Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Read online

  “I think you are making great strides, Harlow. Now about this friend you talk about so often, Cruz is his name? The cop?”

  “Yes, that’s him. What about him?”

  “Well, you talk about how in the beginning of the summer you were ready to leave because of his antics, and you weren’t comfortable with him living next to you because of what transpired between the two of you last summer.”

  Yes, I told Dr. Goldberg about Cruz. About the night we got together. About the one whose name we do not speak was there making out with that girl. I had a session with Dr. Goldberg a few days later and told him what I did. I needed to get it out and tell him, which in hindsight, was actually progress considering I wasn’t locked up in my room somewhere, rocking back and forth like a mental patient.

  “Correct, and believe it or not, we have settled on some kind of friendly ground.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  The one thing I’m so surprised at out of this whole summer is the relationship Cruz and I have established. I’ve never really had any guy friends, well, except Craw, but he’s my brother and one of my best friends. However, the more time I spend with Cruz, the more he’s, I don’t know, what word should I use to describe him… let’s call it human?

  I tell Dr. Goldberg all of this, and I can tell he’s writing it all down, making notes, and just listening to me.

  “And does he know about what happened and about him?”

  Oh, God, I wish I never have to tell him.

  “No, he doesn’t. Only my brother and Willow know.” And Cruz will never know.

  “You know, Harlow. It sounds like from what you tell me, this young man is having quite a good influence on you. I hear a change in your voice when you speak about him. I know he gave you a rough time in the beginning, but sometimes the ones who we least expect to open us up to a new way of thinking, a new way of learning. Then there are the ones we feel so comfortable opening up to and having conversations with that make you feel calm and at peace, that’s therapeutic.”

  Maybe Dr. Goldberg is right.

  Our conversations are great. We have a better understanding of each other’s personalities. I’m not much of a talker at times, especially when I’m in a down stage, but for some odd reason, beyond my comprehension, when I feel that way Cruz seems to be there, making me laugh, or grossing me out.

  “I guess, Dr. Goldberg. I do feel myself opening up a lot more around him. I’m not used to doing that with a guy. I mean Craw is different, but still, I’m not so sure how it’s therapeutic for me.”

  “It’s therapeutic because it’s the unknown. He’s the unknown. He doesn’t know what happened to you and can’t judge you for anything. You say he listens to you. He knows about your dream of becoming a teacher, how hard you worked for it. He knows about your family, the history there, so by just talking to him about random, daily events or things from the past, not directly related to why you speak to me, that’s therapeutic.”

  As I sit on this beach, listening to the waves crash on the shore, the sun beating on my face, I shut my eyes, take a deep cleansing breath, and think about it all. I think about what I’ve been through. The things that ‘he’ has done to me. He left me with no self-worth, leaving me to think I’m just not good enough, and sometimes I think he’s right. But lately there are those times when I’m around Cruz, he can make me feel like I am good enough.

  My session with Dr. Goldberg goes on for a little bit longer. He tells me no need to up my meds, that he thinks I’m making great strides and he will talk to me after the holiday, but encourages me to enjoy the new found friendship I’ve found in Cruz.

  We are still doing our little morning ritual when he’s not sleeping from working a long shift. We sit on the dock, drink coffee, watch the sun rise sometimes and talk. I attempt to dangle my feet in the water, if I’m in an up mood. The water is somewhat therapy for me. Even though I don’t go in it, just the movement of it, the calmness it distributes, makes me feel a sense of calm inside this unbalanced head of mine. That and the combination of Cruz’s and my early morning talks. He’s almost like Dr. Goldberg. It’s as though I’m in session, but now it’s this guy I live next to, who I had sex with a year ago, without knowing him.

  Jesus, I did that and didn’t know him.

  Sometimes that seeps into my brain, and I can’t shut it off. I’ve never been a highly sexual being. Only being with one person besides Cruz, that’s what you can call me… quite inexperienced.

  But I was a different person that night. I was uninhibited, lustful, greedy even. My dominant side shone through in my actions. Actions I can’t take back if I tried, and once in a while Cruz will remind me of that.

  Craw is coming in today for a few days. We are going out tonight to this new place on the bay, The Boat Stop, where people can drive their boats up to its docks, park, and walk to the bar. I’m excited for Craw to meet the guys.

  The blissful morning sun is warm and inviting on my face. Just the sounds of the seagulls is better music to my ears than any song on the radio.

  “Mornin’, Turnip.”

  I turn to see it’s Cruz, still in his uniform from his shift.

  I peer up at him, swallowing hard. A feeling enters the pit of my stomach, it’s unfamiliar and ever present for some unexplained reason.

  The uniform. It’s just the uniform.

  Blue is his color. It brings out the color of his opulent eyes.

  I ignore my stomach.

  “Good morning to you too, or am I about to say goodnight?”

  He laughs and takes a sip of his coffee.

  “Goodnight, yes. I just got back. It was a busy night. Two calls for bar fights, and one domestic, and a shitload of paperwork.”

  Poor guy. He looks tired. He’s been working hard trying to prove himself to the precinct he works in so they may hire him on a permanent, full-time basis.

  “Then if you’re so tired, why are you out here.”

  He shrugs. “This is our thing, that’s why. I didn’t want to miss it.”

  Ok.

  “So what time is your brother getting here?”

  “Around ten. We are headed over to that new place tonight on the bay. Are you coming?”

  He nods and stands up, stretches and starts to unbutton his uniform shirt.

  Wait. What. Huh?

  Cruz peels it off from his body. A tight, white undershirt reveals the muscular outline of his body. I can see the ripples from his strong stomach muscles, his inked arms, and the crest of his pecs. He strips it off swiftly, but my brain is processing it as methodical, inching it off his body, displaying one inch of skin a centimeter at a time.

  I’m awakened suddenly from my slow motion brain activity when he throws the shirt he just took off at my face.

  “Hey!” I throw it back at him.

  “You looked like you were in some kind of dream state there. I had to wake you up. You had this weird look on your face.”

  My thoughts go back to him being a jerk. I wasn’t making a weird face. My thought process just slowed down momentarily.

  “I’m fine. Tired I guess. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  He looks at me, inquisitively.

  “Really? Two nights ago you said you slept like a baby, and the night before that too. That kind of sucks. Did you drink too much coffee or something those nights? I was working twelve’s, so I didn’t know if you guys were just staying in, or if you headed out.”

  He’s right. The nights he worked, I slept like crap. Tossed and turned all night.

  “We went to dinner one of the nights, and the other stayed in and played board games. No coffee and just a few drinks when we were playing games.”

  “Oh, well. Too bad. Ok, well, I’m going to hit the sack for a few hours. What time tonight?”

  “Ten.”

  He smiles and makes his way over to the chair I’m sitting in. He bends down and kisses the top of my head and strokes my hair with his hand. I’m rendered speec
hless, my mind not processing this display of affection correctly.

  “Goodnight, Turnip. I’ll see you later.”

  Cruz turns and walks up the dock back to the house, and I’m left thinking of his simple gesture. Then I have it, what it was, what that meant.

  Yes, it’s the brother/sister thing.

  I hear Willow call to me from the deck.

  “Harlow, Craw just pulled up.”

  My little brother is here. I haven’t seen him in over a month. Craw and I are so close. I consider him one of my best friends. He was there for me so much over the past year and a half. His support has meant so much to me. He was my mind when I didn’t have one. I run out to the deck and peer over the railing. My brother gets out of the car, closes his door and looks up at the house. I wave my hands and jump up and down.

  He smiles when he sees me, and I feel warm and happy when I see his face.

  He reaches the deck and I run to him and hug him with all my might.

  “Oh, Craw. I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you so much.”

  He squeezes me back, lifts my body and spins me around.

  “I missed you too, Har.” He lets me go and steps back, grabbing my hands and surveys me.

  “You look fantastic, sweetheart. The shore has done wonders for you.”

  He brings a smile to my face. Every time, without fail.

  “Thank you very much. The sun has been kind to this pale skin of mine. Come on in and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  We walk into the house. The girls greet him with hugs. We have a brief conversation about what we all have been up to since we’ve been here. Craw tells us about how he is taking summer courses, so he can graduate a few months earlier than expected. I ask how my mom and dad are, and if Greta is driving him crazy, which he tells me yes. He calls her the ‘Princess of Princeton’, which I always laugh at. I ask how Grandmother is, and if she knew he was coming here. He tells me she didn’t say too much because she is so wrapped up in Greta’s wedding. It’s the social event of the year, so she’s preparing for her mirror image debutante granddaughter to put on quite the show.

  After an hour of conversing, the girls leave to go to the beach, and Craw and I stay behind to catch up some more, even though I talk and text with him all the time.

  We sit on the sofa and he kicks off his shoes and lounges.

  “So, you look terrific on the outside, how’s it going on the inside? Still talking with Dr. Goldberg?”

  Craw is constantly on me about therapy, which is a good thing. He worries, especially with me here and him being at home.

  “Yes. Two days a week. I’ve been feeling so good. I am still taking my meds every day.”

  He pats my knee and grins.

  “Good girl. It’s important, Harlow. You’re down to two days a week, maybe in time you can go down to one. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Craw.”

  “How’s living next to Porter’s friends?”

  He sort of knows Max but hasn’t met Cruz yet. I think I kind of have to tell him the truth, who he is and what happened between us before someone else does.

  “Good. You know them, well most of them, they’re great.”

  He crinkles up his forehead and smirks.

  “All of them. I thought it was just Porter and Max.”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  I go on to tell him everything, from me kneeing Cruz in the testes, to me falling in the water. He already knew what transpired between Cruz and me last year, how I didn’t know him, or his last name, or the fact that he doesn’t go by Raphael. At one point during our conversation, Craw’s eyes bug out of his head.

  “Well you little slut.”

  I smack his leg, and he smacks me back.

  “I am not a slut. Every time I think of what I did I cringe, Craw. That wasn’t me that night.”

  “You were so a slut, at least for that brief time. I told you when you told me it happened I was glad you let go. It’s sometimes fun not being yourself, Harlow. Embrace it.”

  That’s such a hard line for me to cross. I was with one person for so long. It was almost like I had an out of body experience.

  “So did you guys hookup again? Are you interested in pursuing something with him?”

  “Absolutely not. He’s a man-whore. We are just friends. Actually getting to be great friends. We are getting along really well. He’s a cop down here, well a rent-a-cop, but he’s trying to get a full time position. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  Craw stares at me. He’s focused on my eyes, and I don’t know why.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask him.

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Because in eighteen months I haven’t seen your face light up like this until this moment.”

  He’s crazy. I smile all the time, at least when I’m having a good day. And we are just having a conversation, and I’m telling him about Cruz. What’s the big deal.

  “What are you talking about.”

  He inches closer to me, rests his face on his hand, and his elbow on his knee. He studies my face.

  “You talk about this guy like he’s a superhero. The smile on your face when you said his name says more to me than I think even you know.”

  His words are farcical. I don’t demonstrate any of the characteristics he’s talking about. Cruz and I are friends. We have great conversations, we talk about everything under the sun, and we respect each other, for now anyway.

  I brush past his comments and suggest we grab some stuff for the beach. I tell him we are going out tonight to a new place, and the cabs will be here by nine forty five.

  Craw and I head down to the beach for a little bit. Porter and the girls are there. Cruz is sleeping after his exhausting shift. He works very hard. Sometimes it surprises me he has such a good work ethic, but from what he tells me, he inherited that trait from his father, who is also a very hard worker.

  After an hour or two of soaking up the sun, we head home to get ready for our night out. Our ritual for going out always consists of loud, get you on your feet dance music, a few cocktails and chips, greasy, salty potato chips. After we are all done with our hair, makeup and consumption of fattening chips, I see Craw outside smoking a cigarette on the deck. I step out to tell him the cabs will be here any minute.

  “I thought you were going to quit, Craw.” I sound like my mom, but I hate that he does it, and I hate more the reason why he started in the first place.

  Me.

  “I am, I promise. When you go down to therapy one day a week, then I will.”

  “Therapy? Who’s in therapy?”

  I hear a big, monotone voice behind me, and it jolts my body.

  It’s Cruz.

  “Oh, hey. I want you to meet my brother Crawford.”

  Craw sticks out his hand to Cruz.

  “Please, call me Craw.”

  Cruz takes his hand.

  “Oh, hey. The brother, right? I’m Cruz. I’ve heard a lot about you from Turnip here.”

  Craw turns to me with a scowl.

  “Turnip?”

  Oh, great. More fuel to add to the fire of Craw’s accusations that there’s more than friendship here. I need to defuse this, now.

  “It’s a silly nickname he gave me. Don’t mind him.”

  Craw looks to me, then back to Cruz, not really believing it’s just a pet name. That’s exactly what it is. A friendly joke.

  “Well anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Cruz. I’ve heard a lot about you from my sister. A lot.”

  I’ll kill him for emphasizing the ‘a lot’ in that statement. I feel my cheeks redden, as I feel the need to turn this conversation to something else.

  Cruz knows what Craw meant, but he doesn’t say anything. He winks at me and continues to ask him questions.

  “So Harlow tells me you are in your last year of college. Teacher, right?”

  Craw nods. “Yep, just like my big sis. Hopefully
she’ll get a position soon, and then she can put a good word in for me when she does.”

  “Well, good luck to you. I have no doubt your sister is going to make an excellent teacher, and from what she tells me, you will be one too.”

  I’ll have to admit, although I don’t want to, but that was probably the sweetest thing to come out of Raphael Cruz’s big mouth.

  Porter yells to us that the cabs have arrived, so we make our way down to meet them. Craw grabs my arm in the process and whispers, “Just friends my ass, Turnip.” He winks at me, and I roll my eyes. He’s dreaming.

  We pull up to the new bar/restaurant called The Boat Stop. It’s a bit posh, unlike the places down here we usually go to. The place is a bit crowded, and it’s a mixture of young and old. Money comes here. This I am sure of because I come from it. I can see by the clientele. We step in and make our way to a few tables we spot over near the docks. It’s a beautiful night to be outside. A light breeze flows off the bay, and I love watching the boats pull in. I love boats. I don’t like to be on one, actually I hate it, but I can appreciate their architecture.

  Craw goes to hang with the guys, and the girls and I sit at a table. We talk about the place and about how Willow’s dad is going to love it when he comes down. The area used to be the site of an old boat yard for fishing vessels in the late 1800’s. There’s a lot of history here, and I remind myself to research it more. I’m a history buff. I like old things.

  Cruz makes his way to our table and asks us if we need anything from the bar. We give him our orders, and thank him as he arrives back after a few minutes. He hands us our drinks and slides into the seat next to me. My seat is situated so I have a perfect view of the boats docking. Their lights and hard lines, the sleek, sexiness of the boats captivates my attention. Craw comes over to join us and takes a seat next to the girls. Cruz turns and talks into my ear, “You look nice tonight, Turnip. I like this preppy sweater thingy you have going on here.” He picks at my cardigan sweater, and I swat at his hand. He chuckles and turns his head to look at a few girls who just walked in the door. Craw mouths to me, “Friends my ass.” I kick him under the table, and he laughs. We keep the conversation light, discussing nothing in particular. How tomorrow is the 4th of July, and the activities we all have planned. A bar-b-que at our houses and fireworks on the beach at night. Sounds like a perfect day. There’s something to be said about fireworks. They surprise you, coming at you without warning. They are full of color and vibrancy, displaying their brilliance as they capture your attention. There’s an intimacy about them as well, I interpret them like that. Even though thousands of people see the same thing, I feel like they can be my own private show. Bursting out in the sky just for me.