Page 54 of Surfer's Paradise

He stared at her.

Long enough that her skin prickled, her chest tightened.

“What about your stuff?” he finally asked.

She looked away. “I have nothing.”

His head tilted slightly, like he’d been punched.

“Everything I have is in that duffel bag,” she admitted.

A long, heavy silence.

Then—

“Okay,” Isaac said, way too calm.

Rosie narrowed her eyes. “Okay, what?”

Isaac took a step closer.

“You’re legit fucking homeless.”

“Isaac—”

“You’re broke.”

She gritted her teeth. “Stop—”

“You have nothing.”

“Isaac—”

“You live with me now.”

She gaped at him.

“The fuck I do!”

Isaac shrugged, completely unfazed. “Yup.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Isaac, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is you sleeping in a goddamn warehouse when I have an entire extra bedroom.”

Rosie’s fingers curled into her palms, her skin burning with frustration, with humiliation, with something deeper she didn’t want to name.

“This is exactly the problem with you,” she snapped.

Isaac’s brow lifted. “Oh yeah?”

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