Page 41 of Until We Break

Ididn’t want to be close to the fire tonight. It still felt as if the sun was radiating off me. I was hot in my white T-shirt. I walked to the cooler to get another beer.

That’s when I looked up and saw her walking over the dunes to join the party.

Margot.

I would have known those long legs anywhere. There wasn’t time to duck behind Gabe. She spotted me with my hand wrapped around a cold beer. I pulled it out of the cooler and the ice hit the sand.

I stood there like a fucking idiot, knowing I had to face her. I had to explain why I’d been an asshole and didn’t call or stop by after I said I would. I had been the kind of guy I’d always sworn I wasn’t—undependable. Unreliable. Untrustworthy.

I made my way through the small gathering. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Her lips were terse.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Her eyes dropped to the sand. “Me either.” I noticed how the smile had suddenly dropped from her face. She had walked over the dunes ready for the bonfire, instead she found me. I had to fix this. There were too many people around. The conversations around us were getting louder, not to mention the music this close to the drinks was at max volume.

“Can we talk?” I asked. “About…” my voice drifted off. I couldn’t say it here, not like this.

“I guess.” Margot nodded and I drew her away from the crowd. There was part of a shipwreck that had washed ashore fifty years ago. When it was low tide, like tonight, almost the entire ship was visible. I brushed the sand from the side of the hull and told her it was safe to sit.

It was dark, but we could see the crowd and hear them from a distance. They couldn’t hear or see us.

“You probably think I’m a total asshole.”

“Maybe or something close to one.” She sat so there was distance between us on the hundred-year-old hull.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I should have called.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She tried to get up to leave. “You made your point. I get it.”

I regretted everything in the last few days. All the time I had alone in my quarters. The time in between shifts. The early morning runs. I had had plenty of opportunities to check on her. To see if she was okay. To keep my goddamn word to her.

“I owe you an explanation. Something.”

She shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything. It was?—”

Her eyes cut right through me, even in the dark night of the beach. “I’m sorry, Margot.”

I felt the ache between my ribs when she looked away. I had connected with her in a way I’d never felt before with anyone. It was intense what we shared, saving Lucas, spending time together in the hospital, the memories from our summer together. I couldn’t forget what the morning after was like at her cottage. We were good together. We always had been. And yet, I had just let it go. Let her go. Let the possibility go. Like I let go of the bow line and let her drift out to sea.

“I already said you don’t owe me anything.”

I closed my eyes. “Maybe I keep apologizing because you owe me something.”

She didn’t move. Her body was rigid. “I thought?—”

“That we’d never talk about it? About what you did?”

Her lips twisted together. “What’s the point? It was a long time ago. Now I know what it feels like, right? If that was the plan, it worked. So good for you, Caleb.”

I exhaled. “I didn’t do it for some twisted revenge. I just didn’t call.”

She nodded. “Mmhmm. I don’t believe you.” She pushed off the hull of the ship and walked past me toward the party.

Shit. She marched through the sand, and I jogged after her. “Margot, are you staying?” I brushed my hand across the top of her shoulder.

She twirled to face me. “What difference does it make?”

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