Freshwater Kisses (The Kisses 3)

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but we have to do another concussion check," she whispered. I groaned and opened my eyes. At this rate, I was never going to get any sleep.

The nurse turned on the bathroom light, the weak yellow bulb casting strange shadows across the room. I sat up, getting ready to answer her questions and let her check my pupils; I yawned, but was actually okay with the fact she was keeping me up. If I was awake, I couldn't get stuck in the storm of my nightmare.

Chapter 7

I lay in bed watching bad TV. Some girl was waiting to hear the paternity test results for her baby and had narrowed it down to five possible guys. I shook my head at her, wondering exactly how she got herself into that situation. Two guys, I could understand. But five? That must have been some party. At least a celebrity dancing show was supposed to be on next. That I could understand.

I glanced at the clock. It was still early afternoon, but I was ready to get home. The concussion checks, as well as my nightmares, had made for a poor night's sleep, and the food was the usual terrible hospital fare. I was looking forward to going home to my own bed and my own fridge. As soon as the doctor came by to release me, I could leave. It was going to be a little while, though, as the nurses said he was stuck on an emergency case. Since the Saunders were covering my medical bills, I didn't really mind the wait. If nothing else, I was catching up on my trashy TV.

A soft knock on my door drew my attention. I was all dressed and ready to go, in just comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, but I still smoothed the front of my shirt. Hopefully it was the doctor coming to release me. I didn't want to have hospital food for dinner if I didn't have to.

"Come in," I called. The door opened slowly, and a tall figure stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside. It was Robbie. He closed the door carefully behind him, coming into the main area of the room and standing there awkwardly. I fumbled with the TV remote, finding the mute button first.

Robbie stood at the foot of my bed. The collar was crooked on his polo shirt, and wrinkles lined his pants; it looked as though he had slept in his clothes from the night before. I wondered when the last time he had shaved had been, as his five-o'clock shadow was more like a five-day shadow. It matched his sandy hair, messed and unruly. He didn't make eye contact, instead looking at the foot of my bed, his whole body radiating sorrow and regret.

"I'm not really sure why I'm here, but... I didn't know where else to go. I'll leave if you don't want me here." His voice was low and full of restrained heartache. It sounded as if he had been crying, and given that his eyes were red and his hair disheveled, I certainly thought he had been. I wanted to stand up and give him a hug, to comfort the misery hanging heavy on his shoulders, but I made myself stay in bed. Just because I still thought of him as a friend, it didn't negate the fact we hadn't spoken in years.

"No, don't go. Here, have a seat," I offered, pointing to one of the chairs next to my bed. He stared at it for a moment before moving slowly. He sat gingerly, as though I might change my mind at any second and ask him to leave. We sat in silence for a moment.

"The doctor said I should have drowned out there, and Grace told me you pulled me from the water. Did you really save me?" I asked him. I was still trying to make sense of the whole event. I remembered the pull of the water, and strong arms around me holding me up to the air. There was pain and the water was so cold. It was difficult to put the pieces of my fuzzy memory back into place and I was still trying to understand how it all happened.

Robbie frowned, staring at his feet. "If you mean, crashed into you, knocked you unconscious and then had the decency to dive in and get you out of the mess I created, then yes. I saved you. But I'm not a hero. Not by a long shot."

"Well, thank you for not letting me drown. I appreciate that," I said, a smile playing on my face. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, but he just kept staring at the floor.

"I want to apologize to you. I know Rachel came down, and that you reached an agreement with her, but I wanted to apologize in person. This never should have happened, and I can't begin to tell you how incredibly sorry I am." He looked up at me, his green eyes bright with regret. "You are the last person I would ever want to hurt."

A smile curved on my lips. Those green eyes were the same ones I remembered. There was a boyish spark in them, and I didn't want to look away. I knew I should be angry with him, that I had every r

ight to be furious, but I wasn't. I had tried all night to be mad at him, but instead, I had found myself worrying about him.

"You know I could never stay mad at you," I said softly. I gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. "Rachel said your dad is sick. I can understand the pain that causes. Pain makes you do crazy, stupid things."

He nodded, looking down again. "Yeah... I thought he hated me and he was just getting sicker. The idea that he was going to leave thinking I was a failure... I just wanted to go out on the water where I could think."

A tear slid down his face, dripping onto the floor. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and crossed his arms to his chest. I looked away and glanced up at the TV, giving him a moment to recover. A man was speaking into the camera, but the caption underneath told me why Robbie was so upset: "Breaking News: Billionaire Oil Mogul Daniel Saunders Dead at Age 67."

"Oh, Robbie, I'm so sorry," I whispered as I turned back to him, his eyes up on the TV.

"His last words to me were that he was proud of me. That I didn't disappoint him. He said he loved me." Robbie's voice cracked with emotion. I moved my hand to his, and he held it as though I were his lifeline. His eyes were also up on the television screen, glued to the picture of his father, as he let the words inside of him spill out. I stayed quiet, letting him give voice to the pain.

"I thought he hated me for so long. My whole life, everything was always about Jack and the company. I hated that stupid oil company. It always felt like he loved it more than me. That he had more time for his company than he did for his own son." Robbie paused for a moment and I hit the power button on the remote. The screen faded to black, but he kept staring up at it.

"Last night, I went to see him. We talked for hours, and he actually listened. We talked about sailing and racing, and... he was the father I remembered having as a little kid. He was the one who got me into sailing in the first place. We used to go out, just the two of us, on his boat and just see how fast we could sail around the bay. Jack hated getting up that early, and Mom never liked to sail, so it was just us." Robbie's eyes clouded as he sailed in his memory.

I gave his hand a light squeeze but didn't say anything. He just needed me to listen and be there for him. I had no words to tell him anyway, no way to take the sting from this passing. He just needed someone to understand and let him talk.

"I don't know when we stopped doing that. We just didn't go anymore, and then things went downhill from there. He got so busy with Jack, and I was forgotten. Nothing I did was ever good enough, and if it didn't have to do with the company, no one was interested. I was so sure he hated me. But he didn't." Robbie paused, and looked over at me. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. Or even why I'm here. It just felt right to come and tell you, though. Maybe it's just to explain what I've done."

"It's okay. You can tell me anything. It's been a while, but I'm still your first mate," I said. His hand tightened around mine, his skin growing warmer the longer we touched.

We sat there, our fingers wrapped around one another as the sun slanted through the window, the world awash in orange fire. He might be taller and stronger now, but this was still my Robbie. It was as if no time had passed while we were apart; the two of us came back together as easily as if it had been days instead of years. The connection that we shared was still there, and we didn't even have to talk to find it.

We would have sat there like that into the night, except the nurse came by to tell me the doctor was finally on his way. Robbie roused himself as though he had been lost to a deep sleep and stood once the nurse left. I felt a small twinge of sadness as he let go of my hand.

"Thank you," he said. He managed a sad smile, and ran his fingers through his short, sandy colored hair.

"Anytime. It was actually really nice to see you." My fingers started playing with the end of my ponytail, and I bit my lip. I really wanted to see him again.