Fighting to Breathe (Shooting Stars 1)

“It is.”

“I resented the ocean for so long for taking him away from me. So long, I forgot it was what brought him to me in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your dad was a fisherman. Without the sea bringing him to Cordova, to me, we never would have met. I never would have had you.”

“It took him from us,” I remind her as tears fill my eyes.

“He left this earth doing something he loved, something that was in his blood. He loved us—don’t get me wrong—and I know deep down in my bones that he fought to come home, but I also know if he had to die, he did it in the place he loved.”

She was right; my dad would spend the winters at home, and even if he was happy, he was never happier than when he would put his boat back in the water for the first time each year.

“I know you’re right, but it still hurts.”

“It’s okay to hurt.” She wraps her arms around me, causing tears to spill from my eyes. When she pulls away, her eyes go to the balloon in my hand. “Write your message, honey, then we let him go.”

I nod and watch as she gets up, going to the edge of the boat. I look down at the shiny red surface and begin to write.

The sun always rises, and sets again tomorrow. You told me that once, and I finally understand what you meant. I wish things had been different, that losing you didn’t change my whole life. I wish I would have been stronger, braver, more prepared to face life head-on, to not get caught up in the ‘might haves’. I miss you, Dad, and I know your wish for me would be to find peace. I promise you now that I will find a way to push through to make you proud. Soon, I will be sending Mom to you, and in return, I ask you to send me strength.

Love you.

I put the cap back on the pen and look up, catching Austin’s eye as he releases a balloon into the air. I follow it up, trying to read what it says, but the only words I can make out are ‘care of’ as the balloon disappears out of sight.

“Are you ready?” My mom asks.

Nodding I Stand and follow her to the edge of the boat. Her hand finds mine as we look at each other then we both hold out the balloons in front of us and let them go. Watching them dance in the clear blue sky until they look like specks of dust being carried in the wind. When she wraps her arm around my waist and leans into my side, I feel lighter from letting go—not of the memories of my dad, but the pain of losing him.

“To Jacob.”

A loud roar goes up, and I watch the people around us lift glasses to their lips full of amber liquid.

“To Jacob.” I repeat feeling a weight lift off my chest.

*

“What time are you meeting Austin?” Mom asks, taking a seat in her chair across from where I’m sprawled out on the couch.

“I’m not.”

Austin asked me again before I got off the boat. I told him I would try, but knew there was no way I would.

“Lea.” She sounds disappointed, so I pull my eyes away from the TV so I can look at her.

“It’s not a good idea, Mom.” I say softly.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know.” I cover my face, groaning.

“Before he was your boyfriend, he was your friend.” She reminds me, I don’t remember how we became friends. We had always gone to school together but then one day we started talking and after that we were inseparable. It wasn’t until we turned fifteen that he asked me to be his girlfriend.

“Yeah, but then he was the guy I was going to marry. The history between us is messy, and I don’t know if I’m ready to explain myself to him,” I confess.

“Did he tell you that he wants you to explain?”

“No.” I frown. I also don’t know why he wants to spend time with me, especially after making himself perfectly clear the other night.

“How did you feel today after we let go of those balloons?”

“Relieved,” I sigh.

“Do you think maybe—just maybe—your history with Austin is something you need to acknowledge then move on from?”

No, I don’t think that at all. Deep down, I don’t want to move on from it. I want to remember things just as they were. I want to think that if I had stayed, things would have been different. The idea of letting the thought of what could have been go feels almost as painful as leaving the first time.

“You need to let it go,” she tells me with tears in her eyes. “Be his friend, but let the past go.”

“When did you become so philosophical I smile, making her face light up.

“I’ve learned a lot over the last couple of months.” She says looking at me softly.

“Yeah,” I agree. She seems so settled with everything, like she’s really made peace with the situation, and trying to do the same for me.

“Now go change.” She waves her hand towards my bedroom door, making me frown.

“Why do I need to change?” I look down at my sweat bottoms and hoodie.

“Whether he’s a man you want or not, you always need to look your best. You never know when you might meet your destiny.”

“That’s very cryptic.” I shake my head, get off the couch, and go to where she’s sitting, bend down to kiss her cheek.

“Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Well then, my destiny is going to have to meet me wearing jeans and a hoodie,” I tell her, and her laughter follows me to my room, where I change into a pair of dark blue jeans then slip on my boots and coat.

“I’ll be back soon,” I call around the corner of the living room.

“I won’t wait up.” She singsongs.

I smile and shake my head, closing the door behind me.

It takes ten minutes to get down to the pier, and by the time I arrive, there is a ball of anxiety sitting in my belly that is making me feel like I should turn the car around and go home.

“You can do this,” I whisper to my reflection in the rearview mirror before I get out of my car and walk down the dimly lit dock until I’m in front of Austin’s boat, which is dark, except for a sliver of light shining through the door to the lower cabin. “This is stupid.” I climb onto the boat then knock on the door, listening as the stairs creek on the other side.

“You came,” Austin greets, looking surprised then looks downstairs, and I wonder if Anna’s here with him. Suddenly, I feel nauseous, and my hands start to sweat. He’s taken a shower; his hair is slightly damp around the edges, and he smells like soap. His legs are covered in jeans, and his broad chest in a black long-sleeved shirt with four buttons at the neck, which are open, giving a glimpse of the hair on his chest.

“We can do this some other time,” I suggest as I start to back up.

“No, come on. I just put a pizza in.”

Shutting the door behind me, I follow him down the stairs. When we reach the small kitchen, music is playing softly in the background.

“Let me take your coat.” I pull off my jacket and hand it to him, watching as he hangs it on a hook near the stairs, and then, not knowing what to do, I stand there awkwardly, looking around. The cabin is small, with a short hallway that leads to a closed door, which I’m sure holds a bedroom. There is a small bench seat, with a wooden table between the cushions, all black, along with the curtains covering one of the windows. The stove has two burners, and the oven below looks more like a microwave.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Sure,” I mutter, taking a seat, watching as the muscles in his arms flex as twists open a beer from the fridge before handing it to me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the bottle from his hand, his eyes meet mine, and I see something flash through them before he turns away, not giving me a chance to read the look.

“Rhonda was saying you do accounting.” He says grabbing a beer and sitting down across from me.

Small talk. I can do small talk with him. It’s the talking about the past that makes me feel uneasy.

“I am—well, I was

. I left my firm when my mom told me she needed me here with her.” Lucky for me, I had been saving money for years, so I had a nice nest egg I could use to keep my head above water for a while until I figured out what I was doing.

“You always did like numbers.” He looks at me over his shoulder, and I see a small smile on his lips, one that causes my belly to flutter.

“I still do. They never change,” I reply, then once again want to kick myself when his smile disappears. “What about you? I know you’re still fishing, but why are you living on your boat?”

“My house is being renovated right now.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember the Manderville house?” he asks, taking a seat across from me, so I turn to face him, nodding my head. The Manderville house is a large log cabin that sits near the water. The entire front view of the house is all large windows, with a huge wraparound porch that looks out at the sound. I loved that house and used to dream that it one day would be mine.

“I bought it three years ago, and have been slowly remodeling it.”

“Wow,” I whisper. That house was priced at over a million dollars when I left home, so I can only imagine what it would cost now.