Chapter 19

Iwalked into the kitchen the next morning to grab a drink before work since I was already running too late to grab breakfast.

My father sat at the island looking down at his phone. He didn't look up. "I just got off the phone with your mother."

"Did she ask you for a divorce?"

He ignored my question. "We both think it's best if you flew down to stay with her for the rest of the summer."

"Excuse me?"

"You clearly don't want to be around me," he said.

"Then you leave. Why should I?"

"Because you're the one who's unhappy here," he said.

I walked over and crossed my arms, leaning my hip against the island beside him. "So let me get this straight. Now you care if I'm happy or not?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're the most self-centered man I've ever met."

He slapped me across the face.

The hit came hard and fast and my entire face flew to the side, pain crackling though my cheek like ice. I cupped my cheek, unable to believe he'd laid a hand on me.

"What the fuck?!" Crew rushed into the room and moved to my side. "Are you okay?"

I was too stunned to respond.

His eyes cut to my father's. "I don't care who you are, only a weak man lays a hand on a woman. And, this is your fucking daughter."

I turned and hurried out of the room with my cheek pulsing and unshed tears glazing my eyes. I didn't get far when I heard Crew's voice in the kitchen.

"Do you have any idea how much pain you've caused her?!" he yelled.

"Leave it alone, Crew," my father warned.

"She's your kid. Get your shit together, man." His voice lowered, and I had to strain to hear. "If you ever lay your hand on her again, I'll break it."

I hurried out of the house before Crew discovered me listening. I'd made it just around the corner from the gift shop when Crew called my name. I stopped and turned.

He jogged up to me. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," I said, trying to appear tougher than I truly felt in that moment.

With pain in his eyes, he lifted his hand and gently cupped my cheek that was still hot and throbbing.

"Don't look so sad," I said.

"I wanted to slam him right through the fucking wall."

"I can handle it," I assured him.

"You shouldn't have to." He stared into my eyes, and I think he was waiting for me to break down.

"I didn't panic," I explained. "I held it together. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

I leaned into his hand, needing the connection more than I realized. "Because of you."

"But what if I hadn't been there?" he asked.

"But you were," I said, wanting him to know the huge role he played in helping me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and dropped my head to his chest. His familiar sandalwood scent clung to him as he wrapped me in his arms, and held me right there on the sidewalk as tourists walked around us.

"I don't think it's healthy to have to carry everything you've been dealing with," he said.

"I told you. I held it together. It means I'm learning to manage my attacks."

"I just think…I don't know. Maybe you should talk to someone."

I pulled back and looked at him. "Are you saying you don't want to be the one I lay all my problems on?"

"You can tell me anything. But I'm talking about someone qualified to help you and give you more ways to cope," he explained.

"I'll make you a promise. If it gets too much for me to handle, I'll look into it."

"Okay."

And, though I agreed to it, I knew I'd be okay if I had Crew by my side.

* * *

"How much for this blue Cape Cod sweatshirt?"

I glanced up from my spot at the counter of the gift shop. Crew held up a sweatshirt that complemented his blue eyes. It had only been a couple of hours since he'd left me, but I knew he was there to check on me. "Twenty-five dollars."

He dug into his pocket and tossed the cash down onto the counter.

I reached for it, but he placed his hand on mine. I glanced up. "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good."

He stared at me, looking for the truth.

"I'm fine," I assured him.

"Your father left for Boston."

"Left? Or you kicked him out?"

He smiled. "He said he had to work, but he planned to stay longer. He said it was better for everyone that way."

"He wanted me to leave," I explained. "That's what started the argument."

"I wouldn't have let you."

"Oh no?"

He shook his head. "Who am I gonna drive back to Alabama with?"

"That's like a twenty-hour drive."

"So?" he asked.

"So, that's over twenty hours in a car together. I'm not sure I can handle that much of you."

He laughed. "I'm pretty sure you can."

I considered us driving that far together. A road trip definitely taught you a lot about someone. Would we argue the whole time or end up closer at the end?

"I have a surprise for you," he said.

"You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" he asked.

"Do something because of what happened," I said.

"I'm not doing anything because of what happened. I'm doing it because you're my girlfriend, and I want to make you smile."

The word girlfriend made my stomach flip over. Crew didn't have girlfriends. "I don't recall ever agreeing to be anyone's girlfriend."

He cocked his head, likely realizing I was never going to concede that easily—even if I wanted to. "Well, what's a guy have to do to get you to agree to it?"

"Well…you said you've never had a serious girlfriend before."

"I haven't."

"What makes you think you're ready for one now?"

He smirked. "Seriously?"

I nodded. "What changed your mind?"

"That's easy. You."

I stifled a smile. Oh, he was good.

"So?" he prompted.

"So…what's the surprise you've got?" I asked, changing the subject.

He shook his head. He had to know I was never going to say yes. But, I also didn't say no. "Not now. Later."

I rolled my eyes. He was such a guy.

"No. Not that," he laughed, realizing what I thought he meant. "Although, I wouldn't be opposed if you had your way with me later."

I glanced around, making sure no one else was in the shop.

He laughed. "Relax. We're alone."

"Don't you need to leave for your game?" I asked, checking the time on my phone.

"Trying to get rid of me?" He leaned across the counter. "Because—"

"Don't even say there are other girls who would be happy to take my place," I said.

His brows furrowed. "I was gonna say, ‘Because I won't let you.' But now that you mention it—"

I grabbed the front of his shirt. "You saw what I did to that chair."

"I love it when you talk dirty to me."

I shook my head and released his shirt.

He laughed. "All right. I'm going. See you at my game." With that, he left the store. But half an hour later, he texted me asking me to stop by the house on the way to his game to grab his ball cap that he'd left on the balcony.

Once my boss came in and relieved me, I stopped at the house and ran upstairs. I had a little time, so I quickly changed into a Sharks T-shirt and cutoffs in the guest room then headed to my room to grab his ball cap. I moved to the closed French doors and threw them open. I froze. A new Adirondack chair sat there. A wooden sign hung on it: Peyton's Chair. Small writing beneath it read: All others will be "thrown" out.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. This was my surprise? As corny as it was, I appreciated the gesture. Not to mention the nod to my reaction. I laughed as I sat down in it, taking a quick selfie. I sent it off to Crew with a kissy face emoji. God. I was becoming Gina.

Crew: Do you like it?

Me: Love it.

Crew: Want to erase some bad memories in it?

Me: Nope.

He responded with a sad face.

There were just some things I'd never unsee. Him and that girl was one of them.

Me:We're more creative than that.

Crew: Damn straight we are.

I laughed, before hurrying off to the game.