He didn’t need to be here right now. Why wasn’t he with the blonde? Far away from me and my screwed-up thoughts. “It’s been a long day,” I replied simply.
His hands were in his pockets, and he had unbuttoned the top of his white shirt and rolled up the sleeves, revealing a peep of the tattoos that colored his arms. He stood with his legs slightly apart as he studied me. He was so dang tall.
“Want company?” he asked, looking at the space beside me.
No. Yes. Crap.
I shrugged instead of answering, since I didn’t have a definite answer.
He took that as an affirmative and sat down on the lounger. There was enough space for two, but it was a small space, which meant his long legs stretched out in front of him and touched mine. He crossed them at the ankles and leaned back.
“It’s peaceful here,” he said in a reverent tone.
I nodded. I wasn’t much for talking. Until yesterday, I had him in my “hate you” box. It had been all I allowed myself to feel where he was concerned. Now that I had taken him out, I didn’t know where to put him. Preferably in a box that didn’t allow me to care that he was with other females.
“Not now, because I realize I’m on really fragile ground with you, but one day, when you’re ready, I want a chance to explain what happened eight years ago.”
Not what I had expected him to say. I thought we were going to pretend that didn’t happen and move on with our lives. “What’s past is past. Let’s leave it where it belongs,” I said, not looking at him. My hands fisted firmly in my lap as a wave of emotions washed over me at once. The heartache, loss, fear, and intense love I’d pushed away. I didn’t want it.
“I’d agree with you if you actually knew the past. But you don’t. Just like there are things I don’t know. Things I want to know, even if it’s going to rip me open. I need to know, Bethy. For us both to find a way to heal, we have to deal with the past first.”
He was right. But I wasn’t ready. Our past was what would define the rest of my life. He had molded me into who I was. Our relationship had been the source of my greatest regrets and mistakes. “I’m not ready,” I said quietly.
He didn’t reply, and I almost expected him to get up and leave. But after a few moments, his hand moved over and covered mine. The warmth and size of it engulfed my hand, and I would be a liar if I said it wasn’t comforting. With that one small gesture, I was reminded that I wasn’t alone in this. He understood more than anyone else what I was dealing with.
The night grew darker, and the silence wrapped around us like a cocoon. A place where the past seemed distant and the future was unknown.
Tripp
Teaching a woman how to surf, when she was making it very clear that she wanted me in her bed, was uncomfortable. I knew I had my hands full with each flirty remark that came out of Charity’s mouth. The fact she’d been through a bad divorce and needed male attention made me feel sorry for her. But that didn’t mean I was going to be the guy to give her that attention. Not after Bethy had let me sit with her for more than an hour last night and hold her hand. We hadn’t talked much, but just being there with her had been enough for me. It was progress.
Charity giggled at her last attempt to crawl onto the board, then turned to me and batted her eyelashes. “Help,” she said.
That was another thing. She kept wanting me to put her on the damn board, and she wasn’t wearing much of a bikini. Too much skin contact.
“Try it by yourself this time,” I instructed her, not wanting to grab her waist again. She shivered every time I touched her, and I felt guilty. I didn’t want her thinking this was going anywhere. I wasn’t her wedding fuck. Unfortunately, she hadn’t figured that out yet.
“I like it better when you help me,” she said, dropping her voice down a notch to what I was sure would be a sexy sound to most men.
We had been at it for an hour. I’d done my duty. It was time to put an end to the ideas running through her head. “Yeah, well, I’m beat. We both have a wedding to get ready for this afternoon and a long night of celebrating ahead. Probably shouldn’t overdo it.”
With that excuse, I slipped the board under my arm and nodded for her to follow me before walking back to the shore.
“Oh, OK,” she called out behind me, and hurried to catch up.
I didn’t give her reason to think I wanted to prolong this; I just kept walking.
“Uh, so did you eat breakfast already?” she asked, catching up to me quickly.
I had only grabbed a cup of coffee before heading out, but eating with her wasn’t happening, either. She was getting too bold. “Not a breakfast eater,” I replied, which was a lie. After being out in the waves, I was starving.
“Oh, well, I guess I’ll see you later?” she asked as we finally made it to shore.
I nodded. “Sure,” I agreed, because I would. We’d both be at the wedding.
Then I headed up the small incline toward the other side of the island where the huts were located.
“You look like a man running from something,” Woods said with an amused smirk as he stepped out from a cluster of palm trees with a cup of coffee in his hands.