Page 59 of Hearts Adrift
She eyed me a few seconds more, then gave in. “Yeah, I know. I’m also aware of the cutbacks we’ve made, letting off staff at the Parrot, tightening our open hours … Oh, and this sweet old man complained to me the other day after noticing our hotdog meat changed to something cheaper.” She gave me a smirk. “I bet Dad’s saving for another new attraction, maybe next summer, something more thrilling than Booty Bridge. A rollercoaster with aloop. Or maybe he gave serious thought to my idea of a rainbow charter yacht catering to gay men. It wouldslay!I’ve already got a marketing strategy prepared, just in case. But … you know how Dad is:Mr. Secrets.”
Mr. Secrets—like father like son, I guess.
Then she asked: “Are you really not going to respond to River’s texts?”
We happened to be in the game room. And the window was right there. And perhaps I happened to be looking in thedirection of the window when she asked. It might even be the reason she threw the question at me at all, like bait in the water, waiting for me to nip at the line.
And I nipped. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Brooke …”
“Are you finding it difficult to believe that a guy you just saw on our big family TV could possibly be into you? I hope you realize you’re not just a catch. You’rethecatch.”
“Just stop.”
“He would beluckyto land a guy like you. He already is. I mean, look at the super-cool sister he’d adopt if y’all get married someday. I’d be, like, thebestsister-in-law.”
I threw her a tired look. “Seriously, Brooke?”
“You should go check on him. If anything just to get actual closure, if you’re so desperate for it to not work out between you two. You already had a trial run of you guys living together this past week. Wasn’t it awesome?”
Yes, I could’ve said, were I not so defensive. “Brooke.”
“Just admit you’ve fallen for him!”
Then I’d had it. “I cannotrisk falling in love again! What don’t you understand about that?” She grew silent. I softened my voice at once. “Especially not for a guy who’s already planning his big, amazing future without me after you’ve finished fixing it. I can’t … risk being hurt again.”
“So this is about Theo.”
“No,” I barked, snapping back into angry mode. “He’s gone from my life.”
“But is he really?” she countered, then crossed the room and took my hands. Despite being annoyed, I let her, though I threw my gaze to the wall. “I think that cute, sexy, manipulative bastard is living rent-free in a bungalow in your brain. And if you let him stay there, he’ll dictate who gets to move in for the rest ofyour life.”
“I hate your metaphors.”
“Don’t just be Theo’s ex. Make Theoyourex. Move on from that cute, sexy bastard.”
“You’ve called him cute and sexy twice.”
“He was,” she mumbled defensively before continuing on without missing a beat. “I think you’ll regret it if you don’t pull down all your walls and justtryletting River in. All the way in.” Her voice went deeper. “All the way in.”
Yes, she was implying sex. “I’m going to the gym,” I said to her, gently pushed her hands off of mine, and made my way out.
I’m still thinking about her—and River—when I take my tired-ass self for a stroll across Breezeway Point, shoes and socks off and stuffed into my gym bag so I can enjoy the sand between my toes. I didn’t drive to the gym today, figuring I could use the walk to contemplate the abyssal mess that is my knot of feelings for a certain River Wolfe. Also, perhaps in some desperate effort to promote the Fair, Brooke insisted I wear the Hopewell Hoodie Tank to the gym—a neon green sleeveless hoodie with rainbow piping around the edge of the hood and our logo across the front. I guess that also makes me a walking beachside billboard, as bright as can be, can’t miss me halfway across the sand.
And I’m no closer to understanding how I feel about everything. My sister’s words hang over my sluggish head about how I’m allowing my “cute, sexy, and manipulative” ex to be the landlord of my brain. I wish it was so easy to just shut it off. To not feel like anyone’s efforts of flirting with me—even River’s—isn’t to just get something. Will I ever trust people again?
Or trust myself?
The next thing I know, a volleyball whacks me in the side of the head with such force, I literally stumble forward with stars in my eyes before tripping over my own feet and face-planting into the sand.
And when I turn, there’s the same hot beach guy again, his messy hair, dripping in sweat and tight abs, charming smile and twinkling eyes in the afternoon sunlight.
The same fucking guy. The same fucking volleyball.
“Are you kidding me??” I blurt out before he can even start his flirty charm on me. “Twice?? Do you have some fucking vendetta against my consciousness??”
