Page 64 of The Version You Hide

I’m drawn to her in a way that I’ve never been to anybody else. It’s not a secret that I’ve dated a lot of women, but I’ve never had serious feelings. Not like this. I’d wanted her last night. That kiss had been everything, but with Mackenzie, I know I need to have patience.

Chance is waiting for me when I arrive back at the beach house. He bounds off the back porch, tailing wagging, tongue hanging out as he picks up a piece of driftwood between his teeth. He nudges my thigh, begging me to initiate a game of fetch. I drop down onto the top front step, staring out at the ocean in the distance.

“Not now, boy. I’m not in the mood.”

He lets out a whine then flops down on the deck beside me.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore, Chance. I feel like I’m losing my mind,” I say out loud. “I mean, obviously I am. I’m talking to my dog.” I blow out a long breath. “I just really like her though, you know?”

I glance over at the furry canine beside me like he has the ability to answer, then shake my head at how absurd I’m being.

I’ve never really cared too much about what other people think, but when Mackenzie had doubted my character, it had cut deep. I want her to like me. I just didn’t realise how much. Now my every thought seems to revolve around her, but I know I need to take things slow. The last thing I want is to scare her away.

Chance lifts his head, then his tongue swipes my hand. I give his head a rough scratch. “I’ve got you though, right? We’re a team.”

A soft whiny whimper leaves him as he sits up, suddenly at attention, his eyes scanning the beach ahead. Out of nowhere a white dog about the same size as Chance comes bounding from the right. He lets out a bark and then takes off down the steps, running toward his newfound companion.

“Oh, come on!” I throw my hands up in the air, then mutter under my breath. “Traitor.”

My ringtone blasts from the jacket I’d left hanging over the railing this morning before my surf.

I throw my head back, a low groan rumbling through my chest. “What now?”

I haul myself up, rifling through the pockets until I retrieve my phone. The word ‘Mum’ flashes across the screen and I slump my shoulders, defeated. Well, this is going to be fun.

I swipe the answer key. “Hey, Mum.”

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Mum’ me.” My mother’s patronising voice comes sternly through the line. “You better have a good explanation for why you disappeared from the party the other night.”

I shift uncomfortably, lifting the beach towel from the railing and dabbing at my chest. I’d known these questions were coming. Had I not been so wrapped up in proving myself to Mackenzie I would have better prepared for this conversation.

“I had some stuff I had to deal with.” I attempt a weak explanation, knowing it won’t even nearly be satisfactory. “I’m sorry I left.”

Despite our current family drama, I do feel remorseful for leaving the party early. It wasn’t my parent’s fault that Madison and Skye had dredged up the past with Mackenzie, or that I hadn’t been open with her about the lion’s den she was walking into. That one’s on me.

“What kind of stuff?” she persists.

“Mackenzie needed to get home is all,” I reply, realising as I say it that it was not the best choice of words. It only gives my mother fuel to further dislike her.

“Of course,” she says, reading into my words.

I decide to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Did you have a good time at the party? I know you put a lot of effort into planning it.”

Or Claire and the party planner did. Nonetheless, flattery will get you everywhere with my mother and it’s a sure way to change the subject.

“It was fine.” Her tone is clipped. “The caterers made some errors and there was an issue with the oyster tower, but the rest of the evening went off without a hitch.”

“That’s great, Mum. I’m really glad to hear it,” I say. I mean it. My parents work hard, and they deserved to enjoy their celebration. “Listen, I just got out of the water and I need to take a shower so…”

“Ah yes,” she says, as though she’s just had a lightbulb moment. “That reminds me.”

“Me needing to take a shower has jogged your memory?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Dylan,” she chides. “No. You gallivanting around that miserable beach town has. I don’t know why you insist on staying there when you have responsibilities here.”

“Not anymore, Mum. I quit. It’s time you both accepted that.”

She lets out an audible frustrated sigh and continues as though she hasn’t even heard me. “The reason I was calling was to ask you to please reconsider your decision not to come home.”

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