Never forget you, he doesn’t say.
“There really isn’t a way that we could ever . . .” I begin, my voice small, quiet.
“Not unless you’d ever leave your home and move to Toronto. Which I’d never, ever expect you to do. Your job is your life. Your company is something incredible.”
The confirmation hurts more than I anticipated.
“That doesn’t make it any easier,” I say.
He drifts a hand up my back, rubbing soft circles beneath the tie of my bikini top. “No, it doesn’t.”
I swallow the emotion in my throat. “I’m sorry for bringing the mood down.”
“Don’t apologize. Just tell me what to do to bring it up again.”
His ease helps bring me out of my head, the worries temporarily sliding back inside their box. I thread my fingers through the wet hair at his nape, needing to touch him like this again.
“Just keep holding me like this,” I murmur.
He answers with a soft kiss to my cheek. A small smile spreads my lips, and my chest loosens. Garrison’s gaze grows mischievous a second before he’s rocking us in the water and gulping a quick breath. In the next blink, he’s plunging us both beneath it.
I wouldn’t doubt everyone above the surface can hear our laughter from above the surface.
37
GARRISON
The hammock sways beneath us, the water skimming our backs with every swish. Poppy’s cheek rests on my chest, her bare, tan leg thrown over my hips. Hours beneath the sun every day have given us both a soft tan that will no doubt serve as a reminder of our time here long after we go home.
I bury my nose in her hair and sigh. I’ve been feeling uncharacteristically blissful during our stay. The last thing I want to do is leave tomorrow. But real life awaits us the moment we touch down in Canada, whether we’re ready for it or not.
“If I ask you a serious, kind of invasive question, will you flip this hammock over?” she asks, breaking the silence.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, Poppy. You should know that by now.”
She nuzzles her cheek over my chest. “What really happened with Jocelyn?”
“You didn’t read about it online?”
“I did, but I’d rather know the truth from you directly. Rag mags are considered such for a reason.”
I pause, soaking in her statement. When was the last time someone asked for my side of things before assuming what they read online was the full truth? I only wish that this time, I had more of a side to defend myself with.
“They weren’t completely wrong with what they posted. I did refuse her extra security when I shouldn’t have. It was a terrible call on my end. A selfish one stemming from arrogance and just plain stubbornness. Her safety should have been a priority for me, and it just wasn’t,” I explain woodenly.
“You said they weren’t completely wrong. So, what did they get wrong?”
“It wasn’t a publicity stunt. I didn’t purposefully put her in danger hoping something like this would happen. I’m an asshole, but I’m not evil. What happened to her was a terrible consequence of me refusing her the protection she deserved. It wasn’t intentional.”
Even simply recalling some of the tabloids I read has my blood boiling. Being painted as a villain isn’t a first for me. I can’t say I care much about the opinion others have of me. Actually, I don’t care at all. But to insinuate I chose to put her in danger with the intent of her being attacked goes far past what I have the patience for.
Not like that makes a difference. I can’t speak about it. It’s why I’ve been in Cherry Peak. Hiding. Punished for my misdoings, yes, but hiding nonetheless. In a perfect world, I’d have released a statement explaining, and Jocelyn would have forgiven me without all of this.
The world is far from perfect.
The arm Poppy has stretched across my abdomen tightens its hold as her thumb draws a hot line up and down my side. “I believe you. You’re far from evil, Garrison Beckett.”
The balloon of worry in my chest starts to deflate but doesn’t pop. Not yet.