6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Katy may have meant the text for her brother, but she wasn't entirely wrong about me being a lazy loser. At least not until I got my butt whooped into shape by the Army and saw that there was something bigger in this life to serve than the whims of my teenage delinquent desires.

George, my sister's husband, is a hairy guy and can grow a beard in a week. His family has a rule that when he's home, he remains clean-shaven. The kids had been bugging me to get rid of the whiskers, so I pulled out the razor and did a quick but careful job of removing the beard.

Then Tugger showed up, I snapped a pic, sent it to Katy, and laced up my running shoes.

When Tugger and I arrive for a jog on the beach, a dense marine layer rolls off the ocean. I think about how, back in the day, Katy and I used each other to escape our lives. Now, I want to dig in and put down roots.

I'm just not yet sure what that's going to look like or where. I have a few options with a fire crew up north, a ranch out west, or becoming an analyst behind a desk for a certain three-letter agency. None of them involve staying in Palisade Shores.

I have an extremely generous savings account along with stocks and have been toying with the idea of setting up a gym for men, specializing in a fitness brotherhood for vets, but I'm not sure.

With Tugger keeping pace at my side, the fog dissipates and I glimpse a surfer out in the lineup. She catches a wicked wave. Katy glides into my mind. I'll be the first to admit that I was wholly dysfunctional as a young man and that carried over into all of my relationships. I didn't know how to ask for what I wanted if I was even lucky enough to know what that was. I just took and took and stole hearts. Possibly including hers.

She definitely had mine even though I was terrified to admit it at the time.

As tough as Katy is, I took companionship and hope from her. That assurance that we were "In it together."

Looking back, the Ferraras weren't so bad. We had the run-of-the-mill flaws and problems. Usually with me being at the center of them. I'd joke that I was born into the wrong family and belonged with the Fisks who did whatever they wanted. Ultimate rebellion. True freedom.

I was so wrong.

But at the time, I saw them as the beacons of independence, doing their thing whenever they wanted because there weren't rules, curfews, or consequences.

As a combat veteran, I'm the first to stand in line against tyranny, however, there's a reason we learn to color inside the lines. Katy never had those kinds of boundaries. With me, I imagine she felt like she had someone to rely on. I was too selfish and stupid to be that someone for her.

So whatever love existed between us was lost and morphed into hate.

Sweaty and thirsty, when I reach the boardwalk with Tugger by my side, I stop short.

Katy leans against the railing, arms crossed, a scowl on her face. "Stealing my dog again?"

"You need to fix your fence."

"How did he know where to find you?"

"Dogs have a keen sense of smell." I wink. "And I think he likes me."

She rolls her eyes at the sky. "It's well established that I'm his favorite." Staring me dead on, she taps her thigh. "Come on Tugger. We're going to Tail Waggin.'"

But the animal doesn't budge, sitting between us on the boardwalk.

She grunts and makes me inwardly chuckle as she squats and tries to coax the ninety-pound American Bulldog to his feet.

I say, "I have a proposal."

She shoots to standing. "What do you mean?"

I wonder why that particular word made her react when a long-forgotten memory floats back. Geena caught me with a diamond ring that I, uh, obtained. Ahem.

Caught red-handed, I lied and said I was going to propose to Katy. My sister ran her big Italian mouth, and it got back to Katy. She didn't try to run me down, so I reasoned that perhaps it wasn't the worst idea in the world. Sure, it was moving fast, but we had miles and miles of speed under our belts during our late-night jaunts along the coast. But the next day she went on a date with Bryce, a jock and my opposite. The day after that, I joined the military and fled.

My mouth goes extra dry, but I make my suggestions anyway, "How about on the days you have to work, instead of relying on Delilah, the kids and I take Tugger for a walk."

"And try to bring him to the dark side?"

But she's not on the Dark Side. Never was except due to circumstances beyond her control due to her living on the D-side.

I look Katy up and down, doing my best not to react to her curves, but noting that she's dressed all in black instead of the pale pink Pinky's T-shirt that I've become so fond of. I'll admit that Katy wears those sparkly letters very, very well.

She glances at her outfit. "Fine. You can walk him. But no snooping around my house when you pick him up. I have cameras."

"Why? Afraid of what I might find? Floral arrangements? A closet full of pretty dresses? A cabinet overflowing with makeup?"

Her eyes widen with each suggestion then they turn to slits as if to say, How dare you!

"I'm starting to think the Big Bad Katy Fisk has a secret soft side."

"It's not a secret, Rocco. I'm trying to live a better life." Then she looks me up and down, pausing on my general mouth area. "You look ten years younger without the beard. More like yourself."

My body buzzes slightly. "Is that a compliment?"

She clears her throat. "It's an observation and you'll do."

I tuck my chin. "I'll do what?"

"You'll pretend to be my boyfriend at Tootsie's ninetieth birthday party next month."

If I had a bottle of water—and boy I could use one right now—I'd spout it like a whale breaching during the seasonal migration off our coast. "I'll what?"

"You heard me."

The words don't come together in a way that makes sense. "I don't understand."

"My grandmother is turning ninety. If she could have one gift, it would be to see me in a happy and healthy relationship before she dies. That's a quote...that I hear every time I visit."

The corner of my mouth lifts with a smile. "Sounds like something Tootsie would say."

"You can be my fake boyfriend, and we'll make it seem like we're a real couple."

"You want to lie to your grandmother?"

"I never said I'm not on the dark side."

It's one of Katy's wilder schemes, but I don't decline because it means righting a wrong.

It's been over a month since I've been back in Palisade Shores and it's like a different place—or more accurately, I'm a different person. Katy too. Unlike during our days in her dad's shop, gobbling up whatever crumbs of attention we could from each other, it feels like a real friendship develops between us.

She even had the kids and me over for cookies and milk—they helped her make treats for Tugger and some suitable for human consumption. I oversaw everything just to be sure she didn't try to sneak a dog biscuit onto my plate. No, that was my rascally niece and nephew.

We even spent Independence Day together and watched the fireworks from the beach. Sometimes, I walk her to work to make sure the idiot who drives the Move Over machine leaves her alone. She's always eager to hang out with the kids and me in the afternoons when my energy lags.

In another life, this would be our family. Thankfully, I can return my niece and nephew at the end of the day because if they were mine, I wouldn't get uncle privileges to spoil them and would probably have to run a tighter ship.

But do I want to give them back at the end of the summer? Do I want to go up north or out of state? If I stayed in Palisade Shores, what would I do?

I'm back from an evening run when a stinging sensation on my foot just won't quit. I've taken to running barefoot on the beach and am afraid I stepped on a jellyfish. Eyes watering with pain, I grab my phone and send a quick text to my sister, asking what to do about it.

My phone pings with a reply. I have to read it twice. It's from Katy who I must've accidentally texted instead of Geena.

Katydid: I'm coming over.

Me: That's not necessary.

But she doesn't reply. My stride is longer than hers and it takes me approximately three minutes to get to her house on foot, which means I have less than five minutes to clean up this place—the kids thought it would be fun to make glitter bombs.

Considering my skillset, I went along with it, not anticipating the consequences. Hobbling on my jelly-stung foot, I frantically sweep up the mess. Then I turn on music and turn down the lights.

No sooner does the reason why I did that nearly knock me off my feet, Katy knocks frantically on the door. She's wearing a tank top and a pair of linen shorts. Her hair is in a knot on top of her head and bobbles as she barges inside.

"If you think I'm going to let you pee on my foot?—"

She tilts her head. "That's disgusting. When Sunny and Nick came in this morning for smoothies, they were talking about a jellyfish invasion. There was a rare bloom of CeeBees and some were pushed toward shore by the wind. Their stingers can be up to thirty feet long and although nonlethal, the lifeguard protocol is to remove any nematocysts and apply vinegar."

"That's only slightly better than you peeing on my foot. If it were anyone but Sunny who suggested that, I'd call it bogus."

"He said the trick is getting it done fast. Let me see." Katy gestures for me to sit down.

With my good foot planted on the floor, I rest my other ankle on my knee.

She kneels in front of me and pulls out the headlamp she uses in the shop to illuminate the hard-to-see innards of a motorcycle.

Gripping my foot in one hand and pinching a pair of tweezers she brought in the other, she uses surgical precision to remove what looks like tiny splinters. Her touch is pleasantly cool but warms me through. Her lips part slightly as she focuses intently then swabs my foot with a cotton ball saturated in vinegar.

If this were me ten years ago or even ten months ago, I'd reject the help and do it myself, or make it clear that I didn't like if someone had to do something for me. It took my retirement from the military to fully understand how important family, friends, relationships, and trust are.

Loose wisps of Katy's hair frame her face and she looks up at me with those big cornflower blue eyes set against tan skin. The thing beating behind my ribs loosens its death grip, which is something I'm afraid of because of what it could mean. There's a high probability she doesn't feel the same way, especially with the whole me posing as her fake boyfriend thing.

"Does that feel better?" Her stomach growls.

I clear my throat. "Thanks for coming to my rescue."

"You have to remain seated with your foot elevated for at least two hours." She makes her way to the door.

"That's not happening."

"Dr. Sunny's orders." Then as if confused about whether I was objecting to her departure or the command to remain seated, she adds, "I should go."

I get to my feet, edging closer to her. "You shouldn't."

Her eyes flash to mine.

This blast from the past was the last thing I expected. We're terrible for each other. My head says, No, let her go! But my pulse thrums, especially when her gaze grabs hold of mine with something like hope.

Uh-oh. There is nothing fake about the way Katydid lights me up inside.