Sweet Alibi (29 page)

“He's probably worried.” He took a seat next to me and tipped his wine glass to his lips. The distance between us felt like a million miles. Gone were the easy moments we'd shared together in the beginning, replaced with painful silence.

“He is. He wants me to lock up the house and go home,” I said.

“I didn't mean about the storm. He's probably worried about you, Georgia,” he said sadly. I didn't answer him. “I am too.” He finally turned to look at me. I continued to stare out at the huge waves, refusing to allow myself to look at his swirling, deep green eyes. His piercing gaze would splinter my soul if I allowed it to. I pressed my lips together to keep a handle on the emotion straining just beneath the surface.

“You don't have to be,” I said finally.

“I can't help but think it's my fault.”

“It's not,” I answered him.

“Fuck, Georgia.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “You sound dead.”

“I am,” I answered before looking into his eyes.

“Georgia.” My name escaped his lips on a breath. I frowned at him before looking up in the sky.

“You let it take you
―
the pain. You’re gone. The girl that I took sailing this summer is gone. The girl that read on the beach with me
―
she's gone.” The pain radiated off him. I only shrugged and continued to focus on the night sky above me. So much for wishing on shooting stars, I thought. I’d been here just a few short months ago, the same swing, with the same person, and wished that I could follow the right path for my life without hurting those I loved in the process. Boy, had that gone spectacularly wrong.

“You should talk to someone, Georgia.”

“I have. I’ve gone to therapists, but the nightmares don't stop. The pain doesn't go away.” The numbness was so profound I may as well have been talking about what I’d had for dinner the night before.

“You can talk to me.” He placed a comforting hand on my knee.

“I can’t.” My eyes darted to his hand before looking at the sky. Just a few short weeks ago and his touch would have had my nerves dancing. Now they felt all but dead.

“Can't or won’t?” He squeezed my leg.

“Both.” I stood and walked back into the house and into my bedroom.

* * *

“GEORGIA, WAKE UP. It's okay, it's just a dream.”

I woke up to arms shaking me gently, a firm body wrapped around me. The hollow echo of gun shots ran a constant loop in my brain. 

Scream.
Pop.
Scream.
Pop.
Scream.
Pop.

My skin was damp with sweat. Moonlight streamed in my window. My eyes shot to green ones that were searching mine, a worried frown and clenched jaw watching me.

“It was just a dream, I’m right here. You’re okay.” He laid me back on my bed. “I heard you from down the hall.” The gentle cadence of his voice soothed me. “I’m staying with you tonight. Just go back to sleep,” he shushed before wrapping his hand around my waist, throwing a leg over mine, tangling me in him from head to toe. He pressed his chest to my side and I curled up into the crook of his arm and inhaled his comforting, clean scent. I burrowed closer and shut my eyes tightly. These nightmares were going to destroy me. Or at least give me dark circles for the remainder of my time on earth. I gritted my teeth in anger. What they'd taken from me, I couldn't get back. It was out of my reach and I didn't know what that meant. I couldn't fathom a life like this for the next fifty years and I didn't want to. I just didn’t know how to fix it.

Tristan started singing in a soft timbre in my ear, the song he’d played for me in the car on the way to the vineyard.
Poison and Wine
by The Civil Wars.

I don’t have a choice, but I’d still choose you.

The words drifted through my thoughts, holding so much more meaning now than they had then. I knew the pain in the lyrics. I knew what it felt like to want someone so completely that it broke you inside when you couldn’t have them.

He hummed and rocked me gently as I tried to clear my brain and focus only on the sound of the waves crashing and Tristan's deep voice soothing me. I settled into a modicum of comfort and finally fell asleep.

* * *

I WOKE THE next morning to the sound of shrill ringing. My head was foggy. I’d slept like shit all night after the nightmare. Having Tristan nearby helped, but my mind was in such a bad place lately, getting rest was becoming nearly impossible. I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen to find Tristan on the house phone. He hung up a few moments later with a frown marring his face.

“The city is warning us to prepare to evacuate. The storm is supposed to make shore in the next twenty-four hours.” He sat at the dining table with his laptop open before him.

“I thought the storm was hitting north of us?”

“It is, but they’re predicting a lot of damage. Flooding, high winds. Maybe we should board up and head out, Georgia. Get a hotel inland until the storm’s passed and then we’ll come back
―
”

“I’m not leaving. You can go, Tristan. I’ll be fine. I’ll leave if there's a mandatory evacuation, but I’m staying until then.” I turned and scooped coffee grounds into a filter.

“You’re here, I’m here.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me next to his body. I froze at the unexpected contact. He hadn't touched me like this in weeks. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong idea by sleeping in bed with me last night; maybe I shouldn't have let him.

“Tristan, I
―
”

“I know.” He pulled away with a reassuring smile. I nodded while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing. Tristan pulled down two mugs, and I filled them and made my way to the porch. I grabbed a quilt on the way and wrapped myself in it before curling up in a deck chair. Tristan took his place next to me, and we sipped coffee quietly while watching the storm brewing offshore.

“Are you working today?” I asked absentmindedly.

“Nothing that can’t be put off for a few days ’til the storm passes.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. I nodded and turned back to the water.

The waves roared and crashed, and the beach looked wild and haunting with an overcast grey sky and wind whipping the dune grass. I timed my breathing with the waves hitting the shore and scanned the horizon. It felt like my head and my heart were a whirl of shifting emotion. One minute I yearned for a future with Tristan
―
those golden-haired kids haunting my dreams, and the next I wanted to run back into Kyle's arms and never leave.

That's why I held myself at a distance from both of them. I texted Kyle and talked to him a few times, but it wasn't hard avoiding the tough conversations because he was so busy. Tristan on the other hand broke my heart when I had to look into his beautiful, sad eyes and see his weak smile every day.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He crooked a grin at me. I heaved a sigh and looked at him.

A grin crept across my lips as his twinkling eyes gazed back at me. “I don't want to leave here.” I looked back out to the clouds speeding across the sky.

“We won't unless it's mandatory.”

“No, I don't want to leave ever. Part of me wants to stay through the off season,” I said aloud, but more to myself. He remained silent beside me. I finally looked over at him after a few quiet minutes passed. He was gazing down the beach with a thoughtful look on his face.

* * *

“WE JUST GOT another call, Georgia.” Tristan ducked his head into my room later that afternoon.

“Mandatory evacuation?” I frowned.

“No, but highly recommended.” He stepped in the doorway and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“Do you have to do anything with your boat?”

“The marina secures all vessels. But maybe we should think about
―
”

“I don't want to go yet,” I mumbled as I dug through my closet for a sweater.

“I know, Georgia, but
―
”

“I don't want to go yet.” I shot him an angry glance. “We’ve got everything ready, we’re okay still.”

“Okay,” he said cautiously before turning to leave. Part of me was starting to wish he would have gone back with Drew and Gavin
―
he was becoming a pain in my ass.

The rain started to pelt the roof and beat on the sand outside. It was an instant downpour and I walked to the doors in my room and watched it coming down. It was oddly therapeutic, strangely exciting. It felt like the future was unknown, and I wondered if it was morbid of me to enjoy the adrenaline high of watching the storm sweep in around us. But I knew I couldn’t leave. This felt completely like my home now -- I’d bought it, decorated it. I’d only been here a few short months, but I wasn't ready to surrender it to this big, angry storm.

The winds picked up and the dune grass twisted outside my window. The waves pounded the shore and the sky dimmed to near black. I instantly had the urge to head outside and feel the power of the elements against my skin. I stepped out the doors and walked down the steps.

“What do you need? I’ll get it.” Tristan bounded out of the French doors off the living room and caught my arm. The wind whipped around my face and snapped my hair against my neck. The rain stung as it pelted my skin and streamed down my body in rivulets.

“I don't need anything.” I tugged my arm out of his grip. A confused look crossed his face before I continued down the steps. I couldn't hear him over the howling wind and rain, but I knew he was following me.

I held my hands out, palms upturned, and felt the rain stinging my hands. The cold drops cooled my skin after all the humidity we'd had this summer. The wind whipped and I turned my head to the sky, my eyes squeezed shut. A wide grin spread across my face as I felt the angry drops pounding my body. A banging from behind me caught my attention and I spun to find a shutter had ripped off the house and landed in a corner of the deck.

“Georgia, we should go.” Tristan grabbed my hand and tugged.

“No,” I hollered over the roaring of the elements.

“It's dangerous.” His eyes pleaded as his hand tugged.

“No, I want to stay.” I shook my head stubbornly.

“I’m not letting you go, Georgia. Come on.” Fire flashed in his eyes.

“Let go,” I screamed and yanked my arm from his grasp.

“Georgia,” he growled before lifting me in his arms and hauling me over his shoulder. He stomped toward the house and I beat on his back with closed fists.

“Let me go,” I screamed. “I want to be here, this is my home.” I wrestled out of his grasp, hit the sand and ran back toward the angry frothing waves. The power of it overwhelmed me, consumed me, made me feel alive. I was sick of being safe. My entire life I’d been safe and only bad things had happened.

Tristan's arms circled my waist and held me tightly.

“Go.” I tried wrestling out of his grip before my body finally went slack. “It’s not working,” I sobbed.

“What?”

“The rain
―
it’s not cleansing. I don’t feel it cleansing.”

“Georgia. Let me take you in. You’re going to get hurt.” He spun me in his arms and held my head in both his hands. Just like he’d done every other time he'd kissed me. I shut my eyes tight to block his beautiful face from my line of vision and the sweet memory from my mind.

“I don't care.” Tears streamed down my face. “I don't care.”

“I do,” he hollered back at me. “You may not care, but I fucking do. I love you, Georgia. I fucking love you, and I care.”

My eyes flashed open in shock. I opened my mouth to say something but wasn't sure what. “You don’t, Tristan,” I said.

“I do, Georgia. I care and I love you and I want you safe. I want to take care of you. I don’t want you to leave. I don't want to leave.” He still held his palms on either side of my face, his thumbs pressed on my cheekbones, his fingers threaded through my long, wet hair. I averted my gaze, refusing to acknowledge what he’d said.

“Turn your emotions back on. You told me you loved me, and yet you’ve done nothing. You’re more broken than ever. Come back, Georgia. You’re sinking; the pain is taking you.” Tristan dipped his head to make eye contact with me.

“I don't deserve it, Tristan. I don’t deserve you. I’m broken.” I sobbed and dropped my head in anguish.

“Yes, you do, you deserve it. You deserve everything. I’ve waited so long to feel anything and you make me feel, so I’m not letting you go without a fight.” He tipped my head up to look in his eyes.

“I’ve broken everything. I’m toxic, everything I touch
―
”

“That's not true
―
”

“It is. It is, Tristan, you have no idea.” Hot, wet tears streamed down my face, mingling with the cool raindrops.

“Then tell me. Tell me why you think that.” He raised his voice again.

“My parents. It’s my fault. It should have been me too, but I was a coward, and I hid, and I’m still hiding,” I rambled inconsolably.

“What are you talking about?” Tristan's stormy eyes blazed into me.