No Love Allowed(3)

Squeezing one end between his lips, he lit the other and inhaled. Holding his breath for a beat, he allowed the magic to work before exhaling in one long, satisfied puff. The smoke curled up in lazy tendrils. He sagged against a tree, tucking the lighter back into his pocket and keeping his hand there. His knuckles brushed against something metallic. The name tag. The waitress. A grin pulled at the corner of his lips.

She’d made him forget himself for a minute. And that was saying something.

He silently thanked her—wherever she might be—for the entertainment and inadvertently saving him from having to face Amber after the tears had dried. Amber would lick her wounds and move on to someone else. There were far richer eligible bachelors for her to latch onto in Dodge Cove. Maybe their breakup this early was a good thing. Now he could concentrate on the trip. Nathan already had most of the itinerary planned out. They had been talking about this trip since he proposed it at the start of the year.

After he’d taken a third hit, a hand snatched away the only thing relaxing him. Caleb straightened as fast as he could under the mellow circumstances. The protest died in his throat.

Pinching the joint between her thumb and index finger, Diana brought it to her lips and sucked in a lungful. Maybe it was the weed working or the shock of her sudden appearance, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. The soft whoosh of her exhalation mesmerized him. The way her lips formed an O? Check his pulse, he might have just died.

“Hey,” she said in a breathy voice, then took another hit. She still wore the country club’s uniform and those ugly boots.

“Hey,” he said back, unable to think of anything better until, “Quit hogging my high.” Not the best line either. He blamed it on the brain-dulling substance he had been inhaling.

With a huff for a laugh, she handed him back the joint. The idea of returning it to his lips when it had just been on hers made him suddenly very aware of her. The curve of her bottom lip. The upward tilt of her eyes. The long column of her neck. Her citrusy sweet scent.

“Whoa!” He inhaled, eyes wide. “This is some strong shit.”

She settled beside him against the tree. Their shoulders touched. “I’ve had stronger.”

“Oh yeah?” came out with an exhale of smoke.

“Yeah.” She reached for the joint, and he willingly handed it to her just so he could watch her bring the end to her mouth again.

He thought of something to say and came up with, “Diana.”

Her name. Just her name. It sounded so good to his ears for some reason. Yup, his brain wasn’t working properly anymore. He reached into his pocket again when she turned her head to face him, the joint still on her lips, and returned the name tag she had thrown at him.

“They call me Didi,” she said, running her thumb over her name. “I guess I don’t need this anymore.”

“Who are ‘they’?” He took the joint back, the knuckle of his index finger grazing the corner of her mouth.

She shrugged one shoulder—the one with the braid—then looked out onto the confetti water. “Can you see the future?”

“No. Can you?” He played along, not willing to overthink the sudden bizarre turn in their conversation. He was content to float in her company without actually leaving the ground.

“No matter how hard I look, I just can’t see it.”

Before he could ask what she meant or anything else about her, the girl they all called Didi pushed off the tree she leaned on, walked up to the cliff’s edge, and jumped.

It took a couple of seconds for Caleb’s brain to catch up with what had just happened. His heart dropped. Then just as fast, it leapt into his throat. He dropped the joint and toed off his shoes. Removing the jacket, he ran toward the edge and dove in after her, like an Olympian going for gold.





Two


SOMETHING HAD TO give.

The instant she took the leap she felt the pendulum swing up.

Best. Decision. Ever.

She loved the wind rushing against her skin and through her hair. She caught herself thinking this was what flying must feel like. The freedom. The weightlessness. Until wham! She slammed feetfirst into the water. The shock took her aback. But there was no stopping now. A grin stretched her lips as her body sank. The coolness banished the stifling heat in her blood. Most people would have fought hard to break through to the surface. She wasn’t most people.

Breath left her body in tiny bubbles. The salt water stung her eyes like tears. She struggled to keep them open, blinking often. What little of the sky she could make out grew farther and farther away.

This must be what oblivion was like. The silence. The cold. Away from hateful words. Hateful stares.

As she sank farther into the darkness, another shape plunged into the water. A shadow she couldn’t quite make out until he reached her and wrapped those long fingers around her wrist. Then, with a few quick kicks, her rescuer towed her body from the depths. She wanted to stay under a little longer. Just a little longer. But in seconds her head broke the surface. And as if by instinct, she gulped in the breath her lungs craved.

Two coughs later, an arm wrapped around her front, and soon she was towed back toward shore. Breathing allowed her body to float until her back was almost parallel with the water. She stared up at the sky. Its blue reminded her of the brushstrokes in van Gogh’s The Starry Night—how the light mixed with the dark until ultimately the dark won, even if technically it was still early afternoon.