Chapter Thirteen

Large television screens were stationed around the bank of the docks, which had been roped off. Several hundred people clustered around each one, leaving very little room to maneuver through the crowd. Emmie held Coleson’s hand, and they strolled along the edge of the crowd. She didn’t care if they weren’t front and center. It was a race between go-fast boats, speeding from the home base in the harbor to the open water. Many stationary boats were posted around the perimeter of the track, where buoys were set to guide the pilots.

The buildup was interesting. Vendors sold food and drink. Bands were set up far enough away from each other as not to compete against the music. An emcee kept the crowd entertained with jokes and impressions. It was a thrilling experience to be lost among the spectators.

“Um, are you Crew Kiles?”

Coleson tensed beside her, smiling at the kid who had asked the question. “I wish. I’m sorry but I’m not.”

“Oh.” The kid looked crestfallen. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother at all.”

The kid scampered away, quickly lost in the sea of people.

“You must really look like that guy,” she said.

Coleson shrugged. “We all have a doppelganger, I guess.”

Once the race started, all gazes stayed glued to the monitors. The speedboats were high performance, manufactured with lightweight materials and state-of-the-art propulsion systems. They cut through waves at breathtaking speeds, looking like they hardly touched the surface at all. The crowd went wild as the boats worked hard at not crashing into each other. It looked dangerous, but was thrilling to watch.

She ate far too much junk food, stuffing her stomach with cakes, BBQ, and fruit on sticks. They stayed until the sun began its descent into the horizon. Then they drove back to her place where he loved her through the night.

****

“Grip the rim in your palm,” Coleson called out.

“Like this?” Emmie held up her hand, showing him.

“Yep. Don’t grip too hard. Now place your thumb on the top and your fingers on the edge. Then flick your wrist.”

She did exactly as he instructed, but the Frisbee immediately crashed into the sand. Frustration overrode her enjoyment of the simple game.

“This isn’t easy,” she grumbled.

Coleson jogged back toward her, picking up the downed disc. “Here, let me show you.”

He moved behind her, slid his arm around her belly as he stepped into her heat. Then he covered her hand that held the Frisbee and leaned down to talk softly into her ear. His breath brushed against her hair and tickled her cheek, which had her body tightening with arousal. Her nipples beaded, pushing against her t-shirt since she had forgone a bra. She couldn’t help but thrust her ass into his groin, teasing him. Which worked since he groaned in her ear.

“What’re you doing, woman?”

Grinning, she rocked her hips, grinding back into his rapidly hardening cock.

“Stop,” he said, nipping her earlobe. “You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? Maybe I should take you home and fuck you until you’re incapable of teasing me.”

She turned her head toward him, bringing her mouth directly over his. “But you said you’d teach me how to play Frisbee.”

“I can hardly believe you haven’t ever touched one.”

His words were like throwing cold water on her. All her ardor immediately drained as she remembered she was lying to him. As if sensing the mood change, he went back to instructing her, even with his dick poking her ass. He showed her how to flick her wrist so the Frisbee can catch the wind and fly farther. Then he stepped back.

“Go ahead,” he instructed. “Try it again.”

She followed his instructions and the Frisbee took off, soaring over the sand. Elation filled her. It might be something silly, but it meant a lot. It proved she wasn’t just the socialite waiting for an arranged marriage. Emmie laughed, filled with an excitement Coleson probably couldn’t understand. These little trivial things that most people took for granted meant the world when she mastered them. She didn’t have to be a pro or a record breaker, but the simple fact that she made a Frisbee soar on the wind thrilled her. Coleson jogged away once more, grabbed the Frisbee, and returned it to her. She ran, caught it, and sailed it back. The disc didn’t fly as far as his did, but that didn’t matter. She was having fun.

After a while, they ended the game and started racing the waves. They’d chase when the water receded, and then ran away when it surged back. Emmie didn’t think she’d ever laughed as much. He’d tease her by picking her up and threatening he was going to throw her in, and she’d squeal and thrash around until he relented.

Night had fallen by the time they made it back to his house. With the absence of streetlights and a million cars, it was utterly dark except for the moon shining down. The muted sound of crashing waves the only symphony. After washing up, Coleson made them turkey sandwiches with fruit salad as their dinner.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded. “Ask me anything.”

“Are you going to keep this house or sell it?”

He took a bite and washed it down with his soda before trying to answer. “I think I’m going to keep it. Renovate it, of course, but I love it here.”

“Me too,” she replied.

“You’re from New York City, right?”

“Born and raised, only now…” she trailed off with a shrug. “There’re too many people. I love city life, just not with eight million people living on the boroughs. I think I’m going to downgrade when I get back.”

“That’s an interesting way of saying you’re going to move. Anywhere in particular?”

She shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to do some research.”

“May I add St. Louis to your research?”

“Why St. Louis?”

This time, he shrugged. “I happen to live there.”

Emmie blinked and then smiled. “Okay. I’ll put it on the possibility list.”

After they ate, she helped him clean up. Then he took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

“I know we’ve been on the beach all day, but do you wanna go for a walk?” he asked, gesturing back to the beach.

“I’d like that,” she replied.

They walked along the coastline with their pant legs rolled up, as the cold Atlantic tickled their bare feet. Coleson was a quiet presence by her side, lending support even if he didn’t realize it. In Jacoby’s journal, he had written about leaving their old life behind, as if the tide would take away all the hurt and bad memories. How ironic she may be the one leaving it all behind.

“You know,” she said, “if you listen closely, you can hear the hiss as the sun settles into the ocean.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Yes, it is!” She laughed. “Once, I bet Jaco-uh, my brother five dollars he couldn’t hear the hiss.”

“You swindler,” he teased. “What did you do with your windfall?”

“Blew it all on candy, obviously. Had a terrible licorice habit growing up.”

“Black or red?”

“Both. Duh. Only savages don’t eat licorice.”

“You’re adorable,” he said, smiling down at her.

A comfortable silence fell between them. Emmie loved this. Loved the peace soaring through her soul. It didn’t surprise her that Jacoby loved that peace, too. Maybe his presence sill lingered in Anchorridge Cove, Maine. Every place she went, she encountered someone who held her brother in high regard, and she came to the realization that she didn’t need a notebook to reconnect with her twin. He was all around her, deeply embedded into her DNA, and she knew he always would be.