Reclaiming the Sand
Page 78

Then the doors opened and Flynn rushed passed me into the hallway. Murphy tried to pull me after him, thinking it was a game. Flynn found our room quickly and I handed him the key. Once we were inside, I stood there, gaping in shock.
The room was huge! A king sized bed dominated a good portion of the room. But there was also a small seating area with a coffee table and television. A desk was pushed against the wall with a floor lamp beside it. There was a coffee maker and a microwave and a small refrigerator tucked into the wardrobe.
But it was the view that held me captive. The entire far wall consisted of sliding glass doors that led out to a small balcony overlooking the rolling ocean. The sun was sitting low in the sky, cutting a path of color along the water.
Murphy trotted inside and jumped up on the bed, making himself right at home. Flynn closed the door behind him and looked around.
“It’s clean. That’s good,” he said, clutching his hands together. He was nervous. I was awestruck.
I walked toward the glass doors, feeling the pull of the sand below us. I pressed my hand against the glass.
“It’s beautiful!” I breathed.
Flynn didn’t respond, not that I expected him to. I couldn’t believe I was here and it was all thanks to the man behind me, whose nerves radiated off him like the waves crashing along the shore.
I turned to face him and found that he hadn’t moved any farther into the room. I bit down on my resentful irritation. Why couldn’t he be normal just this once? I thought hatefully before I could stop myself.
And then I felt guilty for thinking that at all. I wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for Flynn. He was doing this for me. For him. For the both of us. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed by things he couldn’t control.
But it didn’t stop me from wishing like a selfish brat that he’d suck it up, just this once.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It’s not his fault. I reminded myself over and over again. He did this for you.
I opened my eyes and crossed the room back to Flynn. I picked up our suitcases and put them on the bed. “Let’s unpack and put things in their places. You can make sure you’re comfortable before we decide what to do next,” I suggested.
Flynn nodded and joined me by the bed. The next hour was spent taking out clothes and hanging them in the wardrobe. Then he placed his toiletries in the bathroom exactly how they were positioned on his sink at home. He and I looked in all the nooks and crannies until he knew the room inside and out.
I saw that he was starting to calm down. He had stopped rubbing his hands, though he continued to gnaw on his bottom lip.
I found Murphy’s bowls and filled them with food and water. He scarfed it down quickly and then resumed his nap on the bed.
“Do you want to go to the beach?” I asked, hoping he’d say yes, though deep down knowing better.
Flynn sat down tentatively on the bed. “I don’t know,” he said, turning his attention to the glass doors. I was dying to go for a walk on the sand. To get my toes wet in the waves. But I couldn’t rush him.
“How about we open the doors and walk out on the balcony first. See how you feel about it after that,” I prompted.
Flynn stared out the window for a while longer then nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, though he still sounded nervous.
I opened the sliding doors and waited for Flynn before stepping outside. There was a strong breeze coming off the ocean and I felt the salt sticking to my skin. I licked my lips, tasting it on my mouth.
“It’s cold,” Flynn said.
“Do you want a sweater?” I asked him. He shook his head.
“No, I’m okay.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the picture before us.
“What do you think? Is it as horrible as last time?” I asked.
Flynn shrugged his shoulders. “It smells just as bad. Like fish. It’s gross. And I don’t like how sticky my skin feels. I need to wash my hands,” he held his palms out like they were bothering him.
I took one of them in mine and squeezed. “I think they feel just fine,” I told him.
Flynn smiled but was still looking out at the ocean.
“It’s pretty,” he said quietly.
“It is,” I nodded.
“I like being here with you. It makes me happy. Does it make you happy?” he asked, sounding worried.
I turned him by his shoulders so that he was facing me. I lightly grasped his chin between my fingers and pulled his face so that he was finally looking at me. I rubbed my thumb along his lower lip.
“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. Thank you, Flynn, for bringing me here with you,” I said sincerely.
Flynn’s shy smile caused my heart to twist in my chest. This strange emotion surging forth inside me that I knew without a doubt was love, made tears sting my eyes.
We stood that way for a while; our hands clasped together, the breeze from the ocean swirling around us. I laid my head against his chest and felt the thud of his heart beneath my ear, lulling me with its steady comfort.
Flynn’s hands pulled away from mine and then came up to press into my back as he held me. He so rarely put his arms around me that I soaked up the moment.
“I love you, Flynn,” I told him, not expecting or even needing a response. And it didn’t hurt when I didn’t get one. I knew he loved me. His actions had always told me what I needed to hear.
“I have something for you,” he said after a few minutes. I looked up at him to find his green eyes dancing.