Page 21 of Stick Break
“It’s just that…uh.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she says softly.
“I know. I just…” I scrub a hand over my face. “She used to be. We’re on again, off again. Mostly off these days.”
Charly goes quiet, and a shadow moves across her expression. She must be thinking about…him. The guy who leaked that tape. My hands tighten on my fishing line, the tension running up my arms. What kind of asshole does that? I don’t care how mad you are—you don’t break someone like that.
“You’re currently… off?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Just that. Simple. Not simple.
She looks like she wants to say more, but I nod to her bobber. “You’ve got something.”
Her eyes go huge. “No way.” She jumps up, nearly taking the rod with her. “Oh my God, is it a fish?”
“Not sure.” I drop my line and move behind her. “Easy,” I say, close to her ear.
She shivers—and I get the sense that it has nothing to do with the catch on her line.
“Come on, Mama needs a new pair of cargos,” she says, grinning as she works the line.
I chuckle just as a summer flounder leaps from the water. Charly squeals like she just won the lottery. “Ohmigod, it’s a fish.”
“It’s a fish,” I say, laughing at her pure joy.
“I caught a fish. I can’t believe I caught a fish.”
I reach down, cover her hands with mine to help her reel it in. “Nice and slow,” I murmur, guiding her.
Her scent drifts up—coconut and something sun-warmed—and for a second I forget we’re reeling in dinner.
The fish flops onto the rocks and Charly jumps back like it might lunge at her. “Ah, nope. No thank you.”
I take the rod and crouch beside the flopping flounder. “Now we take it off the hook. Then I slice down the belly and clean it.”
I glance back—and she looks horrified.
“Are you… going to kill it?”
“That’s kind of how this works.”
“I… I don’t want to do that.” Her voice is shaky.
“I can do it.”
“Maybe we could just… have peanut butter sandwiches for dinner?”
I pause, then nod. “Okay.”
Walking to the water’s edge, I release the fish gently. It floats for a second, stunned, then flicks away into the surf.
When I turn back, she’s hugging herself, looking like someone just told her Bambi was nonfiction.
“Hey.” I step close and wrap my arms around her, pulling her in. “You okay?”
She nods against my chest. “I guess I never thought about what happens after you catch one.”
“It’s okay.” I smooth a hand over her back. “We can do catch and release. There’s a market down the road if we want fish.”
