Page 63 of Come Break My Heart Again

I’m apprehensive about seeing Elle. I’m certain she doesn’t want to see me. Not after the way we left things. The way she told no one about, shielding me from the crimination I deserve.

“Sorry,” Tuck says, shame-faced. “I just … seemed like you might need this.”

He’s referring to how I’ve acted like a hermit since returning to Fernwood. I go to work, and that’s pretty much it. Tuck isn’t the only one who’s noticed. My mom and Cormac were thrilled when I mentioned going away for the weekend. Worried about me, or relieved to have more space in the cramped trailer, or both.

“It’s fine,” I tell Tuck, because what else can I say?

He drove us from the ferry, so I can’t take off alone. He’s my boss, so I can’t make up some work excuse. I’m literally stranded on an island.

I’ve spent seven years telling everyone—including Elle—that I’m over her. I convinced a part of myself it was true. But my palms are sweating, and my breathing is too fast, and I’m nervous, and none of that feels like indifference.

The front door is unlocked.

I follow Tuck into a soaring entryway. The floor is wide planks of honey-hued wood. The walls are painted a cream color, decorated with watercolor paintings of sailboats.

This place had to have cost several million, easily.

Voices drift from the left, the direction Tuck heads in.

My heart beats faster as we pass through a living room with a huge fireplace and a full wall of bookshelves, filled with leather-bound spines. Then a long dining room table before turning a corner and entering the kitchen.

I spot Keira’s beaming face first, though the smile is mostly meant for Tuck. She’s standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, a dazzling view of the ocean visible through the wall of windows behind her. This place is right on the beach. Make that ten million.

Two women I don’t recognize are seated at the breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen.

“Hey! You made it!” Keira abandons the pancakes to kiss Tuck, then shoots me a smile. “You guys made good time.”

“No traffic and smooth water,” Tuck tells her, ambling over to a cabinet. “Coffee, Ry?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I drop my duffel on the floor next to the spot where Tuck left his.

“Ryder, these are two of my best friends. Avery, Ophelia, this is Ryder, Tuck’s best friend.”

“Hi! I’m Avery.” The woman with curly blonde hair stands and walks over. Her smile is wide and bright. “Nice to finally meet you. Tucker talks about you all the time.”

“True,” Tuck says, setting a steaming mug down on the counter in front of me.

I mouth,Thanks, and he nods.

“And I’m Ophelia.” A woman with auburn hair pulled back in a long ponytail walks over as well, so we’re all clustered around the kitchen island.

“Nice to meet you both,” I say.

“Avery and I went to college together,” Keira tells me. “And Ophelia is my pastry chef.”

I glance at Ophelia again. If she works in Fernwood, she’s probably heard a lot about me. But there’s nothing but open friendliness visible on her face.

“Best job ever,” Ophelia states. “I mean, look at this place. It’s?—”

A high-pitched bark is the only warning before a blur of fur shoots into the kitchen. The dog—I’m assuming it’s a dog because of the bark, not because I can get a good look at it—races around the kitchen twice, yapping excitedly.

For some reason, it stops next to my feet, whining until I bend down to pet it. A wet tongue darts out, coating my cheek with saliva.

I lift my shirt to wipe it away, more amused than annoyed, then glance at Tuck. “You guys got a dog?”

“He’s mine.”

I stiffen, swallow, then stand.

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