Eversea A Love Story

truck my now. I looked around at the small space and at the jars I had placed on a narrow shelf. They were each filled with a different shade of sea glass found on beaches up and down the Atlantic coast. Nana had been collecting it for years, and then I joined her in the passion. It was hard to find now. I grabbed a greenish one and held it up to the fading light at the window. I quickly put it back and grabbed another darker one. I marveled at the green shades as they glowed. I put it down and went out to my worktable.
    It had literally been over a year since I had worked on these projects. I fingered some of the old weathered wood, palmetto boots, wire, and line I had pulled up out of the waterways and marshes while I kayaked. The chandelier I had been working on was almost complete and I’d left it abandoned.
    I had a startling realization right then that I really wasn’t as okay as I’d thought I’d been. I’d happily agreed to stay here while Joey finished school, he had already started after all, and one of us needed to stay with the house. It was his turn, and then it would be mine, we’d always had that deal. But, somewhere along the way, I’d become ... not okay with it. I’d started feeling lonely and trapped. I was going through the motions here in Butler Cove, but I’d lost something. When did I stop being creative? I’d loved creating things my whole life, and I just let it fade away.
    It wasn’t that I didn’t love this place. I grew up here, I had the best memories of my life and my family here. In this house. I was suddenly mad at myself, and at my weakness, and in my ridiculous strategy of avoiding life so it wouldn’t hurt me anymore. It had made everything fade. I’d become paralyzed.
    I thought of how Nana always used to say ‘you only live once, so do everything twice’ right before she tried something new. Well, I had done everything exciting in my life exactly zero times. And what happened? ‘Life’ had arrived on my doorstep and taken matters into it’s own hands.
    Or Nana had.
    I smiled at that thought.
    It would be just like her to send me my dream man to get me out of my comfort zone. She knew who he was after all. I used to sit right here in my reading nook reading the first Erath book while she worked at this very table asking me about what made Max so amazing. I wondered if she knew Jack had another girlfriend before she meddled with fate.
    Also, Jack was not Max. That much was clear. Max was strong, honorable, and ruthless in his persistence to be with Claudia and keep her safe, despite being stuck in a parallel dream dimension most of the time. Jack couldn’t even tell me the truth. Or Audrey for that matter. She thought they were getting back together, and he was in a swimming pool kissing me .
    I actually felt sorry for her for a moment before I remembered she had publicly humiliated him by making out with an older man all over California.
    Well, they were both messed up, and I didn’t want any part of it. I couldn’t do anything about them, but I could do something about myself.
    I grabbed the jars and hot glue gun and my tools and pulled a stool up to the workbench. Thirty minutes later when I heard Jazz downstairs I yelled for her to bring the drinks and the iPod speakers to the attic.
    * * *
    Three margaritas apiece, a finished chandelier, and much giggling later, we were both maneuvering down the stairs with a little less grace. I was balancing the speakers and my glass. Jazz had her glass and the pitcher and we were both singing All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers at the top of our lungs. Considering our recipe for margaritas was tequila, Cointreau, and fresh lime juice—no sweet and sour filler mix for us—three was ambitious.
    I groaned when we got to the stairs leading to the second floor and saw all the bare wood waiting for me. Jack. What was I going to do about Jack?
    “My heart hurts.” I plopped onto my backside halfway down the stairs. “And maaaan, that boy can kiss,” I added.
    “I know,” Jazz concurred sliding down to sit beside me and setting the pitcher down. “I’ve seen it in the movies...” She giggled, slurring slightly. “Why can’t we have the boys we want?” she whined. “We’re pretty. We’re nice. We’re fun, right?”
    “Joey?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
    She groaned and dropped her head back to the stairs behind us.
    I followed her down, and we both lay propped awkwardly side by side,