Page 77 of Come Break My Heart Again

“Hey there.”

I glance up at the two guys who have appeared beside me. They’re locals, I think. Surfers, judging by their shaggy hair and board shorts.

“Hey,” I answer.

“You waiting for a drink?” the blond one asks.

I nod. “Slow service tonight.”

“They’re understaffed from the winter,” he tells me. He steps closer, then leans down to talk right into my ear. “What do you want? Tate’s a friend. I can put in a rush order.”

Suddenly, this guy—this stranger—is all I can see. All I can smell or hear or feel. And all I can think about is the last time I was overwhelmed this way.

The air around me is suffocating. My mind spins, and my stomach churns. Panic claws at my skin, like a beast fighting for its way out.

“Excuse me,” I choke out, then push past the two guys and basically sprint toward the nearest door.

It exits onto the porch that wraps around the building and leads to the side lot. No one else is around, which is a relief.

The earlier chill in the air has dipped to plain cold, the breeze coming off the water raising goose bumps on my skin. I gulp in greedy lungfuls of air, taking a seat on the top step and pressing my palms against my eyes until dots dance in my vision. The buoys attached to the railing tap against each other, the sound barely audible over the racing thud of my heartbeat.

You’re fine. It’s fine.

The silent reassurances don’t help. My stomach heaves, and there’s an excellent chance I’m going to throw up. God, why did I drink so much?

The door behind me opens and slams shut.

“Elle. Elle, are you okay?”

Keira’s voice, I think. It’s hard to hear over the roaring in my ears. I want to answer her, but it’s taking all my effort just to breathe. To force the in and out that should be natural.

It feels like I’m adrift. And not in the peaceful, relaxing way that’s free from worry or obligation. In the terrifying way of being dropped in the middle of an ocean without a boat or a raft in sight. Like I’m all alone in a sea ofnothing.

My palms press tighter to my face, trying to block out more of the world. Thirty seconds to myself. That’s all I need.

“What happened?” someone else asks.

“I don’t know. She just ran out.”

“Is she okay?”

More voices mix and mingle. This is humiliating. I try to pretend they’re a movie around me, removing myself from reality until I’m equipped to deal with it.

“Where’s Ryder?” someone asks. Avery maybe.

His name breaks through the fog.

“I’m fine.” I lift my head, telling my lungs to take slower breaths. “I just needed some fresh air.” The giggle sounds fake, but I force it out anyway. “Too much tequila. I’ll meet you guys back inside.”

I glance around and see they’re all standing on the porch, everyone except for Ryder and Ophelia. I’m relieved he’s not out here—and a little annoyed. Mad about being annoyed. I don’t want him here, but that doesn’t mean I want him distracted by another woman. I miss knowing he was in prison, alone, as horrible as that sounds. I don’t want him to be happy and whole while I’m still falling apart.

Pretty soon, there will be no pieces of me left to fracture. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.

Keira’s face is pale and concerned. She’s never seen me like this before. I’ve always hidden these vulnerable moments, had enough control to slip away quietly and break down without anyone noticing.

Another thing to blame Ryder for.

Fuck.

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