Page 88 of Chasing Lynda

I’m about to protest that I’m just trying to be a good friend but she sighs, suddenly looking contrite.

“You’re right. I was sleeping in your cabana. But I didn’t know it was yours and I swear I feel terrible for taking Callie’s clothes. I—”

I finish the sentence for her. “You lost your rucksack on the beach the first night we saw you.”

She nods. “Yeah. I didn’t have any money and nowhere to go.”

Lynda doesn’t say anything else and I’m cautious, choosing my words very carefully when I ask her my next question. “So did you just arrive in town the night those assholes tried to put their hands on you? Were you planning on looking for a job? Or was it just for the weekend?” Fuck, Carter is right. At this rate, I’ll scare her off.

“I don’t know, Zane.” She sighs. “I—I’ve been drifting from place to place after ...”

Her voice fades away and it’s obvious how much it pains her to talk about her past. “After what happened with your ex?” I supply.

She sighs. “Yeah. Like I said to you that night at the pier, he forced himself on me. I can’t remember anything about what actually happened because he roofied me, but when I came to there was blood everywhere and I ended up in the hospital.”

I know I should let her tell her story and that I risk her clamming up again if I interrupt her, but I can’t help it. “Bastard! I hope the asshole is rotting in jail!”

She laughs and there’s no mirth in it, it’s a bitter, sharp sound. “Yeah, well. Let’s just say that it didn’t stick. He bought his way out of it and he came back for me, so I had to go.”

There’s so much loneliness in the tone of her voice that just listening to her hurts. Once again, I can’t keep my mouth shut and ask her the question on the tip of my tongue. “But what about your parents? Couldn’t they help you get a restraining order or—”

“No.” Her answer is a swift and dry sound, as sudden as if she’d slapped me. “Zane, I swear the only way out was to just go. I told you my family was really strict. My parents approved of him. They pushed me to get engaged.”

I can’t imagine what she must’ve been through. “But surely after you ended up in the hospital and he was arrested—”

She shakes her head, laughing again. This time the sound is choked and a tear slides out of one of her eyes, burning a wet, hot track down her perfect, porcelain skin. “My father and my ex are business partners. I already told you that my dad approved. My ex made no mystery of the fact that he wanted to pick up where he left off. The only thing I could do was to disappear.”

Listening to Lynda’s story is physically painful; I feel as if someone is repeatedly punching me in the gut. “So you’ve been drifting from place to place for an entire year?”

She avoids my gaze again. “I had nowhere to go, Zane. My friends tried to help me as much as they could, but staying with them would’ve meant being found. They’re elite athletes and they don’t exactly go unnoticed. My ex is a paranoid creep, if he knew where I was, I wouldn’t be safe. That’s why I bolted on you that night, Zane. I realized you and your friends owned the resort and I was squatting in one of your cabanas. I couldn’t let you get too close because that cabana was one of the safest places I got to sleep in. I had nowhere else to go.”

Now she’s full on crying and I feel like a total piece of shit for forcing her to talk about a past that’s obviously still painful. “So that’s why you did the wet t-shirt contest? The prize money and the stay at the hotel?”

Her smile is just sad this time. “Yeah. I didn’t dare hope that I’d win. They were giving the contestants free lunch. I couldn’t pass up a free meal.”

Her story begins to make sense. I still have a ton of questions but I don’t know how much she’s willing to tell me before I push her too far again. I want to ask her why she didn’t go far away and started over. If she didn’t have money, why live on the streets and not get a job to make enough to get completely out of the reach of her ex and her father?

I’m about to say fuck it and voice my perplexities but then I realize that there’s something she isn’t telling me. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the fear in her eyes convinces me that her father and her ex must’ve had something on her to make her feel like she had to constantly run.

It’s the only thing that makes sense.

Lynda misunderstands my silence. “I know how this must sound, Zane. If you don’t want me here, I can—”

I shut her up with a kiss. Fuck, her mouth is so soft against mine. She doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back and before I know it, I have my arms around her and we’re kissing hard, as if nothing else mattered.

I don’t know what it is with this girl, aside from her obvious good looks, but she’s gotten under my skin and all I can think of is that I want more. I need more.

I break the kiss, cupping her jaw in my hand, keeping my forehead against hers. “Baby,” I whisper. “You know you can stay with us as long as you want, right? You’re safe here.”

She smiles and for the first time, it doesn’t look bitter. “Are you sure? I know you guys have enough on your plate without me complicating things. I don’t want to freeload off you either.”

I stroke a soft spot behind her ears. “We all want you here, Lynda. So don’t worry about money; but if it can make you feel better, maybe we can find you something to do at the resort? We can reopen the pier and all the stuff on the boardwalk. But just if you want to, let me be clear that you don’t need to.”

She seems to think about it and then nods. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. But maybe something that doesn’t put me too much in front of the public? I think my family believes I’m dead. So hopefully they aren’t looking for me anymore.”

I ask her what she means and she explains that my hunch was right. The paper had an obituary with her name on it.

“They think I’m the Jane Doe of last week’s fire.”

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