Page 37 of Ghost on the Shore

She lowers herself to sit across from me on the floor. “Tough love? We tried that approach when he first got home and wrecked my father’s truck.”

I don’t want or need the reminder. Wreck the truck? Eli was trying to plow head-on into a tree. That was attempt number two. “Sorry. I know this hasn’t been easy on you.”

“I thought he was doing great a few months ago. When you came to stay, he was definitely starting to turn it around. Now he’s taking two steps back for every step forward.”

Her words hit their mark. “You think I’m not doing enough for him?”

“I didn’t say that, Damien.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking.” I gesture for her to turn her head so I can stand up and pull on my jeans from the night before. “It’s what I’m thinking, too.”

Her gaze travels over my body before she meets my eyes again. I’m not vain, don’t think I’m God’s gift to women or anything, but I’m wishing I had a shirt handy to cover myself right now because she’s eyeing me like I’m her very own dirty fantasy come to life. I head towards the kitchen, looking around, but then remember that my shirt from last night is in the trash, stained with that poor guy’s blood after I helped him back to his car and begged him not to press charges against Eli.

“I’m just asking, is she worth it?”

I’m glad Gianna can’t see my face right now because my eyes are daggers. Fuck you, fuck him, fuck all of this.I’m one person, I want to tell them.I’m not some superhero who can magically cure Eli.

I take my time measuring out the coffee, and say nothing as the machine hisses and the pot fills. A few quiet minutes pass before I turn back to her and say, “I’m in love with Grace.”

I want to be clear, leave no doubt on where it is that I stand, but maybe I also want to wound Gianna. And once the words are out of my mouth, I know I’ve succeeded in doing at least one thing today.

I expect her to say something mean, to mask her hurt and hit me back, but she doesn’t. She looks away and then turns back a moment later. “What is it about me?” When I don’t answer, she presses, “What is it? Men like me for a night, a few weeks tops, but then they move on. I just want to know why.”

Fuck.

Nasty Gianna is easier to deal with. I can hate her, blame her for the desperate sadness that’s filling me when I think about how little time I have left with Grace. But this girl in front of me now? She’s Gianna at seventeen: clueless and earnest and lost.

“You’re a good person. I see that whenever you’re around Eli. You’re caring, you’re thoughtful...”

“But?”

“You’re not so nice to people you don’t know, and you act like people are beneath you sometimes.”

“Is that what Grace says about me?”

“Honestly, she doesn’t talk about you at all.” That’s a lie, but I’m not about to drag Grace into this. “It’s what I see. The night you met her is a good example, though. You were mean to her for no reason.”

“I didn’t know that was you! All I saw was some girl letting a guy feel her up in the middle of the bar!”

I sip my coffee, give myself a moment, because it’s hard to keep my voice low and even when I respond to that bullshit. “First off, I wasn’t feeling her up...That’s ridiculous. And second, you just proved my point. It shouldn’t have mattered if she was with me or not. You were rude, plain and simple, and you tried your best to make her feel like shit.”

“I apologized.”

“A half-assed apology.”

She stews on that for a minute before whispering, “I didn’t like it.”

“What?”

She swallows and then meets my eyes. “I didn’t like watching you kiss her.”

I shake my head, knowing where this is going. “Gianna...”

She stands and makes her way over until she’s standing less than a foot in front of me. “I wanted it to be me. I wanted you to be kissing me again.”

“That was a lifetime ago.”

“Maybe for you,” she places her palm over my bare chest, “but I still think about it all the time.”

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