Page 62 of Come Break My Heart Again

“Not when you get to know him.”

“How come you never mentioned it?” she asks.

I shrug the best I can while lying down. “Same reason as you. It was fun, keeping it a secret. And then he left, so …”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Keira?” Mrs. Parker says.

“Yeah?” Keira calls out.

“Mrs. Clarke just called. She needs Elle home for a family matter.”

Keira and I exchange a glance, both knowing exactly what that is.

I sigh and roll off her bed. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah. Good luck.”

I nod, then leave to face my mom’s disappointment.

13

Clamshells crunch as Tuck’s truck rolls toward a three-story house. The wooden shingles covering the exterior are weathered gray from the sea air, which is blowing in from the open window. We must be really close to the water.

“You call this acottage?” I ask.

Tucker grins as he turns off the truck and hops out of the cab. “Nice place, right? Keira’s folks hardly ever come here. You still surf?”

“It’s been a long time. Not since I lived in Jacksonville.”

“We should go. I’ll kick your ass, but that’ll be good for my ego.”

I shake my head, smiling as we grab our bags out of the truck bed. We’ll only be here for one night, so I barely brought anything.

“Don’t let me forget to take you to the clam shack,” Tuck tells me as we walk along the stone pavers. Each slab of the path lies perfectly straight, the lush grass surrounding them neatly trimmed. The landscaping at this place is immaculate.

Everywhere I look is pristine, and it’s not just the contrast from spending a lot of time at a construction site lately.

“I don’t like clams,” I inform Tuck.

“You’ll like the fritters,” he replies confidently. “They’re crispy and fried and,fuck, just so good.”

“I’ll tryone.”

“There’s also this new brewery I’ve been wanting to go to.”

I grin. “That sounds more like it.”

The smile slides right off my face as we round the trimmed hedges and I’m blinded by red paint. A shiny convertible is parked next to a vintage Range Rover in the two spots to the left of the front porch.

“There are some old surfboards in the garage that we can—” Tuck stops talking when he realizes that I’m no longer walking. He glances between me and the convertible, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still come. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

I’m not sure I would have either. An unpleasant prickling sensation creeps along my skin as I stare at the unmistakable car.

I knew I’d see Elle eventually. But I was expecting some warning. And I thought the reunion would be at Tuck’s wedding. Not … here, under very different circumstances.

“You should have told me.”

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