It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I don’t think I can.
“I don’t.” After a few more grumbled insults from the surrounding people, I tug her hand and drag her through the crowds toward the exit.
“You’re running.”
Damn right I am. Like the hounds of hell are on my heels.
I thought I was over him. I thought I’d moved on, even if my heart had never fully healed from his rejection. Looking at photos of him online and reading articles detailing who he’d been linked with and what he’d been doing had desensitized me.
Or so I had convinced myself.
But when those rich brown eyes met mine, I was eighteen again, the hope in my heart shattering at my feet when I realized the boy I loved didn’t love me back. Every nerve in my body burned with that rejection, as if it were happening all over again.
I don’t trust my ability to hide how much it still affects me if I were to stand in front of him and have a conversation. He’d think I’m pathetic.
“Judge me all you want. I simply can’t do it.”
Lola sighs, giving my hand a squeeze as we finally push through the exit and out into the cold, early March night. “I’m not judging you, Inds. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine isn’t happy.”
No, but right now, it’s the best I can do, and that’s going to have to be enough.
SEBASTIAN
Griffin hands me a beer the moment I walk through his door. “Mira’s at Isla’s with the ladies, and pizza is on the way.”
“Thanks.” Lifting the bottle to my lips, I take a deep sip before following Griffin into the living room, where the rest of the guys spread out on the couches, nursing their own beers.
“Hey, man. How’s your head?” Maddox asks.
“Fine. Seriously.” Well, fine in the sense that I’m not hurt. But itisa fucking mess. Not much to be done about that, though.
“Good. You looked pretty out of it after that hit.”
I nod, lowering myself into the open armchair that faces both couches. “Yeah. That wasn’t from the hit.”
“We kinda figured after you demanded Todd find some woman for you,” Ryder says. He rubs his jaw, watching me. “You want to tell us about that?”
“Not really.”
Griffin chuckles. “Tough shit, Bashy. Spill.”
Indie’s face flashes through my mind when I close my eyes. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I suck in a deep breath, will my heart to stop pounding, and try to decide where to start.
“I met her when we were both fourteen. I grew up in this town in Maine that was close to a little island where a lot of rich people summer. My dad worked as a chef there—still does—and he’d cross the bridge between Trenton and Mount Desert Island every day because that’s where the rich and famous spend their summers and the high-earning professionals work during the rest of the year.”
There were plenty of days when my mom lamented the forty-five minute commute each way when she was dragging me and my brothers to hockey practice alone, but living in Trenton is so much cheaper than living in Bar Harbor or the surrounding island towns, it allowed them to pay for our hockey costs. It was a sacrifice they made for me, and I’ve pushed to be the best so I can show my appreciation however I can since I went pro. Paid off their mortgage, bought them a new car… I owe them everything.
“Anyway. When I was fourteen, I begged my parents to let me get a summer job on the island. They were struggling to pay for the hockey clubs I was a part of, and I wanted to help. My dad found me a job selling concessions at a pool, and he’d bring me with him to the island two or three days a week so I could work. When my shifts ended, I’d hang out along the beach or wander around the downtown area.”
I suck in a deep breath. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the salt in the air and hear the gulls as they harassed tourists on the beach. I can still see the way she looked the first time I ever laid eyes on her.