Page 163 of Come Break My Heart Again

Tucker looks over his shoulder. “Dunno. I thought he was right behind me. I’ll text him.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing.

I set down my drink. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.”

But rather than push toward the restrooms sign that hangs above the back hallway, I walk out the same side door I did last time.

The porch is empty, no sign of anyone. But I keep walking, around the corner to the back of the bar. Two giant dumpsters take up most of the small paved section. But past them is an unobstructed view of the water, so the area seems much more open.

Ryder’s leaning against the shingles, smoking. There’s a sexy nostalgia to the sight, but I mostly hate it.

“You said you’d stop.” I pause a couple of feet away, staring at him. Waiting for him to look at me.

He doesn’t. “I say a lot of things.”

I cross my arms. “Not to me you don’t.”

A quiet scoff before he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Your mom is dying of lung cancer.”

“Don’t need the reminder, Elle, thanks.”

The next time he lowers the cigarette to exhale, I take it from him and toss it on the ground. Ryder sighs, then takes a swig from the beer bottle he’s holding loosely in his left hand.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask.

“Iwassmoking.”

“Well, stop.”

His jaw works as he stares straight ahead at the water.

“I don’t understand.” I hate how young my voice sounds. How lost. “I thought we were …”

“Were what?”

“Good,” I conclude lamely. “I thought we were good.”

I thought we’d talk and laugh and drink with our best friends tonight. I thought he was done avoiding me.

“I just needed a minute.”

“You got seven years of minutes, Ryder. And you’re still avoiding me.”

His fingers flex on the bottle. “Wasn’t in the mood to watch another rich prick pant after you, okay?”

My exhale is more of a huff. “This is aboutCash? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Cash.” Ryder snorts. “Fitting name.”

“At least thoserich prickshave the balls to pursue me, Ryder. They don’t sulk outside, alone, poisoning their lungs.”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat that’s basically a growl. “Go inside, Elle.”

“No.”

One second, I’m standing and scowling at him. And the next, my spine is pressed against the hard ridges of the weathered wooden shingles that cover the exterior of the building, and Ryder is kissing me.

I’m so stunned that it takes my lips a minute to unfreeze and relax.

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