Page 40 of From the Wreckage
I scrub a hand over my jaw, restless, unsettled, and more alive than I’ve felt in years.
My phone buzzes, vibrating across the counter. My heart jolts when I see her name.
Angel: Can I see you tomorrow?
The unease in my chest evaporates, replaced with something I don’t dare name. My thumb moves before my brain can catch up.
Me: Yeah. Anytime you want.
A sigh leaves me, sharp and shaky, like I’ve been underwater too long and finally broke the surface. God help me, I should’ve hesitated. I should’ve put distance between us. Instead, I feel like I’ve been given oxygen.
Another buzz pulls me from my thoughts. This time, it’s Grayson.
Grayson: Hey, you busy? Could use a hand with a project around the cabin.
I stare at the screen, a low curse in my throat. He has no idea what he’s asking. No idea how dangerous it is for me to be around his daughter.
But the truth is, I’d never say no. Not to him. Not when it means I get to see her.
Me: Sure. I can come by today.
Grayson: You sure? It’s Sunday.
Me: I’m good if you are.
Grayson: Great. Appreciate it, man.
I hesitate only a second before typing the message.
Me: What time do you want me there?
Grayson: 11:00 work? Bri and I are having breakfast.
My chest tightens. The thought of her just across the lake right now makes my pulse trip.
Me: Works for me. See you at 11:00.
I drop my phone onto the counter and brace my palms beside it, my head hanging low.
I should stay the hell away. Put space between us before I wreck us both.
But instead, I’m going to walk straight into his cabin. Straight toward her. Straight into the fire I swore I’d never touch again.
And this time, I don’t think I have it in me to resist burning alive.
By the timeI park my truck in Grayson’s driveway, the sun is blazing and the lake lies still, glittering like glass. Grayson waves me around back, already pulling tools from his shed.
“Appreciate this, Everett,” he says, clapping my shoulder. “Figured I’d start replacing a few boards on the deck before they rot clean through.”
I nod, reaching for the toolbox. “Happy to help.”
The door creaks open, and my attention zeroes in on her.
She steps onto the deck, her dark hair loose and wild, a bikini clinging to every curve. My chest seizes, heat flooding my veins. She drops into a chair with a grin, sliding on her sunglasses like she’s settling in to watch a show.
“I’m supervising,” she teases, kicking her feet up on the rail. She uncaps a bottle of sunscreen, and damn if I don’t imagine my hands smoothing it over her skin.
Grayson snorts. “Some help you are.”
