Page 22 of Summer Escape
"It's an option. You could live here at Blaire's in the offseason. I'm sure she doesn't have it booked until maybe December."
"That's true." I could stay here longer. "But my job will want me to work in the office by the end of summer. I can't hide out here forever."
"That's too bad. I'm starting to remember why I loved living on the island. I'd forgotten that for a while. I think in college, I felt like the island was too small and there weren't any opportunities. That there was this whole world out there for me to discover."
"That sounds like a young man talking. Everything is always better on the other side."
"What if this is where it's at? Coming home to my roots is where I'm supposed to be?"
"Only you can answer that."
We fell silent, listening to the sound of the waves and the rustle of the wind in the leaves of the palm trees. Eventually, I curled up on my side, laying my head on a pillow. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke, I was on my side, and Marshall was laying behind me with his arm over my stomach.
I heard and felt the deep breaths, and assuming he was asleep, I carefully lifted his arm and wiggled out from under him. Once I was on my feet, I looked at his face illuminated in the light of the moon. He looked so peaceful, sleeping there as if he didn't have a care in the world.
But it wasn't true. He had more things weighing on him than I did. But I hoped he found what he was looking for. I tiptoed to the door to my room, opening it slowly and then closing it with a snick.
In the coolness of my room, I slipped under the sheets. Why did I long for the feel of his body against mine? Why did I want his arm embracing me? I couldn't let that happen again. We shouldn't be sleeping together on the porch or talking about our lives with each other.
We were roommates for the summer. Once fall came, we'd go our separate ways. I didn't have a life on the island, and his future was here.
Chapter Seven
Marshall
We fell into an easy routine. I woke early and went for a run on the beach. Sometimes when I returned, I'd find Saylor hunting for seashells. I'd stop and talk to her for a few minutes, then head home to start breakfast.
We'd eat on the patio by the pool where we could hear the waves and breathe in the salt air. I swear being here had special healing qualities. I had left the military, but it hadn't quite left me yet. I was trying to acclimate to being a civilian again, and it was tough, especially when I didn't have a job.
I wasn't in a hurry to go back to work because I wanted this time with Hayden. But I had to talk to the family about it soon. If they didn't take me back, I'd have to figure something else out. There weren't many job opportunities on the island, especially not for construction. My family had a monopoly on the business.”
Breakfast with Saylor was nice. She'd talk about whatever project she was working on, and which seashells she'd found that morning. Then she'd get to work on her computer by the pool, and I'd jump in the shower.
She started leaving her seashell finds on the table beside a book on shells, and she'd talk to Hayden about the various shells in the afternoon.
We didn't speak about the night we'd talked on the deck and fallen asleep together. I’d known the moment she’d slipped out of my hold, but I'd forced myself to pretend to be asleep. I didn't want to ask her to stay, and I knew if I opened my eyes, I would.
Hayden usually wandered into the kitchen around ten or eleven, ate, and then spent some of the afternoon talking to Saylor about graphic design.
I'd taken the cabinets apart and started to paint them. It was the least I could do since Blaire let me stay here with her granddaughter. I'd talked to Blaire about it, and she supported any changes we thought needed to be done.
While Saylor and Hayden worked at the table by the pool, I painted the cabinet doors on drop cloths in the sun. Close enough I could hear the murmur of their conversation and the occasional laugh, but not enough that I could hear what they were saying.
I was pleased that Hayden had found something she was interested in and got her out of her room.
On my way inside to clean off the brushes for the day, Saylor said, "My grandmother mentioned an opportunity for Hayden."
I paused, covering the wet brushes with a paper towel. "What is it?"
"A few of the kids are volunteering this summer at the senior center, doing various projects in and outside of the building. They need volunteer hours to graduate."
"I need volunteer hours too," Hayden said.
"Would you be interested in doing something like that?" I asked her, careful not to inject any pressure into my words. It was also an opportunity for her to meet other teens her age.
Hayden bit her lip. "Maybe."
Saylor stood and started packing her things. "My grandmother said there's a meeting this Saturday morning at the center for those who are interested."
