“First, never speak to her like that again. In fact, never speak to her again, period. Second, take your fake tits and your fucking twerking and find somebody else to play with. I’m not interested.” She looks like she might argue with me for a second, but the scowl on my face changes her mind, and she flounces off to join a group of football players standing nearby.
Outside, the night air cools my skin, but it does little for the shame and self-disgust I feel. Typically, my car, the wind, and loud music do wonders for my psyche—I tend to drive like I fuck, hard and fast—but tonight, I need something else.
Tonight I need the ocean.
I need to walk on the beach, my toes in the sand, and confess my sins to the moonlight.
When I turn down the dirt road, my headlights glint off the sleek black car already parked in the clearing above the beach, and my heart jumps into my throat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I see somebody can’t keep a secret. How else could you possibly be sitting on my beach right now?”
I’m lost so deep in my heartache that for a minute, I think I must have imagined Poe’s voice and don’t bother looking up. The light clink of glass on glass is what shakes the cobwebs loose and startles me back to reality.
Shit. He really is here.
My head swims temporarily after I jump up too quickly, forcing me to stand still for a minute and give my blood pressure a chance to catch up to the rest of me. Poe reaches out a hand to steady me but pulls it back quickly when he sees I’ve stopped wobbling.
“Your beach? I don’t see any signs saying ‘Property of Assface Halliday’,” I snark. My sorry attempt at a dig doesn’t faze him, and he continues on like I didn’t say anything at all.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asks flatly, setting the six-pack he’s carrying down in the sand.
“I have a blanket.” After stupidly stating the obvious, I pull the item in question tighter around me. He snickers and walks past me to an enclosed area a few feet behind the cluster of driftwood I’ve been sheltered by for the last half an hour. There’s a sound of splintering wood and a stomping boot, and Poe comes back around to where I’m standing. He’s carrying an armload of small kindling and some larger logs.
“Where did you get that?” I snap at him because now I feel like an ass for sitting here mildly shivering when I didn’t have to--blanket or not, I am chilly.
“Sometimes when we come out here we’ll bring an ax with us. Break up some of the fallen trees in the brush closer to the road and stack it in that little hidey-hole behind you.” Looking at me like he would a clueless child, he smirks. “So we can build a fire and not get, you know, cold.”
Blatantly ignoring me staring daggers at him, he arranges the wood in a depression just outside the makeshift shelter and slightly closer to the water. A lighter appears in his hand, and after about five minutes, he’s got a nice little fire going. Sitting down, he settles his back against the driftwood wall and pulls a beer bottle from the case at his feet, twisting the top off and offering it to me.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Shrugging one shoulder, he tilts the bottle to his lips and takes a deep swig. Completely unnerved by both being found in what he deems his spot and by his simple proximity, I decide to leave.
“So, I’m going. Sorry for intruding.” Careful not to let the blanket dip into the fire, I lean down and pick up my empty coffee cup and the paper bag that my danish came in. Tilting his head back and staring at the night sky, he sighs tiredly.
“Star, will you just sit your ass down?” His use of the nickname he gave me, and that only he uses, causes my heart to hurt more.
“Please don’t call me that,” I whisper, staring at my feet partly because I’m uncomfortable and partly because I can’t decide if I want to kick sand at him or not.
“Okay fine. I won’t call you that if you sit down and talk to me. Or you know what? You don’t even have to talk. Just sit and listen.” He shifts his gaze away from the sky to meet my eyes, and the pleading undertone in his voice weakens my resolve and my knees. I bunch up the paper bag and remove the lid from the coffee cup just enough to stuff the crumpled paper inside while I try to decide what to do. The moment stretches out between us, and yet he never breaks eye contact with me. There is a vulnerability in his gaze I’ve never seen before, and a little voice inside of me tells me to stay--that I’ll regret it if I don’t. I loosen my grip on the blanket around me and sink back down to the same spot I occupied earlier, digging a little divot beside me and setting my cup in it.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
A small amount of the tension he’s been clinging to releases and his shoulders relax slightly.
“Thank you,” he says with another sigh, this one of relief. “I don’t know where to start.” His uncertainty is endearing, his swagger shelved for now, so I give him the only answer I have.
“Start at the beginning.” My words make the corners of his mouth turn up slightly.
“I’m sorry, Sta—Stella. So damn sorry for hurting you the way I did. Lying to you was phenomenally stupid and I see that now. Even though I told myself I was doing it to protect you, I was doing it to protect me, too.” He finishes his beer and fidgets with the empty for a few seconds before putting it back in the case. Shifting his position slightly, he sneaks a glance at my face before turning his gaze out to the ocean. “The thought of telling you about meeting Catherine and about my role in her death scared the shit out of me.” At the mention of my mother, I stop him.
“You’re right. You are stupid,” I say, and his eyes fly to my face.
“Gee, Stell, tell me what you really think.” Hurt creeps into his voice.
“Let me finish!.” I take an exasperated breath. “Lying to me like that was a bad idea. I was going to find out eventually so you should have just led with the truth.”
“I knew you’d never forgive me no matter when I told you, and I chose to be selfish and keep you with me for as long as I could. So sue me for giving a shit. Everything I felt for you was so new to me, so real and so perfect, I didn’t want to screw it up. And in the end, I did more than screw it up—I destroyed it. I destroyed us.”
“Poe, I don’t think any part of what happened to my mother is your fault. I don’t blame you. Regardless of what we are to each other after this conversation, I need you to know that much. To believe that much.” My voice turns hard. “The only person I blame is Callum Torsten.”
His gaze roams my face, trying to figure out if I’m being straight with him or not. I catch his eyes with mine and hold them, letting him see what he needs to, before lowering my eyes to where my finger is drawing small circles in the sand.
Our breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the gentle swish of the waves lapping at the shore are the only sounds that break the silence surrounding us. Trying to sort through the gordian knot of my emotions, one thought keeps coming to the surface. Even if the answer I get from him makes me regret it, I can’t stop myself from asking.
“Everything you felt? Past tense?” I ask hesitantly. “So you don’t feel it anymore?” My breath stalls in my lungs.
“I feel it every single day, with every single part of me.” He states matter of factly and without hesitation. Lifting my eyes in surprise, I see him watching me, and the way the firelight and honesty flicker in his deep blue eyes gives me the best kind of goosebumps.
Can I trust him? God, I want to so badly.
“What about Boobs McGee?” I ask as seriously as I can manage, fighting to keep the grin from my face. He looks shocked for a split second, like he can’t believe what I just asked before the laughter rumbles out of him.
“The blonde at the party?” he manages to get out.
“Yeah, the blonde at the party. If you ever got lost at sea with her, at least you know she’d float,” I shrug, the grin breaking free. He laughs harder, and we share the moment until he quiets and turns serious again.
“Stella, I didn’t touch
her. I mean, other than what you saw at the party. She was a prop in my stupid plan to make you jealous. Her and these damn pants.” He shifts again, and I assume he’s trying to adjust his bits in that fancy, beach inappropriate leather. It makes me snicker.
“Well, congratulations--it worked, so neither Boobs nor the pants were in vain,” I tell him. His face breaks into a grin of his own.
“You were jealous?”
“Don’t make me regret admitting that,” I threaten with a groan.
“Speaking of jealous, got any plans to go out for milkshakes with Wussy Wes? Are you going to let him pin his pin on you?” He tries to keep his tone as joking as his words, but there’s an underlying fear there.
“Good lord, Halliday. How can you even ask me that? You know I don’t even like milkshakes,” I tease. He just stares at me with an arched eyebrow, waiting for me to give him a serious answer. “Okay, fine,” I huff. “No, I have no plans with Wes. Why would I make plans with him? The only person I want to be with is your irritating ass.”
Whoops. That last part wasn’t supposed to come out yet.
The look of happiness and relief that spreads across his face squeezes my heart, even there is a sprinkle of smug satisfaction there too. Figuring I might as well just get it all out now, I tell him the rest.
“Sunday asked me how it was so easy for me to forgive my aunt but so hard for me to forgive you. Honestly, it was less about my mom and more about you. Yes, I miss her, and yes, her death is tragic. But I mourned my mother years ago when she left me.” Taking a deep breath, I pause to formulate my thoughts before continuing. “I trusted you. That’s a gift I rarely give to anybody, and especially not to a man. When I felt like you broke that trust, it felt like you broke a part of me, too. And I didn’t know how to deal with that.” I feel tears welling in my eyes, and I blink them back. “The more I thought about it though, the more I realized there was no malice behind what you did. That you never set out with the intent to hurt me. Forgiving you wasn’t so hard after that.” Picking up the paper cup, I throw it at him, and it bounces off his shoulder. “But by the time I figured all that out, you’d already decided to be the biggest asshole possible. That girl in the hallway—”
“You know about that?” At least he has the good sense to blush ashamedly.
“Yeah, I know about that. I also know nothing happened and she’s been coming on to you guys and pulling shit like that for years. You can thank Raff for clearing that one up. But tonight with the blonde, I really thought it was the end of us.”
He sobers instantly.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Leaning sideways, he grabs the front edges of the blanket still wrapped around me. Pulling me toward him, he captures my lips with his. I sink into the kiss as his tongue slow dances with mine, unhurried and languid. We shift our bodies around until the blanket is underneath us, and Poe is lying on his back with me straddling him. Breathless from his kisses and wanting nothing more than to make love to him right here, I pull away and sit up, pressing the softest part of me to what is currently the hardest part of him.
“Now I really wish I’d brought a condom,” he groans, grinding his hips against me. I lean back over him and look him in the eyes with a small smile.
“I’ve been on the Pill since I was sixteen.” I feel him twitch between my legs at my words and his eyes grow dark with desire.
“Are you sure you’re okay with not using a condom?” His voice is gravel.
“I’m sure.”
Moving off of him long enough to undo his pants, I slide them down and reach inside his boxers, pulling his cock free. I straddle him again and move my hand under my short, flowy, black dress to pull my lacy panties aside. Poe’s hardness burrows greedily between my pussy lips, and I take his full length, making him moan with pleasure. Gripping my hips, he holds tight while I start to move against him, pushing us both to the brink and freefalling over it together.
When we finally break apart, I carefully tuck him back in his pants and zip them up before snuggling into his side. With a soft and sexy chuckle, he wraps his arms around me, tucking his chin against my temple and holding me close.
This is where I’m supposed to be. This is my home.
We cuddle together and tell each other stories of our younger selves, falling asleep to the stars above us and waking to the calls of seagulls stalking the beach for their breakfast.
“Poe?”
“Mmhmm,” he mumbles sleepily.
“I think I’m paralyzed,” I whisper in his ear. My back is stiff, my legs don’t seem to want to move, and my left arm is asleep.
“Hrmmm. You should probably get that checked,” he whispers back at me. Before I can stop him, his hands slide to my sides, and he starts tickling me. Screaming with laughter and squirming like crazy, I finally escape his maddening fingers and get clumsily to my feet.
“Look at that, it’s a miracle,” he says, grinning up at me. I stick my tongue out at him and start walking around a little, shaking my arms and trying to get the blood flowing properly. Sitting up, Poe searches for his phone, finally finding it tucked in between the empties in the six-pack he brought with him last night.
“Well, that’s just obscene,” he says, scowling at the screen.
“What is?”
He shows me the clock on his phone, and I snort when I see it's only six o’clock in the morning.
“I think it's time for bed. Real bed. Sleep bed,” I suggest. “I should probably get home before Cecily sends out the cavalry.”
Stretching, Poe stands, and after making sure the fire’s entirely out, we gather our things and walk back to the cars. Once his beer and my blanket and flashlight have been stowed away, he walks over and puts his arms around me, holding me against his chest. I reach my arms around his neck and hug him back, listening to the comforting beat of his heart.
“Stella, I really am sorry for everything.” His voice is calm, and the honesty behind his words rings true.
“I know, and I forgive you, I truly do. But Poe? Please don’t call me that anymore.” I smile into his shoulder. He chuckles and pulls me tighter.
“I love you, Star.”
“I love you, Poe”
And this time I’m not afraid to say it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
My left eye slowly opens, while the right one remains squeezed shut against the morning sunshine flooding my room. Squinching the left one closed again, I slowly open the right, allowing it to get used to the brightness. This goes on back and forth for a minute or so until my retinas no longer feel like they’re burning, and both eyes are open comfortably.
Flat on my stomach in the center of the bed, I stretch my arms and legs out as far as I can—a giant starfish in a sea of plaid sheets. The visual makes me smile.
The cell phone on my nightstand bleeps with Stella’s custom text notification, so I roll over to see what she has to say this morning. I traded a few texts with her right after she left the party, but that was it. My best friend didn’t deserve the treatment she got from Poe last night, and part of me hopes she stopped on the way home and found some super hot guy to distract her for a while.
It would serve Poe right, her finding another guy.
The thing is though, I know she won’t. Those two are meant to be together. It would just be nice if they could figure that out before they kill each other.
Opening the lock screen on my iPhone with my thumb, I read the text she sent. ‘Meet me at my place.’ Followed by about twenty eggplant emojis. Since I was the one who explained the significance of that particular item to her, she knows I know what it represents.
Holy balls! Maybe she did find a random hottie on the way home!
I text her back with a string of winky faces and grin at the thought of her actually having some fun last night. Opening my playlist, I flip through it until I find 50 Cent’s ‘Candy Shop’ and drop my phone in the docking station connected to my bedroom speakers. Not bothering with a sh
ower, I knot my blonde hair into a messy bun and throw on skinny jeans and a slim-fitting pale pink knit sweater. I scrub my face clean, smooth on some moisturizer, brush my teeth, and call it good enough.
Phone and keys in one hand, I grab my purse with the other, slinging it over my shoulder and slipping down the front stairs and out to the Rover with my parents none the wiser. Not that they’d really care a whole lot. As long as I don’t embarrass them or sully the Easton name, they tend to let me do what I want. Still, sometimes it’s just easier not to have to file a flight plan every time they see me leave.
Donning my favorite pink leopard print Maui Jim sunglasses, I enjoy the company of Dr. Dre and Missy Elliott on the drive to Tweedvale, singing along loudly and off-key. Once I get there, Miss B is outside watering the large flower pots on the porch and tells me Stella’s in her room, so I should go on up.
I opt for the element of surprise, throwing open the bedroom door unannounced. Taking a running jump, I land on the bed where her entire person, head and all, is buried under the duvet.
“Dude! You can’t send me that many eggplant emojis and then still be in bed when I get here. There’s some kind of rule against getting me all excited for nothing.” I lie down when she doesn’t move and attempt to steamroll over her. She starts laughing before I get more than halfway, and shoving me off, pushes the covers away as she sits up.
“I knew it!” I shriek happily. Stella’s face is full of light, her cheesy grin stretches from ear to ear, and her eyes are bright for the first time in weeks. “You got laid, you dirty girl,” I state like a proud mama and lean over to hug her tightly.
“To put it bluntly, yeah, I did, and it was amazing,” she says, getting out of bed and doing a little twirl before dashing into her ensuite bathroom.
“Hey! Not fair! Don’t leave a girl hanging! Who was it? Is he dreamy? Are you going to see him again? Is he hung like a horse?” Stella pokes her head around the bathroom door frame and gives me a satisfied smile.
Fractured Things (Folkestone Sins Book 2) Page 17
