Page 31 of Wilder Love
When I walked into work a couple hours later, Jimmy wished me a Happy Birthday. He hadn’t forgotten. I nearly cried when he gave me a Polaroid camera and I used up half the film on photos of him. If I wanted to see what Shane would look like in twenty years, all I had to do was look at Jimmy.
* * *
“Where are you taking me?”I asked Shane, putting on the helmet he handed me. I acted as if it mattered where we went. But it didn’t. I would go anywhere with him.
“For a belated birthday.”
He took me to Oceanside and we ate tacos. I asked him about Rio—he’d just returned from a surfing event in Brazil—and he tried to paint a picture for me with his words but ended up handing me his phone. I scrolled through the photos he’d taken, ninety percent of them had ocean views. After we ate, we watched the sunset from the pier, our arms resting on the railing.
I watched Shane’s face as he stared at the ocean, his mistress, like a lover would—with longing and a smile on his perfect lips. He turned his head to look at me and the smile was still there. His eyes looked green today. I wondered if that meant something.
He pulled a small wrapped box out of the pocket of his frayed cargo pants and set it on the railing. I just stared at it like it might bite me if I touched it. “What’s this?”
“Your birthday present.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. It was still there. “You bought me a birthday present?”
“Are you going to open it or just stare at the pretty wrapping? Quick. Before that pelican snatches it up.” He sounded amused but a little bit embarrassed that I’d made no move to open it. We were both staring at the box now like it was a ticking bomb. He wasn’t joking about the pelican. It was perched on the railing only a few feet to my left. I grabbed the box before he could swoop in and claim it.
It was pretty wrapping paper—midnight blue with silver stars. The box was light. Small and square. I turned so my back was against the railing and there was less chance of the gift falling into the water. I was holding my breath as I unwrapped it and then I lifted off the lid and gasped. A gold circle around a silver anchor on a gold chain. I lifted the necklace from the box and studied the medallion.
“Do you know what the markings mean?” he asked.
I looked at the engravings in the gold circle and shook my head. “They’re the coordinates for Costa del Rey.”
“It’s beautiful. I love it,” I said finally, realizing that it had been a few long moments of silence.
He huffed out a laugh. “That’s good. Because I can’t take it back.”
The necklace had been made just for me. Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t believe that he would go to all this trouble. That he would have something made especially for me. I flipped it over and read the engraved words on the back:For Firefly, so you never lose your way home.
I smiled. It was a joke, kind of—he knew about my lousy sense of direction. But I thought the words had a deeper meaning. Like,hewas my home. I don’t know. I just wanted to believe that.
“Here,” he said, taking the necklace from me. I gathered my hair and held it in one hand and he leaned in close. His head dipped as he clasped the necklace around my neck, his callused fingers brushing against my skin. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. He smelled like summertime. Like the sea. And something that was just him. Clean and manly and intoxicating. I missed him. I wanted to touch him, kiss him, press my lips against the smooth tanned skin of his neck. I opened my eyes as he lifted his head. My fingers traced the necklace and I sucked my lower lip between my teeth. His eyes flitted over my face. We were so close I could see the flecks of amber in his irises.
“Remy,” he said hoarsely.
“Shane,” I breathed.
He shook his head and exhaled loudly, then he took the box and wrapping paper out of my hand and tossed them in a nearby trash can. I wasn’t sure why he’d thrown away the box, but it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t need it. I had no intention of ever taking off this necklace.
“Thank you. For the birthday present.”
“You’re welcome.”
We walked past a man fishing from the pier and he gave Shane a two-finger salute. Shane had talked to him earlier, asked him if the fishing was good and what he’d caught. That was the big difference between us. He could talk to anyone. He was the kind of guy that other men liked. Secure in his masculinity. Friendly. Confident. Relaxed. He was comfortable in his own skin.
And I was like a moth drawn to the flame.
12
Remy
Iknocked on my mom’s bedroom door. “Mom, we need the rent money.”
On the other side of the door, I heard a man’s voice and my mom giggling.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?”
