Page 50 of So Close

The truth of what Patrick had done to Auburn made his stomach hurt. He’d hidden her away from the world and systematically taken away all the things that mattered to her. Auburn thrived on people, glowed with the joy she got out of them. If she’d been his, instead of Patrick’s, he would have wanted to watch her meet someone new every day. Not kept her locked up like some kind of exotic bird in a—

In a gilded cage.

His thought train screeched to a stop like a needle skidding on a record. Was he really any better than Patrick? Hadn’t he done almost exactly that to Karina? Wasn’t hestilltrying to do it to Brynn and Carl?

“So you see,” she said. “I lost myself in that relationship. I lost track of who I was, what I needed. And that’s why I vowed to figure out all those things first, before—” She sighed. “Look. That—” she gestured to encompass what had just passed between them. “—was amazing. I want to do it again. I want to do it again right fucking now. And I want you to get yours.” She gave him a sexy smirk that breathed new life into his dick, which had just calmed down. “But—with Patrick, I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t see how the sex was all caught up with money and power. In this situation? I already know it. And I’d be an idiot—” She took a deep breath. “Thiscan’thappen again.”

He wanted to cry out that it didn’t have to be that way. That he wasn’t Patrick.

But he could also hear Karina’s voice in his head.I’ve tried, Karina had said.I’ve tried so hard. To make you see me. To make you listen. To make you understand what I need. But it’s all about money to you. It’s all about work. You’re like King Midas. Everything you touch turns to gold, including all the people you’re supposed to love.

He shook his head, to ward it off. Brush it away.

Karina was right. Auburn was right.

Hewasabout money. He was about this sale. He was about saving his business. There was no other way out. And he couldn’t have both.

Slowly, grudgingly, he nodded. “You’re right.”

“Shit,” she said, and for a second he thought she was referring to the substance they’d just landed themselves in, until she yanked her phone out of her pocket and peered at it. “One of the guests is having a crisis and Luz needs backup, so I have to get back. Help me put the fire out?”

It took him a moment to realize she meant the literal blaze in front of them. They smothered it with water and stones, and he helped her wheel the cart back up to the inn.

“Can I help with the crisis?” he asked, when they reached the shed and she’d stowed the wheelbarrow.

She grinned at him. “As much as it would give me sick pleasure to make you wield the steam cleaner, I don’t think it’s going to improve your opinion of Beachcrest if I bring you with me. It’s the less glamorous side of the gig, I’m afraid. One of the kids just threw up.” She sighed. “Happens almost every time we have kids at a hotdog roast. They don’t know their own capacity when it comes to marshmallows.” She shrugged. “I’m used to it. You’re off the hook.”

“Thanks,” he said, laughing.

He had turned to go, when she called him back.

“Trey. Thank you. And—I’m usually all for reciprocating, it’s just—”

“No,” he said. “That was—” He didn’t know how to say what he felt. That even though things couldn’t keep going that way between them, he in no way, shape, or form could regret what had just happened. “That was for you. You owe me nothing. I’d hate it if you thought that.”

“Well. Thank you.”

He parted ways from her, went back to his room, flopped down on the bed.

And found himself, idiotically, impossibly, ridiculously, wishing he’d gone with her to help with cleanup.

Who are you, and what have you done with Trey Xavier?

It was just three days ago that everything had been so clear. That it had made perfect sense. That he had known what he needed to do and how to do it.

Cleaning up vomit was no one’s idea of a good time, that was for sure. But if he’d gone with her, he’d bewith her. And he’d know exactly what he was supposed to do next.

As it was, his emotions were a mess, and he had no idea where to start with the cleanup.

25

Brynn and the boys found him setting up beach chairs for parade viewing on a stretch of Main Street sidewalk. Auburn had sent him ahead, an advance guard, to stake out the territory for Beachcrest guests.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” Brynn said.

He gave her his best innocent wide-eyed look.

“Don’t bullsh—” She shot a look toward her boys. “Don’t yank my chain. You know what I mean. Beach fire. Marshmallows. Hot dogs. And now you’re watching a parade, and you’recheerful about it. It’s her, isn’t it? Auburn.”

---