Read Online The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel) by Lauren Christopher - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lauren Christopher
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mancation.
And he was on a date.
The ocean air felt good against her face, calming her foolish, thundering heart.
By the time Elliott got Alice into his car, drove her all the way home, came home, got the torture lenses off, cleaned up the dinner, and called Nell, it was close to three a.m. He definitely wouldn’t get any work done tonight. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Natalie.
“Are you kidding me?” Nell asked into the phone. “That’s not the Alice I know!”
Elliott sat on the edge of his bed, exhausted. He ran his hand through his hair. “Well, that’s the Alice who was here tonight.”
“Elliott, I’m sorry. That’s not the kind of person you should be with. You need someone who will take care of you , not the other way around.”
“No one needs to take care of me, Nell.” He scanned his bedroom desk. Maybe he could get a few notes in if he stayed up until five or so. “Look, maybe we should cancel the rest of the dates. I don’t want to do this dating thing. I have so much work to do, and—”
“But that’s part of the problem. You work too much. You need to poke your head out and look at the world around you.”
“I’m looking at the world plenty, at least where it concerns me. And right now, the sea lions concern me. I don’t work more than Jim does.”
“You most certainly do!”
He sighed. He could hear his baby nephew cooing near the phone. Nell often nursed at two or three in the morning, and if he texted or called, she’d sometimes pick up, as she had tonight. Plus, they were both hopeless insomniacs.
“I need to help at the center and put in some time to figure out what’s going on.”
“It’s only a few more dates, Elliott. Please. I think these next women might be just right. Let’s find someone who will keep an eye on you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the headache from coming on. “I don’t need someone to keep an eye on me.”
They’d had this argument a million times, but Nell was getting more and more desperate as her Italy departure loomed. She’d always looked out for him—always saw it as her responsibility, ever since that terror-filled night when they’d sat huddled in the closet.
“Just a few more dates,” she begged.
He sighed and let the familiar sense of guilt overwhelm him. He’d been seven, and Nell had been ten. The gunshots had woken them first. Their mother’s screams had shot ice through their veins second. Elliott had frozen, barely able to move, clutching his stuffed elephant to his chest. But Nell had been fast and clearheaded, and she’d whisked them into the tiny closet behind the laundry chute, where they’d crouched in their pajamas, listening to the intruders stomping through the house and flinging open doors. He’d tried to keep his ragged breaths from being too loud, tried to keep from moaning in fear. Nell had held his hand. The terror of waiting for the intruders to leave—listening to them upturn every blanket, every drawer, every door to find them—was second only to the horror of discovering, two hours later, their parents shot to death in a sea of blood.
“How many dates are you talking about?” he asked into the quiet of the room. Only his clock ticked gently in the background. He liked to fall asleep to the sound.
“I have three more set up.”
Elliott groaned.
They’d gone to live with their granddad and grandmother after that, far away in Kansas, sometimes being shuttled to various aunts and uncles in Illinois or Wisconsin for a month or two when either of their grandparents’ health was bad. When their grandmother died, it was just him, Nell, and his granddad, trying to make things work in their strange little family of three. He and Nell had switched schools frequently. Elliott had never made friends well. He’d been paralyzingly shy, and Nell had always tried to protect him from bullies, always tried to watch over him.
“Maybe I met someone on my own,” he finally said
And he was on a date.
The ocean air felt good against her face, calming her foolish, thundering heart.
By the time Elliott got Alice into his car, drove her all the way home, came home, got the torture lenses off, cleaned up the dinner, and called Nell, it was close to three a.m. He definitely wouldn’t get any work done tonight. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Natalie.
“Are you kidding me?” Nell asked into the phone. “That’s not the Alice I know!”
Elliott sat on the edge of his bed, exhausted. He ran his hand through his hair. “Well, that’s the Alice who was here tonight.”
“Elliott, I’m sorry. That’s not the kind of person you should be with. You need someone who will take care of you , not the other way around.”
“No one needs to take care of me, Nell.” He scanned his bedroom desk. Maybe he could get a few notes in if he stayed up until five or so. “Look, maybe we should cancel the rest of the dates. I don’t want to do this dating thing. I have so much work to do, and—”
“But that’s part of the problem. You work too much. You need to poke your head out and look at the world around you.”
“I’m looking at the world plenty, at least where it concerns me. And right now, the sea lions concern me. I don’t work more than Jim does.”
“You most certainly do!”
He sighed. He could hear his baby nephew cooing near the phone. Nell often nursed at two or three in the morning, and if he texted or called, she’d sometimes pick up, as she had tonight. Plus, they were both hopeless insomniacs.
“I need to help at the center and put in some time to figure out what’s going on.”
“It’s only a few more dates, Elliott. Please. I think these next women might be just right. Let’s find someone who will keep an eye on you.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the headache from coming on. “I don’t need someone to keep an eye on me.”
They’d had this argument a million times, but Nell was getting more and more desperate as her Italy departure loomed. She’d always looked out for him—always saw it as her responsibility, ever since that terror-filled night when they’d sat huddled in the closet.
“Just a few more dates,” she begged.
He sighed and let the familiar sense of guilt overwhelm him. He’d been seven, and Nell had been ten. The gunshots had woken them first. Their mother’s screams had shot ice through their veins second. Elliott had frozen, barely able to move, clutching his stuffed elephant to his chest. But Nell had been fast and clearheaded, and she’d whisked them into the tiny closet behind the laundry chute, where they’d crouched in their pajamas, listening to the intruders stomping through the house and flinging open doors. He’d tried to keep his ragged breaths from being too loud, tried to keep from moaning in fear. Nell had held his hand. The terror of waiting for the intruders to leave—listening to them upturn every blanket, every drawer, every door to find them—was second only to the horror of discovering, two hours later, their parents shot to death in a sea of blood.
“How many dates are you talking about?” he asked into the quiet of the room. Only his clock ticked gently in the background. He liked to fall asleep to the sound.
“I have three more set up.”
Elliott groaned.
They’d gone to live with their granddad and grandmother after that, far away in Kansas, sometimes being shuttled to various aunts and uncles in Illinois or Wisconsin for a month or two when either of their grandparents’ health was bad. When their grandmother died, it was just him, Nell, and his granddad, trying to make things work in their strange little family of three. He and Nell had switched schools frequently. Elliott had never made friends well. He’d been paralyzingly shy, and Nell had always tried to protect him from bullies, always tried to watch over him.
“Maybe I met someone on my own,” he finally said
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