LJ Maas - Rebecca’s Cove

“I thought they meant it in a good way,” Baylor said.

“Trust me.” Hobie pushed Baylor back into the chair. “They didn’t.”

She took a wet cloth and carefully began cleaning the cuts on Baylor’s hands. She then moved to clean the dried blood from her face and neck.

“Do you mean to tell me that my bushes did all this to you?” she asked. “What the hell did you do—dive into them?”

“No. If you must know, I was attacked by a very large bird.” “You’re kidding. Baylor, why didn’t you say so?” Perhaps the

attack had caused Baylor’s apparent disorientation. Maybe that was why she was in the bushes in the first place. “Was it a gull or a pelican?”

“I think it was a chicken, or maybe a parrot, I’m not sure. I’m sure it was yellow, though.”

Hobie paused, and she and Juliana looked at each other. “Not only are they both small birds, they are quite dissimilar

by comparison,” Juliana said.

“This thing was at least nine feet tall,” Baylor said.

“What?” Hobie laughed. “I think she might have a concussion. Baylor,” she continued loudly, “how many fingers am I holding up?”

“I’m not mentally incapacitated and I have not gone deaf, so quit yelling at me.”

“Well then, you’re quite insane. There are no nine-foot birds roaming around Ana Lia. I’m certain something like that would have made the papers. It would have been on all the news stations. I’m a vet. I would have been called.”

“So I’m a liar. I bet if it was her saying it, you’d believe it.” “Oh, for God’s sake,” Hobie said. “Just look at what you’re

saying. I mean, the only nine-foot chicken on Ana Lia is the one out at the miniature golf—”

Baylor picked that moment to find something fascinating about the floor.

“Oh, I don’t believe you would stoop that low,” Hobie said. Juliana, in the meantime, finally realized what Hobie was

talking about. “Baylor.” She took a deep breath. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me that you didn’t follow us around tonight like some bleeding nutter. Tell me that you didn’t embarrass me like that.” “Embarrass you?” Baylor’s voice rose. “I was the one that

was attacked by that damn parakeet and had to be pulled from certain death by a bunch of Scouts!”

“Girl Scouts.” Hobie couldn’t stop herself from correcting Baylor. She had seen the troop of girls behind them at the putt-putt course.

“Move out of the way, Hobie,” Juliana ordered. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to beat the crap out of her!” Juliana rushed toward Baylor and the two were at it again.

“I can’t believe you didn’t trust me!” she shouted as she took a swing at Baylor.

“Trust? After that kiss I saw, you have the nerve to talk to me about trust?” Baylor tried to put a headlock on her friend.

Meanwhile, Hobie, who was a good four inches shorter than either woman, found herself caught in the middle of their desperate attempts to reach each other.

“Stop it!” she practically screamed. She managed to push them apart once more, but by this time, she was thoroughly exhausted. “I have had enough! Jules, it’s been great fun, but maybe you should go home.”

“But—”

“It’s okay,” Hobie interrupted. “I think Baylor and I need to talk.”

Juliana agreed with a short nod. Just because she understood didn’t mean she had to like it. “Give me the keys.” She held out her hand to Baylor.

“Forget it, use her jalopy.”

“Give her the goddamn keys,” Hobie hissed.

Baylor immediately complied. “How am I supposed to get home?” It came out as more of a whine than she had intended.

“I bloody well hope she makes you walk,” Juliana said as Hobie led her to the door.

Baylor took a step toward her friend. “Sit!” Hobie barked.

Baylor’s eyes went wide at the command. She silently sat down.

“Try not to kill her,” Juliana whispered to Hobie. “She may be the biggest pain in the ass in the world, but it’s really hard to break in a new best mate.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hobie said with a smile. “I make no promises, however. Thanks, Jules.” She gently squeezed her hand and closed the door behind her.

“As for you,” Hobie said as she turned to face a suddenly tongue-tied Baylor. “Geez, you’re a mess.”

“I know,” Baylor said with an exasperated sigh. “You know, I’m really a normal person. I work, I pay my taxes, millions of people buy my books—”

“Baylor?”

“People like me. Okay, they don’t actually like me, but they respect me—”

“Baylor.”

“I’m not usually this-this—” “Baylor!”

Baylor paused and raised her head as if hearing Hobie for the first time.

“I meant that you’re a dirty mess. Filthy. You need a shower.”

“Oh.” Baylor looked down at her clothes. She casually brushed a small twig from her slacks and, just as nonchalantly, pulled up a piece of her blouse that had ripped at the shoulder.

“Come on, you can take a shower here.” Hobie dragged Baylor into her bedroom. “There are clean towels in the cabinet. Everything you need is in the bath. My robe is on the back of the door, feel free. I’ll see what I can do about some fresh clothes. Need anything in particular?”

Baylor shook her head dumbly. She was accustomed to being in charge, but when Hobie was in the room, she felt as though her control disappeared.

“I’ll be in the living room then,” Hobie said as she closed the bedroom door.

Baylor stared at the closed door for a few moments longer. Okay, there’s something wrong here. Why is she being so nice to me?

A woman I’ve just pissed off being overly nice to me? That can’t be good.

“Baylor, old girl,” she muttered to herself as she turned on the tap, “you are in a great deal of trouble.”

Baylor spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, and she managed to worry herself into a frenzied state. She had never known it was possible to ruminate over so many topics in such a short span of time. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her wet hair and wondered once again how her life had gone so far off course since she’d been on Ana Lia.

She cautiously stepped from the bathroom into Hobie’s bedroom. A small pile of clothes sat on the end of Hobie’s bed with a note attached. “Mack must buy these things by the gross, but he assures me they’re freshly laundered.” Baylor grinned when she unfolded the Ana Lia Sheriff’s Department-issue sweatpants and T-shirt.

As she dressed, she thought about what, if anything, she should tell Hobie. Would they all be better off if she went back home and pretended she’d never been trapped on the island in the first place? Baylor had always had issues, especially concerning her love life. Years in therapy had shown her the source of her difficulties, but no amount of analysis had managed to exorcise the memory of the way her father had treated her. She knew that she alone had the power to change her inability to commit. The question was, did she have the nerve to take the first step? Would it be worth it?

She stepped into the living room and found the answer to that question directly before her. Hobie sat cross-legged on the thickly carpeted floor. She had changed into a royal blue sleeveless blouse and a pair of mid-thigh-length cotton shorts. Her bare feet tapped the floor in time to the music as she leafed through her CDs. Her shoulder-length auburn hair took on a deep, rich color that Baylor thought any runway model would envy. The sight of Hobie, so

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LJ

Maas

relaxed and beautiful, struck Baylor like an arrow through her heart.

Hobie looked up and into Baylor’s gaze. “Hey, you look like you feel much better.”

The bright smile disarmed Baylor. She had thought Hobie would be angrier, but she looked almost tranquil. “I feel cleaner, at any rate.”

“Good. How does your leg feel?” “Great, just great.”

“We ought to be able to take that cast off this week.” “Fantastic. No complaints from me there.”

Baylor wondered how long she could, or should, keep up the casual conversation. She had a feeling that if Hobie didn’t dig in and begin, they would still be standing in the middle of the living room the next morning. As fate would have it, Hobie read her mind.

“Baylor, why don’t you sit?”

Here it comes, Baylor thought. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just lean here.” She rested her backside against the edge of one of the four tall stools along the breakfast bar.

“I hope you agree that we need to talk.”

“Um, yeah. I guess I figured you’d be a lot madder at me than you are, though.”

“Mad?” Hobie got to her feet.

Okay,

maybe reminding her that she’s supposed to be mad is a bad thing. Shit, looks like she’s losing it now. Actually, she kinda reminds me of...well, shit...of me.

“I’m not sure you can appreciate just how mad I am at your actions tonight, Baylor. I’m pretty sure I don’t even know the whole story yet. I’m not certain I want to, but what I do know is enough to piss me off from now until the very moment that hell freezes over.”

She paced back and forth across the small living room. “The lack of faith, of trust that you must have had, either for me or Jules, to follow us around like—”

“Okay, now about that—” Baylor attempted to tell some small part of her side of the story.

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