Reclaiming the Sand(83)

Not surprisingly, he didn’t pick up on my teasing, but he listened to my suggestion. His lips were gentle when they returned to mine and he kissed me with a passion that made my toes curl.

The wind picked up and swept my hair in our face and Flynn batted it away but he never stopped kissing me. His hand continued to hold my face while the other came up to wrap around me.

This was real. This was perfect.

This was absolutely right.

Flynn pulled away abruptly, his mouth tender and swollen. “I want to walk on the beach. Will you come with me?” he asked and my mind was still trying to play catch up from being overrun by my raging hormones.

“Uh, sure,” I said, blinking in confusion.

Flynn held my hand in his and called for Murphy, who was chewing on a piece of driftwood.

After the unexpected display of affection, I wasn’t sure what to say. I ran my fingers along my lips. They still tingled from being pressed to his. I noticed that Flynn’s face was flushed and I could tell he was worked up. But I also knew that we had once again hit his invisible wall.

We were only able to physically connect so much. But something told me he was trying to push himself for more. And that both thrilled and frightened me.

We had been walking for twenty minutes when Flynn stopped suddenly.

“What do you think those are for?” he asked, pointing to large boat with what looked like a crane on the end just off shore. It rumbled loudly as it scooped sand and deposited it closer to the break line.

I watched the machinery at work for a while and then realized what it was doing.

“I think it’s reclaiming the beach,” I told him.

“It’s loud, can we walk a bit longer?” Flynn asked, covering his ears. I nodded and whistled for Murphy again as we quickly moved away from the boat.

Once it was quieter, Flynn lowered his hands again.

“It was making the beach bigger,” he stated.

“Yeah, it seemed that way. You know how the beach erodes away after a while and those must put the sand back,”

Flynn nodded. “The sea takes it away, until there’s nothing left. And the boat puts it back.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I agreed. Flynn stopped walking and suddenly sat down on the sand. I joined him, followed by Murphy who tried to wiggle his way between us, resting his head on Flynn’s lap.

Flynn placed his hand on Murphy’s large head and stared off into the distance at the machinery still dredging up the sand.

“It’s important to put it back. If they don’t, the beach will disappear,” Flynn said, still watching the sand being reclaimed.

“You’re right,” I said softly, my words floating out on the wind.

We sat huddled together in the cooling air, watching as the boat returned the beach to where it belonged.

I sat there, the waves crashing in their soothing symphony and realized I was like the sea eating away at the beach. I had taken and destroyed heedlessly. I had grabbed Flynn’s sand and carried it away, not caring about the consequences.

And in the process I had washed away and lost myself.

But Flynn had scooped me up and put me back where I belonged. He gave me my beach back.

I wiped away the tears that were suddenly dripping down my face. I sniffled, trying not to draw attention to my blubbering.

Of course Flynn noticed the one time I had counted on his obliviousness.

“You’re crying. Are you sad?” he asked, frowning. He reached out and wiped the tears from my face, rubbing the wetness between his fingers as he tried to work out what was wrong with me.

I scrubbed my face with my hands. “I’m not sad, Flynn. I’m just thankful. Thankful that you came into my life and changed me. I was such a miserable bitch before you came back.” I hung my head in shame.

“Don’t cuss, Ellie,” Flynn scolded.

“Sorry,” I muttered, my lips quirking upwards into a smile.

“But I was. I was horrible. I treated you so badly, Flynn. How were able to forgive me? How can you stand to touch me after everything I’ve done?” I was crying in earnest now. The girl who never shed a tear was sobbing like a baby.

Flynn didn’t put his arm around me. He didn’t comfort me as others would have tried to do. He simply watched me cry with a curious expression on his face. Murphy lifted his nose and nudged my arm as though asking what was wrong.

“Don’t cry. It makes me feel sad. Like I want to cry too,” Flynn said, his face pained.

I tried to stop. I really did. But it was like a dam had broken and years of repressed tears came flooding out.

“I’m so sorry, Flynn. For everything. For calling you names. For being your friend and then taking that friendship away because I was a coward. For not standing up for you when I should have. For not being stronger,” I babbled. I was a snotty mess. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, disgusted.

Flynn didn’t respond to my apology. He continued to watch me as I cried myself out.

“I know you’re sorry, Ellie,” he said when I had calmed down.

“Huh?” I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly.

“I know you’re sorry, Ellie. You weren’t very nice to me. You made me feel angry and sad and I cried a lot because of you. But now you make me smile. You laugh and I laugh and we have fun together. You want to be with me and I want to be with you. We belong together,” he said with complete conviction and an emotion I hadn’t heard in his voice before.