Page 17 of Memories with Fire

“My cousin. Carter. The one I was visiting when I met you. The reason I fell for you, if you recall.” His eyes twinkle with mischief, and I’m taken right back to the moment he’s talking about.

It happened not long after a football nearly hit my best friend, Cindi, in the face. Would have, if I hadn’t caught it. I threw it back to the one who missed the ball in the first place, and the two men—boys, really, eighteen years old at the time—resumed their game. But the one I threw the ball to, he never stopped looking at me, and it was only five or ten minutes later that he was asking for a long pass, which sent him running straight for Cindi and me.

He leapt into the air with the agility of an athlete, landing in the sand a foot away from me, football tucked safely against his body. His eyes met mine and he said, “Would you look at that? I fell for you.”

I point a finger at him, my lip curling with the anger roiling in my veins. “You donotget to bring that up.

“Hails—”

“You don’t get to call me that,” I tell him vehemently.

The corner of his lip turns up, and I know he’s fighting a smile. Innocently, he asks, “Freckles?”

My stomach swoops, as though I’m on the Double Drop, the ride that’s always terrified me, that only Luke could get me to go on. I hate it. The ride, the swoop, the way he conjures old memories for me. The nickname he gave me the first day we met because he loved the freckles I’ve detested every day since he broke my heart. I hate it all.

Frustration has my eyes prickling. My voice is barely more than a whisper when I say, “Don’t call me that.”

Turning to my car, I grab the handle to yank the door open, but a hand against it stops it from moving. I look to my left and find Luke right there, closer than he’s been since the first day on shift when he spilled coffee on me. Emotions I can’t begin to decipher swim in his eyes. I hate him for looking at me like that when he’s the reason my heart shattered all those years ago.

“Carter realized who you were when he saw your picture,” Luke says, and it takes a moment for me to come back from the past and follow that he’s talking about the present. The blind date. “I only found out this morning when he asked me to meet him for breakfast.”

My eyes narrow at him. “And you thought it would be a good idea to commandeer my date?”

“What? No.” He shakes his head. “He thought it would be a good idea if I took over for him when he realized it was you.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding in sudden understanding, turning to face him with my arms crossed. “And you went along with it. Because you know just how much I want you around me.”

Luke laughs, lifting his hand to run through his hair. More like over his hair, though. It’s not long enough for much else. Still, it looks better than the first day buzz cut he had. “Actually, I told him you’d have my balls for it.”

I open my mouth to protest, but then stop short, giving a huff to cover an unexpected laugh. After a beat, I say, “Well, at least we can agree on that much.” Then I blink, my arms dropping from my chest as I realize what that must sound like. “Not that I want your balls. The opposite. I want nothing to do with them.”

“Relax,” he chuckles. “I get it.”

Relief washes over me as an awkward silence settles over us. I’m still trying to connect all the little pieces from the last five minutes and how this happened. Had my mother known? Had she and Carter’s mom figured it out somehow?

“When I first got to town, would you believe that’s the first place I went?” Luke asks, and I follow his gaze across the road to the boardwalk. “It was a weekend a few weeks ago. The place was just like it used to be. You remember that?—”

“Stop,” I cut him off with a shake of my head, and his attention comes back to me. “The only way any of this works is if neither of us talks about the past. I don’t want to live in it. I don’t want to rehash it. I want nothing to do with it.”

“Hailey—”

“No, Luke. I don’t want to hear it.” My eyes are like ice, refusing to break contact with his. I let that cold rage slide down over my body, encompassing me, embracing it. “This is my line in the sand, and I’m not willing to cross it.”

He takes a small step towards me, like he’s about to cross that invisible line. “Hailey, please?—”

“I hate you,” I interrupt him, my words as cold as the bottom of the ocean on the other side of the boardwalk. “But for the sake of my family, and of the house I love, I will set that hate aside and deal with you. Now let me go.”

His hand, still on my door, slides down the window until it falls away and he shoves both hands in his pockets, no longer meeting my eyes. Taking a step back, he inhales deeply, and I know resignation is setting in. Or at least what I hope is resignation.

“Have fun at the party,” I tell him before opening my car door and sliding in.

A second later, I’m pulling out of my spot, headed for the road, but I pause at the mouth of the parking lot and glance in my rearview mirror. I know I shouldn’t. I know I should just leave. Walk away like he did all those years ago. But I can’t.

I half expect him to be watching me drive away, but he surprises me when I find him staring across the road at the Boardwalk. Haunted. Like some part of him had always carried a glimmer of hope that one day we would find each other again, and I just squashed all those dreams.

My chest squeezes painfully, like it has many times since the day I found out he no longer wanted me. Like it or not, Luke Reyes will always have a piece of my heart. Having him back in my life means I need to do whatever is necessary to stop the ache threatening to consume me.

Because if I don’t, I’m terrified of what might happen.

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