, I promise.”
Melanie pulled back. “Tease.”
The two of them jumped as they heard a knocking on the passenger door. Melanie swirled her head around and noticed her father waving at them, holding up a cooler. He smiled mischievously, almost as if he waited his entire life to experience this embarrassing moment.
“Well hello, you two,” Dad said. “I’m about to head back to the bonfire, care to join us?”
“Oh,” Melanie said, looking toward the beach, noticing that a fire was indeed still blazing, a few shadowy figures sitting on chairs circled around it.
“Sure,” Calvin said. Melanie watched in horror as he unbuckled his seatbelt and cut the ignition.
“Do you need to call your parents? It’s pretty late,” Dad asked.
“No, sir,” he said, causing Dad to roll his eyes at Calvin’s use of sir again. “Late night shifts are the norm.”
Dad gave them a thumbs up, winking at Melanie slyly before heading toward the beach.
Melanie turned to Calvin. “You seriously do not have to.”
Calvin was already opening up his door and stepping out of the truck. “And miss the infamous Sandy Cove bonfire? I don’t think so.”
She scrambled out of her own seat, slamming the door and scurrying around to his side of the truck. “Okay but, you know, in my head, when I had my first kiss, I didn’t think meeting the parents would also happen on the first night.”
“What first kiss?” he asked, his eyes dancing playfully. “Besides, I’ve already met your parents.”
Melanie rolled her eyes, walking right at his heels as Calvin stepped confidently toward the fire. “Calvin, wait—”
“Headband,” he said, turning toward her, lifting her chin with his hand as he rubbed his thumb back and forth. “It’s going to be fine. I also know all of these people.”
Of course he does, Melanie thought to herself. “Small town.”
He nodded. “Small town. Now stop freaking out, it’s not like we kissed or anything.”
Melanie slapped his arm playfully as he chuckled, turning his heels and walking toward the fire.
“Calvin!”
Jan jumped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight. Dan stood up as well, slapping his back. “Good to see you, son.”
He smiled back genuinely, giving Jan a tight squeeze as well, before releasing her. “Haven’t seen you guys at the shop yet, when are you coming to visit me?”
“The jams, you know how it is,” Jan said. “We could use an extra hand, actually. Melanie has yet to come over and help us.”
“Hey,” she said, crossing her arms with a frown. “You haven’t invited me over yet.”
“Do you even need an invite, my dear?” she teased.
Melanie shook her head, smiling up at Calvin.
“That’s probably my fault,” he admitted. “Keeping her busy at Scoops.”
“That’s what I hear,” Dad called out, walking over to them with two bottles in his hand. “Especially if you’re making tips like that.”
He stepped right up to them and held out the two bottles for each of them to take. She felt like her throat was closing up as she looked down. Was her father offering her beer? After everything they’d been through?
Before her mind started spiraling, Dad nudged Melanie with his elbow. “It’s cream soda, honey.”
“Oh.” She exhaled, taking a bottle from him as Calvin did the same.
They made their way around the circle as Jan introduced Melanie to everyone—the Roberts in cottage eight, the Bentleys in cottage one. And Calvin, true to his word, knew them all. They asked about Scoops and Ron, and about his Gram. But never about his parents. Melanie wondered why no one ever mentioned his parents to him. She wondered if he even lived with them.
They finally made their way to where Mom and Dad were perched, the two of them laughing at whatever Tim Mackey, cottage six, was saying.
Mom gave them a nonchalant smile that Melanie already knew was practiced. She could tell by her mother’s gaze that she was holding back hundreds of questions at that moment. She stood up and hugged Melanie. “Good to see you again, Calvin, come sit.”
The two of them sat down in front of the fire as it popped and crackled, the unrelenting humidity finally starting to fade as a cool breeze rolled up from the sea. Melanie shivered as her Dad came over with a blanket, placing it over both of their shoulders.
Calvin chuckled, turning to Melanie and whispering in her ear. “Well, I think this is going well.”
She hugged the blanket tightly as she curled her legs up, her thighs brushing against Calvin’s. She leaned into him. “Wait till I tell them how bad of a kisser you are,” she whispered back.
“How would you know that? You’ve never kissed me before.”
Melanie rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her soda. She listened to the gentle melody of voices around her as the neighbors continued to talk and joke, their laughs rippling into the dark July night. She felt warm and content as she leaned further into Calvin, placing her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her, laughing along at whatever everyone was saying. She smiled, feeling the deep staccato of his chuckle rumbling out of him, the sound of his voice feeling like a safe place to land.
Twirling her wet hair into a towel, Melanie stepped into her room and slid right into her bed, not bothering to take off her bathrobe. It was well past two in the morning but she was buzzing, and it wasn’t just from the sugary soda. She opened up the text that Jan sent her again and clicked on the picture.
Calvin was laughing, his smile wide, his teeth showing, his arm around Melanie as she leaned her head on his shoulder. She was giggling as well, the blanket wrapped tightly around them.
She couldn’t stop staring at him, the way his cheeks were colored, the silver chain he always wore peeking out from behind his shirt. His feet were bare and tucked into the sand, and Melanie’s thighs were tucked under his own.
She heard a muffled knock at her door and looked up, noticing her mom peering down at her with a grin. “So, still just friends, or…?”
She chuckled as her mom slipped onto the bed next to her, pulling the quilt over her legs. “Okay but seriously, is he your boyfriend? Are things ‘official’?” she asked, holding her hands up and making air quotes.
“Wait, are we talking about Calvin?” Dad said at the top of the stairs, now shuffling his way into her room.
“Oh, God,” she said, rolling her eyes. But she loved the way her father also curled up on her bed on the other side, his feet still slightly damp from rinsing off the sand.
“Nothing official,” she admitted, dragging out the word purposely. “Let’s just say we sort of established that we like each other.”
“Did you kiss yet?” Mom asked.
“I don’t need to hear that,” Dad coughed.
Melanie thought about their kiss, the way Calvin’s hands felt tracing the small of her back, the way his lips eagerly kissed her own. She couldn’t help but smile sweetly, her left pinkie tingling under the quilt, recalling the way it felt twirled together with his.
“No, not yet,” she said sheepishly. She would wait, at least give him the chance for whatever their real first kiss would be, then decide which story she wanted to tell them.
“Well, I like him,” Dad blurted out.
“Harold, you barely know him,” Mom said. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to not like the boy that’s taking your daughter out?”
“Am I?” Dad said, leaning into Melanie and winking at her. “Guess I’m terrible at this then.”
She snickered, leaning her head against her father’s shoulders, holding her mother’s hand on the other side. The three of them sat there for a moment, sandwiched together on Melanie’s bed. She felt it again, the satisfaction of having them all to herself. Maybe it wasn’t normal to discuss relationships so openly with your parents, but she didn’t care. She had the two of them here with her, holding her close, their demeanor at ease, their smiles infectious, the permanent worry from before washed away like a soft wave on the shore.
She should have known that the moment would be short-lived, that it was foolish to think such happiness could exist for them.
A door slammed outside and then they heard heavy footsteps trudging up the cottage steps.
For the briefest moment, Melanie had completely forgotten about him, and she felt guilty. Guilty for not worrying about him, guilty for letting him down tonight.
Mom moved abruptly from her spot, swinging her legs out of her quilt. She braced herself for it, the screaming, the lying. But before Mom could even say a word, she heard as Duncan paused suddenly at the top of the stairs.
Then puked all over the floor.
Chapter Twelve
Duncan barely talked to her after that New Year’s night almost two and a half years ago.
Melanie had tried to win his trust back day after day, but he kept pulling away from her. She knew she’d failed him miserably by confessing to Mom what he’d asked her to do. Duncan was beyond grounded after that night, but that didn’t stop him from drinking and sneaking out to be with his new friends.
She heard whispers at school, rumors that spread like wildfire about the crazy things Duncan Albertson would do. People at Garrison called him Ed because he was notoriously the fastest one to finish “Edward Fortyhands” competitions amongst the entire lacrosse team, chugging 40 ounce beers that were taped to his hands. He was also known as the reigning beer pong champ throughout the entire school. And, of course, there was the persistent rumor that Duncan somehow broke into Principal Eddy’s office and sucked down a water bottle of vodka he snuck into the homecoming dance, while sitting in the principal’s chair. Melanie wasn’t even sure if she believed that one, but it seemed that everyone at Garrison Prep did. Duncan was a legend, and Melanie was no one. And her brother didn’t seem to care that his twin was no longer a part of his new life.
So she took the polar opposite road, diving into her books like they were a lifeline. She was perfectly okay with being known as the quiet one, perfectly okay with being the ghost that no one seemed to pay any attention to, having a few class acquaintances but never any true friends. Her mind was too preoccupied with trying to get into Yale, to make her father beam with pride. Even if it killed her that, after almost three years, it still seemed that Duncan wanted nothing to do with her.
It wasn’t until she stood over his hospital bed that horrible night, staring at his pale face, that Duncan really looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot as his lips parted, dried and cracked. “Am I fucked?”
She wanted to reach for him, to comfort him at that moment. But all she’d felt was anger. Anger that, after all this time and even after everything that just happened, he still was only concerned for himself.
“Yes,” she’d answered coldly. She didn’t reach for his hand, she didn’t bother smiling. “You’re fucked.”
Melanie woke up the following morning to an ominously calm household. The cottage was quiet, but as she lay there, rubbing her eyes, she heard a faint creaking from her open bay window, the sound of the porch swing on the patio rocking back and forth.
She slipped out of bed, still in her bathrobe, pulling her hair from her towel that she’d fallen asleep in. Her parents bolted from her bedroom the night before, shutting the door, cleaning up the mess Duncan made. There was no yelling or protesting, just the dull sounds of her parents helping Duncan into the bathroom, the occasional murmuring interrupted by his persistent retching.
She’d eventually plugged her headphones into her ears, hoping their noise canceling abilities would drown out the sound of Duncan getting sick, and dull the thudding pain she felt in her heart. She’d laid there wondering what tomorrow would bring, wondering if she could have done something different so none of this would have happened. If she hadn’t been so distracted by Calvin that night, maybe she would have been able to help him, stop him from getting this bad again. She’d cried and cried, and at some point, fell into a fitful sleep.
She stepped over to the mirror in her room now and noticed how puffy and red her eyes were, her hair mangled and frizzy from sleeping with the towel on her head. She pulled it up into a messy bun, tied her robe tight around her waist, then slowly opened her door.
Duncan’s door was open, and he wasn’t in bed. Her heart lurched at the sight of his empty room, quickly shuffling down the stairs to figure out what was going on. But her parents’ bedroom was still closed, the coffee still not made. She looked out the front window and noticed it was Duncan sitting on the swing.
Melanie stepped out cautiously, watching as he rocked back and forth, his gaze out on the ocean. He was holding an old iPod mini, his ears covered with a pair of headphones that were way too small for his head, the cord curling behind his ear.
She cocked an eyebrow at him as he released the headphones, placing them around his neck. “So,” she said.
“So,” he said back.
Melanie smiled shyly at him, not sure what to say. She wanted to know how he was feeling, wanted to know how the rest of the night went. But she didn’t want to scare him away. She wasn’t even sure if they were still acting like friends again. “Um, cool iPod?”
Duncan shrugged. “They took away all of my technology. Phone, laptop, earbuds, stereo. Even my car keys.” He pointed down at the iPod in his lap. “Found this in an old box in my room.”
“What are you listening to?”
“Nickelback, it’s terrible,” he said. “Why did you ever let me listen to them?”
“You were obsessed, there was no separating you from your first love.”
He chuckled, moving slightly on the swing to make room for her to sit, his arm slung lazily on the bench behind her. “Remember when we got these for Christmas?”
“Mine was pink,” Melanie said. “But I secretly wanted your blue one.”
“You tried trading me,” Duncan said, his voice full of nostalgia. “And your offer was awful.”
“You hated chores, I would have happily done them for a month so I wouldn’t carry around a pink iPod,” Melanie said. “Really glad Mom and Dad figured out how much I hate pink after that.”
“And yet, you love strawberry ice cream.”
“How’d you remember that?” she whispered.
Duncan just smiled, his gaze contemplative as he stared down at the iPod on his lap.
She looked out toward the driveway and noticed his car wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Um, how’d you get home last night?”
“Leila. She didn’t think it was a good idea for me to…well…you know.”
Her chest tightened. “Yeah…I know.”
The two of them sat there as Duncan rocked the swing back and forth with his foot, watching as the sun continued to rise over the bay.
“Dee?”
He looked up at her, his curls bouncing as he did so.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come last night,” she said.
“It’s okay, Mel Mel,” he responded. “Clearly not my best moment.”
It was the first time he’d actually admitted it to her. Maybe not an apology, maybe not an outright confession that what he was doing was wrong. But a mere admission that maybe he didn’t make the wisest choice.
Melanie sucked in a breath, wanting to ask him more. She wanted to know why he did it, why he kept partying and drinking, why it was so important to him to have this kind of lifestyle. Especially after what happened to him that spring. But the words sat in her mouth like dried-up sand.
“Next time?”
She just nodded, feeling like a failure. “Yeah, next time.”
They swayed in silence, until the smell of coffee brewing inside alerted them that Mom and Dad were finally awake. Duncan escaped upstairs, locking himself in his room.
The last place she wanted to be was in the cottage. It felt like a prison, Duncan locked up in his tower, Mom and Dad sitting on the deck like watch dogs. She tried to spend her time wisely as she looked through the AP course list from the community college, then scrolled through Yale’s admission guidelines for the umpteenth time. But after an hour of the stifling silence, she couldn’t take it any longer.
Unfortunately, it was Sunday, and she didn’t have a shift to get her out of the house. She thought about calling Calvin but decided against it, realizing that he kept Sundays free every single week probably for a particular reason. She wasn’t even sure if calling him to hang out was even in the cards yet for…whatever their relationship was now. Plus, she didn’t want to seem desperate; they did spend the entirety of the night before together…even if she couldn’t stop thinking about the way his pinkie felt locked with hers.
