Reclaiming the Sand
Page 79

“You do?” I asked.
He walked into the room and I followed, closing the doors behind me.
Flynn dug into his bag and wrapped his hands around something small, concealing it with his fingers.
He held his arm out, his hand closed in a fist around the mystery object.
“Give me your hand,” Flynn said with a touch of his customary impatience.
I did as I was told and he placed something in my palm.
I looked down to find a miniature sand castle. I held it up to the light so I could see it better. It actually seemed to be made of sand. It glinted and sparkled as I moved it.
“This is amazing,” I enthused.
Flynn hung his head, not looking at me, but I could tell my appreciation of his artwork made him happy.
“It’s so you can remember coming to the beach. All of those other sculptures were of places you’ve never been. You’ve been here now. You should have a sculpture of a place you’ve actually seen,” he said, a hint of joy in his voice.
I curled my fingers around the tiny sand castle and held it over my heart. “Thank you, Flynn,” I said, my voice cracking and breaking.
Flynn didn’t say anything more, but his soft smile remained on his face.
26
-Ellie-
We decided to get dinner at the hotel. I didn’t think Flynn would be up to going someplace different. Not when he was just finally settling into his new environment. Even though I was dying to eat at one of the little seafood shacks that dotted the beach, I knew concessions would have to be made.
We left Murphy sleeping in the room and went down to the small bar. Flynn ordered a steak and I got clam chowder with a side of fries. The place was empty, and it was good for Flynn that we were the only customers.
The bartender tried to make polite conversation but soon realized Flynn wasn’t up for chitchat. After Flynn reminded him that he should be working and not talking to people that are trying to eat, the bartender left us to our dinner.
“He was just being nice, Flynn,” I said softly after the bartender left, his cheeks flushed in obvious embarrassment.
Flynn wasn’t concerned in the least for the bartenders hurt feelings. “I’m hungry. I want to eat. I don’t want to talk to someone I don’t know.” He reached out to take a handful of my fries and looked at my face.
“You don’t like it when I do that, do you?” he asked, his hand, filled with fries, hovering over my plate.
“Not really. You have your own food,” I pointed out. Flynn opened his fist and dropped my fries back onto my plate.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and returned to his steak.
“It’s okay,” I said and then took a few of my fries and put them on his plate.
“But I thought you didn’t want me to eat them?” he asked, confused, but picking one up and putting it in his mouth.
“It’s okay if I give them to you, Flynn. Just don’t take them without asking,” I explained.
He liked that explanation and he ended up eating all of my fries anyway.
After we finished our dinner and Flynn had paid a still very put out bartender, we wandered into the lobby.
Flynn seemed ready to head back to the room for the night. But I hated to waste the evening. I couldn’t go back up into the room without sticking my toes into the sand. I needed to feel it for myself. It was time to do a little pushing.
“Flynn, I’d really like to go out to the beach,” I said, bracing myself for his refusal.
Flynn was quiet, his hands shoved into his khakis. “Okay,” he said after a beat.
“Okay?” I asked, hardly able to believe how easy that had been.
His eyes met mine briefly before they skittered away again. “Yes. Let’s go to the beach. I know you want to see it. I want to make you happy.” I couldn’t stop my grin from spreading across my face. It stretched my cheeks so much it hurt.
“Let’s go get Murphy, we can walk him at the same time,” I said, sounding like a little kid.
We took the stairs instead of the elevator and hurried to our room to get the dog. I grabbed my coat and reminded Flynn to get a sweater knowing it would be cold and then we were heading back downstairs.
I could barely contain my excitement as we crossed the street to the stairs that led down onto the beach. I sat down on the bench and quickly removed my shoes and socks.
“Are you going to take your shoes off?” I asked Flynn.
He hesitated and I reached out to take his hand. “It’ll be okay,” I coaxed and he bent down and untied his shoes and slipped them off his feet. His toes curled and he made a face as his bare feet made contact with the sand covered pavement.
But he didn’t say anything, and I figured so far so good.
“Are you ready?” I asked, holding my hand out for him. Murphy had already taken off down the steps and was running circles in the sand. Flynn watched his dog for a few minutes before putting his hand in mine.
We walked down the steps and the second my feet hit the sand I giggled. Ellie McCallum actually freaking giggled!
I set my shoes down by the steps and walked forward a few feet, digging my toes in the still warm sand.
“Oh my god! This is unbelievable!” I gasped, bending down and burrowing my hands in the sand by my toes.
I realized quickly that Flynn was being extremely quiet behind me. I turned around and found him only a foot from the bottom stair. His feet were in the sand but he was definitely agitated.
“Flynn?”
“Just, leave me alone. Please,” he said, shaking his head furiously. I opened my mouth to say something else but decided to give him his space. I didn’t move any closer but I didn’t move away either. I sank down and sat down on the beach, watching Murphy burrow his nose in the sand and kick it up behind him as he raced to the shoreline.