The Witness (Miami Private Security #4)

36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Michael

W hat a way to ruin Christmas. I slammed the driver’s side door and paused to pull my shit together before I helped Sabrina out. I took a deep breath. The brine of the ocean air cleared the lingering scent of my mom’s perfume from my nose.

I opened the car door and held my hand out to Sabrina. She hopped from the car, pulling on a sweater. She didn’t say a word, but her green eyes shone with sympathy. Her pity made me uncomfortable. I was sure the unpleasant feeling wouldn’t be going away soon.

“Marney and I would walk the beach and talk. Not this beach, of course. We were in Miami back then.” I led her up the wooden stairs that topped the dunes and climbed back down the other side to the sand. We both kicked off our shoes, leaving them by the steps.

The Atlantic Ocean lapped the shore under a blue sky dotted with puffy clouds. A handful of brightly colored beach towels populated with tourists soaking up sun on their holiday vacations dotted the sand.

It was one of those Florida winter days that were warm in the sun and cold in the shade. The salty breeze carried the tiniest bite of winter chill.

“Are you going to be warm enough?” I asked her.

“I’m fine. Let’s walk.” She tugged my hand, taking me down to the water’s edge where the sand was firm and our feet in danger of getting wet.

I let her pull me along as thoughts raced through my head faster than the receding waves lapping at our toes. I needed to explain my family to Sabrina. She had already diagnosed the major malfunction: Marney’s death. But the rest of the damage had taken years to fester into the cold war she’d just experienced.

“Marney was the center of our family. She was bright and beautiful. Everyone loved to be around her.” I couldn’t look at Sabrina or I’d lose my shit. Talking about my sister was like pouring battery acid on an open wound. So I looked down at my feet, the sand, and the seashells.

“But…” she prompted softly when I’d stopped talking for about ten or fifteen steps.

“She was an addict.” I rolled my shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to let go of some of the tension balling them up by my ears. It felt like a betrayal to label Marney with such a cold, unfeeling title.

“Loving someone that loves their addiction more than themselves is devastating.”

“Yes.” Part of me wanted to stop the conversation right here. Sabrina had summarized everything that was wrong with the Steel family with that observation. We’d been devastated, and after Marney was gone, there had been enough blame to go around. The issue was that sixteen years later we were still doling out the guilt.

“I was the kind big brother that kept other kids from picking on his little sister. When she started dating, the guys were afraid of me, not Dad. I had a better left hook. She leaned into my protection, begging me to get her out of every scrape.”

“I can see that.”

“My father thinks her never having repercussions for her bad behavior is why…” I shrugged.

“You know that’s not true.” She squeezed my hand.

“My mother thinks we, Dad and I, were too hard on her. And I think we all failed her.” I stopped and picked up a seashell. I held it in my fist a moment, then chucked it out into the water.

Sabrina took a few steps away from the water’s edge and sat. She looped her arms around her drawn-up knees. “Join me.”

I eased down into the sand. The surface was hot under my bare feet, but I dug down and found cool wet sand to bury my toes in. The waves that rolled in from the horizon before they broke into white foam were blue green only a few shades different from Sabrina’s eyes.

“I went off to college and when I’d come back, she’d changed. She’d always been a troublemaker, but this was worse. I tried to talk to her. She pushed me away. It was easy to forget my little sister’s problems while I was going to frat parties and cramming for exams. When I graduated, I moved home. It was supposed to be temporary between undergrad and grad school. I stayed for years trying to help get through to her.”

“Unless she wanted to get sober, no one could force her. Working in kitchens, I’ve lost friends and colleagues to addictions of all kinds. The ones that struggle and make it through to the other side all took the first step on their own.” She put a hand on my upper leg. It didn’t weigh more than a butterfly wing, but it anchored me in the moment as I dredged up my past. I welcomed the tether. It helped give me perspective.

“Yeah. Marney wasn’t good at the hard stuff. Dad or I would get her checked into a rehab, and as soon as it got difficult, Mom would get her out. Or when she was older, she’d check herself out. It was a circle that never ended. Eventually I gave up.” Acknowledging my failure opened a gaping hole deep in my chest. I rubbed my hand over the ache under my sternum.

“You didn’t give up. You did your best.”

“It wasn’t enough. She was my responsibility.” And I’d been trying to make it up to Marney by helping every desperate woman that stumbled into my path since. I was a fucking idiot.

“God, Michael, I wish I had a Band-Aid big enough to fix your family.” She put her hand over the spot I’d been rubbing. “But grief doesn’t work like that. Trust me. It’s a process.”

“I should have stayed in Miami instead of going back to school. I could hav—”

She put a finger over my lips, stopping me in the middle of my sentence.

“No. Don’t play that game. Down that road lies misery. But I’m guessing I don’t have to tell you that.”

I shook my head. My family had trod that path so many times and many ways we had our own road maps. Screaming fights, hurled accusations, ugly words, and tears.

“Have any of you gone to a therapist?”

“No.”

“You should try it.” She said it so sweetly, like offering a bite of something really delicious I might enjoy. “Then, if the past gets less awful, tell your mom about it. Maybe she’ll find someone to talk to. Eventually, the two of you might even convince Tom.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder and gave my leg a reassuring squeeze. I tipped my head over to rest it against hers. We sat like that for a while, watching the waves. The ends of her hair blew against my neck and cheek. The smell of her shampoo mixed with the scents of salt and sand.

“You can’t force someone to take the first step.” Her voice was sincere.

I knew unless I brought this up again, she never would. She’d given me her opinion. It was my choice to take her advice or not. The gaping hole in my chest started to close up. The familiar scab crusted over it. It would be easy to leave it alone. Let the past stay in the past.

“I know. We all tried to force Marney.” The difference was Sabrina wouldn’t force me.

She patted my leg again.

“There is a saying that you can’t love someone until you love yourself,” I said. I wasn’t saying I had to be perfect before I could love Sabrina. But I was one hundred percent sure dealing with my past would make me that much better of a partner. It was time to hang up the superhero cape.

Sabrina deserved a version of me that didn’t worry deep down I was a failure. Hell, every woman I’d dated over the last fifteen years had deserved that. And being honest, I deserved that too.

“I’ve heard that before.” She sat up and turned to look me in the eye. One hand cradled my jaw. Her fingers were cold from the sea breeze, and I hoped the same wind was to blame for the liquid glistening on her spikey eyelashes. No one should cry on Christmas.

It was too soon to say it out loud, but I knew. I’d felt it this morning moving inside her. And I felt it now. It had been ages since I loved anyone; I wasn’t sure I remembered how to do it. But for the chance to be with Sabrina, I’d figure it out.

I lowered my head to brush my lips over hers. She tasted of salt spray and the future.

“Sorry I messed up Christmas,” I said, wrapping my arm over her shoulders.

“Are you serious? The weather is amazing, this beach is great. So quiet compared to Miami. And it can’t be past noon. Ruined Christmas, ha! We’ve barely started the day.” She dug her cell phone out of her back pocket and tapped the screen a few times. “Selfie?”

I pressed my face closer to hers, mushed it into the blonde strands whipping around her jaw. She held the phone out and clicked the button.

“Not bad.” She scrunched up her face, not happy with the image she saw on the screen.

I glanced over her shoulder. We looked great. “We can take another?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s the hair. I miss being a redhead.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s fixable.” If only everything in life were as easy to change as hair color.

“You’re right. New plan. Find a store that’s open where I can get hair dye. Then we’re going to my place. You are going to help me fix this.” She tugged at her blonde bob. “Then we make a massive vat of carbonara, drink wine, and open presents.”

“I’m in. Oh, and text me that photo. Blonde or redhead, I want a memento of today.”

“Okay.”

“You know I like you…. A lot.” I cupped her face between my palms. The salt spray was gritty on her sun-warmed cheeks.

“I like you too.” She turned her head and kissed the center of my palm.

We were a pair. Falling in love and too scared to admit it out loud. But I was confident we’d get there. Life had made us wary and bruised, but time would prove it was worth the risk.