Bay Song Page 16

  “Okay,” he said gently, stroking one of her cheeks with his knuckles. “Okay. This evening then. Maybe it won’t rain.”

  “I don’t think it will. It’s going to be a warm day. It will be a beautiful night.”

  She was going to have to hide today, as soon as she left Cade. Which meant she would want to sleep outside tonight. That gave her a thought. “I might sleep outside tonight. You can too, if you want.”

  His eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I just made you cry.”

  “You didn’t mean to.” She was sure that was true. He was trying to help her, in the only way he knew how. He didn’t know that helping her was likely to rip her apart. “I like to sleep outside, and this might be the last night of the year when it’s still warm enough. Do you want to?”

  “Of course I want to.” He leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips. “I would sleep anywhere with you, Holly.”

  Holly spent an hour in the hiding place, where she and her mother had always hidden when her mother was scared someone was coming.

  She’d done that a lot when she first moved back to this house, when every shadow made her nervous, but she was doing it less and less.

  She wouldn’t have done it all today if she hadn’t been so upset by the conversation with Cade, the fact that she could never be with him for real because of who she was, because of what she’d done.

  So she crawled into the hiding place and sat in the dark for an hour, thinking about her mother. Then she told herself there was nothing to be afraid of and got back out.

  She wasn’t a little girl anymore, hiding with her mother from the monster who hunted them.

  The monster was a ghost now with all the others in the woods.

  After swimming that evening, Holly and Cade went back to their respective houses to shower and change for the night. Holly put on cotton pajamas with a soft, thin sweater over them.

  It wasn’t sexy, but it was impossible for her to dress sexily. The only clothes she had were her mother’s, all of which were as old as Holly was. She could only be herself, and Cade would have to take it or leave it.

  Now that she’d come out of the hiding place, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d said he was crazy about her that morning. No one had ever been crazy about her before. He must feel the same way she felt for him.

  She gathered up a thick blanket to spread out on the sand, a soft blanket to cover up with, a couple of pillows, and a bag she’d packed earlier, and she hauled them down to the beach. She was spreading out the blanket when Cade joined her.

  The sun had just set, and the moon was starting to glow. She’d brought a battery-operated lantern in the bag, and she pulled it out in case they need more light.

  “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” she asked, smiling as she sank down onto the blanket and stared out at the glinting lights of the bay.

  “Never.”

  She cut her eyes over to him quickly and smiled in a different way when she caught him looking at her. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a romantic.”

  “I’m not,” he said, looking surprised.

  She gazed at him fondly, handsome face, big, strong body, intelligence and experience radiating off him. “I think you are. It’s just been buried down beneath all the cynicism.”

  “You’d be wrong about that.” He didn’t look offended, just skeptical.

  “What did you bring?” she asked, nodding toward his bag.

  He looked adorably guilty as he pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

  She burst into laughter. “I told you, you were a romantic. Did you bring candles?”

  “No.” He gave her a look of exaggerated disapproval. “And I’ll drink the wine by myself if you’re going to laugh at it.”

  She leaned over to kiss him. “I want some. It will be wonderful.”

  It was wonderful. The wine, the moonlight, the sound of the waves, the warm, crisp air, Cade’s presence beside her. All of it was wonderful.

  They drank the wine, chatting occasionally but mostly just sitting in lovely silence. Then they put up the glasses and bottle and got under the soft blanket she’d brought.

  She scooted over so she was beside him, staring up at the stars. He adjusted her so that one of his arms was around her and she was pressed up against him.

  “Do you hear it?” she whispered, closing her eyes in a moment of absolute pleasure.

  “What?” He was stroking her hair. She knew he wanted to touch her more. She could tell he was already starting to get hard.

  “The song of the bay. This is when it’s clearest.”

  To her relief, he didn’t question any further or act like she was silly. He just grew still as he listened. “It’s humming again.”

  “It’s doing more than humming. You’ve got to listen for it.”

  He was silent for a long time, and she didn’t know if he heard it or not.

  “My mom used to say,” she began, before she realized what she was saying, “that, when the truth comes to you, you can feel it in your throat.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “What truth?”

  “Any truth. A true conclusion, a true story, a truth about life. Whatever. She said you could always feel it in your throat. She said sometimes your head knew things and sometimes your heart believed things, but you could only know it was true when your head and your heart knew it together. She said, when that happened, you could feel it in your throat.”

  She glanced at his face, hoping he was understanding. Cade’s expression was thoughtful, not teasing or confused.

  She put her hand up to her throat. “When I hear the bay, I feel it right here. Do you?”

  His face was utterly sober as he shook his head.

  She didn’t respond. If he didn’t hear it, then he didn’t hear it. She shouldn’t have expected him to.

  He finally turned his head to look at her face, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it, as if he’d dropped the defenses he always lived with. “I wish I could hear what you hear.”

  The words moved her unexpectedly. She made a little sound in her throat and stretched up to kiss him. He moaned deep in his throat as the kiss deepened, and soon he’d pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms around her.

  They kissed for a long time like that, until Cade started to rock his hips up into her body. She knew he was deeply aroused. She knew he was having a hard time holding back. She reached one of her hands down between their bodies until she could wrap her fingers around his erection.

  He grunted. “Holly. I love how you touch me.”

  She loved how he touched her too. His hands were hungry and possessive, cupping her bottom over the fabric of her pajamas. She felt a little slice of both fear and excitement, the idea that he might lose control, turn their bodies over, take her hard.

  He didn’t though. He just kissed her again as she massaged the hard length of him. Over the past week, she’d learned what he liked the most, so she tried to follow his natural rhythm.

  She must have found it because his body kept tightening beneath her.

  “Remember to listen to the bay,” she whispered, wanting him to fully enjoy the moment, the night, the whole experience.

  He made a guttural sound, and she didn’t know what it meant, but she could feel his body relaxing beneath her, even as she pumped him.

  Then suddenly he let out a long, low moan, and she could feel his shaft spasming beneath her hand. He shook in urgent shudders until he softened deliciously.

  “Oh fuck,” he was muttering, his arms dropping loosely at his side. “Oh fuck.”

  She raised herself up to look at his face. “Was that good?” It felt like it had been good for him, but she wanted to make sure.

  He huffed with dry amusement and raised his head enough to kiss her. “That was better than good. I don’t know how you do it, but I’ve never in my life come as hard as I do with you.”

  Sh
e felt a flush of pleasure start in her cheeks and spread downward until her whole body was hot.

  He was smiling at her fondly, almost tenderly. “Did you want to do something else?” he asked huskily.

  She sucked in a breath. “Not intercourse.”

  “I know,” he said soberly. “I’d never ask you for that until you’re ready. But I thought you might want to enjoy the moment a little bit yourself.”

  She smiled, relieved and excited. “Oh. That. I guess that would be okay.”

  He was chuckling as he turned them over, and chuckling as he kissed her slow and deep, and chuckling as he started to caress her body, and smiling as he slid his hand under the waistband of her pants.

  She was just as shameless and uninhibited as she’d been when he’d done this to her the first time, crying out helplessly as the sensations overwhelmed her, building up until she was almost sobbing with the pleasure.

  The release took her hard, and she was limp and clingy as he wrapped her in his arms afterward.

  “I’ve never lost control like this with anyone before,” she admitted, wanting to tell him the truth, wanting to offer him something in return for what he’d given her. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough.”

  Because she was lying against him, she felt his whole body tighten and then relax again. He brushed a kiss against her hair. “The truth is, I haven’t either.”

  Twelve

  Cade woke up in a state of peace he almost never experienced—certainly not first thing in the morning.

  His body was relaxed and surprisingly comfortable, even though he was almost immediately aware of the fact that he was still sleeping on the beach. The air was cool—almost too much so—but he was warm beneath the blanket, and Holly’s body, nestled against him, was warmer still.

  He thought about the smell of the salt in the air. He thought about how the sand shifted every time he moved. He thought about the sound of the waves thrusting up and retreating on the shore. He thought about making love to Holly the night before.

  He thought about all that contentedly for several minutes before he remembered his career was in a downward spiral, and he would have to break Holly’s heart in order to write his next book.

  And that thought brought him down to earth with a hard thump quite swiftly.

  He wasn’t aware of tensing up, but he must have moved in some way, because Holly blinked a few times as she opened her eyes.

  “Hi,” she said after clearing her throat.

  “Hi.”

  She pulled away from him and stretched her arms and legs under the covers. “Did you sleep all right?”

  “Yes. I slept great. I just woke up.”

  The sun was just starting to rise, but there was a mist out over the bay that obscured it.

  “Yeah. I usually wake up earlier than this, especially when I sleep outside.”

  He felt her watching him, and he wasn’t sure what she was looking for in his face. Maybe she was worried that he’d pull back or push her away now that the morning had come.

  If he was smart, he would do that. He would have done it two weeks ago. But he obviously wasn’t smart enough.

  He didn’t want to push Holly away. He wanted to pull her even closer—and closer still as each day passed. He wanted to discover what had hurt her, what was driving her away from other people. And he wasn’t sure anymore if he wanted to solve this puzzle for the book or if he simply wanted to help her heal.

  She wouldn’t want him to think she needed healing, but part of her was broken. There was no denying that fact. And he couldn’t stand to see her broken in any way.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, obviously reading something in his expression. “You looked happy, and now you’re not.”

  He sighed, searching for part of the truth he could tell her. “It’s just hard to think about going back to… back to my regular life, after the weeks I’ve spent here with you.”

  That was absolutely the truth, and he could see that the words meant something to her. She didn’t say the natural thing though—that he didn’t necessarily have to go back.

  She would never make a claim on him like that. It was part of her nature—brushing up against the world before retreating back to where she was safe.

  She was brushing up against him now, but eventually she would retreat. He hated the thought of it.

  He hated the thought of going back to Manhattan. He hated the thought of writing this new book.

  He wanted to do something different, but he didn’t know if he could.

  Thinking about what she’d said last night, he realized his head and his heart were pulling him in different directions. He needed them to come together, but he wasn’t sure they ever would.

  “Well, our time isn’t over yet,” she said at last.

  “Right.” He bunched up his pillow so his head was propped up high enough to see beyond where they were lying. The tide was higher this morning than it had been last night. “Once that mist breaks, it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

  Holly propped herself up too and gazed out at the water. “It’s already a beautiful day. Why isn’t the mist beautiful?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I guess it is. It’s just blocking the sun.”

  “My mom used to say that the bay was in a thinking mood on days like this.”

  He managed not to stiffen at this mention of her mother. The other times Holly had mentioned her, he’d intentionally held back from pursuing the topic, afraid he’d push too early and scare her away. But he wasn’t sure he could hold back anymore. “Why a thinking mood?”

  “I don’t know. When it rained, she said the bay was sad. And when it was bright sunshine, the bay was happy. It was angry when there was a thunderstorm. And the fog meant it was thinking hard.” She was smiling, as if the memory was a good one.

  He couldn’t leave the opportunity untaken, but he was worried about her closing down as soon as she realized what she’d said. So he said, very lightly, “She sounds creative.”

  “She was. I told you before that she told me all kinds of stories. All the animals had a story. And all the trees. And the house and the boardwalk and shells and the birds.” She sighed. “But the bay had the most stories. The bay was a friend, she always said. She went to college in Virginia Beach, but there was a spot she always went to see the bay from there. She said it was like seeing the back of a good friend.”

  He chuckled at the image, even as he remembered that Doug Campbell had said Meg Chaney had gone to the girls’ college in Virginia Beach. He’d forgotten about that lead. He needed to track it down.

  “So you grew up here?”

  “Yeah.” She slanted him a look, as if she realized he was sneaking in questions. “Why do you think I’m so attached to the property?”

  “I don’t know. You can fall in love with a piece of land once you’ve grown up, so I had no reason to assume you’d grown up here. So you were here the whole time until you and your mom moved to Maryland?”

  “Yes.” She glanced away from him, as if something hurt her. “Then I came back here when I was eighteen. Six years ago.”

  She was really young. More than ten years younger than he was. She looked young, but she felt older, more experienced, as if the world hadn’t been good to her.

  “So your mom has never been back here, after she left when you were eighteen, I mean?”

  Holly didn’t answer immediately. She was silent for so long that he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she finally exhaled and shook her head. “No. She never has.”

  He wondered if her mom was even still alive. It was so strange for her to have left and never come back, when it seemed like the two of them had been all they had. He was worried about pressing her too far. It was a miracle she was telling him this much.

  “You said your dad wasn’t in the picture?” he asked at last.

  Her eyes narrowed as she met his gaze. “I don’t have a dad.”

  “Well, you must—”
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  “I don’t have a dad.”

  This was obviously a sore subject. Margaret Chaney was her mother, which seemed an obvious conclusion, so maybe Mason was her father. He hadn’t been a good guy, according to his uncle and Rosie Meldon. He might be the kind of guy that a child wouldn’t want to acknowledge.

  “What was your mother like?” he asked, mostly to change the subject so she wouldn’t get swallowed up in bleak thoughts. “Other than creative and liking to read, I mean.”

  “She was…” It took her a minute to finish the sentence. “She was scared. So much of the time.”

  This was closer than he’d ever been to an answer. He turned onto his side so he could see her better. “You knew she was scared?”

  “Yes. She told me everything. And I could tell. We used to hide for hours.”

  “Hide where?”

  “There’s a place,” she said, so softly it was almost a whisper. “In the house. A hiding place. When she got too scared, we would hide there. It was so dark.”

  “For hours?” He was horrified at the thought of little Holly hiding for hours in some dark hole.

  “She was so scared.”

  “What was she scared of?”

  Holly just shook her head.

  “Do you not know, or don’t you want to tell you?”

  “I don’t want to tell you,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want.” He made himself say the words and hoped they’d be convincing, but he was really experiencing a surge of frustration the likes of which he’d rarely experienced.

  He needed to know more. He needed it. He needed to know what had broken her.

  But he’d always been perceptive, and it seemed clear that Holly had told him as much as she was going to say this morning.

  He scrounged mentally for a way to keep her talking without invading her privacy. “What spot did your mom go to on the bay in Virginia Beach?”

  “I think it was in Norfolk,” Holly said, looking relieved that the talk of the hard stuff was over. “There was an old lighthouse there.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, smiling as his esoteric knowledge of the region became useful. “I know where that is. Have you ever thought of going there, just to see what your mother saw?”