Page 85 of Come Break My Heart Again

The door shuts, and I’m back to staring at white wood.

I want to bring up last night, but I’m positive Elle won’t want to talk about it. She shut down after we left the bar last night, not even glancing in my direction for the remainder of the evening. I’m the last person she wants to discuss anything with, I know.

“I’m not yours to worry about, Ryder.”

Problem is, she still fucking feels like it.

A couple of minutes later, Elle reappears. She’s wearing the same pink pajama set as yesterday, all the bare skin that was just on display covered. Her hair has been pulled back into a bun too.

Scout is wagging his tail so hard that his entire body is wriggling.

I smile and crouch down. “Hey, buddy. Feel like running?”

He whines like he understands what I’m asking, butting his snout against my stomach before licking my neck.

“Here’s his leash.”

“Thanks.” I straighten, taking it from Elle.

“I already put his collar on. And here are some treats. And bags—to clean up. He’ll probably go.”

“You should’ve gotten one of those dogs that doesn’t shit.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. And still blushing.

“I’ll take good care of him,” I tell her.

“I know you will.”

I nod, bending down to clip the leash on Scout. He’s taken a seat right next to my foot, waiting expectantly.

“Okay. See you later.”

“See you.”

I don’t glance back as I lead Scout down the hallway, stuffing the treats and poop bags Elle gave me into my pocket. I forgot my phone in the guest room, but I don’t turn back for it. Disconnecting from the world for a little while sounds nice. And it’s a lot easier to do here, on the edge of the sea, than back in Fernwood.

Downstairs is just as empty and silent as the upstairs hallway was. It’s not even seven yet, and it was a late night.

It’s foggy out, watery sunshine barely peeking between the clouds. I suck in deep lungfuls of the salty, damp air.

I love the ocean. The freedom, the power, the majesty.

No one tries to control the sea. It’s this indomitable force that does what it wants.

If I could swing it, if my mom wasn’t sick, I’d move to some small town right on the coast and wake up to this view every day.

Scout has his nose straight in the air, sniffing the sea air with the same enthusiasm.

“You like the beach?” I ask him.

He barks in response, and I smile.

I wouldn’t have guessed Elle had a dog. She didn’t grow up with pets, just rules. She never mentioned animals or wanting one. But Scout fits her, somehow.

Once we’re past the first dune, I start jogging. Scout picks up the quicker pace joyfully, tugging the leash taut as he surges ahead. Fuck, this dog is fast.

Running on the beach is exhausting and irritating. My calves burn with each step in the sand, tiny grains working their way into my sneakers and abrading my skin. I miss pavement more with each stride. And I’m more grateful for the chillier temperature with each sweaty step.

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