Stronger By Your Side (Great Love Book 2) (7 page)

I yawned for the hundredth time in the hour I had been awake. I sat in the Bronco in the parking lot of my school for a moment. I decided that I needed to make sure I didn’t look like as much of a zombie as I felt. I laughed as the memory of a ten-year-old Sawyer, in a zombie costume for Halloween, popped into my mind. Then, as heat flushed my cheeks, I pushed that thought away. I had walked away from him for a reason. I couldn’t give him what he deserved then, and I sure as hell couldn’t now. I wasn’t sure why he was in Lincoln the other night, and to be honest, I was starting to believe that maybe I dreamt the whole thing. If I didn’t, well then, that was even scarier. I couldn’t be near him. He had a power over me that was too much to bear. I didn’t leave my bubble that was Wheatland often, nor did I plan to. I wouldn’t see him again. The thought made me relieved and sad at the same time.

I pulled down the visor to check myself out in the mirror, and something fell onto my lap. I looked down and was blinded when the sun reflected off of something small and shiny. I grabbed the object off of my lap and stared at it. It was a small purple and white shell. I smiled.
Charles, you really know how to make a girl miss you.
I completely forgot about the small shell Charles had tucked into his visor years ago for “good luck”.

Almost eight years ago, Charles and I had met in a diner outside of Fort Benning, Georgia. He had a couple of weeks’ leave after airborne school and offered to accompany me on my small journey to Florida. I was running out of money and out of strength to stay away from Sawyer. I didn’t mind the financial help, company or distraction. Still, it seemed odd for me to accept help and company from a strange guy. The thing was, he wasn’t a strange guy. I knew he was good from the moment I met him. I knew bad guys well. I had a great creeper meter. Looking back now, I know that Charles had a piece of my heart from the second I laid my eyes on him.

My plan at the time was to start over in Panama City, maybe get a job as a waitress. I had been sure that Sawyer would have found me there. I remember being surprised that he hadn’t found me yet. I was starting to think that maybe he listened to me, and he didn’t even try to find me. That was what I had wanted—at least, I told myself that’s what I wanted. I wanted him to be happy and safe. Still, the thought that maybe he believed me shot a sharp pain through my stomach and up into my throat. Maybe he didn’t know me as well as I thought he did. I didn’t want him to find me for his benefit, but I wanted him to find me for my own. I kept waiting for him to show up. I remember having mental battles with myself because if Sawyer found me, I would have gone with him, and that wasn’t the best for him. That’s all I wanted . . . the best for Sawyer, always.

Sawyer had already lost his parents. If I had stayed with him, if I had gone with him when he showed up to get me, he would have lost everything else. It would have been all my fault. That was why I needed to start over. I had figured the high turnover city of Panama City would do for a while. I could recreate myself, and no one would ever know. I could be anyone I wanted. Heck, I could change who I was weekly if need be.

When Charles and I got to Panama City, he went and looked at apartments with me and even helped me find waitress openings. We went out to eat, went to the beach every day, and spent every waking moment enjoying each other’s company. All the while, I expected Sawyer to show up, knowing I would probably go with him and leave Charles behind. I thought of Sawyer a lot, but I also found myself letting him go as I clung to Charles. The first memory of when I began to fall for Charles revolved around the tiny shell I now held in my hand, in Charles’s beloved Bronco. My mind flashed to the significance of the tiny shell I held so tightly, and suddenly I was in the past.

I was there in Panama City with Charles all those years ago. The warm gulf breeze surrounded us as we walked slowly down the beach. Our shoes were in our hands as we walked in silence. Suddenly, the silence was broken with Charles’s soft voice. “I don’t think you trust me, Megan.”

I scrunched my face a little and looked up into his soothing green eyes. “Um, well I barely know you, Charles.”

He laughed. “We have spent nearly every minute together for the past week. What’s not to know?”

I shrugged as we continued our slow pace. “I trust you.”

He went to grab my hand and I quickly pulled it away. “You won’t let me hold your hand,” He stated with a hint of humor.

I shrugged and just stared off into the sunset. The sun was going down over the Florida beach, and the white sand was cool on my toes. It was a nice contrast to the warm wind that blew through my long, black hair. A little unsure of myself, I cleared my throat and said in a low voice, “I have only held one other guy’s hand.”

Charles stopped and his brows arched up. “Ever?”

I shrugged and whispered, “Ever.”

He looked down at me with a look I couldn’t read. After a brief pause, he nodded with a smile pulling at his lips and continued walking down the beach.

I laughed and began walking after him and yelled, “What!?”

Charles shrugged. “Nothing, Megan Santos. You’re just turning out to be even more interesting than I thought.”

I huffed. “Glad I’m not boring you.”

He went to grab my hand again, and this time I let him gently hold it. He smiled down at me. “You could never bore me. Now if you can just trust me a little . . . ” He threaded our hands together, and as my heartbeat skipped from my hand up to my heart, I shook my head with a smile.

Suddenly, I stopped when something caught my attention. A pile of fresh shells just rolled in with the tide. I ran down the beach while Charles just stood with his hands in his pockets and watched me. I picked up a small shell that was buried in the dirt. Sawyer and I used to dig for perfect shells when we were little. A pang of guilt made my stomach ache, and then I took a deep breath, telling myself it was for the best. Still, I thought of him and how his Mom loved the beach. When I was at their house, we would make a road trip often. I had a collection of beautiful shells at Sawyer’s house in a mason jar. The shell I held now didn’t really look like the others. It was brown and boring looking, and not the shiny shell I had been looking for.

I pursed my lips together and decided this shell wouldn’t work. When I was about to throw it into the ocean, the tide came in and almost took it out of my hand. When the tide drifted back out, I lifted the shell to see that it wasn’t brown like I had thought. It was white with beautiful purple specs. Usually you could tell the difference, but this shell was different. This shell had been caked in the mud so well and for so long that I, an experienced shell finder, couldn’t tell the difference.

I stared at it in awe for a moment and then played with it in my fingers. It had been so dirty that you couldn’t see how beautiful it truly was. It was covered with pointless grime. Once the grime was washed away, it was pure and flawless. I was now on my knees in the cool sand as I paused to stare down at the shell. It hit me in that moment that I was the shell, that this was me. I was also dirty with pointless grime, but with the right tide, I could become something beautiful again, just as the shell had. I ran back up to Charles with the shell clenched in my fist, holding on to dear life at the hope it brought me. The fact that I felt a connection to the shell, and that it was different than any other shell I had found with Sawyer, felt significant to me.

I held it out to him, and he looked at me with his brow furrowed. He opened his palm, face up, and I gently placed the shell in it. I decided to bare a piece of my soul, a piece I never even dared to bare to Sawyer. “This shell is me,” I stated plainly. He tilted his head a little in confusion, so I chose to continue. “It was dirty, brown, and caked in grime, but when the tide came in, it was washed clean and now it’s beautiful again.”

Charles frowned a little, and then his eyes turned concerned, almost like he somehow knew exactly what I was saying. He couldn’t possibly know it all, but his eyes said otherwise. “You can tell me anything you want to, Megan, or not tell me anything you don’t want to.”

I nodded. “All you need to know is that this shell is me.”

He paused for a second with his lips pulled tight, and then with a weak smile he nodded back. “Okay then.”

I wanted him to truly understand what this meant. I wanted him to know that even though I didn’t want to relive something that I had spent my whole life reliving, I trusted him. I still had Sawyer in my mind, but I needed to forget him quickly. I wasn’t able to become new with Sawyer. I would always be the dirty shell with him, no matter how much I wish that weren’t true. He would never be able to see me as clean, and I would never be able to feel clean. Most of all, my past, my life, and the dirt that followed me would never leave Sawyer alone if I stayed in his life. It would consume him until he became a dirty, brown shell with me. I didn’t want that for him. I wanted him to stay pure. I wanted him to stay him.

I decided to move on, and that’s what I would do. I looked up at Charles’s concerned face and told him, “The shell is me so . . . as long as you keep this shell safe, I’ll trust you to keep me safe.”

His concerned face twisted into a small smile. “Well, if the shell is you—if I keep the shell, do I get to keep you too?”

I bit my lip and nodded. My voice was raspier than I wanted it to be, but I couldn’t help the raw emotion that escaped or the sparks that seemed to fly from my eyes to his. “As long as you have the shell . . . I guess . . . you have me.” And I meant that. I meant it with all of my soul.

Charles could sense that—at least the fire behind his eyes told me so. He looked at me with a serious look and then slipped the shell into his pocket. With a weak smile, he said, “Guess I’ll keep it safe, then.”

I think I knew then that I loved him and that he loved me. From the moment I met Charles I trusted him. Maybe I didn’t think I did at first, but looking back now, I did. I had known him only a week that day on the beach, and yet I trusted him more than anyone before. I needed him. I needed him because a part of my soul seemed to know him already. I needed him to leave my past behind. I needed him because he was everything I wanted to be. He had no connections to the shadows that hovered over me or the demons that attacked my mind. He was my tide.

I sighed and I was out of the memory with Charles and back into the present. I smiled briefly remembering Charles’s and my first kiss. It was our last night in Panama City. At the time, I thought he was leaving the next day without me. Instead, we both went to the courthouse and I became Mrs. Maxwell. That day, I left my past behind. I left my thoughts of Sawyer at the courthouse, too, and I didn’t look back. That was, until I saw Sawyer again at the bar. Now all I seemed to be capable of doing was looking back. I knew it wouldn’t be long before all the memories would come back in swarms, and I didn’t want them to. I had been doing so well ignoring them, not dealing with the pain they caused.

I clutched the shell in my hand, sitting in Charles’s Bronco. I whispered, “You have me.” His smile flashed in my mind and, as a tear ran down my face, I tucked the shell safely back into the visor. Why hadn’t it fallen on my lap in all those years, yet it did today? I didn’t know. Charles would say it was fate. He would say that God had a reason for every tiny detail. Fate. What would he call me running into Sawyer after all these years? Was that fate, too? I wiped my tears and fixed my frazzled hair. I sighed as I looked at my tired face. Indeed, I looked as much like a zombie as I felt.

I had Wheatland to thank for my zombielike appearance. Last night, Charlotte and I had gone to the Smiths’ house to bake cookies with Emerson, Maxie and Mari. The baked goods were for Wheatland’s fall kick-off carnival next week. The town held it every year. Travis’s family had owned the local pumpkin farm and ranch for a century, and the town fed off of the business. Fall was a busy time for the town. It was a small town, with 4,000 people. The town had one pizza place, one Mexican restaurant, a bar, a small medical clinic, a dentist, one lawyer, one realtor, a local grocery store/market, a gas station, a hardware store and of course the Jitter Bug Coffee House. The rest of the year it was usually just locals who ate, shopped and inquired in town, but autumn was the town’s busy time. The restaurants and even the stores would be packed. It was great for the small businesses. The kick-off carnival got the town started on a high note and the whole town showed up with cheery fall spirit, along with people from the nearby cities, looking for a fun family outing.

Emerson lived a couple of towns over, but since she was close to Travis’s and Charles’s families now, she volunteered to help run the bake sale. Between her part-time ER nursing job and raising her twins, I wasn’t sure how she did it, but she just did. Her willingness to help out wherever needed for anyone she loved was typical of Emerson. It was one of the many reasons why I loved her.

Last night we made pumpkin cookies, pies and even doughnuts. Although the smell made me a little nauseous and brought back memories of my childhood and Sawyer, overall it was a pretty fun evening. The best part was that it was Travis-free and stress-free. He had come around a few times lately, but he was always rushed and acting a little off. I tried not to worry about it too much. Charlotte and I hadn’t left the Smiths’ last night until almost eleven. She had passed out on the couch far before that. I had carried her noodle body into our apartment, exhausted. I then laid in bed almost the entire night, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.