Page 88 of Riptide

I breathe a little easier with every word, like saying it is stitching something closed inside of me. My chest eases pressure, and I know she feels it too.

“And now?” she asks quietly.

I pause. My thumb brushes over Rosie’s onesie. “And now…I think I’ve found something in someone else too.”

“Foxx?” she asks, lifting her eyebrows.

I nod. “He’s been…more than I expected. It started as a distraction. But now…I don’t know. He sees me. Like, really sees me. And it’s terrifying. But also, kind of everything I didn’t know I needed.” We were supposed to be temporary, but nothing about how I feel understands that sentiment.

She’s looking at me with that genuine face that I’ve known my whole life, and I already know what she’s going to say. “You fell, didn’t you?”

My heart flip-flops. “Hard.”

Daphne smiles, wide and real. “Good. You deserve someone who sees all of you. The messy parts, the dark ones. The bright ones too.”

Rosie sighs as she leans into my side, and I realize she’s falling asleep. I swallow nerves, preparing to admit something out loud for the first time.

“I want to keep him, Daph, and I’m scared I’ll be too much for him.” I have no basis to that thought, but it needed to come out of my head. Even if she tells me I’m being ridiculous, or that, yeah, I’m a lot. At least I’m not hiding from anyone anymore. There was once a version of me that believed I had to keep moving, keep chasing the wins and the highs, but now all I want is to be still and present with him.

She chuckles quietly. “You’ve always been intense about the things you love. Why would this be any different? It sounds like he sees you and accepts you. So let him.”

I exhale, even though my lungs feel as though they’re full of sawdust, emotion pressing up against my ribs. Rosie sighs in her sleep, and I glance down at her, my heart twisting in the best and worst ways.

There’s something about being vulnerable in front of someone who already knows every version of me, that makes everything feel just a little less heavy.

Knowing that my sister will never leave my side. That Foxx might want me anyway. That Rosie loves me just because I exist…it doesn’t fix everything, but it reminds me I’m not alone in it.

And maybe that’s what healing really is. Letting the love in, even when you’re still a little broken. Letting it hold you together while you figure out how to hold yourself up.

Chapter thirty-seven

Foxx

We’vebeenhomeforjust under a week since Port Orford. Finn’s stayed at my place most nights, and every moment since then has just solidified to me that I’m in over my head.

Everything we do no matter if it’s cooking dinner side by side, reading on the couch, watching our latest cowboy obsession like we’ve got nothing better to do—it all feels easy. Natural. Like we’ve slipped into something neither of us has dared to name. Except, I think I know what this is, and I know what I should do for him.

I’m about to head out to work when I decide I need to tell Eugene about it. He answers his door with a raised eyebrow.

The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I handed my two weeks’ notice to OCC.”

He watches me, waiting for me to continue.

“The day before Finn and I left for that weekend, you said to me… Don’t let your fear talk you out of something good.”

“Yeah?”

“So I decided that keeping that job didn’t feel as important as keeping him. I think I just knew something had to give, and I didn’t want it to be him.”

Eugene tilts his head. “You’re quitting because of him?”

“He didn’t ask me to. But I don’t want him to ever feel like a line got crossed that we can’t come back from. I want him to know that I saw the line and stepped back, for us.”

“And you’re going to tell him?”

I exhale. “I will.” I tell myself I’ll bring it up. After dinner, maybe. When we’re full and warm and tangled together on the couch. He’ll be in one of my hoodies, curled against me like he always is, and I’ll just say it.

But then the day gets away from me, and the next thing I know, I’m standing in my classroom at OCC, setting up early like I always do. Markers lined. Notes on the desk. Board wiped clean.

---