Summer Sunsets Read online

  “Yeah, I get it,” I say, nodding as I turn back to the coffee machine. I knew better than to push the topic. I learned long ago to go easy with Skye. She’ll talk in her own good time, and whatever comes out before that isn’t going to help much. “Do you want coffee?”

  “Sure.” She taps her nails on the table. “So what happened last night when you called? It wasn’t the dream, was it?”

  The dream. I focus on watching the coffee spill into the pot, feeling my entire body stiffen. I know better than to tell her the truth. It will just worry her, and that’s the last thing I want to do, especially if memories of Tyler Rutherford are surfacing. I can dance with my own ghosts well enough without introducing them to hers. “I just felt unsettled because of your last call. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  She gets up and walk to me, watching as I pour coffee into one mug and then another. “It was a false alarm, Devin. It’s always a false alarm. We both know that.” She sets her hand over mine. “It’s just me being stupid and overreacting.”

  I hand her a mug. “It’s not stupid. You went through something bad, Skye. You have a right to be afraid sometimes, even if you’re just jumping at shadows. That doesn’t make it stupid, and you know it.” I lift the other mug and take a sip.

  She nudges her shoulder against mine and smiles at me. “You always know what to say.”

  That’s because I love you, I think and smile back. “So what do you want to do today?”

  She walks to the window and nods out to the beach. “I think I want to go swimming, if that’s okay.” She looks up at me, uncertainty apparent in her dark eyes.

  Gritting my teeth, I think it’s going to take her some time to get back to remembering she doesn’t have to please me. I just want to be with her. It’s as simple as that. She doesn’t know how much I love her, and telling her would only frighten her away.

  I nod slowly. “Swimming it is. I can definitely stand some cooling off.”

  “I’ll go get changed.” She’s hardly said the words before flying toward the bathroom, and I stay there, glad some things don’t change. She’d always loved swimming. I’ve often wondered if she’s part fish.

  As I wait, I sip my coffee and smile, feeling the stress of the last semester and trepidations about seeing Skye again lifting. Everything seems to be falling into place. Now if it will just keep going that way, that will really be something.

  A couple of minutes later, Skye emerges from the bathroom wearing a banana-yellow bikini, and the sight of her arrests my breath as her long hair spills around her face. She spreads sunscreen all over her body, and when she looks up, she catches me staring. “What? What are you looking at?”

  I shake my head and shrug. “Nothing.” I nod toward the bathroom. “I’m going to get changed.” I gesture toward her mug. “Don’t forget your coffee.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  I wince at that comment, knowing she never meant to draw blood. It’s a saying, that’s all. Skye and her father haven’t resolved any of the issues of his leaving when she was a child, and I figure they probably never will. Her dad still has his head up his ass as far as I’m concerned. Skye is much better off with her step-father, Warren, who more than makes up for the biological loser.

  Once in the bedroom, I tug off my jeans. At that moment, the ring slips from my pocket and plinks against the hardwood floor, I eye it and bend to retrieve it. As my fingers latch onto it, I set it in my palm and close my fingers around it, wondering what to do with it. I know pressing Skye just after she got here isn’t a good idea. Hell, I’m not even sure proposing is a good idea. It’s a necessary one for my peace of mind, yes, but a good idea, not so much.

  In the end, I shove it into one of the dresser drawers just under my tee-shirts and grab my trunks. A moment later, I emerge grab two towels, and join Skye where she stands in the kitchen, drinking her coffee. As I enter, she takes one look one look at me and sputters coffee as she laughs.

  “What?” I ask, shaking my head. Unable to figure out the joke, I peer at my swimsuit to make sure I haven’t done something stupid while thinking about the ring—something like putting on boxers instead of trunks or putting the trunks on inside out. At this point anything is possible. I haven’t really thought I’d be this nervous around Skye. It’s just another way my feelings have grown and I have no control over them.

  “You are really one white boy,” she finally says. “Don’t you believe in getting any sun?”

  I throw a fresh towel at her, a little harder than usual. “Well, let’s say some of us have actually had to apply themselves this year. And some of us aren’t naturally dark-skinned.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” she mutters, taking one last sip of the coffee. “Are you ready or what?”

  “I’m always ready.” I say, grabbing my keys and shoving them into my pocket. “Let’s go.”

  Skye heads toward the door, and I follow. The moment we step outside, I feel the sun beating down on us, and even though I’m not hot yet, the ocean sure looks appealing. I glance over at Skye to find her smiling. We both throw down our towels a safe distance from the water and race toward it. At first, Sky’s pace is slow, but as she sees me effortlessly keeping up, she runs faster, thinking her long legs will beat mine. So not happening.

  Just as we touch wet sand, I lunge towards her, wrapping my arms around her lithe form. Before she has time to react, I hoist her over my shoulders and begin to carry her into the water.

  “Devin! Put me down!” She squeals, kicking at me.

  “I will. Don’t worry.” I carry her out to where the water touches my waist and hurl her in. Even as I release her, I see her wide eyes and flailing arms before she sinks gracelessly beneath the water. Folding my arms across my chest, I cock my head to the side, waiting for her to rise above the surface, and rise she does, sputtering and batting her long, dark hair away from her face.

  “Oh, you are so dead, Devin.” She rushes towards me as fast as the water will allow, which isn’t very fast.

  Grinning, I just stand there, waiting for her to reach me. Skye isn’t a midget, even though I’ve taunted her about her height numerous times just to annoy her. She’s at least five or six inches shorter than I am, which means even though she comes at me, her hands all over me as she tries to wrestle me into the water, she doesn’t stand a chance of getting me under unless I give in. That doesn’t stop her from trying.

  “Are you having fun?” I ask as she suddenly switches tactics and climbs onto my back, trying to topple me that way.

  “You’re insufferable!” she pronounces, fighting even harder.

  “Am I supposed to be getting closer to the water?” I ask in a bored tone. “If so, you’re doing something wrong, Skye. Way wrong.”

  She wraps her arm around my throat, effectively cutting off the air. That’s when I start trying to grab her hand and pull her free. She takes that moment to shift my balance, and I’m falling. I take her with me. Once in the water, I open my eyes until I find her, wrap my arm around her, and drag her back to the surface.

  “No fair!” I just got you back!” she yells, once again kicking to get free, without any progress. Both her arms are tucked beneath mine and she faces me, her eyes luminous and dark in the bright sunlight. She’s panting through her parted lips, and water drips from her sodden bangs.

  “All’s fair in love and war,” I say, before I realize the implication there. Skye doesn’t say anything. She just keeps staring at me, and I feel her breath caressing my face, which is just a few inches from hers. In that moment, I see myself through her eyes, my reflection in her pupils, and I can tell she feels safe with me, which means one of two things: either Skye still only sees me as her best friend or she knows I love her and some part of her wants to love me back because of the trust between us. I wish I knew which.

  For a moment, we just linger like that, neither able to say anything. We just keep looking at each other, and in that moment, a memory from long ago comes back to me
. Skye and I were jumping on the trampoline, and one thing led to another. We started wrestling because she thought she could beat me. I tripped her, and once she’d fallen on her back, I straddled her, pinned both her hands above her head, and leaned over so my face was close to hers. I was as close to kissing her then as now.

  Instead, I shake off the intoxication of her nearness. “You ready to call a truce?” I ask, my voice rough from all the things I’m not saying. My shoulders and back tense, and I feel I’m going to go mad.

  “You started it.” Her voice also sounds different, but I can’t put my finger on how. I just hear it and I feel it in her stillness.

  “So, truce?” I ask, waiting.

  “Truce,” she agrees.

  Swallowing hard, I ease my arms from around her, wondering if she feels any of the things I do, and part of me recognizes that unless I say something, she’s never going to admit or deny anything. Maybe that’s what I’m shooting for because that means anything is possible—difficult but possible. Even after I lower my arms, Skye lingers there, her hands dangling uselessly at her sides as though she doesn’t know what to do with them. She takes one last long breath and exhales and that’s when she realizes I’m watching her and averts her eyes, yet another Skye-ism. She hates eye contact. I could probably guess a million reasons why, but I’ve learned that whys don’t matter with Skye. They don’t change anything.

  A shudder runs through her, and I flinch, wondering what’s going on in her head. “You okay?” I whisper.

  She nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day, that’s all.” Instead of waiting for me to say something, she abruptly turns and throws herself deeper into the surf. I stand there, watching the water and sun gleam off her dark skin and then I, too, thrust myself into the gentle roll of the tide.

  A few hours later, when we’ve both tired of swimming, we climb from the water and rest on our towels. While I lie on my side toward her, she flops onto her stomach, both hands near her head as her dark hair splays around her. There’s nothing like the warmth of the sun after being washed in the ocean all day, and even though Skye seems fine, she’s moving a little slower, as though getting up so early is finally catching up with her.

  “You look exhausted,” I say.

  “That obvious?” she mutters. She peers at me through one open eye. “Then again, I think it’s because somebody called me so early.”

  “Guilty as charged and sorry as hell,” I say, watching as a strand of hair tickles her nose. I could sit here and laugh all day; Skye hates it when her hair does that. Instead, I reach out and gently push it back.

  “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice already kind of sleepy. As I prop myself up on one elbow, I look at her back. She’s got the wonderful beginnings of a sunburn. Glancing at my shoulders, I know this “white boy,” as Skye calls me, is also working on a promising burn, so I head to the house and grab some sunscreen. I figure she’ll thank me later, when she doesn’t look like a lobster.

  I notice she’s gone to sleep. The soft exchange of her breath confirms that much. I don’t really want to wake her up. Instead, I figure I’ll just start applying the sunscreen and maybe she’ll sleep through it. I pour some of the white goop in my hands and rub them together to warm the lotion before gently applying it to her back.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice groggy as she starts to turn over.

  “Making sure your back doesn’t get roasted while you’re napping,” I say, massaging the lotion deep into her skin. “Otherwise, you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

  “Mmmm,” she murmurs. “That feels good.”

  Beneath my hands, I feel the shoulder and back muscles that had once been so knotted gradually ease and relax. The one eye which had barely opened drifts shut, and she’s gone again. I know that’s a good thing. For a long time, Skye has had trust issues. I think I’ve been one of the few people she trusted.

  Even after I finish rubbing in the sunscreen, I massage her back for a little longer, marveling at how good it feels to be this close to her, and how good it makes me feel to relax her. A few minutes later, I apply my own sunscreen and lie next to her on my towel, smiling as I watch her sleep. Of course, I’ve been up just as much as she has and I am just tired, so I let my eyes get heavier and heavier until I finally drift away as well.

  A couple of hours later, I see the sun is lower in the sky. Skye lies beside me, but she’s shifted from her front to her back. Sunglasses block the glare of the light, and I smile as I get to my feet. As she continues to sleep, I comb the beach for shells until I find enough to outline her body. Then I slip inside and grab my camera and a book. Even as I photograph her, she remains completely still save for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Setting the camera to the side, I open the novel and begin reading, figuring I’ll just let her sleep.

  Three chapters in, she finally stirs and rolls to her side, blinking groggily. “What time is it?”

  “About five.”

  I can’t believe I slept that long.” Strands of her hair fly into her face, and I brush them back. “Maybe you were just more tired than you thought.”

  “Maybe I was.” She eases herself to a sitting position. “Did you fall asleep, too?”

  I nod. “For a little while. Then I got busy reading.”

  She peers at the book and spies my camera. “You didn’t take any pictures of me, did you?” Her tone is a warning, and I’d dearly love to see her enforce whatever she might be threatening me with.

  “What if I did?”

  She reaches for the camera, but I’m quicker, jerking it just out of her reach. “Give me that!” Her fingers splay apart and she tries to stretch closer to the wrist cord. My arm is longer than hers, so in the end, I’m the one holding the camera.

  “Grabby as ever, Skye.” I make a tsking sound repeatedly just to annoy her.

  “Not funny!” She dives toward me and knocks me flat on my back as her fingers wrap around the camera and jerk it from me. She leans across my chest and turns it on so she can get a look at the photos I’ve taken.

  “Well, if you really wanted it that badly, all you had to do is say, ‘please.’” My lips are close to her temple, and I smell sunscreen and the brine of the ocean. She edges farther over my legs so she can prop her elbows in the sand and focuses her efforts on viewing the images in the camera.

  I start laughing at the way she just sprawls there. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. Don’t let me get in your way or anything.”

  She smirks up at me. “Don’t worry. I won’t.” I see the camera color to life, and she begins flipping through the images until she reaches the last one of her surrounded by shells. Her lips part as though she wants to say something, but no words come. She just sits there in a stunned silence, staring at her still form.

  “Somehow I think that’s going to be one of my favorites,” I say, leaning forward to look at the image even though I’ve memorized it already.

  “Where did you find all the shells?” She lifts her hand to her face and brushes the hair from it, pushing the strands behind her ears. The shells are there, and she toys with one of them.

  I chuckle. “Look around you, Skye. We are on a beach.”

  She grabs a fist full of sand and tosses it at my chest. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” She gives the image one last glance before turning off the camera and handing it to me. Then she crawls back to her own towel, sits there, and rubs her neck.

  “Oh, and I even get it back, along with a handful of sand. Thanks, Skye. You’re so sweet,” I say, setting the camera to the side and batting sand from my chest.

  “Hey, I could have put it down your trunks. I’m sure you would have really liked that.” She pulls her knees to her chest and sets her chin atop them, her deep eyes regarding me. As she sits there, her stomach growls, and we both laugh.

  “Something tells me you’re getting hungry.” I, too, sit up and eye the sun.

  “Gee, how could you tell?” Sa
rcasm drips from her tone, and she rubs her flat tummy, as if that will keep it quiet.

  “Lucky guess.” I get to my feet, pick up my towel, and shake it out before grabbing my camera and book. I reach for Skye’s hand. “Perhaps we should get some dinner.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” Her hand takes mine, and I lift her to her feet so she can shake out her towel. Together, we saunter to the house and slip inside. As she walks to the sink and fills a glass of water, I stare at her shoulders.

  “Somehow I think you’re going to feel all that time in the sun. Even with the sunscreen you’ve got a nasty burn.” Without thinking about it, I reach up and touch her shoulder, gently nudging her long hair aside so I can get a better look. At the feel of my fingers stroking her skin, she flinches, which is my cue to give her enough distance to sort out whatever she’s feeling.

  The hand holding the glass trembles slightly. I can tell because I see the water inside waver, and her other hand grips the counter as though she’s suddenly afraid she’s going to lose her balance. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but I don’t think that’s the best thing to do. She hates that.

  She’s slow to turn, and when she does, whatever is going through her mind—whatever feelings she’s keeping under wraps that might have struggled to the surface—she now has them back under control, so I don’t have a clue what’s really going on with her. She licks her lips and gives me a half-hearted smile. “I’m going to go and get a shower, if that’s all right.”

  “It’s all right.” I lean against the counter, feeling as though I’m floundering again—as though somehow I could say all the wrong things and drive her away again like I did the last time. “You don’t have to ask, Skye. You know that.”

  She nods distractedly and sets down the glass. “Okay.” She points towards the back end of the house. “I’m gonna go get my clothes, then.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  She nods and walks towards the hallway, her steps unsure. Her shoulders slump, and her hair spills down her chest. She wraps her arms protectively over her abdomen, and I wonder if her mind is going back in time, back to the moment when I failed her.