Page 42 of The Girl I Once Loved

Follow my heart.

Ironic that would be her advice to me since following my damn heart is what fucked me over in the first place.

Nevertheless, it’s her counsel that drove me to come here tonight. I may not be able to force Sky to open her heart to me again, but that doesn’t mean I’ll make it easy for her to forget me—forget how I once owned that very heart she keeps bolted up under lock and key and hidden away from prying eyes.

If I have to stalk her just to get my daily fix of Sky, then so fucking be it.

I’ve lived without her light for long enough.

If hate is all she’s able to give me, then I’ll happily drink every last drop of it.

I’ll let her hate fill the gaping hole in my chest, until it no longer feels unbearable to live with.

Love may no longer be in the cards for me, but her hate will do just fine.

“There they are!” Clara waves over to a booth on the other side of the street.

“Here comes Thatcher’s Bay golden boy!” Daisy shrieks, jumping over the counter to hug me. “Derrick hasn’t stopped telling us how you blew everyone away! Three whole minutes ahead of the runner up! That’s amazing! I’m so fucking proud of you!” she exclaims, holding me so tightly my lungs constrict for breath.

“Easy there, petal. Don’t break him just yet. I’m going to need him to win another race for me this summer,” Derrick interjects with an amused chuckle, gently pulling Daisy off me to give me back some breathing room. With a demure smile, he wraps his arms around her waist before greeting our parents. “Mr. Fontaine. Mrs. Fontaine. How are you this fine evening?”

“Derrick,” my father retorts with a clipped tone. “In all honesty, I could be better after hearing how you continue to have your priorities in check. One of them being making a fast buck off my son’s hard labor.”

“Noah has never seemed bothered by our arrangement,” Derrick defends stoically. “But if he ever does, then he knows he can come to me anytime. I won’t let something as silly as money come in the way of family.”

The jab hits my father’s stern demeanor right in the chest, making his jaw clench up with all the words he’d like to say, but can’t, or he’ll bear the wrath of both Daisy and Clara alike.

It’s no secret Derrick isn’t my father’s favorite person. Though most of Thatcher’s Bay would disagree with him, since everyone on both sides of the island regard Derrick as being their favorite son, my father has never quite seen the appeal of him, nor has he fallen for his charms.

I guess I’m a little to blame for that.

Especially since most of the trouble I got in with the law in my teenage years could always be tracked to either a drag race or fight that Derrick had organized. My father’s dislike of the Monroe heir tripled, though, when Daisy announced that the two of them were dating.

I can still remember how that shitshow went down.

Dad thought that Derrick was somehow going to corrupt Daisy, only to leave her heartbroken afterwards. But if he had paid attention to the women living under his roof, then he would see that Daisy was far from being corruptible. In fact, if there was any such debasing being done at all in their relationship, my money was on Daisy.

“Argh. I still can’t believe you’re organizing another race for Labor Day weekend no less,” Daisy pouts, playfully slapping her fiancé’s broad forearm. “That’s the last weekend we’ll have before the wedding. You’re going to be busy with that, while I’ll still be freaking out with all the wedding preparations.”

“We have more than enough time to get everything ready by then. Isn’t that right, Curt?” Clara assures, trying to ease her eldest daughter’s anxiety, while simultaneously trying to pull her husband’s deadlock stare away from Derrick.

“Hmm.” My father groans non-committedly.

But while the four of them are occupied with their own shit, my attention is solely and fully on the girl who remained inside the booth, greeting customers one by one with a wide smile and a light laugh.

Fuck.

Since Sky’s returned home, she’s always dolled up in fancy clothes and makeup that you would expect to find in those girly fashion magazines Daisy likes so much.

But not tonight.

Tonight, my girl is wearing a simple cut off the shoulder t-shirt that rises up every time she has to lean out over the counter to hand out change, completely oblivious that she’s showcasing her flat stomach and tantalizing midriff with the innocent exchange. Paired with jean shorts that fully expose her long legs—the same legs that I once used to lose myself in—and I’m a fucking goner.

If this is her way of fucking with me, then she’s won.

Because as of this moment, she has never looked more beautifully unattainable to me.

So fucking close and still lightyears away from where I need her to be—in my bed and in my arms.

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