Ruined (13 page)

My life is now a disaster of my own making.

I go upstairs, grab my book and put on my swimsuit before returning to the sun porch. I watch Kellan for a few minutes as he runs back and forth into the water. He's like some kind of sun god out there, his newly bronzed skin shining under the heat of bright rays. There's not an ounce of fat on him, and most of the people on the beach seem to have moved down away from him a bit. He's intimidating to say the least, and I'm pissed that he showed off like a dog peeing on a hydrant when Reed was here.

I stomp down to the beach and wait, hand on my hip, for him to notice me.

"What's your problem?" he finally says as he walks over to me, covered in rivulets of salty ocean water. For a moment, I want to lick one off that is starting to roll down his enormous pec muscle.

"What was that show about?"

"What show?"

"You pinched my cheek!"

"So? You have cute cheeks. I would have pinched the ones in the back, but I didn't want you to slap me again."

"Kellan! We don't even know each other! You don't pinch my cheek or touch me like you have some kind of ownership of me." I'm pissed, but I don't really know why.

"Chill out. Jeez. I was just kidding around."

"I'm not in the mood," I say in a huffy tone as I pull one of the lounge chairs closer to me and sit down. He plops down in the sand next to me, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Was that your boyfriend?" he asks.

"No. Not really. I don't know."

"Well, that clears it up." That makes me laugh and I push on his shoulder, although he doesn't move. The man is like a rock.

"We're friends. But he kissed me last night, and I ran."

"You don't like kissing?"

"Of course I do. But he wants something more, and it can't ever happen."

"With him or with anyone?" he asks in a way that makes me shiver on the warm beach.

"Anyone. I'm ruined, Kellan."

"Ruined?"

"Nevermind."

"Stop saying nevermind. It's irritating, Willow."

"Bite me, Kellan."

"Gladly," he says as he bites my shoulder enough to cause a pinch of pain.

"Ow! Psycho! Why did you bite me?" I say pushing his shoulder again.

"You said to," he says laughing. I can't help but laugh too. For such a serious guy, he sure can make me laugh. "Boy, aren't we a pair? You know I'm ruined too, Willow. No one wants to hang out with an ex con. I'm a big, scary looking guy with tattoos. See how these people all moved down a bit?" he says pointing around us. I was hoping he didn't notice that.

"I'm sorry, Kellan. It's not fair when people judge you for something you can't change."

"You don't judge me?" he asks looking up at me, squinting his eyes.

"No, I don't judge you," I say finally looking into his deep green eyes. For a moment, I can see past the twenty-something guy before me. Instead, I see the seventeen year old Kellan who disabled his best friend and killed three people. What must he have felt like? What pain do those eyes hold?

"Why don't you?"

"Because I understand you," I say softly.

"I believe you do, but I don't know why. If you ever want to tell me why you're ruined, I'll keep the secret right here," he says as he pulls my hand and puts it over his chest. The gesture makes me tear up, which I don't do, and I pull my hand away to wipe my eyes.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What's with the sun tattoo?"

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as if he's remembering something from long ago. "You know why I went to prison, right?" I nod. "After the accident, I was sitting on the sidewalk waiting for the police to question me. They had taken the mother and two kids to the hospital, and Jake was being loaded into an ambulance. On the ground, next to their car, I saw a little drawing that one of the kids had done. It was this sun. I had one the guys in prison tattoo it on me." The emotion in his voice is thick, and he's talking a full octave lower than normal. The memory reveals something in the deepest part of his soul.

"Why?"

"So I will always remember what I did."

"How could you forget anyway, Kellan?"

"I couldn't, but it reminds me of the light in this world that I extinguished with a poor choice. I want it to remind me to make good choices. This is my only second chance. Those people didn't get a second chance, Willow. I feel like I have to live for myself and them. I can never make it right, but this tattoo helps me remember that I can be a light in this world if I choose to."

OMG. He's an amazing person. This Kellan is an actual amazing person, and his father abandoned him during his darkest hour. It all comes crashing forward. He's taking the exact opposite approach that I am. He's moving forward, grabbing onto life, looking for ways to be a light. All of this even though he was left alone to deal with his own grief. Even though people judge him by how he looks and what he did. That takes more courage than I can even fathom right now.

And what am I doing? I'm hiding and mourning and standing still.

"Maybe we can help each other," I say.

"How?"

"I don't know yet," I respond with a laugh. "Let's just see how it goes."

We sit for awhile, watching the waves and listening to the sounds of people enjoying the water. Being with Kellan comforts me in a way I couldn't have predicted. He's ruined too, and I don't feel so alone anymore.

***

The next week passes without much of a change in the relationship between me and Reed. It's all work, and no talk of kissing or dating comes into the mix. I've started hosting our weekly news show, and Reed says I'm doing a good job. There's tension for sure, but he's keeping up his end of the bargain by not pushing me.

Kellan has been busy trying to find a job. His probation officer has given him a list of places he's allowed to work, and he has to stay within so many miles of home. This will go on for one year, so Kellan feels a little trapped by his circumstances, but I think he prefers this to prison any day of the week.

It's Saturday morning again, and I've slept late because I was up editing at the station. Reed had gone home early, thankfully, and left me to myself.

Hunger is starting to overtake me, so I change clothes and head downstairs to eat. Before I can get there, I hear Bruce and Kellan talking pretty loudly in the kitchen. Carmelita passes me in the landing and shakes her head.

"Everything okay?" I whisper to her.

"Mr. Bruce isn't happy with Kellan for some reason. Stay out of it, Miss Blake. Those men are very angry with each other," she warns before slipping into her room and shutting the door.

Curiosity gets the best of me as I sit on the top step and listen.

"Why the hell did you have to tell Henry Tate Miller's son that you were in prison, Kellan? I've kept this as quiet as possible for a long time." Bruce is angrier than I've ever heard him.

"Thanks, father. I appreciate your overwhelming embarrassment of me. It was going to get out anyway."

"Henry is a prominent attorney here. Everyone at the club knows already. The looks I'm getting..."

"Do you hear how stuffy and pompous you sound?" Kellan spews back.

"Listen, Kellan, you've been gone for five years and you have no right to come here and disrupt our lives or Willow's life. We don't need the scarlet letter in our community."

"Yes, I wouldn't want to disrupt the pristine life you've built for yourself here, would I? Does this explain why you came to see me a total of three times in five years, father? Afraid your club friends were going to follow your car to the prison?"

"Kellan, I couldn't come see you. My business was bustling..."

"Don't tell me that shit."

"Watch your language. This isn't the prison yard."

"Screw you!" Kellan snaps as he heads for the stairs. I quickly stand up and run back to my room, quietly shutting the door. Before I can close it, he pushes it open and I fly back onto the floor.

Realizing he just knocked me down, Kellan kneels down and helps me back up.

"Jeez, Willow, I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay," I say and then add, "Everything's going to be okay, Kellan." Without warning, he pulls me into a hug and buries his head in my neck. And I let him. His breathing is deep and ragged, as if he's trying to hold back tears. He's shaking, and my whole body trembles. He needs me right now, and I'm going to be there. And I don't feel weird or uncomfortable for some reason. The fact is, I know what it's like to feel like everyone in your world is against you. I know what it's like to feel like the outsider, the screw up, the one who can never be normal again.

We stand that way for a few minutes. He's breathing heavily, but I don't think he's crying. He's just holding onto me like his life depends on it. Finally, he lets go and steps back.

"Thanks," he says as his green eyes stare into mine and walks out of the room without a word.

"You're welcome," I whisper to myself wishing that he would hug me like that again soon. Ugh. What am I doing?

***

I haven't seen Kellan all day since our embrace. Maybe he's embarrassed, but I don't seek him out. Instead, I read my book and chill out on the beach for most of the day until I see Emmy jogging up to me.

"Oh, hey, Willow!" she yelps as she runs toward me. Quiet time is over.

"Hey, Em. Whatcha doing?" I say as I put my book down and look up at her. The sun is causing a blinding halo around her head, so I stand to avoid losing my eyesight.

"Just taking a run. You live around here?"

"Yeah. Right there," I say, pointing to the house behind me. Her mouth gapes open.

"There? Seriously? You're rich, Willow!" she says jumping up and down and clapping.

"I'm not rich, Emmy. My step father is the rich one."

"Well, I'd give up my left foot for a house like that. Back home, we lived in a trailer on five acres with goats and chickens."

"Want to see the inside?" I ask her, trying to be nice since I know she must be dying to see it.

"Sure!"

We walk up to the house and through the back door. Bruce and my mother seem to have left for the day, and I haven't seen Kellan so Carmelita is the only one there. I introduce Emmy to her, but I don't think she hears me since her mouth is hanging open as she looks around.

"You seriously live here?" she repeats.

"Well, yes, or I just broke into someone's house," I say laughing. "Want some lemonade?"

"Okay..." she says as she runs her hands along the impressive granite countertops in the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances line the walls, interspersed with dark, rich wood cabinetry. "I've never seen a house like this."

"I hadn't either until I moved here. I didn't grow up this way, Em."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Pacific Northwest. Small house." I can't say much, but I don't want to lie either. "My mother met Bruce Avery and the rest is history."