Forever This Time (15 page)

*   *   *

“Wow.” Molly leaned over the Bellinis counter and put her index finger under Ethan's chin. “It's ten o'clock. You look like hell, Ethan.”

“Thanks. You're sweet.” Ethan hauled himself onto a barstool to wait for his to-go order. He'd only managed three bites of his earlier dinner before Steph had called, and his stomach had been growling for two hours now.

“You want a drink while you wait?”

“Better not, or I'll fall asleep on your bar.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.” She raised her eyebrows as she poured him a Coke. “How's Emmy?”

“Josh's pretty sure it's just viral, but the poor little thing doesn't have anything extra to fight with.”

“I called in extra bodies tonight to disinfect all of the common areas.”

“Got masks on everyone?”

“Yup. I don't know where you found those crazy things. The purple leopard-print ones went the fastest.”

“I knew the kids would love those.”

Molly laughed. “Actually, the moms picked those.”

“Thanks for taking care of things over there. As always.”

“Well, it's my job, right?” Her smile was forced. “Always the dependable one.” She pushed through the kitchen door a little harder than necessary, but he still heard the words she muttered under her breath. “The one who
didn't
leave.”

Before he could decide whether to admit he'd heard her, she strode back through the swinging doors with his to-go bag. “So how's Princess Josie today?”

Soft. Sweet. Hot.
“Fine.” He cleared his throat unintentionally, and Molly's eyes narrowed.

“What
kind
of
fine
?”

“How many kinds of fine are there?”

Shit
.

Molly paused dramatically while pretending to scrub a spot on the bar with her rag. “Don't do it, Ethan. Do
not
let her back in.”

“G'nite, Mols.” He grabbed the bag. “And g'nite, Mama B! Thanks for the tiramisu!” He knew Mama was hovering just inside the kitchen door, as curious for news about Josie as Molly was.

“Oh! Ethan!” Mama walked through the door like she'd been coming out anyway.
Right
. “You're still here. I put in an extra slice for your dad. On the house.”

“Thanks, Mama. I'll see you two ladies tomorrow.” Ethan gave a quick wave and strode out the door before either of them could fire another question his way.

As he pulled his truck door closed and put the key in the ignition, he swore silently. Molly's caution was well intentioned, he knew. She'd seen him through the months after Josie's departure, had watched him nurse more than one ginormous hangover in those early weeks, had pushed him to start living again once it became clear Josie wasn't coming back. He knew he owed her big for that.

But it really didn't matter, because he'd gone all cave man on Josie just hours ago, and there's no way she'd risk that happening again. No, she was probably well on her way back to Boston right now, so Molly could relax. No warnings needed. Josie was definitely already gone.

And he'd be damned if he could figure out how he felt about that.

*   *   *

Josie repositioned her pillows so she could sit comfortably against the headboard, still holding the box after she said good-bye to Kirsten. Did she really dare open it? After what had transpired earlier this evening, was it remotely wise to crack open a supersaturated container of sweetness?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped off the lid and laid it on the bed. As soon as she did, a faint scent tripped her right to senior prom and special dates and nights at the lake.

And this afternoon, dammit.

Ethan's after-shave. She plucked out five little sample packets she'd scored at a Burlington mall makeup counter long ago. She couldn't believe they still held any of their scent, but as she waved one under her nose, she was eighteen again.

Of course, it had been only hours ago that she'd smelled that same after-shave, heated by Ethan's skin, desperately close to her own body. She laid the packets down and looked into the box again. On top was a pile of cards held together in a rubber band. She smiled as she remembered opening her mailbox to find the colorful envelopes.

One of the things she'd so loved about Ethan back then was his old-fashioned romanticism. He always opened doors for her, pulled out her chair when they ate at a nice restaurant, and sometimes—to her amusement at the time—sent her real letters.

Though she'd also loved his sexy e-mails and texts, there was nothing like holding a letter to her chest when the walls were crashing in around her. Nothing like putting it to her nose and letting his scent cleanse the other ones assaulting her. Nothing like running her fingertips over his words, smiling at his stick-figure drawings when there was nothing else to smile about.

Josie opened the first card and lifted it to her nose, hardly believing she was doing so. But among the sweetly sexy words, the tiniest bit of Ethan's scent remained. Or was it just her imagination? She opened each card in the pile, remembered sitting on this same bed reading them until the edges were worn.

As she read, her resolve to be on the road at first light started slipping dangerously away. With each letter, each card, her heart sped up. She put her hand to her mouth as she read words she'd seen a hundred times, words that had buoyed her through hell. Words that were so painfully beautiful, so innocent and pure, so damn sexy.

God, he'd loved her. She'd known that, right?

Under the cards was a pile of pictures she'd printed long ago. She flipped through them—she and Ethan at Homecoming, she and Ethan at Halloween, at Christmas, at New Year's, at Valentine's Day, at Spring Fling, at prom. It was like a calendar of her senior year chronicled in snapshots.

In each and every one of them, Ethan was touching her. Sometimes his arm was slung over her shoulder, sometimes they were holding hands, sometimes he stood behind her, arms clasped around her with his chin on her shoulder and an impish grin on his face.

At the bottom of the pile was her favorite picture of the two of them. Ethan's brother David had offered to take engagement pictures for them because he was trying out a new camera, so they'd headed out to the lake to get some shots. They'd posed for what seemed like hours, until the sun went down, and a week later when David had brought a pile of prints for Josie to look over, he'd saved one till last.

In the picture, Josie and Ethan perched on a low branch facing the lake. They'd thought David was done taking his pictures, so they were relaxed, just watching the sun set over the water. In the shot, Josie was looking toward the water, but Ethan wasn't. He'd leaned back against the tree trunk and was gazing straight at Josie, his hand reaching for a wisp of her hair glistening in the shadowed sunset.

Josie felt a tear roll off the tip of her nose as she looked at the picture. She could almost feel the tree branch beneath her, hear the gentle lapping of the waves near their feet, smell the flowers that grew near the shore of the cove. When the ceiling fan above her lifted a strand of hair, she could almost swear she could feel Ethan's fingers touching her.

As she pulled a dried corsage from the box, she remembered dancing with him at prom, out on a party boat on the glistening lake. The moon had been full, the night breezy and warm.

*   *   *

“You look like a mermaid in this dress, Jos. It matches your eyes.” Tucked against the wheelhouse up on deck, they kissed as Ethan's hands slid over the fabric, sending shivers up and down her body.

“Maybe that's why I picked it. You know what they say about mermaids.”

“That they lure men to danger, only to dispose of them?”

“That's a little harsh.”

He pulled her against his body, hands moving lower as he kissed her neck. “You've got the luring part covered. No doubt about that.”

“You're not worried about the disposing part?” She smiled against his lips.

He found the bottom edge of her dress and slid his hands under it and slowly up her thighs, making her gasp in the moonlight as she pressed closer to his body.

“I'm not worried, mermaid-girl. I think you'll be with me forever.”

*   *   *

Two hours later, her cell phone blipped on the nightstand, startling her as she paged through her senior yearbook. She picked it up to see the readout.
Mom
. She glanced at the bedside clock, which read midnight. Oh no.

“Mom? What's wrong?”

Mom paused on the other end. “Nothing, actually. I … I don't know what came over me. I didn't realize how late it was. I'm just leaving the hospital. Thought I'd let you know.”

“Um, okay. You sure you're all right?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“You sound kind of weird.” Josie's internal alarm bells started ringing. “Are you sure you should drive? Have you … had something to drink?”

“No, honey, I haven't had anything to drink in a really long time. I'm just emotional, that's all. I was sitting there alone in the waiting room, and I suddenly realized I … well … maybe I'm not actually alone. You were at home, and I could call you. So I did.” She paused again. “I'm sorry. That sounds stupid. And you were probably getting ready to sleep. I'm sorry.”

Josie felt the twinge of tears at the backs of her eyes. Dammit. “It's not stupid, Mom. I wasn't asleep.” She traced the lines on her quilt. “Drive safely, okay? I'll have some tea ready when you get here, if you want.”

“That would be just … perfect. I'll see you in a few minutes.” Josie could hear Mom's smile.

She took a deep, shaky breath. Hours ago, she'd been convinced her only pathway was straight back to Boston. As much as she wanted to resist falling under Ethan's spell again, she'd only lasted five days before melting into his body, and that was going to get them nowhere but Heartbreak Village. Again. How could she keep her heart steeled if she stayed here any longer?

But what about Mom? How could she leave, when things were still so touch-and-go with Dad? Again, it'd only been five days, but Mom was … different. Real.

Sober.

And as much as she'd learned long ago not to trust that Mom would stay that way, a growing part of her wanted desperately to believe that maybe this time, maybe now, Mom wasn't going to crack the Stoli and disappear into her own hellish nightmare again.

Maybe, just maybe, they could get to know each other again.

She looked around the bed, strewn with mementos of her teenage romance, and slowly gathered each card and letter and dried flower. She put them each carefully in the box, then replaced the lid. She tried repeating a mantra of that-was-then-this-is-now, but it died on her lips.

She'd spent ten years convincing herself that she didn't belong here anymore, that her life was destined for greater things. That the people here were people she didn't need in her life.

But what if she'd been wrong?

What if they really
had
changed? What if—
God
—what if she'd been wrong to leave? What if Dad didn't make it through this, and she never got the chance to say the things she should have said long ago? Were she and Mom being given a second chance at a relationship? Did she want to erase that chance by running away?

Again?

No. She took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as her pulse rattled in her ears. She couldn't leave right now. She had to stay, had to figure out what Echo Lake really was now. Had to be here at least until Dad was out of the woods. If he
came
out of the woods. The thought gave her shivers.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she clicked into her e-mail and tapped Kirsten's address, since it was too late to call her back. She took a deep breath before she started typing, knowing as soon as she clicked
SEND
, she'd have sealed at least the next few weeks of her fate.

She paused again. Good God, what was she thinking? Could she truly do it? Could she really say she was going to stay here for the next couple of weeks? Could she handle being that close to Ethan and not succumbing to rose-colored glasses about their past?

No.

But she had to.

She needed to. So she'd go back to Camp Freakin' Ho-Ho tomorrow. But she'd be damned if she was going to put on a costume and spend one more day avoiding Ethan. She was going to sit in Dad's chair and ask Ethan to give her something to do that would actually help keep the park running.

This time, she wasn't going to run.

 

Chapter 16

Ethan punched the calculator buttons with his middle finger the next morning. For God's sake, there were only ten receipts. How had he come up with three different totals already? He sighed and flipped the bills over, then laid his head back on the office chair. It was three hours before the park opened, so the office was deserted. Even with the window wide open, the only sounds he heard were the birds in the trees. So why couldn't he concentrate?

He glanced at the Skype window on his computer, knowing it'd be silent today. His little brother was all the way on the other side of the world doing God knows what while he sat here in his office chair.

David had turned down scholarships to Oberlin and Berklee College of Music in order to head to Norwich on an ROTC scholarship, following the footsteps laid down by Pops. He was a kick-ass drummer with a 4.0, but their years of shooting cans off the fence out back had apparently turned him into a kick-ass sniper as well.

David had never admitted he'd rather have gone the Berklee route, but Ethan always wondered if he'd be happier touring with a band or teaching music to little kids instead of risking his head and legs every day overseas. However, once Ethan had screwed up his knee in the play that'd made the ESPN high-school-hits-of-the-week show, David's path had been pretty much prescribed by Pops.