Page 90 of Riptide

But I don’t get the chance.

The door opens behind us, and a voice I haven’t heard in four years cuts through the space between us.

“Well. This is unexpected.”

My body locks up before I even turn. I don’t need to see him to know.

Finn shifts beside me, half turning toward the sound, his brow furrowing as he turns back to me.

I tentatively flick my eyes to the doorway where he stands—Ryan, my ex-husband, who I haven’t seen in four fucking years. He’s here like a memory I thought I’d buried, a ghost I never wanted to see again. His arms are crossed, mouth curled in a smirk I’d hoped I’d forget. He looks the same. Light brown hair swept over to one side, brown eyes that used to mean everything to me now look cold and calculating.

“Fucking your students now?” he says, walking in closer to us. “Classy, Nick.”

Finn’s hands drop from my waist. Whatever was alive between us a moment ago vanishes in an instant, heat sucked from the room like someone opened a door to winter. Somehow, I think he knows who this is, whether it’s the use of my name or the sheer shock and fear pulsing from me. But I can’t confirm it yet, because he wasn’t supposed to come back, ever.

I can’t speak. All I can is stare at the man who once promised forever and disappeared like I was nothing, while the man who currently owns my heart stands in front of me.

This isn’t how today was supposed to go.

Chapter thirty-eight

Finn

Thetensionthat,secondsago, was full of electric energy between me and Foxx has immediately dissolved into something much more unforgiving.

I’m staring at the guy in the doorway, who stands there with a smug and pissed-off expression on his face. Something skitters down my spine, cold and icy, as he looks me over with disdain.

I’m pretty sure I don’t have to ask who he is. Judging by the way Foxx seized up and the way the guy used his first name, I’m guessing this is his ex, Ryan. Plus, he’s the same guy in that picture from Foxx’s early social media days, I’m sure of it.

He steps forward slightly, hands in his pockets, like this is normal. “I’m Ryan,” he says casually. “Foxx’s husband.” And bingo, I was right.

I scoff before I can stop myself, and shift, planting myself a little more squarely in front of Foxx, as if I could physically keep the past from getting too close.

“Ex, from what I hear,” I say, tone dry.

Ryan raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the whole thing. That arrogant tilt of his mouth makes my fists clench at my sides. This fucker really believes he has some kind of claim over Foxx. “Semantics,” he says with a shrug.

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Pretty fucking big one, don’t you think?”

Ryan just smirks, the whole thing apparently beneath him. LikeI’mbeneath him. And I realize, in a sick sort of way, he’s not here for Foxx. Not really. He’s here to rattle him. To remind him of whatever power he used to have, because I’m pretty sure he hasn’t been around for years now.

Foxx still hasn’t said a word. I glance back, just long enough to see the look on his face. He’s frozen, pale, his mouth open like he wants to speak but can’t quite get the words to form. And I get it, I do, but what am I supposed to do? Seconds ago, he felt like mine, and now, it’s almost like he’s slipping through my fingers like sand. There’s too much heat in my chest, too much static behind my eyes, and if I stay, I know I’ll say something I can’t take back, that could make things worse for Foxx. So I step away slowly, like I’m not completely unraveling.

“I’m gonna head out,” I say, my voice relaxed, even though nothing inside me is. “Let you two talk.” I have no idea if that’s what I should do here, but what I do know is that they have history that doesn’t involve me.

Foxx flinches, and his eyes finally meet mine, but I can’t get a good read on him. There’s something there, regret, hesitation…but it’s locked down. “Finn…” he says, and the way he says my name undoes me a little, but there’s a thread of something else, like he knows he has to deal with this without me.

I give him a smile that feels like it belongs to someone else. “Call me later, okay?”

It’s not anything I’d normally say to him, but it’s the only thing I can think of. So, I turn on my heels and leave.

I make it down the hallway without looking back, but my heart is pounding, my brain scrambled. I’m not sure if I’m overreacting or not reacting enough.

Out the door, the crisp, open air fills my lungs, and I realize it’s the first breath I’ve taken since leaving his side. By the time I slide into my car, my hands are vibrating, not with anger, but something messier. I’m not mad at Foxx; I’m just confused, and the reality is, I’ve just left my guy in a room with his ex. That feels monumentally stupid.

“Fuck!” I shout as I grip the wheel, knuckles white. I could go home. I should go home to my parents’ house and calm down. Instead, I bring my phone out of my pocket and dial my sister’s number.

I just need to be around people who know me. Who feel solid.

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