Page 87 of Come Break My Heart Again

I shake my head as I turn on the faucet, tempted to flip him off. Scout pulls at the leash and whimpers. Apparently, he hates water again.

“It’s okay. Good boy.” I turn the pressure down slightly, aiming the end of the hose at the driveway.

“Oh. My. God.”

My head whips up so fast that I hear a crack. Elle is standing at the end of the path that leads from the porch to the garage, wearing jean shorts and a white T-shirt, her blue eyes wide as she stares at her dog. Tucker and Keira exchange a nervous look.

“Whathappened?” she asks.

“He, uh … we went swimming,” I reply.

“Scouthateswater,” Elle informs me. “Baths are his worst nightmare.”

The dog pressed tightly against my leg, as far from the water’s spray as possible, seems to agree.

“Well, he doesn’t hate the ocean. He ran right in. Scared the shit out of me, but he’s a good swimmer.”

Elle raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to need help rinsing him. He’ll fight you hard on it.”

“I’ll be fine?—”

Elle is already walking closer, and Scout makes a desperate lunge for his owner. The yank pulls me off-balance, and my arm flies up to steady me. I watch, horrified, as the hose I’m holding arcs water across the flower beds and then aims straight at Elle.

I drop the hose like it’s on fire, but it’s too late. She’s already as soaked as me, her dripping T-shirt revealing a pink bikini underneath.

Tucker and Keira gasp dramatically. And unnecessarily. This situation is terrible enough without sound effects.

“Shit, Elle. I’m so sorry?—”

An icy blast to the chest cuts me off.

My arms fall to my sides as I accept my punishment. The spray starts to move, down one arm and then the other. Elle avoids my crotch, which makes me smirk, but my legs get the same treatment as the rest of my body. My clothes are dripping again, so saturated that the fabric can’t absorb any more water.

And Elle is laughing. So hard that she’s having trouble standing up and aiming straight.

“Really?” I call out. “This is the thanks I get for exercising your dog?”

But I’m smiling as I say it.

Because I’m relieved. I’m so, so relieved.

Thisis Elle. Not the woman who silently picked at her pancakes yesterday morning. Or who looked lost on the bar steps last night.

She’s a fighter. She bends the world to her will, just like the ocean does.

Staring at her, grinning with flushed cheeks and dancing eyes, I realize … I’m not over her.

I don’t think I ever will be.

I’m sitting down by the water, staring out at the waves, when I catch a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye.

Elle walks straight past me and into the surf, not stopping until the water is up to her knees. She stands like that for a good minute, then runs back onshore. Drops down beside me, a few stray droplets splashing my legs. “It’s cold.”

“Not as cold as the well water.”

She laughs under her breath. Amusement I’m not supposed to hear.

After rinsing Scout, we both had to shower and change. Elle was right about him hating baths.

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