All In (8 page)

My breath is labored when I turn
around to face Andrew and Ashley, and I’m relieved they don’t look
mad that I’ve beat up their friend and ruined their party. Well,
Andrew looks mad, but not at me. He’s shooting daggers into Greg’s
retreating back.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I just…he was
hurting you,” I finish. It’s the only explanation I can give
because it’s the only one that’s true.

“No, don’t apologize,” she says. “I’m
the one who’s sorry. Are you okay?”

I take a quick assessment of myself
and conclude I’m fine. I open and close my fist to make sure it’s
not broken. It’s not, and now I’m certain the cracking noise I
heard when I clocked Gregory came from him and not me. That gives
me a little more joy than it probably should.

“I’m fine,” I say even though my lip
is throbbing. I wonder if I need stitches.

“Dude. That was so awesome,” Andrew
says, returning with a napkin filled with ice. “If I’d seen him
grab Ash I would have done the same thing.” He claps me on the
shoulder and gives Ashley a brotherly look. “Thanks,
man.”

I nod. Everyone is back around the
fire now that the show is over, and in all the commotion I had
completely forgot about work. I look over at the lighthouse and see
Rusty standing outside the door. “Oh crap. I have to go.” I give
Ashley one last look before taking off back down the beach without
so much as a goodbye. The last thing I need is losing another job
because of Gregory Chase.

“Lane, where have you been?” Rusty
asks. He drops his old fashion watch into his pocket and
sighs.

“I’m so sorry, Rus. I had a…friend…who
was in trouble.” He looks over my face carefully and then with the
attitude of an old man who’s been in his own fair share of fights
he grins.

“Well, I sure hope the other guy looks
worse than you do, son.” He hands me the keys I dropped and gives
me a hearty laugh as he shuffles by. “Kids,” he says, shaking his
head with a smile. “Goodnight, Lane.”

“Night, Rus.”

I shut the salt rusted door to the
light house behind me and attempt to take a deep breath, now that
my adrenaline has leveled out some, but it’s hard after the jab I
took to my side. I climb the narrow metal grate stairs, all one
hundred and forty five steps to the top slowly, wincing a little
while I do. I should have taken the ice from Andrew before I took
off. Stupid.

As I sit down at the small desk and
prop my feet up. I flinch in pain when I touch my swollen lip. The
blood has dried, and it’s tender to the touch, but I don’t think
I’ll need stitches.

The light house is quiet,
and I’m just about to get my heartbeat back to normal when I close
my eyes and hear Gregory’s threat ringing in my ears,
‘
you just made the biggest mistake of your
life’
. I try to clear my mind, but a
slight panic starts to rise in me. What if his threat isn’t an
empty one? What if he presses charges? The thought of being
arrested again and seeing the disappointment on my mom’s face for a
second time in two days slowly turns my worry into a complete and
total panic attack until I hear the door creak open below, echoing
through the empty stairwell.

“Lane? Are you up there?”

Ashley

I hear noise from high above me before
Lane comes half way down the spiral staircase and stops. He seems
surprised to see me.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here.” He
answers my question with a smile, then winces when the cut on his
lip stretches too far.

“Hi,” he says, reaching up and
touching the angry looking injury.

His swollen lip is a cringe worthy
shade of purpley-black and his hair is more mussed than before, but
he still somehow manages to look gorgeous, and I can’t help myself
from staring. How is it possible he looks this good after getting
into a fight? Not a little scuffle either, a real fight with blood
and broken bones that he got in for me.

“Lane, I’m so sorry. I feel
terrible.”

“Nah, it’s just a few battle wounds.
No worries, they’ll heal.”

“Thought you might need this,” I say,
holding up the ice wrap Andrew made.

“Thanks,” he says but neither of us
moves. There’s a beat of awkward silence as we look at one another
until I take a tentative step forward, toward the first stair, and
raise my eye brows, silently asking for permission to come
up.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Come up.”

“Ouch,” I say when I finally reach him
and can see the cut up close. It’s worse than I thought.

I lift the makeshift ice pack to his
face and gently place it against his lip. He closes his eyes and a
small groan escapes him that I assume is from the pain, but I hope
it’s from the relief the ice brings.

I can’t stop myself from letting my
eyes roam his face while his are shut. His strong jaw, clenched
tight, is covered with a day of stubble and his suntanned skin
looks soft to the touch.

A trickle of cold water runs down my
arm from the melting ice and causes me to pull the icepack away
from his face all of a sudden. His eyes fly open at my unexpected
movement, and it’s then that I realize how close we’re standing to
one another. I take a step backwards, to the step below, and hand
him the icepack. “Be careful it’s dripping,” I say lamely. “So… you
work here?”

He looks around at our surroundings
then runs his hand through his already messy hair.

“Uh, yeah… I actually took over for my
grandpa a few months ago.” He glances up the stairs and then back
down to me. “You wanna see the top?”

I nod and follow behind him as we
climb the rest of the way up. I glimpse off the side of the railing
and down the middle of the spiraling staircase when we reach the
top and regret it immediately.

“Whoa there,” Lane says as he reaches
out and grips my waist when I sway slightly. His hands graze the
small sliver of exposed skin between my jean shorts and tank top
and it’s making me even more lightheaded than the
height.

“I uh… didn’t realize how high up we
are.”

“It took a little getting used to for
me too. Just give yourself a few minutes, and try not to look
down.” Lane smiles but keeps his hands wrapped around my
hips.

“I think I’m good,” I say after a
minute, then chastise myself because he lets go of me.

I continue to hold the railing tight
as we take the final few steps to the top of the lighthouse. “What
do you mean you took over for your grandpa?” I ask, trying to busy
my mind, so I don’t focus on the height, or the way his hands felt
on my skin.

“Oh yeah,” he says like he’s
completely forgotten what we were talking about before my dizzy
spell. “I took over for him when his health started to go a few
months back. He used to work here a few nights a week, actually
asked my grandma to marry him here. I think working here made him
feel close to her after she passed, ya know?” I can hear the
sadness in his voice, and I understand how he feels considering
this is my first summer on the island without my
grandfather.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. Is he…” I let my
question fade off not knowing how to finish.

“No. No… he’s okay,” Lane assures me,
and I’m relieved. “Just couldn’t do the job anymore, so I took over
his shifts. It’s just a few nights a week, and it gave me plenty of
study time during the school year. And I don’t know, it’s kinda
nice up here. Peaceful.”

“That’s right, Andrew said you grew up
here,” I say as a bright light passes over my face making me
temporarily blind. When I open my eyes again, I quickly turn my
back away from the rotating light and face out the window, the
height forgotten.

“Wow,” I say breathlessly. “It’s so
beautiful.”

I turn slowly to follow the revolving
light as it illuminates everything it touches. The reflected flame
casts a wide sparkling beam of light over the ocean’s surface, not
just protecting ships in the night, but making the menacing black
water look magical instead.

“Yeah, it is,” Lane says
quietly.

I continue to follow the light as it
shines on the tiny town I’ve called home every summer for as long
as I can remember. It’s the first time I see the lighthouse for
what it truly is; a beacon calling people home, and that’s how I
feel right now, even standing next to someone who I hardly know. I
feel like I’m home, maybe for the first time ever, and it’s a weird
and wonderful feeling.

“I wanted to say thank you again,” I
whisper, turning back to face Lane. It seems wrong to talk in my
full voice, afraid it will somehow disrupt the beauty. Lane turns,
and I’m taken aback at how handsome he is even with the cuts and
bruises peppering his face.

“You’re welcome,” he says, rubbing the
back of his neck, his voice low.

“I really don’t know what has gotten
into Gregory lately. I’m so sorry.” I shake my head, embarrassed
Lane thought Gregory and I were a couple and even more embarrassed
by the things Gregory said about me in front of Lane.

“Don’t apologize for him. No girl
should be spoken to like that, or grabbed in that way. Ever.” The
fire in his eyes is so intense it makes my stomach
flutter.

“I slapped him, by the way.
Hard.”

The intensity in Lane’s eyes changes
from burning fury to amusement. “Really?”

“I did,” I say with a laugh even
though the events that followed were anything but funny. “Right
before he grabbed me, I slapped him so hard it left a welt on his
face.”

“Atta girl,” Lane says. “That guy
deserves a whole lot more than a slap by a pretty girl and an ass
kicking from me…but it’s a start.” He chuckles.

Pretty girl?

I feel my cheeks warm. Was Andrew
right? Is it possible Lane might like me? And was Gregory right
when he accused me of liking Lane?

He really is unlike any guy I’ve ever
met before. In the last day I’ve seen him show more character than
I’ve ever seen Gregory Chase or any of the other guys I know,
except for my brother, ever show. I’d come here with the excuse to
give Lane the ice pack, but deep down, I really just want to get to
know him more.

“Do you want to hang out?” I blurt out
before I can stop myself and I’m shocked by my own boldness. What
is this boy doing to me?

Lane looks around the small room then
walks over to an old wooden desk and chair that’s in the corner and
gestures for me to sit down. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” he says. “Sorry
there’s not much to do up here though. I usually just read or
listen to music.”

Oh. He thinks I mean right now. I
shake my head at myself. I’m so bad at this. I should change my
mind, so I don’t make a fool out of myself, but I don’t want too. I
really want to see him again.

“Ahh, no. Not now,” I say, taking a
deep breath because I’ve never done this before. “I mean…like
tomorrow… night?” I’m hopeful that he’ll understand what I’m
asking, and I won’t have to spell it out.

I’m quickly losing my nerve as he
stares at me, saying nothing. What if I’ve misconstrued everything
and he’s just a do-gooder who’s not at all interested in me? Before
I can change my mind, run down the stairs and never look back, his
voice breaks through the uncertain chatter in my mind.

“Oh.” His eyes widen minutely in
understanding. “No.”

“No?” I repeat, my voice cracking. Why
didn’t I run? My face is on fire, and there is no hiding my
embarrassment.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I mean,
yes. I would love to hang out, but no, I can’t tomorrow. I have to
work.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking momentarily shy
before nearly knocking me over with a lopsided smile. “How about
this weekend? I’m off on Saturday. We could have
dinner?”

My heart begins to slow down as the
butterflies in my stomach start to speed up. “Then it’s a
date?”

He flashes me a smile that makes me
feel dizzy all over again.

“It’s a date.”

Lane

“Settle down and come here,” Grandpa
says, getting out of his recliner. He’s been watching me with a
fair amount of amusement over the last hour while I’ve run around
the house getting ready for my date.

I glance in the mirror then throw my
hands in the air in frustration. I’m wearing my black work pants
and white button down shirt, but the only neck tie I own is the one
that completes the club uniform, which I refuse to wear on a date,
to the club no less. But even without the club’s tie on, I still
look like I’m about to wait tables, instead of going on a date with
Ashley Whitmore.

I follow Grandpa down the small
hallway, lined with years of pictures of my mom and me growing up
and into his bedroom. “Now, I know I’m just an old man, but I do
know a thing or two about how to dress for a date. I still think
you should wear a sports coat,” he says, opening his closet. “And
I’m not sure what ‘old school’ means, but you have to at least wear
a tie, no matter what ‘school’ you belong to.” He chuckles. He’s
sharper than he lets on some days.