Page 30 of Stick Break
Hand to my chest, I try to slow my racing heart. A different kind of racing heart this time. Because he’s close. Like, closer than should be legal close. His eyes search mine, his voice soft.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Maybe you’re the one who needs a bell,” I mutter, trying to play it cool even as my pulse still tap dances in my throat.
He doesn’t laugh. Just drags his finger slowly over the scruff on his jaw, eyes flicking to the still-ringing phone. “You didn’t want to answer.”
“It’s my mom.” I sigh.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, my usual response, but when he cocks his head, I continue, “Today’s been... good. Really good. And she has a way of, you know, pouring rain on good.”
“Then don’t answer,” he says simply, picking up the phone like it’s radioactive. He holds it out. “Let’s ditch these things for the rest of the day.”
I grin, surprised. “Really?”
“Really,” he says. “It’s our vacation from reality, remember?”
“Okay,” I say, and I mean it.
I watch Rip’s back muscles flex as he hauls the phones into the bedroom. A drawer slides open, a quick plot twist, and then slams shut like it’s hiding some grand secret. He reappears, somehow looking even sexier—like mystery and muscle had a very attractive baby.
“Going for a walk?” I ask.
“Yeah, I like to stretch out after dinner.”
I grin, drying my hands. “Mind if I join? I could use some stretching myself.”
He nods—he gets my subtext, even if neither of us say it out loud. He grabs a ballcap, pulls it low over his brow, and we head out. Outside, he locks the door, and suddenly, our bodies are close as we cross the narrow road, our feet instantly sinking into the cool sand.
The beach after dark is a whole different world. Quiet, calm. Families have retreated to their cottages, kids tucked in or roasting marshmallows by their own fires.
A dull ache presses in the center of my chest.
“You okay?” Rip’s voice breaks the silence.
I laugh, trying to shake it off. “Yeah. Just thinking about how quiet it is now. So different from this afternoon—all those kids building sandcastles, believing in fairy tales.”
Rip smirks. “I gave up believing... until I found Goldilocks in my bed.”
I nudge him playfully. He pulls away just a bit, but the warmth doesn’t leave his eyes.
“Come on, Rip, we both know you’re a hopeless romantic.”
He steps back in close again, fingers brushing mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You want a family someday?”
After the craziness of the contest and the club, I thought my life would be somewhere else by now. But here I am—kind of a hot mess, drifting nowhere.
I shrug. “I have to figure out what I want first. Can’t bring kids into this chaos just yet. How about you?”
Rip exhales slowly. “I need to get my shit together too.”
There’s a long pause, the kind that hums with unsaid things. Knowing he’s talking about his ex, I ask gently, “She’s hard on your head, huh?”
He rubs the back of his neck, voice raw. “Yeah. How do I still want her, Char? One minute, she’s all love and promises. The next, she’s gone—bed cold, off doing who knows what with who knows who. What’s wrong with me? I thought other girls would fix this. They don’t.”
His honesty catches me off guard. It’s like all the love and pain he’s been bottling up is finally spilling out. He trusts me. And honestly? I barely know him. Maybe we’re trauma bonding, maybe not. But in a week, I’ll walk away with his secrets locked tight in my heart—and maybe that’s why it’s easier for him to talk to me now.
