Untouched: a Cedar Cove Novella

UNTOUCHED

Melody Grace

Copyright © 2013 by
Melody Grace

Cover
graphics by Cleo Torre

License Notes

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Juliet

Emerson

Juliet

Emerson

Juliet

Emerson

Juliet

Emerson

Juliet

Emerson

Juliet

Emerson

This book wouldn’t
have been possible without the support, cheer-leading, and
trouble-shooting of a ton of people. A huge thanks to my family, for
being awesome, and especially my mom (even though you refuse to read
the smexy parts!). Thanks to my kick-ass agent, Rebecca Friedman, and
my incredible friends and happy-hour crew: ED, JSC, NNS, LB, GM, JB,
EC. You rock! To my new, fabulous indie friends: Emily Snow, Lauren
Blakely and Monica Murphy, and all the amazing book bloggers,
tweeters, and facebook friends who made the Unbroken launch a dream
come true. You all wanted more of Emerson and Juliet’s story, so
this one really is my thank-you to you for being so supportive!

xo
Melody

There was a time I
didn’t believe in fate.

I read all the
fairy-tales, watched movies with star-crossed lovers, but to me it
always seemed like the coward’s way out, a way to never make a real
choice about your life. When something big happened, or a change came
along, I would watch people say, “it’s meant to be,” and let it
all just happen, like they were driftwood tumbling in the tide,
powerless to stop for one second and decide if it was really what
they
wanted.

I listened to my
friends talk about soul-mates, and I couldn’t understand. How could
they act like it was beyond their control, as if they were just
pieces of a bigger puzzle, with no say in anything at all?

I didn’t realize:
sometimes fate is the hardest choice of all.

That summer, I was on
the edge of everything: my future, adulthood, a life of my own
design. I’d waited to so long be free from the secrets of my past,
it was almost within reach. Just one summer, and I could be gone
forever, shed my skin and start fresh somewhere. Be someone new.

And then I crossed the
county line into Cedar Cove, and everything changed.

Because that’s the
thing I didn’t understand about fate: there’s always a moment
when you do have a choice. Standing there in the shallows, watching
the wave roll in; feeling its power, knowing it might pull you under,
but believing the water will carry your weight all the same.

It’s an act of faith.
A miracle.

But you have to decide:
give yourself up and surrender to a force far greater than you will
ever understand, or turn and walk away—live the rest of your days
safe on dry land, knowing that when it mattered most of all, you
weren’t brave enough to risk it. You weren’t brave enough to
love.

Yes, fate was real, and
his name was Emerson Ray. He came crashing into me that summer,
sending my plans scattering on the wind, and turning my whole world
upside-down with just one wounded smile. I looked at him and knew,
there would be nothing easy about our destiny; nothing simple about
my surrender.

The only question was,
would I be brave enough to take that leap?

I wake with a
pounding headache, lying next to a girl whose name I don’t
remember.

Damn.

I lay there a minute,
feeling a familiar burn of self-loathing as I try and think back how
I wound up here. There was booze, a lot of it, I can remember that
much. A buddy’s band was playing in a dive bar across town, the
crowd rowdy and packed with cute coeds. I told the guys I needed to
drive back home, but one drink turned into five, and then…

Everything’s a blur.

I glance over at the
girl, sprawled naked and face-down on the sheets. I should know her
name. Hell, I should remember what her face looks like, but as usual,
I’ve got nothing.

I take a breath and try
to slip out of bed without waking her. It’s a low move, just
bailing, but I learned the hard way, it’s worse if I stay. She’ll
want to go for breakfast, snuggle up to me, and make hopeful plans
for dinner sometime, when everything in me is screaming to run. So, I
let her sleep as I hunt for my jeans and shirt on a messy floor.

The room is small, with
photos plastered on every wall. I pause by the door to check the
identity of the girl, smiling out from her high-school graduation
shot. She’s pretty, I guess. Bright smile, an innocent face.
Someone’s daughter, someone’s sister.

I feel sick, and it’s
got nothing to do with my raging hangover.

I look over at her
body, still slumped, unconscious in bed. I should leave her a note or
something, I know. But what would I say?

‘
Thanks. I’m not
going to call.’

No. Better to be gone,
so she can write me off as the bad mistake I really am, and get on
with forgetting me.

I let myself out and
head down to the street. It takes me a moment to get my bearings, but
then I see my truck parked up the block. I clamber up in the cab,
still wincing from the pounding in my head. I search through the junk
on the passenger seat for a bottle of water, and then I find them:
black lace panties, torn at the edge.

Suddenly, it all comes
back to me. The flirting over shots. The way she whispered in my ear.
How I gave in and kissed her hard and fast, hating myself all the
while, but hoping all the same that this time – with this girl –
I’d find some escape, a way to forget my life, just for a little
while.

But whatever I was
looking for, I didn’t find it. And it’s morning now, and
nothing’s changed. I’m still the no-hope kid of two messed-up
losers who had no business being parents in the first place. I’m
still stuck in some nothing small town, working three jobs to keep us
all afloat. Still doing everything I can to make sure my younger
siblings don’t wind up like me.

Shit.

I grab my cellphone,
already feeling a rush of guilt as I dial my little sister. “Hey,
Brit, you OK?”

She answers sounding
pissed, but I don’t blame her. “I’m fine. What happened to
you?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t
make it back like I said.” I lean my head back to rest it against
the seat, closing my eyes against the harsh glare of morning light.
“Is everything OK there?”

“I don’t know,”
Brit drawls. “There was a party, I wound up crashing at Keira’s.”

“Brit!” I exclaim,
angry. Ever since she turned fifteen, she’s been pushing hard at
the few rules I try to lay down. “What did we say about your
curfew?”

“I don’t know why I
have to go home if none of you do.” Brit replies, and although her
voice is petulant, I hear a tremble in it.

Damn.

“Mom didn’t come
home?” I ask, and I know the answer, even before she replies.

“Nope.”

The guilt gets worse as
I imagine Brit alone in the house, waiting for Mom to stumble through
the door in Lord-knows-what kind of a state. No wonder she went out
partying rather than wait up all night for someone who might not come
home. “What about your brother?” I ask.

“Ray Jay bailed in
the morning, said something about a friend in Mobile.” Brit is
silent for a second, then adds in a small voice. “Can you get some
cereal on your way home? There’s no food in the house.”

“Sure,” I promise
quickly, “I’ll pick up some groceries before I head to work. And,
I’m sorry, OK? I should have called.”

“Whatever.” The
sullen tone is back in Brit’s voice. “I’m heading to the beach
with some people later. Don’t wait up.”

She hangs up, leaving
me feeling like the worst damn brother in the world. Brit likes to
talk tough, but I know that under everything, she’s still just a
kid. A kid who shouldn’t have to deal with this shit, not if I can
help it.

I quickly call my boss
back at the bar and let him know I picked up the supplies he ordered,
then I start the engine, and hit the road back to Cedar Cove. It’s
an hour’s drive, and I throw on a mix CD full of angry rock songs.
Even though the noise makes my head pound even harder, I need the
noise—anything to drown out the guilt and shame trailing me, every
mile I put between myself and last night’s meaningless conquest.

It’s a cloudy day,
and as I head onto the coastal highway, it starts to rain: a grim
drizzle, spattering against the truck windows. Despite the weather,
summer season’s already started, and soon the road home will be
packed with tourists and their rental cars, heading out to enjoy the
small beach town for a few weeks. For now, it’s empty, save me and
the car up ahead: a beat-up old Civic driving fast above the speed
limit. I ease back and follow behind in lane, letting the music
rattle through my brain, trying to numb the dirty, sleepless
morning-after feeling itching in my veins.

I shouldn’t have done
it. The bar, the booze, the girl. None of it. I’ve been there so
many times before: a different place, another girl, and it always
winds up the same, with me sneaking out the morning after, feeling
like a piece of shit excuse for a human being. I don’t know why I
keep trying, when I know how it’s going to end. I guess I still
have this hope, that one of these days I’ll find it: that elusive
escape. Some moment of peace. A way for the world to make sense—and
someone
who understands it.

Understands me.

The music goes silent
at the end of the mix, leaving my thoughts way too loud. I reach over
to find another CD.

Suddenly a bang sounds
from the road.

What the--?

I look up in time to
see the car in front spin wildly out of control—skidding on the wet
highway, heading straight back towards me.

I yank the wheel
around, swerving with everything I’ve got. Time slows as the other
car skims past, just inches from the truck. I feel a shot of
adrenalin racing through me, hanging on the edge as I desperately try
to control my spin. I can see the passengers in the front of the
other car as it careens past, but I can’t make out their faces.
Then the truck hurtles off the road and I slam to a stop in a bank of
sand and mud.

Silence.

I catch my breath,
heart pounding in my chest from the near miss. Damn, that could have
been bad. A head-on collision, in this weather? We’re lucky nobody
drove off into the bay, or worse still, wound up with their brains
splattered over the windshield from impact.

I shut off the engine
and climb down, checking to see if the other car is OK. It’s come
to a stop askew on the side of the highway, so I turn back to check
out my damage. My truck is buried hood-deep in a sandbank. It doesn’t
look too bad—the sand cushioned the impact, but now, there’s no
way I’m getting it out without a tow truck. All this, and I should
have been at work an hour ago.

A flash of motion
catches my eye: a girl is hurrying away from the other car, away from
me, like she doesn’t even care she just nearly ran us both off the
road.

I feel a flash of anger
and start after her. “Hey!” I call through the rain. She doesn’t
turn, or even slow down, so I break into a jog after her. “Hey,
wait up!”

I grab her arm and pull
her around, her arm slight and soft under my grip.

“What?” She yanks
back like she’s been burned. “What the fuck do you…?” Her
words die on her lips as she stares up at me.

I stare back – taking
in the soft pink of those lips, and then, slowly, everything else.

She’s young, eighteen
or nineteen maybe, but radiating this fierce energy, like she’s
wound way too tight. Her face is pale, heart-shaped and framed with
tangled curls of dyed-black hair, but it’s her eyes that seem to
sear right through me: thick-lashed jewels that lock fast on mine,
not even blinking.

Suddenly the pounding
in my head stops. Everything stops. It’s like she can see through
me, like she sees everything I am.

I can’t look away.

The moment spins out
for an eternity, everything else just fading away, like we’re
caught in the eye of a storm. My chest tightens with a feeling I
don’t recognize, some kind of recognition.

But that’s crazy.
I’ve never met this girl before.

Sense finally breaks
through my weird daze and I drag my eyes away. It’s like breaking a
circuit: whatever weird sensation just flooded through me disappears.
Now I’m just stuck on the edge of the rainy highway, feeling like a
total dumbass.