Page 98 of Beautifully Broken
Van is studying for his masters in ethical hacking and cybercrime. I’m focused on my forensic studies and getting into my doctorate program. I will intern with the police after I finish my master’s and hope to do an internship with the FBI when I am halfway through my doctorate. Classes have been my primary focus, and my only social life is spending time with Van. He has become my best friend, my everything, and I can’t think of ever living without him by my side.
I meet Van for lunch and as he pulls out my chair in the café, he leans in to kiss my cheek, but I turn and his lips touch mine.
“Hi baby doll, how’s your morning been?” he asks as I look over the menu. Trying to decide if I want to stay healthy with a salad or stress eat some mozzarella sticks.
“I survived. Ask again tonight? Am I still coming to your place and crashing into your bed?”
“You are always welcome at my place, you know that, but I should warn you that Jax will be there.”
They share a house together. “Nope, my apartment with the bitch roommate is better than seeing that asshole.”
“Doll, you’ll see him eventually. We are all working in the same general field. He may be part of a crime scene you have.”
I shrug and decide on the grilled chicken salad and mozzarella sticks because I can be healthy and stress eat, fuck the haters.
“I can be professional, and I can also work at a different force than him and avoid any interactions.” Turning as the waiter arrives, I give him my order and look at my phone while waiting for Van to finish.
Van gets a burger and fries because he doesn’t need to look like he can handle himself against men bigger than him. He has that lean runner’s physique. I hate the fact that women are thought to be weaker; I know all the pressure points on the human body and can take a man double my size down with a finger.
“Are you ready for our trip this coming week? I am ready to let my mind wander and rest before I finish this thesis and start the doctorate program.” I ask Van while we eat.
“You mean am I ready to have you to myself with no distractions? Hell yes. Do you know what movies or activities you want to do?” he says with a smile.
Laughing, I reply “I haven’t thought of anything but relaxing. I saw there is a hot tub, so I am going to be in that with a bottle of Moscato one night for sure.”
“Does this mean you are leaving all the planning to me?” Van asks, knowing how much of a control freak I am.
“Yup, my plan includes no decision making.” I tell him with a smile. My imagination definitely has plans that involve him naked, but that is fantasy.
Chapter 7
Winter Beach Trip
I open the door to the suite and step into what feels like a dream. The room is airy and bright, with sunlight pouring in through wide glass doors that lead out to the balcony. A huge bed sits in the center of the room, dressed in crisp white linens, with plump pillows stacked high and a light, colorful throw folded neatly at the foot — a vibrant splash of teal and coral that reminds me of the sea just outside. A ceiling fan spins lazily overhead, stirring the warm, sweet-scented air. To my right, there’s a sitting area with a low, cushioned sofa and a dark wooden coffee table, where a welcome tray of fresh tropical fruits and a chilled bottle of rum punch waits. Even the scent of the room is comforting, a mix of coconut, salt air, and a hint of something floral I can’t quite name. It’s peaceful, like the suite itself is a private little oasis carved out of paradise.
As I walk out the sliding door of our room onto the balcony with a private pool overlooking the azure waters and white sands, I sigh. It has been eight years of demanding work, no breaks, late nights and more studying than I want to think of. This vacation has been long overdue and I refuse to let anything get me down. Standing on the balcony, the world feels like it’s holding its breath. The sun hangs low over the horizon; sinking into the endless stretch of the Caribbean Sea. The sky is a masterpiece, brushed with deep oranges, fiery pinks, and soft purples that bleed into each other like a watercolor. A warm breeze brushes against my skin, carrying the faint scent of salt and tropical flowers from the gardens below.
***
Somewhere in the resort, a steel drum band plays, their rhythm slow and dreamy, perfectly in sync with the changing colors of the evening. The laughter and chatter from the beach grow softer, more mellow, as everyone seems to pause and watch the day give way to night. I lean against the balcony railing, completely still, letting the beauty of it all wash over me. For a few perfect moments, it feels like the entire island is made of nothing but light, music, and warmth. This, right here, is the heaven I have dreamed of escaping to. Heading back into the room, I get ready for dinner with Van.
Dressed in a lavender chiffon dress, light and airy with a halter top and empire waist, perfect for a romantic island dinner. See Van on the balcony I step out next to him. He hands me a glass of champagne and we drink it together, his arm around my waist tucking me between him and the railing.
The night is warm and velvety, with a gentle breeze drifting in from the sea, carrying the scent of saltwater, jasmine, and grilled spices. With the sky above a deep, endless navy, speckled with stars that shimmer like scattered diamonds. The moon hangs low and full, casting a silver glow across the softly lapping waves just a few feet from our table.
The beachfront restaurant is open air and tucked beneath a canopy of swaying palm trees, their leaves rustling quietly in the night air. Twinkling fairy lights are strung above, woven through the palms and linen-draped wooden beams, bathing everything in a soft, golden glow. Lanterns flicker on each table, their candlelight casting delicate shadows across the sand.
The table is nestled right on the beach, our toes buried in the cool sand, while the rest of the world is distant and hushed. A live musician plays soft acoustic reggae in the background, just a guitar and smooth vocals, melting into the night like a lullaby. The faint clink of glasses and low murmurs from the diners are the only other sounds, muted by the rhythm of the ocean.
Dinner arrives in stages: jerk lobster tails brushed with spiced butter, grilled filet dusted with jerk spices, coconut rice, and fresh fruit salads. A chilled bottle of Moscato sits nearby, beads of condensation trailing down its surface. We sip,we laugh, touch fingertips across the table, stealing glances between bites and brushing feet beneath the table.
The world feels smaller here, in the best way. Like it’s paused just for this moment—just for the two of us under the stars, wrapped in warm air, candlelight, and the hush of the sea.
I lean back in my chair, wine glass in hand, toes buried in the cool sand. The breeze off the ocean is warm and soft, and the candlelight dances across Van’s face, making the little gold flecks in his eyes flicker. He looks stupid good tonight. Rolled-up sleeves, messy hair, collar popped open just enough to distract me in ways I should not be distracted while eating.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he says, flashing that crooked grin that’s been undoing me since sophomore year, “and I’m going to think you’re not here for the food.”
I smirk, swirling my wine. “Okay, the lobster’s amazing, but that shirt on you? Even better.”
