Lucky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series Book 6)

I knock on Rita’s door, after leaving Seven to take his shower and get ready in peace.

She must have seen me walking over because she opens the door within seconds of my knuckles touching the bright yellow painted entry.

I smile at the thought that Rita has a front door that’s as loud and inviting as she is.

‘You’re here! Good,’ she beams, pulling the door open wider to let me in. My mouth waters at the smell of dinner wafting towards me from her kitchen.

I step through the door of Rita’s house and the place looks almost identical to Seven’s, except that everything is updated with new furnishings and decorated beautifully.

‘Wine?’ she asks.

‘Yes, please. I’d love some.’

I’m tempted to tell her not to bother with the glass. I’ll just take the entire bottle in order to get through tonight with Seven, but I don’t need anyone else asking questions about how he and I are getting along. Sheridan is more than enough people to have to retell the harrowing tale of how I made a complete idiot of myself last night.

You’d think I’d be used to embarrassing myself in front of Seven, but then I find a whole new low.

Seeing him this morning was awkward after what happened between us last night. But worse than that, my belly flipped with excitement the second he walked through the kitchen archway to find Rita and me chatting.

‘Follow me,’ she instructs, taking a sip of her own long-stem glass.

I follow her through the living room and into the kitchen. ‘I got so caught up in wanting to make sure that you’re ok after everything that happened at Scallywag’s and to thank you for everything you did to help us out, that I forgot to ask how Seven is as a host. Do you have everything you need next door? Is he being a gentleman?’

Is Seven being a gentleman?

Nothing about what that man can do in the bedroom would be considered gentlemanly, and my cheeks still warm at the thought of it.

She pulls another long-stem glass from the cabinet and then grabs the bottle of wine she has already opened.

‘He’s been more than fair and accommodating, especially considering the circumstances. I’d like to get out of his hair as soon as possible, but the hotels don’t seem to have any vacancies at the moment and I can’t seem to get a flight out any earlier than my original itinerary for next week since they need to book other passengers whose flights were canceled before mine.’

I watch her as she uses a heavy hand to pour me a full glass.

God bless her.

‘Why leave now anyway? You’re here and the storm is long gone. Why not just finish out your trip? Seven said that you’re here to write, so stay and write.’

She sets the full glass in front of me and I pick it up to take a sip.

The wine is good, really good.

The full-body fragrance and the slight fruity undertones of this wine have my tongue begging for another taste.

‘The living situation is less than ideal at the moment. I can’t ask Seven to stay another week. I feel like I’ve outstayed my welcome as it is. The best option is a hotel room in Cancun, but I don’t see that happening.’

‘Cancun? That’s way too far from here. We’d never see you,’ she says. ‘Stay here with me. I have plenty of room.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I think Seven and I could use a little more space.’

‘Then take the apartment. The family who was staying with me just moved back to their house this morning. You are welcome to use that space if you’d like. You’ll be a lot closer to us if you need anything.’

It’s no surprise to me that Rita would offer up her apartment. She has such a giving heart. But I can’t ask her to let me stay in it for free for an entire week.

‘I couldn’t ask you to do that. Someone else who needs it more than me should use it.’

‘Oh, nonsense. If it keeps you close, it’s the best option for everyone.’

The best option for who?

I’m sure Seven would be more than happy for me to be as far away from him as possible.

‘I can pay you for the rental at least. Just tell me what I owe for the week.’

It’s not as if I can’t afford it. My author business is booming, and I still have most of my advance from this new series. Plus, I can write it off as a business expense.

Rita shakes her head.

‘No need to pay. You’re my guest and I don’t need a dime.’

I think for a second about what I could do to make the exchange feel more equal.

I really enjoyed bussing tables and being a part of a team again. It’s been years since I worked as a server in college. It also kept my brain sharp and active while I worked through my storyline. I wouldn’t mind having that creative flow moving again.

‘I have to give you something. How about if I take a few shifts to help clear tables in exchange for rent?’

Rita beams back at me.

‘That’s a great idea. Do you think you can manage that along with your writing? We’d love to have you downstairs with us and you’ll get a chance to work with Cammy.’

Seven mentioned his niece Cammy already.

‘Cammy’s working there? I thought she was coming for vacation?’ I ask.

‘She is here for vacation, but she usually takes a shift or two. She says that being a server helps her practice her conversational Spanish whenever she comes to visit. It’s gotten quite good over the years that she’s been coming. And you’ll love her, she’s the best.’

‘She’s supposed to be here tomorrow. Would it be alright if I moved over tomorrow?’

The sooner that I’m out of Seven’s house the better.

‘I see no problem with that. I just need to change the sheets on the bed.’

‘Thank you. I really appreciate this. Can I help you with dinner?’ I ask, looking around at the food that looks like it’s already been prepared.

‘No, everything’s done. We’re just waiting on the man of the hour,’ she says.

I take another sip of the wine to see if the first sip was deceiving but the second sip is even better.

‘Mmm, that’s really good.’

Rita swirls her wine in her glass and then takes a sip as well.

‘This is one of my favorites. My husband took me to Italy a few years back for our anniversary, and we traveled around, wine-tasting our way through Europe. It was the last vacation we took before he passed, and it’s one that I’ll never forget.’

She smiles bittersweetly. I can tell that her memories of her husband are ones she holds dear instead of seeing the tragedy.

‘He knew that I loved our trip so much that he wanted to make the memories last even longer, so he ordered several cases of the wine we had at this tiny villa in Tuscany and had them shipped here for me. I’ll never forget that long weekend we spent there. We felt like newlyweds even after nearly fifty years together.’

‘He sounds like he was very special. I’m not so sure they make them like that anymore,’ I say.

I hear the front door open and close, and then, before I can prepare myself, Seven is in the archway of the kitchen.

I hold my breath the moment he steps into the kitchen, and our eyes lock.

I divert my attention back to Rita and see her smirking at me like she caught me red-handed.

‘No, honey… They still make them like that. They’re just limited edition now and come standard with a scowl to ward off predators.’

Seven walks over to the fridge and opens the door looking inside for something.

‘Who’s warding off predators?’ he asks.

He must have gotten only the very end of our conversation and has no idea that Rita is hinting that Seven is one of the last good men left. She might be right, but that’s not for me to investigate. As soon as I get back to Seattle, Daniel and I will have a lot to discuss to determine what the future looks like for us, and Colston’s character in my book will be written and I won’t need Seven as my muse any longer.

He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a long-neck beer and then pops the top off and takes a long pull as he walks over towards us standing by the stove as Rita starts to dish three plates.

‘The local jellyfish. Haven’t you heard? They’re getting picked off left and right. Researchers don’t know why.’

Rita hands him a plate full of food, and when Seven isn’t looking, she gives me a wink.

I chuckle at her quick-witted thinking, though I’m pretty sure the jellyfish story isn’t true. I watch as Rita starts to plate me up a typical helping of food. Not like the portions that Seven is always trying to feed me.

‘Fine with me if jellyfish go extinct. I’ve stepped on enough of those assholes on the beaches here. I wouldn’t shed a tear if I never saw another one for the rest of my life,’ Seven says.

Rita hands me my plate and then I follow a good distance behind Seven towards the kitchen eating nook where a round table with four chairs sits.

I take the seat the furthest away from him. It puts us directly across the table from one another so that we have to face each other but at least we’re not close.

Rita finishes filling her plate and then joins us.

We all dig into the food that Rita must have slaved over all day. Every single bite I take is even more delicious than the bite before. I’ve never had Creole food, which means I can barely wait until we head back to Seven’s and I get to check off ‘Try a new dish’ off my ‘Fix-me’ List.

‘And what about your family? Where did you grow up? Do you have siblings?’

‘I grew up in Oklahoma City. My parents were high school sweethearts and they now both teach at the high school where they met. I have one older brother, but he’s nine years older than me and lives in Boston with his wife and twin girls. He got my dad’s brains and works as a software engineer for a big tech company. He and I don’t stay in touch as much as we should. Sometimes it feels like we weren’t even raised together with our big age gap.’

Not that I’d ever say this out loud but I know my dad understands my brother so much better than he understands me and my passion for being an author. At least my mom gets it. But I wish so much that marrying Daniel wasn’t his highest achievement for me.

‘Seven has an older brother too. What is the age gap between you two?’ Rita asks.

Seven looks down at his plate as he flicks a piece of shrimp over with his fork. His jaw clenches just slightly for a second. Does he not get along with his brother?

‘Eli and I are four years apart,’ he says and then scoops up a bite of dirty rice and jambalaya.

‘Seven grew up in the Midwest. His family owns a farm equipment repair shop, right?’ Rita says.

‘Something like that,’ he says between his next bite of food, scrounging down his food like he usually does.

Only this time, I have a feeling he’s eating as fast as he can so that he can end this night as quickly as possible.

‘That’s why he’s so good at fixing things. I probably rely on him more than I should. I probably ask for too much help.’

He finally looks up from his plate.

‘I never mind when you call me to fix something. You know I’m here for anything you need.’

Rita reaches over and squeezes his wrist.

‘I know, I was kidding. You’re a godsend,’ she pats his forearm and then grabs her glass of wine and takes another sip. ‘Have you gotten the boat back for mooring it out at sea?’

‘I called earlier this morning and they’ll have it docked for me by tomorrow. Cammy already asked if we can take it when she gets here. We’ll probably go fishing the day after tomorrow once she’s settled in. Unless you have her on the schedule already?’

‘I have her on for breakfast that day, but I can move her. It’s not a big deal,’ Rita offers.

‘No, that’s fine. It’s her first day out since last year. I’ll just pick her up after the breakfast rush, and we’ll take it out for a half day.’

Hearing Seven talk about his boat and fishing with Cammy, reminds me that I only have a small amount of time to complete my ‘Fix-Me’ list before I head back home. Now is the time to get serious.

For the rest of dinner, Rita regales us with stories of all the adventures she and Bart have experienced since they married fifty years ago. She spoke about the letters he wrote to her as a young nineteen-year-old medic in the army before they got married and how he proposed by mailing home a simple silver ring that he had purchased in a small village in France. He couldn’t wait another minute to get home and ask her. He needed to know that they would be together forever once he got back home… if he got back home.

Their story should be told on a Hollywood movie screen.

I hung onto every word, and so did Seven. I was grateful to have a distraction from the tension between me and the man sitting across from me.

Rita and Bart’s love story made me think about my own.

Bart couldn’t wait even a couple more months to ask Rita to marry him, so much so that he took the last little bit of money that he had to buy her a ring and risked it getting lost or stolen in the mail, all to ensure that Rita knew of his intentions and affection for her.

As the saying goes, the grass is always greener on the other side. But when I think about Daniel’s proposal… and then his reversal, it has me wondering what kind of story I’ll get to tell fifty years down the road.

Bart knew that Rita was the one. He had no idea when he would return from the war or even if he would return, but he refused to allow distance to dictate their future. Rita and Bart sent letters back and forth, sometimes not getting a letter from the other person for months, whereas Daniel and I can text and call at any time of day or night, and yet we don’t.

Everyone has their own love story, and before I heard Rita and Bart’s, I believed that Daniel and I had one of the strongest. But have I based our entire love story on one commonly shared moment in time? Does surviving a tornado and moving across the country together make for a box-office smash love story? Would I even write that as the premise for any of my romance novels?

Is our love story enough to hold us together?

Seven clears our plates as Rita finishes her story about the beautiful vineyard that she and Bart stayed at in Tuscany.

‘That place sounds amazing. I’ll have to add it to my bucket list one of these days and see it for myself,’ I tell her.

‘Oh, I hope you do. You would love it there. And I hope you get to experience it with someone you love.’

I watch her eyes flicker over to Seven, who rinses off our dishes in the sink, and then her eyes settle back on mine.

Seven doesn’t hear her, nor is he paying any attention to us as he finishes up any leftover pots and pans still sitting in the sink.

‘It’s getting late, and I have a strict bedtime, so we should get this firepit underway,’ Rita says.

‘Sounds good to me. I’ve never been to a bonfire on the beach.’

‘Never?’ Rita asks.

I shake my head.

‘Good thing that we’re going to rectify that tonight.’

She stands from her chair, and I do the same.

‘I’m going to go grab another bottle of wine from the cellar and then we’ll head out. Is the firepit prepped?’ Rita asks Seven.

‘All set. I just need to light it,’ Seven says, drying his hands on a dishcloth after finishing all the dishes.

‘Good boy. I’ll be right back.’

I walk over to the kitchen island to wait for Rita to return when my phone dings.

I pull it out to find Daniel has sent a text.

Fiance: I didn’t hear from you yesterday. I’m going crazy over here.

And then a second one follows.

Fiance: I’m going into a meet and greet early this morning but we need to discuss this. We need to have a discussion about us. I’ll be home in a few more weeks and then we can go back to normal.

Then, a third one.

Fiance: Are you staying with Wrenley as a way to punish me or something?

I’m surprised that he’s reacting like this. I’ve never seen Daniel seem so anxious before. He’s a lawyer and he’s usually so cool and calm about everything.

Brynn: First, I’m not using anyone for anything. Second, I’d never do something just to be vindictive.

Wanting to even the scale before we get back together so that I don’t constantly wonder about all the women he was with while we were apart and getting even to make Daniel jealous are entirely different things. Ending up in Seven’s beach house with him wasn’t something I planned or looked for. It was merely for survival at the time.

Fiance: I know, I’m sorry. I just don’t want him to take advantage of you. Please answer when I call later, okay?

Brynn: It’s been a really long day. If I’m still awake by the time you call, I’ll answer. Otherwise we’ll have to talk tomorrow. I have a long day of writing ahead and I have a shift at the Scallywag’s for the lunch rush.

Fiance: The Scallywag’s? I thought you were there to write? You have a job now? You make more than enough money.

Brynn: It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later.

Fiance: Ok. I’ll call soon. I love you Brynn.

I push my phone back in my pocket and when I look up, Seven is watching me quietly.

I clear my throat, trying to think of something to say but nothing helpful or funny comes to mind. I just feel tongue-tied.

The sound of Rita’s footsteps down the hallway breaks our locked eye contact.

“Here it is,” she says as she enters the kitchen. “The last bottle of Pinot from the crate.”

I spin around to face Rita and break off the tension between Seven and I, plastering on a smile as Rita makes a beeline around the kitchen island for me.

She’s beaming from ear to ear as she holds out the bottle of wine.

“The last bottle from your anniversary trip? Are you sure you want to open it tonight? Don’t you want to hold onto it?” Seven asks.

I see his concern for her plastered on his face.

“Hold onto it for what? Bart isn’t here to drink it with me, and I have a guest in my home who will appreciate it for once. Wine was made to drink with wonderful company, good conversation, and delicious food. Bart wouldn’t be happy that this bottle has been collecting dust,” she says.

Rita hands the bottle to me, and I take it, though I don’t know if I should. It’s not as if I don’t agree with Rita’s sentiments that wine should be enjoyed, but it’s the last bottle of wine that she and her husband purchased together while touring the vineyards of Italy on the last vacation they ever took together before his passing.

I can see why Seven is concerned about her decision to open the bottle.

“Are you sure?” I ask, just as a precaution.

She nods.

“You’re the perfect company and Bart would be happy to see you enjoying it.”

“If this is what you want,” Seven says and then turns back to grab two new glasses off the countertop, linking the glass stems between his fingers.

“Are you ready?” he asks, looking over to Rita.

“All set,” she beams. “Let me just grab a blanket, and I’ll meet you two out there.”

I turn without needing any more incentive.

I want out of this kitchen with this weirdness between us. I have a better chance of escaping this awkward moment in the cloaked darkness of the September night and the warm glow of the firepit.

If Rita’s lively storytelling can’t distract us from everything going on between us, then nothing can.

I just need to make it through tonight, and then tomorrow, I’ll be moved into Rita’s apartment.

I head for the door with the bottle of wine securely in one hand and my phone in the other.

I can feel the heat of Seven’s eyes on my back with every step I take.

The moment I reach the front door of Rita’s house, I realize my hands are full.

I nestle the wine bottle against my arm in order to free up one hand but then Seven’s bicep brushes past my arm as he reaches out in front of me, his chest gently pressing against my back ever so slightly as he opens the door for me to exit.

The second the door opens, I step out onto the porch, not letting him see how every little touch from him has me waiting for the next.

I set my eyes on the firepit in front of us, steadily moving forward though my ears are perked up, listening for how close he follows behind me.

“This is a great spot you have out here, Rita,” I say, looking over at the four teal Adirondack chairs with their feet dug deep into the sand and a circular stone fireplace constructed directly in the middle.

I keep my pace moving forward, but when she doesn’t answer and I only hear the footsteps of mine and Seven’s feet moving down her porch and into the soft, warm sand, I glance back over my shoulder.

It couldn’t take her that long to grab a blanket, could it? After all, the living room was on our way out.

The moment I look back, I see Rita standing in her front door.

“Oh, look at the time. It’s way past my bedtime. I’d better let you kids enjoy it without me. I’ll take a rain check,” she says, keeping her front door barely cracked enough for her tiny body to stand in between.

“Rita, we have the last bottle of wine for you to open. We can’t do that without you,” he says, trying to encourage her.

“Don’t be silly. Just drink a glass for me in honor of Bart,” she smirks. “Night, you two.”

Rita closes the door before Seven or I can protest.

Then we both hear the deadbolt lock engage on her front door.

She just locked us out and now I’m beginning to see that this was a setup for the beginning.

The only question is, was the entire dinner a ruse to get us here? To plant the firepit idea? To get a romantic bottle of wine in my hands and guilt trip us into making sure it doesn’t go to waste?

“Did she just pull one over on us?” I ask Seven as we both stare back at Rita’s front porch, dumbfounded.

“That woman is on a different level than the rest. She’s a grand master schemer but I never imagined she’d go this far.”

My eyes shift from the door to him as he stares back at her house.

“What is she up to?” I ask though I have my own ideas.

He turns and looks at me, his warm brown eyes settling on mine.

“Whatever it is, she’s wrong,’ he says and then stares over at the firepit for a second. “Maybe we should head back to the house. I’m tired. I was up all night.”

Yeah, up all night with me, but he doesn’t look back at me. It’s as if he’s already blocked out that we spent the night together. It was a night I’ll never forget for so many reasons, but mainly for the way Seven made me feel things that I haven’t felt in so long… or maybe ever.

I look down at the wine in my hand and he follows my line of sight.

“What about the wine?” I ask.

Should I drop it back off on her front porch?

But what if an animal comes by or the wind knocks it over, and the bottle breaks, losing the last bottle that she so graciously gave us, even if it had been part of her plan?

I hear the deep sigh of a man knowing when his seventy-year-old neighbor outwitted him.

Really, she outwitted us both.

“How about one glass to appease the senile neighbor and to honor Bart? Then tomorrow, I’ll set her straight that nothing is going to happen between us.”

And there it is.

I needed confirmation that whatever interest he had in me last night was quickly squashed when he saw Daniel’s texts. And I don’t blame him, not really.

Now that I know it for sure, I can focus back on where I should have been all along… waiting for Daniel to come back so that we can start our life together as we planned.

But I’m not in a rush to go home. Rita convinced me that I should stay. I’m writing better than I have in a long time and now that I have her apartment to stay in, I have accommodations for as long as I want them. Besides, I can’t move my flight up any earlier at this point.

I turn from Seven and start towards one of the Adirondack chairs, the heat of the flames starting to heat my skin the closer I get with each step.

“Here,” I hear Seven say behind me. “I’ll open that for you.”

I turn and hand him the bottle of wine.

I watch as he uses the wine opener corkscrew to pull out the plug from the bottle, and then he pours the glass for me and hands it over.

“Thanks,” I say. “Are you going to have any?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s all yours. A wine glass looks better in your hand than in mine anyway and wine has a weird way of making me say stupid shit. It’s a different kind of buzz that won’t be helpful tonight.”

A different kind of buzz?

What does that even mean?

“What kind of stupid shit could you possibly say to make this night any more awkward?” I ask, leading the glass up to my lips to take a sip and take a seat in the wooden chair.

“Trust me, Brynn. You don’t want me to go off-script. It’s better I stick to beer and keep my thoughts to myself.”

He hands me the bottle  and picks his beer back off the wide armrest of my chair.

I watch him as he walks to the furthest chair across from me in the circle and takes a seat.

Silence falls over us for a minute. Then a minute turns into two, and two turns into five, and five turns into ten. My second glass of wine for the night is starting to dwindle, and I know better than to indulge in a third glass. The last thing I need tomorrow is a hangover.

I alternate between staring at the flames between us and the moon reflecting against the ocean.

I listen as the relaxing sounds of the ocean waves crash along the shore not far from where we’re sitting. It does a little to drown out the unspoken words between us.

‘Rita is letting me move into her apartment tomorrow so that Cammy can move into your guest bedroom. If you have any spare, clean sheets, I’ll make the bed before I leave tomorrow.’

‘I have a full set of sheets in the hall closet. I’ll get them for you tomorrow. Do you need a lift over to Scallywag’s in the morning?’

It’s a kind offer, but I’ve already asked him for enough.

‘It’s no trouble. I’ll just call a taxi.’

‘I can take you. I have to leave to get Cammy to the airport and pick up some things at the hardware store while I’m in Cancun. I’ll drop you off before heading out.’

‘But it’s the opposite direction.’

My gaze meets his from across the firepit as he reclines in the wooden chair.

‘By thirty minutes round trip. I don’t mind taking you.’

‘Are you sure that’s not an imposition?’ I ask.

‘Can you be ready in the morning so I can drop you before I have to leave?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then it’s not an imposition.’

I take another sip of my wine.

‘Okay, thank you. I appreciate you taking me in.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ he says and then he finishes off the last of his beer and his eyes break from mine, staring back at the flames between us.

‘So Cammy is your niece? Is she your brother’s daughter?’

I can’t help but try to pull out any tidbits of information about Seven. He keeps a tight lid on most things, not giving much away.

‘My brother Eli’s. The one and only grandkid in the family.’

‘Do you plan on keeping it that way?’ I ask, realizing that was one step too far, especially when it comes to Seven.

His eyes abandoned the fire and glanced up to mine.

I can practically see the flames reflecting off his eyes. I could take back the question but at this point, he’ll answer or not. No point in backing down now. He had already heard the question.

‘I wanted kids… once.’ he says, and then his eyes shoot back down to watch the fire again, cutting off my ability to read anything in those brim and firestone eyes.

‘But not anymore? Why not? Because of hockey?’

‘I can see you’re not going to give this one up.’

‘If I can help it. So tell me, why doesn’t a guy like you want to settle down and have a family?’

I take a sip of my wine, exuding as much confidence as possible, though the intensity of Seven’s stare makes me want to hide behind this Adirondack chair.

‘Are you sure you want a story? This isn’t going to be the kind you write in your books with a happily ever after at the end.’

The look on his face suggests that whatever story he has, he’s numb to. But he knows that I won’t like this one. Still, I can’t let this opportunity go. He likely won’t give me another.

‘I was engaged to Cammy’s mom first,’ I hold my breath the second he says it. ‘One Christmas Eve, I made it home after our weekend days. The flights were all canceled, and the bus system was down, so I bribed the last guy to get into his rental vehicle, and I paid him triple to let me take it. I drove a two-wheel drive car the size of a toast, about twenty miles per hour for five hours on the highway just to get home to see her.

‘I don’t like the way this is going.’

‘You’re right not to,’ he says and then clears his throat. ‘Long story short, the rest of it is as cliche and unoriginal as they usually are. She and my brother were already asleep in our bed. In the house, I bought her with my rookie signing bonus. And an ultrasound sonogram on the kitchen island of a baby that wasn’t mine.’

‘Oh God, Seven, I’m sorry.’

‘She begged me to let her stay in our hometown while I traveled. She said she wanted to build us a home for the off-season and that it would be easier to start a family if she was close to family. The truth is, I was always the backup plan, and she was the girl next door who had always had a crush on my older brother. If I hadn’t been cocky enough to think a professional contract with millions and her dream house could buy her love, I might have been smart enough to have seen that I was never the one she wanted. I was the backup plan. And when my brother came back injured from overseas, she saw her opening.’

‘It’s hard to imagine you as anyone’s backup plan,’ I say.

I have a feeling that a large number of female hockey fans would agree.

‘Really? Aren’t I your second choice?’ he says.

‘Wait what did you just say?’

Second choice?

He’s a hockey god with washboard abs and the ability to make me orgasm practically on demand. He’s not my second choice because I’d never be so bold as to add him to the list. As of less than twenty-four hours ago, I thought the man couldn’t stand me and was putting up with me out of decency.

‘Forget it,’ he says quickly, standing out of his chair. ‘Are you ready to go back to the house?’

Before I can answer, he walks over to dump two large buckets of water over the fire. Smoke and steam billow between us, making it hard for me to see him now in the dark and then he turns and heads for the house, leaving me behind.

‘Seven, please stop and talk to me,’ I say, trying to catch up with his long strides in the sand.

‘I’d rather we didn’t,’ he says, trudging ahead of me.

He moves so much easier through the sand than I do.

He gets to the door before I do and opens it, leaving it open for me and I jump up on the porch, now finally able to gain a little speed on flat ground. My hurried steps follow after him down the hall and just as he reaches for the handle of his bedroom door, I grip around his wrist to get his attention.

He looks down at me, our eyes connecting but I can see the blankness in his stare— the indifference he’s always trying to broadcast.

‘You’re not my second choice,’ I say, a little out of breath.

‘I never should have touched you, Brynn.’

I’m shocked into silence.

I guess I didn’t know what he would say, but I didn’t think he would tell me that he regrets what we did—he regrets me.

A little part of me shatters and before I can say anything back, he pushes open his bedroom door and I release him.

He walks into his room and closes the door behind him as I stand there like an idiot.

Tomorrow, I move out to Rita’s, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll finally stop making a complete fool of myself.