Page 1 of Tides That Bind

THEN

I wishI didn’t come.

It’s not that I don’t belong. Nate’s an only child, and we’re more than brothers. Siblings don’t really get much choice. I’m speaking from experience. They’re the first to rat you out, to feed you to the lions’ den even as kids when it comes to answeringwho broke this god damn vasewhen you were already told not to play ball in the house.

As teenagers, they’ll snitch on you for sneaking out when you’re grounded, for filling a Sprite bottle with vodka. Siblings will be the first to say you cut class, that you gave the homeless man who stands outside 7-Eleven an extra ten bucks to get you a 40 ounce beer and a pack of Marlboro Reds on the eve of your eighteenth birthday.

Or at least, that’s been my experience with my sister, Caroline, who has been nothing but my arch nemesis since day one. It’s only now, at the ripe age of twenty-nine, I’ve grown to tolerate her in microdoses.

But somewhere along the line in middle school, I found my chosen brother. Or maybe, he found me. I just happened to be underwater, tangled in seaweed and the cord of my boogie board. I probably should’ve been wearing water wings but I was young, idiotic, and fresh from Chicago where I thought Lake Michigan was majestic.

It was nothing compared to the gnarly Pacific.

As if the phantom pain of the boogie board cord is forever burned into my body, so is the feeling of Nate’s hand—not much bigger than mine at the time—latching on and yanking me into fresh, beautiful oxygen. Nate saved me before he knew me.

It’s fitting he went on to join the Marines, even though if you ask me, Nate is too good of a person to be sacrificed for someone else’s war. And me? It’s not that I’m bad. I just happen to be a littlemefocused, and Nate focuses on everyone before himself.

Like me.

Or Harper.

I have a hard time calling the petite blonde standing between me and Nate his wife, because, even though I see her every day, I hardly know her. It was like poof, she just appeared out of nowhere when Nate returned to Oceanside after being stationed in North Carolina three months ago, slapping me with a surprise.

This is Harper. My wife.

Slap.

She’s pregnant.

Double slap.

Harper is in her usual defensive mode, the way she always is when I’m around, her arms folded across her chest, eyes avoiding mine. I guess I could cut her some slack. How are you supposed to act when you’re about to send someone off to war anyway?

But I have a feeling that no matter how Harper intends to do that, her plans don’t involve me. And, if you ask her, I don’t just not fit in here. I don’t fit in anywhere in her life, especially in the apartment above Nate’s garage where I’ve lived since he bought the place before he left to North Carolina well over a year ago.

Harper’s icy stare melts when Nate drops his rucksack, taking her hand. I try not to stare, to give them a moment of privacy, and that’s out of respect for him. Harper I really could care less about. Because by the time Caroline outgrew her role as the life-long villain in my story, Harper entered the picture as her understudy.

It’s Nate I feel bad for. Maybe he’s had one too many guns go offnear his head during training. Because I cannot, for the life of me, understand what he sees in her, apart from maybe her ass and the fact that she always seems to smell good even when she’s sweating. Beyond that, she’s rigid and walks around with a rule for this, a rule for that, and zero personality.

And yet, Nate hugs Harper and smiles. He’s got a kid on the way with a woman he hardly knows and is about to go to Afghanistan and he’s fucking smiling like he’s never been happier.

I turn around completely, trying not to stare at Harper’s slightly rounded stomach between them.

“Riley.”

Harper brushes against my arm as she walks past. I don’t miss how she flinches. But I don’t care either.

When I turn, Nate stands tall again, soldier like.

I pull my hand from out of my pocket and awkwardly scratch the back of my head. My shaggy hair, now long enough to secure with a rubber band is a stark contrast to the sea of crew cuts around me.

“Enough with the goodbyes already.”

“I know. It’s just…” Nate looks over my shoulder and I turn my head, following his gaze. Harper has made her way to the parking lot.

When I face him, Nate shoves something into my hand. “If something happens to me—”

With no hesitation, I push the envelope back to him. “Get the hell out of here. Nothing’s happening to you.”

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