At First Hate (Coastal Chronicles)

I drank a sidecar as I listened to him discuss how he’d come home and taken over right where he’d left off. He was working himself to death, trying to reach partner. I could see the strain all over him. I told him all about my work at Emory. How I’d had a breakthrough with my dementia work. A few years too late for Gramps. But if it helped one person, it was worth it.

And slowly, we both relaxed. His exhaustion evaporated. My unease around him vanished. It was just like old times. As comforting and terrifying as that notion was. We hadn’t seen each other in three years. I’d been so mad at him then, and somehow, we could still act just like we always had.

We left the bar after three drinks instead of one, of course, and headed to the water. I took the cobblestone steps in my heels like a newborn colt. These steps had been built in the 1800s. They were steep and uneven and terrible. A hundred percent not made for modern high heels. Derek offered his hand to help me down. I hesitated only a moment before placing my hand in his. Sparks ignited between us, and my stomach dipped at the contact. How? How could it still be this potent all these years later?

I made it down to the riverfront. We grabbed frozen drinks from Wet Willie’s and then crossed River Street. I sipped at my alcoholic concoction, already buzzed from earlier, and felt all the alcohol go straight to my head. Derek finished his in record time, tossing it into a nearby trash can. Then, he leaned out against the rail overlooking the Savannah River. In the darkness, the water was a black abyss, mysterious and beautiful.

“Do you like being back?” I asked after I threw away my own drink and came to stand next to him.

“Nowhere else ever felt like home.”

It mirrored my thoughts so perfectly that I nearly stumbled backward. No matter how much I’d tried to escape the South, it always called me home. I had gotten rid of my accent and worn plain clothes and gotten used to the food elsewhere. And still, Savannah with its Spanish moss and old Colonial squares and cobblestones just was home.

“Same. I miss it,” I said.

Derek turned to face me. His features perfectly illuminated from the lights of the giant paddleboat. Time slowed to a crawl. My heart thudded in my chest. Derek Ballentine was a problem. He was all of the best and worst of me rolled into one ball of conflicted emotions. And still, I wanted him.

“I missed you,” I admitted softly.

“I missed you too.”

I stepped forward, leaning into him. His arm came around my back. And for a moment, we were transported to a different time. When I could have had this whenever I wanted it. When we had been meant to be together.

A butterfly whacked against my stomach as I worked up the courage to look up into his handsome face. He met my gaze. A wanton, pained look in those hazel eyes. He wanted this as much as I did. So, I reached up on my tiptoes to claim the kiss that was within reach.

For a second, I could almost taste the brush of his lips.

Then, he sighed and dropped his forehead onto mine. “I can’t.”

My body shut down. I blushed furiously and pulled back, out of the warmth of his arms, away from the years of want. Because of course, this wasn’t what I’d thought it was. This was… insane.

“Marley,” he said, reaching for me.

“It’s fine.”

“Fuck,” he spat. He turned back out to the water. He was silent a handful of breaths. “I’m getting married.”

It felt like a punch to my gut. I actually gasped, stepping away from him, as if he’d been the one to hit me. I couldn’t even form words.

“Next weekend.”

I jerked another step away from him at the words. “Holy shit, Derek! What the fuck are you doing here with me? What the fuck is this?”

“I don’t know.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t intend for it to happen.”‘

“You told me to wait! You could have let me walk away.”

“I planned to. I wasn’t going to go after you.”

“But you did!”

“I know. I… I couldn’t just let you walk away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he ground out and sounded like he meant it. I baffled him. I was beyond comprehension.

“Jesus, I am such an idiot,” I spat. “Here I thought… well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I almost trusted you. Even though I told myself that I never would again. God, I’m so stupid.”

“No, Mars, this is my fault,” he said, reaching for me again.

“You’re fucking right it is.” I stepped away from him. “I hope you’re both very happy.”

“Mars.”

I waved him off and stormed away. And for once, he actually let me go.