Can't Get Over You (Fortune's Island, Book 2) (11 page)

“What about me?”

“I know you love Mom and Dad, but I also know you don’t want to be asking, ‘Would you like fries with that’ for the rest of your life.”

She laughed. “No, I don’t.”

“Then what are you doing about it?”

She hesitated a long time, then leaned across the table and lowered her voice. Carter was right. Watching their parents struggle over the years had left an impression on Jillian. There’d been years so busy and profitable, it was all they could do to hold on for the wild ride, and keep up with the steady flood of customers. Then, there were other years where business had dried up like grapes left in the sun too long. It had all made her a little reluctant to go into a career that was just as mercurial. Waitressing might not be glamorous, but if she was frugal, it paid the bills.

Still, a part of Jillian wanted—no, craved—more. She wanted to step off this little world she inhabited and go after something bigger, riskier. She was tired of being cautious, of hiding her dreams under a rock by the sea.

Maybe it was time she told somebody and made the leap into making her dreams public knowledge. Well, maybe not a leap, more like a baby step. Either way, she needed to do something, rather than sit on the sidelines and wait for a moment that may never come. “If I tell you,” Jillian said, “you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not Mom, not Dad, not even Darcy.”

Carter grinned. “If you’re about to tell me you’ve suddenly become the next cocaine kingpin on Fortune’s Island, I don’t want to hear it.”

Jillian laughed. “No, I’m not a cocaine kingpin. Do we even have one of those on this island?”

“Well, there’s Marty, who’s the pot kingpin. Though I’m pretty sure he smokes everything he grows.”

That made Jillian laugh some more. “I’m not doing that, either. I’m…” She glanced around, didn’t see anyone she knew, but lowered her voice to a whisper anyway. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her stomach tied in knots. Once she told Carter, she’d be taking a giant
step forward. One she couldn’t undo. Maybe, though, it was about time she did this. “I’m going to college.”

Carter wrinkled his brows. “And why is that a big secret?”

“I’m going to music college. And I’m just doing it to have fun. Learn a little.” Okay, so she’d partially chickened out at the last minute and downplayed what she was doing.

“So you are spending thousands of dollars and countless hours pursuing a degree…for fun?” Carter arched a brow.

“Well, it’s music. And you know what that industry is like. I mean, look at Zach.” At that, she turned and glanced through the glass doors. Zach and The Outsiders were playing their next song, a peppy cover of an 80s hit.

“Seems to me somebody might have a dream career that she’s not telling anyone about.” Carter leaned in. “Am I right?”

“No, it’s just for fun. I mean, I might not even finish. I’m just taking a couple classes, nothing more. Seriously.” She got to her feet. The reality was that most musicians barely made enough money to eat. It was better for her to keep the steady job and forget this pipedream. “I have to get back to work.”

Carter grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “You’re an incredible singer, Jillian. You should do something with that. And with this degree you’re pretending you’re only getting for ‘fun’.”

“How do you know I can sing?”

“I grew up with you, remember? I used to think there was a cow dying in the next room until I realized it was you, trying to be Madonna.”

She slugged him, hard this time. “Shut up. I hate you.”

“You love me.” He grinned at her. “Everyone loves me. And everyone is going to love listening to you sing, if you quit being such a weenie about it.”

“I’m not a weenie. I’m just not…ready.” Okay, so maybe she was just terrified. But either way, the end result was the same.

She’d made two major changes in her life in the last few months—breaking up with Zach and enrolling in college—but had yet to take this one final step. Singing into her iPhone’s video lens wasn’t the same as performing in front of people, not even close.

Carter snorted. “You know, we are more alike than you think. I’m scared as hell to go out on my own, you’re scared as hell to perform for anyone other than the cat.”

“I don’t even have a cat. Singing in front of a pet would be a huge step forward for me.” She grinned, then shook her head. “You’re right. And I hate that.”

“Couple of scaredy-cats here. And you know, I don’t blame you for being scared. Sometimes something bad happens—”

“We’re not talking about that. And it has nothing to do with me singing in public.”

“Fair enough. Maybe it doesn’t. But I think that one bad scary thing can impact everything else in your life more than you think. Or admit to.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

Could that night she’d been attacked impact her psyche more than she realized? Or was she just trying to apply some really bad Dr. Phil analysis to herself?

“I’ll tell you what. If you sing, in public, meaning in front of more than just your own reflection, I will take the leap with Brian and open shop here.”

“You’d quit your job and go into business for yourself, if I sing?”

He nodded. “Yup. We make the leap together, remember?”

That warmed her heart and coaxed a smile across her face. “That was when I was seven and scared to dive into the ocean. You took my hand and jumped with me.” Her brother had always been like that, the kind who would never leave anyone behind, never leave Jillian scared or alone. He’d been there when she had a bad dream or a terrible date or a big decision to make. Taken her hand and given her that quiet, confident smile that said he believed she could do it. The same smile he had on his face right now. “I’ll think about it,” she said, then put up a hand before he could argue his case further. “For now, I have to go back to the job that pays me in real money, not imaginary checks.”

# # #

Zach finished his set, then looked around The Love Shack for Jillian. He saw her, across the room, laughing with one of the customers. A little flicker of jealousy ran through him at whoever was coaxing that musical laugh out of her.

The kiss they’d shared earlier still burned in his memory. He wanted more, so much more. He wanted everything to be the way it used to be. He stepped off the stage, heading across the wide plank floor toward her, that invisible tether that had existed from the very first day they’d met pulling him.

Before he could reach her, Jillian gave the customer a wave, called out a goodbye to Darcy and Carter, then slipped out the door. Damn.

“Missed His Chance” should be his new middle name. He debated running after her, but it was too late. He glimpsed the roof of her car pulling away from the restaurant.

Zach crossed to the bar and slid onto a stool. He ordered a soda he didn’t want, and clasped the cold glass with his palms. Whit, Jillian’s father, dropped onto the stool beside him.

“How you doin’, son?” Whit said.

Son.
Zach had always liked Jillian’s dad, and especially liked the way the older man had accepted Zach into the family as if he were already blood. Both of Jillian’s parents treated him like one of their own. He’d been invited to family dinners and barbecues, birthday parties and Christmas Day gift-giving, always with a gift or two under the tree for him. Zach had felt more comfortable in the Mathesons’ three-bedroom bungalow than he ever had in the house on the cul-de-sac where he’d grown up.

Whit and Grace were good people, the kind Zach wished he’d had as parents. Maybe then he and his brother would have turned out differently. “I’m okay.”

“I know it’s rough,” Whit said, “what with seeing Jillian near every day here. You guys still not talking?”

“We’re…talking.” If you could call kissing talking. Zach wasn’t about to tell her father that, though. He was pretty sure the acceptance branch only went so far. “But we’re not getting back together. She’s pretty adamant about that.”

The bartender left Whit an ice water, then moved down the other end to help a group of women who had just come in. Whit took a sip, taking his time before he spoke again, the way he often did. Whit was a man who thought things through, who rarely wasted a sentence. Every conversation with Whit was part exercise in patience, part
The Waltons
wisdom. “Did I ever tell you about the time my Gracie broke my heart?” he said.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Damned near killed me. I thought I lost her for good. She was a lot like our Jilly,” Whit said. “Smart, and determined, and not about to wait for some man to get his act together.”

Zach chuckled. The laughter burned his throat because the truth had hit a nerve. All this time, he’d thought he had his act together, had everything he ever wanted—until he saw that ring sitting on his amp and realized he was lying to himself. “That’s Jillian, all right.”

“Now, I know you have your dreams,” Whit said, laying a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “And I think that’s great. Everyone should have a dream. And the chutzpah to go after it.”

“That’s what I’m doing. Got an audition coming up and everything. Could turn into something. Or not.” Zach shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, though. Jillian wants me to quit music and get a regular job. Put on a suit and tie or something.”

“Did she actually say that?”

“Well, not in so many words. She said she wanted me to show her that being with her was a priority. Meaning, more important than my music, my career.”

“You think you can’t have both? The dream and the girl?”

“I think the quote-unquote ‘having-it-all’ thing is a Hollywood fantasy,” Zach said. He thought of his father, who was still bitter, decades later, about being forced into a job that paid well but left him no time for his own hobbies. And his brother, who had been smart and popular and should have ended up graduating top of his class, but was instead sitting in a jail cell.

“It’s simple, son,” Whit said. “You just gotta decide which one matters more, and then put the majority of your eggs in that basket. Life is about balance. Doing what you love, yes, but always putting the people you love at the top of your list. I almost learned that lesson too late myself.”

In other words, start acting like a grown-up, responsible man with a wife and two-car garage. Like Duff, who was giving the band one more shot before he quit to take a job at his dad’s HVAC company. Duff had decided that the regular paycheck that paid for diapers and
minivans was more important. Zach could understand that—he could see how happy Duff was with his wife, with the baby on the way. But he also didn’t want to end up like his father in ten years.

“I want both,” Zach said. “I just don’t see how I can make that work.”

Whit spun his straw, sending the ice cubes in his drink into a tinkling mini-tornado. “When I was twenty-two, I got a job offer to work a lobster boat up in Maine. I thought it would be great. Spend my season out on the water, hauling pots, making cash. Gracie wasn’t happy. At all.”

“Why not?”

“Because I had a good job here. We were living on the mainland then, and I was working for a property management company. Doing just about anything they asked of me. Regular paycheck, regular hours. Nothing fancy.” Whit nodded. “It was a good job.”

“But it wasn’t exciting and fun.”

“Exactly. I thought lobstering was going to be it. Go out there, haul up the pots while the sun beat on you and the ocean sprayed you with waves. Gracie told me I’d regret it, that I wasn’t going to like making money here and there, rather than every week, and that she wasn’t going to marry a guy who went off on some fool’s errand because he read too many Robert Louis Stevenson books.” Whit chuckled. “Damn, it hurt my ears to hear that.”

“What’d you do?”

Across the room, a table of four burst into laughter. Whit waited for the sound to subside before he continued. “What any stubborn man would do. Decided to prove her wrong. I quit my job, thumbed my way up to Maine, because my car was too old to make the trip, and signed on
with the lobster boat. The first week, I made five dollars.” He splayed a palm. “That was it. Five bucks.”

“Five bucks? That sucks. Why so little pay?”

“Let’s just say the captain of the boat liked naps too much and Sam Adams even more.” Whit shook his head. “We hardly ever went out. The pots were falling apart, which meant the lobsters escaped more often than not. I damned near starved the first two weeks I worked there.”

“Did you come back?”

“Hell, no. I figured that would be failure. And remember, I’m a stubborn old coot.” The bartender swung by, gave a nod when he saw their drinks were still full, then moved on to a couple of guys who had just sat down at the other end. Whit steepled his fingers and went on. “So I stayed up there, and signed on with another boat. I made money there, but a week in, I realized I hated being out on the water in the sun every day, killing time between pots, then doing the same thing over and over and over again. I missed my other job, I missed my home, and I missed Gracie like someone had cut me in half.”

“That’s how I feel without Jillian.” Zach sighed. A couple sitting at a nearby table leaned into each other for a kiss. Zach had to look away because it hurt something deep inside him, thinking that used to be him and Jillian, before he’d screwed it up. “It sucks.”

Whit nodded, his eyes kind with sympathy. “I couldn’t live without my Gracie. I think that’s what you gotta decide. If you are better with her or without her. Me, I knew I was better with Gracie. Always have been, always will. Soon as I got a clue—and some of us are slower to do that than others—I saved up enough money to come home, though I didn’t know for sure if there was anything to come home to. Mind you, she wouldn’t talk to me the whole time I was
gone. Didn’t answer my phone calls, didn’t reply to my letters. I was expecting her to close the door in my face when I got there.”

Obviously, she hadn’t done that, because Whit and Grace had been married forever. They were one of the happiest couples Zach had ever seen. They worked together all day, then went home at night, often arm in arm.

Ian and Duff were settling in behind their instruments on the stage. Ian gave Zach a
what’s-up, dude
look. Zach put up a hand, and turned back to Whit. Right now, knowing the answer to how Whit won Grace back was more important than anything else. “How did you make it up to her?” Zach asked.