Page 4 of Never Forever

He’d always been a sucker for my hair. A million times in the back of his stupid truck he’d pull out my pony tail and run his hands through my long hair.

“Don’t do this, Carrie,” he growled.

“Do what, Matt?” I asked, pursing my lips. “I’m just home to make a movie. Boosting the local economy. Bringing in some tourists. I’m going to spend time with my family. I’m going to eat at Pappas’ diner and get coffee at Common Grounds.” I was inches away from him now. Close enough that I could smell him. Man and sea and sun. If someone could figure out how to bottle the way Matt Sullivan smelled, they’d make a mint.

It went to my knees like it always did.

But I stayed strong.

With my perfectly manicured nail, I pointed into his chest. “And you, ferry boat captain, are going to take me out to the island whenever I decide I want to go. What do you have to say about that?”

He wrapped his fingers around the one I’d drilled into his wide chest.

No. No. Absolutely not. No touching. Not ever. I struggled to pull my finger free but he held tight. Sudden unwanted tears burned behind my eyes.

“You really want to do this? Make everything as hard as possible?” he asked, his green eyes locked on mine.

“Oh, Matt?” I gave him my sultriest smile as I lowered my eyes down his body “Am I making something hard?”

He dropped my hand and stepped back like I was made of poison. We stood there, breathing hard, staring at each other.

“That’s how it’s going to be?” He asked.

“I have no idea what you mean,” I shot back, examining my nails.

“You want to go to war.”

“Well,” I said, pretending to think about it, but inside I was sharpening my knives and building my defenses. “We did love once upon a time. Or at least I thought it was love. So yeah, I do. Let’s go to war, Matt.”

1

When They Were Kids

Matt

When I was ten I learned the two most important lessons of my whole life the exact same day, at the exact same time.

I had the stomach flu and it wasn’t like Dad could stay home with me, so I went to work with him instead. Which was a-okay with me. I loved the ferry. I loved the view from the windows. I loved coming into the piers and snapping into action, tying lines and putting out the bumpers. I loved leaving the piers, walking the lines to the end and making that big jump over the water from the pier to the deck.

But today I couldn’t work, I had my book, a blanket, a puke bowl next to me just in case and a cozy spot in the cockpit of the ferry boat, out of sight of passengers.

Dad gave me Sprite he’d shaken up so it was flat and all the soda crackers I could eat.

“Just stay here, boyo,” he said. “And stay quiet. We don’t want to get in trouble.”

The last thing I wanted, ever, was to get my Dad in trouble.

I curled into that nest of blankets and opened up my new library book, The Giver, which was awesome. But the flat Sprite and soda crackers didn’t help. Neither did the waves.

I did okay on the way to the island, but on the way back we hit the wake of some of the fishing boats heading out for the day. I curled up over my puke bowl and heaved.

“Jaysus, son,” I heard Dad mutter and he was beside me. He’d been my age when he’d first come to this country, but his Irish brogue never really left him. I always thought it made him seem cooler than all the other dads.

His wide cool hand stroked the sweaty hair off my forehead as my stomach continued to roll. The ferry climbed a big wave and came down with a smack on the other side. Hard enough my teeth clicked together, and Dad rocked off balance.

“Shit,” Dad muttered. “That’ll stir him up.”

There was only onehimin our lives. Mr. Piedmont. He wasn’t Dad’s boss. Dad’s boss worked at town hall and had the good lollipops in his desk. He always invited Dad and me to Sunday BBQs at his house.

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