Bad Girl Reputation (Avalon Bay #2)(55)

Harrison leads the kids to the railing to watch the boats getting in position. As I’m left alone with Kayla, a familiar nervous sense of anticipation builds in my gut. It’s like hanging my toes over the edge of the roof with a backyard full of chanting drunks standing around the swimming pool with their cameras on me. For some people, the fear makes their stomachs weak. But I find fear is a lens. It focuses me, if I aim it right.

“I’m glad you found me,” Kayla says before I can arrange my thoughts. We stand in the shadow of a shop awning while she removes her sunglasses. “For a while, I was relieved when you left town.”

“I understand. Please know—”

“I’m sorry,” she interjects, stunning the words from my lips. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about that night, and I realize now I overreacted. That I was more angry at having to face the truth than I was with you—which was that Rusty was a bastard.”

“Kayla.” I want to tell her I was out of my mind for barging into someone’s home, drunk and hysterical. That being right didn’t make it right. She’s kinda stealing my wind here.

“No, the problems were there for a long time. He was emotionally and verbally abusive. But it took you showing up to put that reality into perspective. To make me accept that it was not normal to live the way we were.” Grief flickers in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I admit. It was an open secret that Randall was a creep and a bad cop, but I had no idea it was so bad at home. In a way, I feel worse now. I feel sorry for Kayla and the kids, and what was surely an ugly aftermath that I invited into their home. “I had no right to barge in like that. The way I behaved that night was … I’m so embarrassed.”

“No, it’s okay.”

She squeezes my shoulder, reminding me that for a long time, we were sort of friends. I’d been their babysitter for years. I used to chat with Kayla on the couch after she’d get home from work. I would tell her things I couldn’t share with my mom, about boys and school and teenage stuff. She was like an aunt or a big sister.

“I’m glad it was you,” Kayla adds. “Things weren’t good between me and Rusty for a long time, but my friends were so afraid of, I don’t know, pissing him off or getting involved, they didn’t want to tell me the truth. And the truth was, I needed to get out of there. I needed to get my kids out of that situation. Because of you, I finally did. And we’re much happier for it. Honestly.”

It’s a relief to hear, although unexpected. I’ve spent the better part of the last year tied up in knots over the guilt and remorse for how I behaved. I’d uprooted my entire life to get away from the crippling embarrassment. And this whole time, I was hiding from my own shadow.

I can’t help but think what might’ve been different now if I’d stayed. If I had the courage to get myself cleaned up without having to change zip codes. Did I need to remove temptation to get sober, or had I underestimated myself? Had I left to escape my worst instincts, or because I was afraid how everyone would react?

We both glance behind us at the sound of Kayla’s kids laughing and squealing in delight. Harrison is probably enthralling them with a magic trick. Some more of his world-renowned comedy stylings.

“He’s good with them,” she remarks, putting her sunglasses back on.

Of course he is. Harrison has a natural ease with just about everyone, a sincere goodness that disarms people. Especially with kids, who see everything.

She tips her head curiously. “That your new boyfriend?”

“No. It’s only been a couple dates.”

Watching Harrison with the kids, I suddenly hear Evan’s voice in my head. I flash back to the night at our spot, the two of us naked under the stars while he mused about kids and a family. The preposterous notion of Evan as a stay-at-home dad, his motorcycle rusting in the yard. Sure.

Yet as difficult as that image is to conjure, it’s not entirely unattractive.

As Kayla and I part with a hug and no hard feelings, the mayor of Avalon Bay takes the mic on a small platform in front of the marina to announce the race participants. I half tune him out, at least until a familiar name greets my ears.

“—and Evan Hartley, sailing with Riley Dalton.”

My head jerks up, and I nearly choke on the melted remnants of my lemon slush at the sound of Evan’s name. I would think I’m hallucinating if not for Harrison raising an eyebrow at the same time.

Huh.

I wonder if Evan remembers he can’t sail.





CHAPTER 21

EVAN

“Mistakes were made.”

Riley laughs.

“That much is clear. It may have started when I steered us into another boat coming off the starting line. It may have been when we failed to make the first turn around the buoy. Who’s to say, really?”

A hysterical noise escapes his throat, a cross between a snort and a howl. Riley hasn’t stopped laughing since we rammed the dock. No, not rammed. We nudged the dock. Rammed would suggest a great rate of speed, which I don’t think we achieved during the entire race.

Sopping wet, I wring out my T-shirt over the railing of the boardwalk while the trophy presentation kicks off at the other end of the marina.

“Dude,” he chokes out between giggles. “We failed miserably.”