“I’llbefine.”
He runs his hand up and down my bare back a few times before standing up, leaving chilling spots where the warmth of his hand just was, and I watch him walk back to Dylan. I watch the defined muscles in his back flexing with each step and the way his ass fills up his board shorts a little too perfectly. I should just tell him to get over himself. No one wants to look at your stupidass.Jerk.
For the lastten long minutes of my life, I have never felt more helpless. I’ve been consoling myself when I should have been consoling Dylan, as well as tending to his injury. I’m sucking at this job, and it’s the first real day—probably thelast,too.
I ignore my pride and look for where I dropped my cover-up, sunglasses, and sandals. I snatch them up, along with a pile of sand, and head back over to Liam. Obviously, I’m seeking another verbalbeating.
With no words to explain my stupidity, I silently stand beside him watching Sterling continue to teach the kids. “You’re coming down here with me tomorrow morning at seven. I’ll give you a quick swim lesson,” Liam states, sounding a bit disgruntled. I suppose I should be gracious, but that would require me to forget all the lovely remarks he’s offered metoday.
He did save my ass, though. God, it’s like he practices professional mindfuckery.
I decide to swallow my pride, and I nod in agreement. “Okay, I’ll be here.” As I’m accepting his somewhat commanding offer, I recall Sterling proposing the same type ofhelp.Crap.
“Dylan is a good kid,” Liam says, still holding his focus solidly on the pool of water the kids are doinglapsin.
“I’m sureheis.”
“He’s had it rough these last few years.” My curiosity is piqued with hopes ofinsight.
“How so?” I ask, looking toward him. I notice he doesn’t match my glance, so I shift my direction back to the water, assuming I should also be keeping an eye on Dylan.I have babysat before. I was the oldest kid on my street, and there were four other families with kids under the age of seven when I was fourteen. I raked in the dough for a good four years. Those kids all lived a similar life to the one I did, though, and it was easy to care for them. There isn’t much difficulty when it comes to opening the back door and letting a bunch of kids roam freely until the sun sets—that’s one good thing about living in the country. Putting aside the mention of high-functioning Asperger’s, Dylan seems to have been raised with white gloves. There’s nothing wrong with that, but this lifestyle is very different from what I’m used to and my understanding of it is limited. I have no idea whether Dylan’s behavior has anything to do withmoney.
“Dylan’s dad took off a few years ago, around the time he was diagnosed with Asperger’s.” The explanation seems frail and weak. At the same time, it’s like a stab to my heart. I know how it feels to be abandoned by a parent, so my heart breaks a little forDylan.
“Oh,” is all I can manage to offer as a response. If I say any more, I might lose the self-control I’ve worked hard to maintain. Over the years, I’ve trained myself to shut off my emotions after Mom left us high and dry. I spent so many days and months crying for her, even as a teenager. I was sure a girl needed her mom during certain times in her life, but I’ve slowly come to realize that I only need what’s available to me, and I only need what people want to give. She isn’t that in my life. She hasn’t been, and most likely neverwillbe.
Despite my best efforts, my mother’s rejection is part of who I am, and I carry its memory with me regularly, like a vivid photograph, dangling in front of my face wherever I go, a filter I look at life through. Knowing a helpless child is going through that same pain brings forward an emotion I haven’t felt in years. I stare up at the sky, warning away the burning tears threatening to fall. That is the last thing I need at this moment. With a sharp inhale through my nose, I convince myself the tears are staying put and I’ll be okay, but the damn gravity and its force of nature cause a flood the second I tilt my headbackdown.
I turn away, avoiding Liam’s attention. I don’t need it, nor do I want it. With my face burning up in the sun as it is, I need some space from him, this conversation, and every thought trying to pry its way into my mind. I head toward the rocks a few feet away where I take a seat and replace my sunglasses over my now likelyredeyes.
The hour crawls by as I battle away thoughts and memories of the day Mom left us. She didn’t apologize or have an ounce of sorrow in her eyes. Just because I was fourteen didn’t mean I was ready to be without her. It wasn’t like we were ever super close, but I loved her unconditionally just like children tend to do under normal circumstances. I think it goes along with the whole, “we don’t choose who we’re born to” ideal. I loved her, but we weren’t close like Jade and her mom, who are nearly best friends. Jade’s mom loves me more than Mom loves me. I canfeelit.
While I’m lost in my own distress, Liam paces over to me while keeping his eyes on the water at the same time. “If you want to head back and start his lunch, I can get him dried off andbackhome.”
“I should probably stick around ... you know, shadow you and stuff.” Isn’t that the purpose of him being around us for the next few days? Other than playing house, ofcourse.
“Sure, whatever floats your boat.” He takes a seat next to me as the kids spring from the water, right into land laps. “You can’t be feeling sorry for him now that I told you that, and you can’t say a word to him about it.” Who is he to tell me not to feel sorry for him? I can feel whatever I wanttofeel.
“I won’t say anything about it to him.” I clear my throat because it sounds like I’ve been crying, and now he’s staring at me withquestion.
“Were you over here crying?” There is a hint of arrogance to his question, or at least I think it’s snide, but it’s hard to tell with him, seeing as I’ve experienced less than sixty seconds’ worth of pleasantness from him sincewemet.
“No,”Ilie.
He snatches my sunglasses off my face. “Yeah,okay.”
I grab them back. “Why are you such an ass?” I shout my question a little too loudly, and some of the kids, as well as Sterling, glance in ourdirection.
“I’m not anass,” he mocks me. “I’mprotective.”
“Of who?”Isnap.
“Who do you think,smarty?”
I force an angered snicker. “Considering how self-absorbed you are, I’d say you’re protecting yourself from something, but that seems tooobvious.”
“I’m not protecting myself, Julia. Especially against someone like you.” Again, he looks me up and down like he’s sizing me up. What is itwithhim?
“Okay, fine, you’re just a—a manservant, so who the hell are youprotecting?”
