Make Me Lose

by Leigh, Ember

  That’s it.

  “Grayson and Hazel!” Annette Daly hangs out her front door, waving at both of us as we approach. Gray finally lets go of my hand, but he’s too late. Annette clamps her hand over her heart and tilts her head.

  “Did you come from work, honey?” she asks me as I step onto the small porch.

  “Yeah,” I say with a little laugh, and she pulls me into a hug.

  “You work so hard,” she murmurs in my ear. “So, so hard. You’re the star of Bayshore, you know that?”

  “Mom,” Gray says.

  “What?” Annette pulls back, sending a glare at her son. At least we know who her favorite is. “Our Hazel needs to be recognized.”

  “I do get recognition,” I say, following her into the house. She’s leading me by the hand. She’s practically waving a banner that says Grayson, you better make this woman my daughter-in-law. “I was voted Best Realtor in last year’s People’s Choice Awards.”

  “I voted for you every day in that contest,” Annette confides as we walk down the short but bright hall leading toward the kitchen at the back of the house. The voices of Grayson’s brothers and their dad reach us. The dining room is full of the Dalys, and when we arrive, the conversation kicks up to a commotion.

  “We’re all here!” Annette declares, and busies herself with bringing out the dishes.

  “I can help,” an unknown woman says, but she looks familiar. Something about her cheek bones. She offers a smile as she walks past, and then, as I look at Connor, it clicks together. “Hi, Hazel. Remember me?”

  “Kinsley Cabana.” Connor offers a toothy white grin. Kinsley was in Connor’s grade, and the middle child of the Cabana clan, AKA the Daly family’s arch nemesis. I don’t know how I forgot that Connor was dating a Cabana daughter. Grayson leads me toward the two empty seats reserved for us.

  “More on that later,” he whispers hotly into my ear.

  Their dad, Damon, booms his greeting to me and immediately launches into a terse but polite rundown of my business success. The man has always been extra success oriented, which both helped and hurt his offspring. I think most of his sons resent him in some way, while also owing most of their success to him. But isn’t that how most parent-child relationships end up?

  Maverick and Weston nod their greeting, and Dominic smiles broadly as he comes over to me to offer a hug. I was always closer to Dom, Gray and Connor. By the time I graduated from high school, Weston was just about to enter, and Maverick was still a year behind him.

  “I can’t believe we’re all here at the table,” Annette enthuses, setting out plates of roast beef and scalloped potatoes and a corn casserole. Even though Kinsley helped her bring out the dishes, I’m not sure Annette glanced her way. Damon sends occasional icy looks toward Kinsley, as if he’s keeping tabs on her. Making sure she doesn’t launch into a pro-Cabana diatribe or try to stab a Daly with a bread knife or something. I don’t know the bulk of the Cabana-Daly beef, but it’s so bad it’s lasted for decades and turns the normally gregarious Dalys into quiet, icy hosts around Kinsley.

  Grayson’s elbow brushes mine as we lay napkins on our laps and settle in for dinner. Oddly, joining their dinner doesn’t feel as awkward or ill-fitting as I’d have imagined.

  There’s always been something a little too comfortable about having Grayson at my side. On my arm. Lurking around the edges of my life.

  “Thank God for vacation time,” Connor says, scooping a big serving of scalloped potatoes onto his plate.

  “Some of us have more of it than others,” Gray adds, grinning like an asshole. It makes me grin too.

  “You were overdue,” Annette says. “You hadn’t been home in years.”

  “I didn’t even recognize you when you showed up,” Maverick says, scoffing.

  “See? You scared your brother.” Annette purses her lips as she forks some roast beef onto her plate. “Hopefully you two will be coming around more often.”

  The “two” must be referring to Grayson and Connor, her east coast and west coast transplants, respectively.

  “I’ll visit more,” Grayson says, sounding a lot like he’s placating a child. “At least in the summer.”

  I make sure my smile doesn’t waver as his words sink into me. They’re a reminder. This thing between us is about sex. Just as I knew. As I feared. As I claimed to be fine with.

  Was it so wrong of me to wish that my first love and current sex partner might want to stick around Bayshore a little more?

  “You should come back for the Bicentennial Ball,” Annette says before she stuffs a bite of potatoes into her mouth.

  “No,” Grayson says, and it’s definitive. My smile droops a little.

  “When is it?” Connor asks.

  “September, I think,” Annette responds.

  “September ninth,” I clarify. Not like it’s in my phone calendar, two work calendars, and scribbled on my paper planner at home or anything.

  Annette clucks her tongue and sends a mysterious smile toward Grayson and me.

  Yeah. September ninth—the day we were both born. Funny happenstance that the ball falls on our Saturday birthday this year.

  “Ohhh, we’ll be back in California by then.” Connor frowns at Kinsley, who scrunches up her lips. They’re an unlikely pair, if only because of their families’ history. But still, all bad blood aside, the two of them side by side are cute.

  “Are you going to the ball, Hazel?” Annette asks me. My heart drops for unknown reasons, and I smile brightly at her.

  “Of course. I’ve had my ticket since they day they went on sale.”

  “I should have figured.” Annette lowers her chin, staring directly at Grayson. “A pretty woman like Hazel deserves a man on her arm at that party.”

  I agree with her, but maybe not for the same reasons. I deserve a man on my arm because I’m ready for the next step in life. I deserve a partner who wants to keep pace with me. I deserve a boyfriend who wants to take me to the most important city-wide ball because he loves Bayshore and our life here as much as I do.

  But maybe that man doesn’t exist.

  And out of all the men in the world, there’s still that part of me that still only wants the man to my left.

  Grayson shoves a forkful of scalloped potatoes into his mouth, saying nothing.

  I should be thankful for it, really. It’s the reminder I need in the middle of our amazing sex-a-thon.

  Grayson isn’t that man. He won’t be that boyfriend. He can never be mine, no matter how much the seventeen-year-old inside me is still hoping.

  Dinner churns on happily, and there’s something infectious about being with all the Dalys at once. I always loved their big family. It was the opposite of what I had growing up—a mother who existed only in photographs and a hard-working single dad who did as much as he could. No siblings to play with. Not many cousins to count among my family ranks.

  In a way, during our childhood, Grayson was the brother I never had. Until he became the crush I never counted on. And the first heartbreak to shatter me.

  Once dinner wraps up and Annette has hugged and complimented me out the door, Grayson and I are walking lazily toward the sidewalk. Down the street, the flames of a tiny front yard bonfire lick through the steel cover. Laughter reaches us from farther up the street. The crickets are out in full chorus.

  I already know how tonight should go. I need to go home alone. Break the spell of what we’ve been doing over the last week. Get back to my single-girl routine.

  Gray’s fingers lace through mine. When we reach the street, he faces me, running his thumb along my jawline.

  “We should go work those scalloped potatoes off, huh?”

  I snort with a laugh. “You want to head to the gym? At this hour?”

  “Thought maybe we could substitute my bed for the elliptical.”

  I smile, but there’s sadness in it. “I think I need to go home tonight.”

  His face falls. “Really?”

  �
�I haven’t slept in my own house for days. Besides, the extra stop each morning to pick up the things I forgot…I’ve been getting to work late.”

  “You own your own business.”

  “Even so, my boss is a bitch.”

  His smile nearly topples me. “I’ve heard.”

  “Yeah, I bet you have.” I pretend punch him in the side, but he seems reluctant to let me go. His rough hands cup my face. In the dim glow of the streetlights, I can see the storm in his eyes.

  “You don’t need anyone to keep the other side of your bed warm?”

  His question slices me in half. Any resilience or willpower I might have accumulated over dinner—totally gone. Evaporated. Goodbye single-girl night.

  “Yeah, I think I do.” I smile up at him. It’s hard to say no to him. Especially when he’s being sweet like this. When he’s showing the side of him that I’ve always fallen for, head over heels, without any hope for rescue.

  “I could help keep your side warm,” he murmurs. We’ve started swaying gently, out here in full view of the porch sitters and the passersby. Nobody has passed by yet, but somehow Bayshore still knows. I can feel it.

  But I don’t care.

  Not when we’re caught in this fantasy bubble. Something seductive and warm, a tapestry only he knows how to weave.

  “Let’s go to my place,” I say, and I lead the way.

  Chapter 16

  GRAYSON

  I’ve been home for two weeks, and it’s felt like two years.

  But I’m not sick of Bayshore yet. Not even a little bit.

  Some things feel so new here. The town has grown, matured, become more bustling in its own beachy way. What used to be a tiny drug store on the outskirts of town has now been developed into a huge shopping plaza. Neighborhoods are popping up on the edges of town. People want to move here, which is maybe the biggest change from my childhood.

  But one thing that hasn’t changed?

  I’m falling for Hazel. Like the last time I lived here.

  Maybe it’s the fact that we’ve spent the past seven nights holed up together. Laughing like teenagers, fucking like rabbits, and connecting like the mature adults we actually are. We’re not playing the game anymore—or maybe it’s on hold. Whatever’s going on, we’re both on board. Without having said a word.

  Just like when we were seventeen at the end of junior year, when things thawed for the first time. Our downhill race happened blistering fast. We went from enemies to lovers, and by the end of senior year, lovers to enemies.

  I can’t handle her returning to enemy status again. Not after this whirlwind week we’ve shared, allowing ourselves to be tender and scorching, vulnerable and bristly.

  But that’s the part that messes me up. How can she hold any status once I’m back in New York? I’m not naive enough to think that we can make a distance thing work. I need to see this woman more than once a month. Really, I need to see her daily, and sometimes hourly, but I can settle for slightly less.

  I’ve been thinking about this shit all day while she’s at work, sending me sexy selfies in her pinstripe blouse between clients, the natural light spilling into the office behind her. She always makes sure to give me kissy lips with that big red pout of hers and to show some cleavage.

  She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. The smartest. The most motivated. When people talk about her, they gush. Hazel is the Bayshore sweetheart. And in so many ways, she’s the only woman I’ve ever wanted.

  But the pieces aren’t aligning quite yet. Good thing I’m a master at puzzles.

  Hazel’s working extra late tonight, so I head for the beach around eight to sit by the water and catch the sunset. As soon as I roll up to the lakefront at the bottom of my neighborhood, I see familiar faces gathered by the shore.

  There’s Luke and Anthony, standing with beers in their hands around a cooler, while Callie squats in the sand fiddling with sticks to start a fire. I saunter up and clap Luke on the back.

  “Gray!” he shouts, and then punches me in the shoulder. “You’re still in town?”

  “Got two more weeks.” I shove my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie. It’s an unseasonably chilly evening, so this beachside fire seems like an extra good idea. “What are you guys up to?”

  “Oh, you know, making the weakest link light the fire,” Callie mutters from the ground.

  “I would help if you’d just ask,” Anthony says.

  “No, no,” Callie says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve got it.”

  Luke and I snicker. He reaches for a beer in the cooler and passes it to me.

  “Stay awhile. Some others are coming later. Hey, Cal, did you tell Hazel?” Luke glances at me, as though suddenly realizing what he’s said. “You’re cool with that, right?”

  “Totally.” The beer can goes crraaack as I open it. “We’re sorta, ya know…” The appropriate phrasing escapes me. Fucking? Dating? Deluding ourselves? “Reconciling our differences.”

  “About damn time,” Callie mutters.

  “You need help there, Cal?” I ask, kneeling down to look at her attempts.

  “Can you do it?” she pleads.

  “Give it to me.” I take the lighter and the sticks she’s using and make the appropriate pile with the skinniest log pieces collected nearby, Boy Scout style. Within a minute, I’ve got a little fire going. Callie grins, and I sit back on my heels and take a long pull at my beer.

  The sun sits low on the horizon, but there’s already a cold snap in the air. It’s not too cold for shorts, which we’re all wearing, but it’s that perfect combination of chilliness and summer. Hoodie and beer weather. Like fall, except warmer and with a later sunset.

  Best damn time of the year.

  “I’ll text Hazel that we’re here,” Callie says, but I’ve already started typing a message to her.

  “I got it,” I say, then hit send and pocket my phone. “And let’s not tell Bryce, okay?”

  She lifts a brow. “Wow. Texting Hazel, huh? You must have done more than reconcile your differences.”

  Anthony cackles. “I have so many good comebacks for that one right now.”

  “Let’s hear them,” Callie says.

  “Gray might beat me up if I say them,” Anthony says, winking at me while he takes a pull at his beer.

  “Nah, Gray’s a pacifist,” Luke jokes as he drags over a smoothed log perfect for sitting on. We’ve got a mishmash of lawn chairs, coolers, and logs around this fire pit. “He would never challenge anyone like that.”

  I snort, kicking at Luke’s leg as he sits down.

  “You’re damn right. And if you disagree, I’ll pacify the shit out of you,” I tease.

  We all break into laughter. Callie unrolls a thick beach towel and settles onto it, facing the lake. It doesn’t take long for Anthony to abandon his lawn chair and join her on the towel. I watch the backs of their heads for a moment as Callie props hers on his shoulder. Anthony’s arm goes around her waist.

  “When’s the wedding?” I call out. Anthony flips me the bird without turning to look at me.

  “Right after yours and Hazel’s,” Callie responds.

  I snort, but the idea doesn’t sound as ludicrous as it might have once upon a time. Even two weeks ago. It’s not like I’m planning on it or anything, but the taste of it isn’t so bitter anymore.

  “You’ll have to come to New York for that.” I take another sip of beer. Honestly, I can’t get the vision of Hazel in New York out of my head. I can already see her waking up with me in my apartment, the gray rays of an early winter morning cutting through the wood slats. Going for coffee at my favorite spot around the block where they sell repurposed journals with old book spines. Checking out erotic bookstores and tiny fashion boutiques. Lazy Sundays in the park with the swirl of the city around us.

  Hazel embodies that thing I’ve been searching for in New York. The thing I’ve been missing. The thing that will make life perfect.

  It’s the type of idea
that sparks right into a firework with its rightness. I just need to bring it up to her. She might be hesitant at first, but I’m sure she’ll see the benefits of a move to Brooklyn. Her real estate business would soar. She’d quadruple her income. Hazel belongs in a place like Brooklyn. No more playing small in Bayshore.

  She needs to spread her wings and soar.

  The idea leaves me equal parts excited and anxious. I know it’ll take some convincing, but if she’s feeling half of what I’m floating in right now, then this is the only way to make it work.

  The four of us hoot and holler as the sun goes down. A couple more friends arrive, an old buddy from high school and a new Bayshore transplant with a guitar. Smooth chords fill the beach now that twilight has settled. Since this is a private residential access beach, there aren’t a ton of people out here besides us. A few teens further down and a small family sitting in Adirondack chairs.

  Between the humid, earthy scent of the lake, the murmur of waves lapping at the beach, and the easy laughter flowing among the group, I’m not sure I could feel more relaxed than this.

  In fact, the past two weeks in Bayshore have jostled me out of the vice grip New York had me in.

  I forgot what the rest of the world was like. What home was like. What real relaxed happiness felt like.

  Squeals from Callie tells me Hazel has arrived. When I twist around, I see Hazel sauntering toward us. She’s still got her work face on, but her hair is in a messy bun and her form-fitting skirt has been replaced with mesh shorts. Instead of a busty blouse, she’s got an oversized, red OSU hoodie on.

  But it’s her bare feet that draw my attention. My gaze locks onto those slender ankles, her little toenails painted black. When she gets within reach and is saying hi to everyone, I run my fingertips up the side of her leg.

  She grins down at me, and I yank her onto my lap. She settles with a giggle.

  “Differences have been reconciled,” Anthony jokes.

  “Did you tell them?” Hazel asks me in a low voice.

  “They already knew,” I answer her, and then press my lips to hers. Because I physically can’t not. Because when she’s within arm’s reach, she needs to be in my arms. Because finding each other again has shown me that we had our differences, but there’s more in store for us if we choose to follow what’s blossomed here.