“The guys looking for the coke,” Kai clarified, eyeing me suspiciously. “What did you think I meant?”
A lump swelled in my throat. My heart stuttered, and suddenly my dress felt too tight. This was it—the thing I’d been dreading. The stupid, reckless slip I thought I’d buried. There was no way to unring the bell now.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I didn’t think Faith would tell him.”
Kai straightened from the doorframe, eyes narrowing. “Faith? How would Faith know anything to tell him?” His voice sharpened, dangerous. “Jasmine—what did you do?”
I turned, clutching the curling iron for dear life. “She was here last week. I just… I asked her for some hypothetical advice. That’s all. The second she mentioned filing a report, I shut it down. I told her to forget I even brought it up.”
His face went hard, disbelief written plain as day. “You did what? No. No, no, no.” Fingers pushed into his unruly hair. “Please tell me you didn’t get the police involved.”
“Faith promised she wouldn’t do anything with it,” I rushed out, the words tumbling over each other. “It wasn’t like I laid it all out—no names, no details. Just a what-if. And then I cut it off before it could go anywhere.”
He stared at me, chest rising and falling, his jaw working like he was chewing back a dozen things at once. The silence was worse than shouting. The curling iron’s little red light glowed, obnoxiously steady, as if any part of this was steady.
Kai shoved off the doorframe and crossed the room in a single long stride. The air between us felt charged, sparking with the anger he’d been holding back. His voice came low at first, measured, almost controlled—until it wasn’t.
“Do you even realize what you risked by saying anything at all? Hypothetical or not, you cracked the door wide open.” He let the accusation hang there for a second, searing like a hot poker. “Do you want it to be on you if anyone gets hurt?” He jabbed a finger toward the floor, each word harder than the last. “I didn’t. Reef didn’t. Spence didn’t. Coulter didn’t.” He paused again, eyes burning into mine. “But you went ahead and did it—like it onlyaffects you. This…” His hand cut sharply through the air, as if he couldn’t contain the frustration inside him. “…this is exactly why I tried to keep the details from you.”
Heat rose in my face, shame and anger colliding. “Oh, so you suspected I might run straight to the cops? After I had a gun to my head, Kai? After they tied us up and told us how they dump bodies at sea? You think it was crazy I panicked? That I tried to get some help because you kept me in the dark?”
His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking hard. When he spoke, his voice was low, ragged. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”
The words landed like a fist. My chest locked tight, breath refusing to come. He knew me better than anyone—he’d seen me at my best and my worst. One mistake didn’t erase that, but the way he looked at me made it feel like it could. Panic clawed up my throat, choking me. If he pulled away now, if he stopped seeing me as his, then what did I have left?
“Of course you do,” I whispered, forcing the words out past the ache. “I was trying to keep us alive. I was terrified, Kai. And I think that’s understandable.”
He didn’t answer. Just stood there, breathing hard, eyes shuttered like a door closing. Finally he shook his head. “Have fun with your friend tonight. She can keep you company. I’m staying at my place.”
He left without another glance, the slam of the door echoing through the bungalow like a gunshot.
The sound ricocheted around the tiny space, then fell into a silence so total I could hear the click-click of the curling iron cooling. My knees softened. I steadied myself on the counter,staring at the version of me in the mirror with one curl perfect, the rest half-waved, mascara already starting to run. As I dabbed at the tears that welled up, the sight of his toothbrush sitting in the ceramic cup next to mine hurt.
The slam still echoed in my chest when a car horn chirped outside. My stomach flipped. Jess.
I dabbed at my face with a tissue, forcing my breath steady. Instinct took over: twist the iron off, swipe mascara, pinch color into my cheeks, fix the gloss. By the time I opened the door, Jess was bounding up the steps with a rolling carryon suitcase, sun-streaked hair flying everywhere, a grin as bright as her engagement ring.
“There she is!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me. I hugged her back, trying to ignore how stiff my smile felt. Her perfume—something citrusy and happy—swept into the room like a breeze my lungs didn’t quite trust.
She pulled away, her eyes sparkling. “God, I’m so nervous. Blaze’s whole family in one place tomorrow? What if they hate me? What if I spill wine on his mom?”
“You’ll be perfect,” I said automatically. “They’ll love you.” My voice sounded normal enough that I almost believed it.
She laughed, brushing her hair off her flushed cheeks. “And I cannot wait to finally meet Kai. You’ve been holding out on me. Where is he? Hiding?”
The question stung deeper than she could know. I forced a shrug. “He had a long day on the water. He’s… doing his own thing tonight.”
Jess arched a brow. “Well, he better rally. He can at least make an appearance with us. I want to see you two in action.”
“We’ll see,” I said, just trying to change the subject. “You ready to go?”
Over enchiladas at a noisy Mexican place in town, Jess buzzed with nervous energy about Blaze’s family—what she should wear, whether it was too soon to call his parents by their first names. The place smelled like sizzling onions and lime; a waiter hustled past with a tray of fajitas spitting steam, the heat fogging his glasses. Jess’s stories went on, with the bustling restaurant soundtrack in the background. Someone at the bar whooped at a soccer match, silverware clinked, and a kid was crying somewhere across the room.
Between stories, she circled back, insistent as ever.
“Text him,” she said, sliding her margarita glass in a slow circle on the table. “Tell him to meet us here. No excuses.”
I thumbed out a quick message under the table, heart tight.I know you’re upset, but Jess really wants to meet you and she’s pressuring me. Can you come for a marg so I don’t have to make excuses?
