Eleven. A Sorta Fairytale

ELEVEN

A Sorta Fairytale

Maren

"My turn."

I will not perv on my big brother's best friend. I will not perv on my big brother's best friend. I will not perv on my big brother's best friend…

Even though Liam is easily thirteen hours away. Even though I'm almost thirty-four and Joe's thirty-eight so it's childish to classify him as my big brother's anything. Even though he's a hot single dad who used to be in the Marines and runs every morning to maintain his sanity but also has a pretty stellar physique for someone who drinks beer and eats a regular diet of leftover bar food.

Even though I accidentally saw him tangled up with his then-girlfriend-now-ex-wife behind the storage shed the summer I turned fourteen, and while I didn't understand what I was looking at at the time, her soft whimpers imprinted on my brain for eternity and basically became the blueprint for my sexual awakening.

Even though there's… all of that… I still won't perv on Josiah Cole. He deserves better than that. He can't help any of those things and he doesn't need me drooling on him. So I swallow down my lust and ignore the recurring tingle in my nipples and spread the damn sunscreen all over the solid planes of his muscular back, making sure to be thorough and totally platonic about it.

Mostly. I probably do a shitty job hiding the flush in my cheeks and the racing in my heart, but his back is turned and anyway it's pretty hot out.

After sunscreen is applied all around, Joe grabs himself a beer from the cooler and we both move to the front of the boat to spread out on the deck. The lulling sound of the waves slapping against the side of the boat has me closing my eyes and leaning back against the window. I soak in the vitamin D and feel my entire body melt into the cushion. I'm so relaxed, in fact, I have to remind myself to inhale and exhale, but I don't mind because it's literally my only responsibility for the time being.

No one else exists for me here, except of course the man next to me and the dog panting happily between us.

We don't talk, we don't move. We just lie there and float, listening to Jimmy Buffett sing about a pirate looking back at forty, and sipping our warming beers. An hour goes by, and I barely notice. The best part is Joe doesn't, either. Something about seeing him so still, so quiet, so content, makes me feel better than I have in a long time. He's always moving, rushing between his kids and the resort guests and his parents. Everyone demands so much from him, and he doesn't complain. He does it all with a teasing grin and a patient temperament.

He gives and gives and gives and I want him to take for once. Take time and sunshine and beer and Jimmy Buffett. With a start, I realize I want to take care of him. Badly.

Not fix him or change him or anything like that. Just… take care of him. He takes care of everyone else; maybe for the short time I'm here, I can give him some peace in return.

"Mare?"

"Hm?" I ask, not bothering to open my eyes.

"I have to ask you something, but I don't want to make a big deal out of it."

At this, I let my head fall to the side and open one eye, flipping down my sunglasses against the brightness. "Okay?"

"This is going to sound weird, but have you been to the hardware store in town? Callahan's?"

Thoughts of relaxation fly out of my head, and I jerk to sitting.

"Why?"

"Fuck," Joe says softly. "Fuck," he repeats, just as quiet. "That's exactly the response I was hoping you wouldn't have."

My brain feels sluggish, but it turns over his words and I sigh. "I'm okay. Why are you asking?"

"Because I saw a picture of you up on Bryce Callahan's weird-ass collection board in his store the other morning and when I asked him about it, he was excited to tell me Musky Maren was back in town."

I drop my head with a whimper, pulling my knees to my chest. "Was it a new picture?"

"Not new. Though he just put it up in the store… Said it was in his house before."

"Gross," I whisper.

"Yeah. I get those vibes, too. Is there more to the story I should know?"

"Depends," I say, irritated. Though I don't know who I'm irritated at: Joe, Bryce, myself? "Who else did you tell?"

"No one, and if you're asking me about Liam, still no one. I swear. Though, Liam did call me the same morning. It was before I went into the store."

I lay my chin on my knees and stare out at the waves. "There's not a lot to tell, really. Bryce became a little… fixated on me back in the day. He'd show up at my live events and send me emails through my website. He wasn't the only one. You said yourself, lots of guys watched my videos and not all of them cared about catching musky.

"But Bryce… well, he would show up at events that he'd have to fly to get to, and he started talking about how he'd… get off to my videos. He would ask me out whenever he saw me and I'd see him taking pictures on his phone from the line and it just felt… like more . You know? More even than the stuff I'd gotten used to from the typical weirdos."

"Did you get a restraining order? Call the police?"

"For what?" I ask, lifting my gaze and narrowing my eyes at Joe. His jaw is clenched, and I can see a tick in the muscle there, but I press on, getting mad myself and feeling the usual sense of helplessness that Bryce Callahan and others instilled in me back then and now. "He never hurt or threatened me. He never followed me to my car or showed up at my house. He never emailed my personal email, and he never called my phone. He showed up at public events. He watched videos I intentionally released online. He sent messages through my official website."

"He knew you came to the resort with your family. I know you didn't put that shit on your videos, Maren."

I inhale sharply at his words and his accusatory tone. "Are you blaming me?"

His eyes widen and he straightens. "No. Absolutely not. I'm sorry," he apologizes instantly. "I'm mad that you went through that. You must have been terrified."

"I was. Which is why I discontinued the account and moved out of state. I accepted the job in Michigan and left Musky Maren behind. I made all my social media private until just a few years ago, and even then, I didn't post anything tying me to her. I closed down my website… All of it. Gone."

"Did it help?"

"One hundred percent. Until I went into town a few weeks back and ran into Bryce at the hardware store. He acted like it was Christmas. Asked me if I was married and wanted to know if I'd be around. I told him…" I feel my face heat at the memory. "Well, I let him believe maybe I was married, and I ran out of there. I completely freaked out. Clearly there is some residual trauma to work out, but I felt like I handled it. I haven't been back. God," I say with a groan. "I can't believe he put my picture up."

Joe winces. "At least it was an old picture. I pretended I hadn't seen you and didn't know what he was talking about, so there's a good chance he doesn't know you're still here. For all he knows, you left town weeks ago with your, um, husband?"

Out of the corner of my vision, I see his lips twitch. I press my lips together, annoyed at his teasing. But it is kind of funny. "I told you, I panicked."

"Does this fake husband have a name? What's his job? I bet it's something really masculine like a firefighter or a construction worker."

"Are you just naming characters from the Village People?"

"I was actually thinking of male stripper characters."

A stream of giggles erupts past my lips, and I let out a very uncool snort.

"Oh god, Jig, did you just snort?"

I snort again, erupting in more giggles. "Yes!"

"I don't know whether that's cute or disgusting."

"Fuck you!" I cry, smacking his firm bicep. "It's adorable."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself."

And I realize he's done it again. He's taken care of me—made me feel better, safer, somehow.

"Want to swim?" he asks, moving to the anchor.

"Yeah," I tell him. "Let's find a beach and let Rogers run for a while."

"Your wish, my command."

We spend the rest of the day on the shore, waist-deep in cool lake water, drinking beer and talking like the kind-of old friends we are. I laugh more than I've ever laughed in my entire life and that includes anytime I've been with Shelby and Lorelai. It's as easy as breathing, being with Joe. We swim, we throw the dummy for Rogers, we climb back in the boat and nap. We jump in the water when it gets too hot, and bake on the deck when the clouds cover the sun and it gets too cold in the lake. We eat ham-and-cheese sandwiches for lunch and stop on the way home at a pet-friendly bar with outside seating for dinner after Joe gets a phone call from his parents saying they're keeping the kids later. Everyone treats Joe like a long-lost friend, and we spend too long drinking all the free drinks people buy us, so we end up having to sit on the boat at the dock watching the sun set and drive home with our lights on in the dark after we sober up.

It's the best day I've had in a really, really long time.

Another thing he's given me.