“I think I missed my ferry.” I cry harder into his chest, my cheek pressed against the soft cotton of his T-shirt.
“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” His palm caresses my hair before he cups the back of my head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be on the island?”
“I wanted to do this alone.” My words come out broken.
He sighs through his nose. “You don’t have to do everything alone. I told you I’d come.”
I sniff, nodding with my face still tucked close against him. “I know.”
We stay like this for what feels like a long time but is only a few minutes. Reluctantly, I pull away from him and wipe a knuckle under my nose. Beck tugs a bandana from his pocket and wordlessly takes my chin in his rough hand while he gently wipes the wetness from my cheeks. He peers into my eyes, his gaze dancing over me, and my core tightens. It’s sweet and somehow intimate. Until now, we’ve been practically at each other’s throats.
A nervousness ticks in my veins below my skin, and I swallow. “Did you wipe your fishy hands on this?”
He chuckles, and my comment finally breaks whatever trance we were just stuck under. “Do you really think I’d do that and then wipe your face with it?”
“I mean, I’d hope not. But you have been pretty pissed at me.”
“Yeah…I guess I have. But I’m more pissed at this fucked up situation.” Pushing my hair off my face, he tucks it behind my ears.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I gaze at him through wet eyes to find him staring back at me with the gentleness that’s always therewhen he looks at me. Soft, and kind. New sobs break free from my chest.
“Hey, hey, c’mon now. You’re making a mess of your face again.” A weak smile pulls on his lips.
“I…I can’t help it. I don’t deserve you,” I whisper, immediately lamenting the words once I’ve spoken them.
His eyes meet mine again and they dance around as if he’s questioning if he heard me. I hope he didn’t, but I also don’t take them back. More tears slide down my cheeks and he catches them with the bandana again.
“Are you kidding? I’ve been an asshole you since you got here.”
“I deserve it,” I mumble, blinking up at him.
“Maybe.” He purses his lips and continues drying my face.
I expected him to deny it. But it’s better he doesn’t. I’ve been beating myself up over this secret—this lie—for too many years. It’s time someone else did it.
“There.” He studies my face with a confident smile. “Good as new.”
My face is hot, my eyes are dry and burning, and I’m well aware of what I look like when I’ve been crying. There are some women who are pretty criers. But I am not one of them.
“Doubtful,” I mutter. “But…thanks.” I bite my lip, and he stuffs his bandana back into his pocket.
He fidgets his hands when we pull apart, and I comb my fingers through my hair as I glance out at the water. Grandma Dottie’s urn sits next to me on the dock, the lid shoved back on tightly. I inhale a few deep breaths.
“Thanks again for coming.”
“Of course.”
“Was your dad mad?”
“Nah. Today was a crap day for fishing. Too hot.”
I wince, glancing over my shoulder at him. “Sorry.”
He waves me off. “We may get along better these days, but let’s just say I’m still not quite ready to take his advice.”
“Oh yeah?” He meets my gaze, and he looks me over too long that my body heats under his stare. “Did you tell him? About Charlie?”
He tears his eyes from me and focuses on a boat in the distance as it glides over the water. “I did.”
