Page 42 of Stolen Beauty

“What kind of a question is that?” I grin at him, masking the mix of emotions that arise when I remember those years.

“I don’t mean anything by it. It’s good to let loose.”

“That’s something I really wouldn’t know about.”

“That’s too bad. I remember Sam saying he worried that you were spending too much of your college days taking care of your mom.”

Yes, and no. I had freshman year. But my first truly wild night ended horribly.

“Ew. What happened to you?” I can still see the fraternity boy’s face twisted in disgust.

I finally moved on from “What’s wrong with her?” a question adults and kids alike lobbed at my parents like I wasn’t standing right there, and then discovered another hurtful question replaced it.

“I didn’t mean to bring up a bad topic.”

I blink away the memory, remembering that I’m here with Knox and that all happened a long time ago. “No, it’s okay. Mom didn’t get sick until my sophomore year, so…”

“So you had your freshman year. Good.” He crosses his arms over his chest, looking amused. “Any good regrets?”

“What’s a good regret?”

“Oh, you know, a wild night that you regret but at the same time makes for one helluva good story.”

I scrunch up my nose, searching my memory for one good story. “That’s not really the way I roll,” I admit. There’s no point in pretending to be someone I’m not. “What about you? Any great regrets?”

His amused expression transitions to something I can only describe as rueful. His gaze falls, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of regrets he might be thinking of. A lost love? Caroline? Something that happened on a mission? Sam started changing those last few years, becoming more serious, his eyes more haunted.

“Honestly, I didn’t have the typical college experience either.” But they had weekends and some wild times at the Naval Academy. Sam told me. “But I did have a great high school experience. We had some good times.” He looks over me, fondness evident, like I’m a part of those good memories. “I’m glad you came out here, Sage. It’s not a great situation, but I’m glad we reconnected. I’m glad you came to me.”

His words—or no, the intensity of his gaze sucks the oxygen right out of my lungs. A bout of light-headedness overcomes me, and I lean into the pier, looking off to the ocean, closing my eyes to soak in the cool breeze and regain my wits.

“So, you said you’re not dating Jimmy. Are you dating anyone back home?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Jimmy and Sloane think I should try a dating app, but I just…that’s not me.”

They both use them, basically everyone my age uses them. But, when all my friends were getting used to app dating etiquette, dating wasn’t on my bingo card. I got left behind on the social spectrum. And I’m okay with that. There are more important things that I need to be doing with my life.

A faint fish scent taints the fresh salt air, but I don’t mind. With my eyes closed, I inhale deeply, taking it all in.

“You can tell me if I’m out of line here. I won’t mention it again. But earlier today, one of the guys pointed out that, well, you’re over twenty-five.”

I’m staring down thirty. Older than I expected to be if I’m honest. Where is he going with age? I twist to face him, all the light-headedness gone.

“The timing’s off. I get that. What with Sloane missing. But we’re going to find her.”

I lift my sunglasses onto my head. A strand of hair whips into my mouth. I’m at a loss for the next steps and inordinately grateful for Arrow’s help. My hope is she’s hiding, like me, and she’s safe. She’s alive. I know it. I feel it.

Knox cups my chin and removes the wayward strand. Like always, his touch radiates through my skin.

“I’ll just say it.” He drops his hand and shoves both of them into his shorts pockets. “Would you be interested in going on a date with me?”

“Like a date date?” My heart flutters and stomach somersaults.

“Dinner.” He lifts his shoulders. “We live on opposite sides of the country. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said–”

“I’ll go.” His smile spreads slowly. “I’d love to go to dinner with you.” There’s no reason to stress about whether it’s a date. I’ll be leaving soon. School starts back. But, in my list of dreams… dinner–date or not–with Knox Williams is one of those dreams so big I’d never write it down. What’s the point in writing something down you’ll never be able to check off?

“Good. Tomorrow night?”

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