Washed Up (Bayside Heroes)

“Hey, I’ll take your on call.”

I frown. “But you were on call last weekend.”

“Just switch me. I’m supposed to have family in town for Thanksgiving, my fiancé’s siblings and parents. Maybe you could cover for me then? I don’t have any cases scheduled, but I’m sure something will come up.”

“Deal,” I say a bit too quickly, a bit too excitedly, and I’m already texting David to tell him I’ll be there as Stacy chuckles.

“Why do I feel like there’s more than just a kid’s birthday involved here?” she teases.

I just smirk, which is answer enough for her that she’s right.

* * *

It’s a chaotic mess when I arrive at the kayak rental shack the next morning.

Tucker is screaming as Julia battles him into an infant lifejacket, his little face red from where she just slathered him in sunscreen. David is trying to figure out who will go with who in which kayaks, and the employee trying to get us going is annoyed and at the end of his rope of patience. I offer to help, but end up just being more in the way, so I tuck myself in between our cars and wait for orders.

Amanda won’t look at me.

She seems better than she did last Friday night after her date, but there’s still a haunting sadness in her golden eyes, a self-consciousness in her stance as she folds her arms over her middle and stands away from everyone. She looks like she doesn’t even want to be here.

I’ve tried to give her space, to stay out of the way, to respect the obvious vibe she’s given off. But the longer I stand there with nothing to do, the more I can’t help but look at her. And the more I look at her, the less I want to fight to stay away.

Her hair is messy, tied in a crazy bun with aviator sunglasses pushed up on top of her head. A simple orange crochet sundress is all that covers her swimsuit, the fabric thick enough to where I can’t see the details of her bikini, but the neckline of it low enough to reveal her ample cleavage. Her tan skin glows in the morning sunlight slipping through the trees, and even though it’s the middle of November, she looks like a hot summer day.

“Fuck it,” I mumble to myself, and then I’m heading toward her.

Her eyes snap to mine, something between a warning and a smile plaguing her features.

But then, an old Cadillac whips into the parking lot, gravel crunching and dust clouding as it pulls in right next to David’s Subaru.

I cough against the dust, waving it out of my face as Tucker screams even more. I’m ready to lay into whoever this asshole is, but the moment he steps out of the car, all ability to speak leaves me.

The last time I saw Josh Parks, he was drunk out of his mind, eyes red and glazed as he screamed at Amanda in their kitchen. I remember the scene like it happened just last night, the way his hands made an indent in the flesh of her arms, how her head smacked against one of the kitchen cabinet handles on her way down to the ground when he threw her.

My entire body tenses at the memory, fight or flight kicking in — with a particular emphasis on the fight side of things. And when Josh shuts his car door and hangs his arm over the top of his car with a shit-eating grin, a toothpick in his mouth and a beer can in his hand, I have to turn away to stop myself from following through with that gut instinct.

“Well, well,” he says as I march toward David. “Isn’t this the picture-perfect family affair?”

“Hey, Dad,” David says. “I’m just getting the kayaks situated. Give me a sec—whoa!”

I grab him by the arm and pull him out of earshot, keeping my back to the rest of the family as I lower my voice.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

David shrugs out of my grip. “What do you mean? He’s my father, Greg. It’s his grandson’s birthday.”

I grit my teeth, because I have no right to be upset or fight him on this. He’s right. It is his dad. It wouldn’t be fair for him not to be included today.

But it’s not fair to Amanda that he is.

“What about your mom?”

David shakes his head, confused. “What about her? She knew he was coming.”

I blanch at that. “She did?”

“Of course.” David smiles a little then, clamping his hand over my shoulder. “Hey, I know she’s like a mom to you, too.”

I grimace.

“And I appreciate you being protective. But she’s stronger than you think. She can handle being around him for a family event.”

I let out a slow exhale, turning just enough to glance at Amanda, who’s watching me in return.