A gull shrieked overhead. It was a violent noise. And somewhere behind us, Sabrina’s laugh spiraled up, shoving its way into my ears.
Shane herded everyone with a practiced wave. “Okay, if we don’t check out those shops before lunch, my wife’s going to go into withdrawal.” He shot Sabrina a fond look. “And we don’t want to see that.”
Sabrina pinched his side, grinning wide. “You’re just hoping I buy something you can show off later.”
Sydney trailed behind them, face half-shadowed by dark sunglasses, barely saying a word. I wondered if, underneath it all, she hated every second of this social circus as much as I did.
Caiden didn’t say anything at all. Just stalked along at the edge, hands in his pockets, gaze nailed to the ground like he was waiting for it to collapse and swallow him whole.
Our eyes locked for a heartbeat, then he looked away. My chest tightened. I remembered his words.
I don’t fuck victims.
My heart sank a little more. I shouldn’t have stopped him. But I’m also glad I stopped him before we did something we both might regret.
We moved together, a messy little parade. The planks of the boardwalk rattled under us, rickety and old, reminding me of all the things that gave out when you needed them most.
Somewhere in the glitter of sun and movement, Alex’s hand skimmed the small of my back. Not a touch I hated. Not a touch I clung to, either. I flinched a little, unsure if my body still belonged to me at all.
The first store we hit stank of incense and sunscreen. Trinkets stacked in baskets, cheap jewelry tangled on felt stands, everything loud and bright and trying too hard.
Sabrina made a beeline for a rack of swimsuits. “Oh my god, you have to try this one.” She shoved a hanger at me, turquoise and strappy, more daring than anything I owned. “You’d look amazing.”
Blood rushed hot into my cheeks. I tried to say no, tried and failed. I let her drag me to the changing room, hands fumbling with the fabric, skin prickling with anxiety.
My reflection in the mirror was a stranger. Pale, brittle, wary. I didn’t know where I started or ended.
I came out, trying not to shiver. The suit clung to my body, amplifying the parts I wanted to hide, making secrets out of skin and bone.
Sabrina whooped. “I told you! Show-stopper.”
Alex whistled low, barely hiding the flash of interest in his eyes. “Wow. You’re making it hard to remember what I was going to say.” His words dangled between flirty and real.
I swallowed, waiting for something else. Something that cut a little deeper.
My gaze dragged to Caiden, automatic. He stood near the window, back turned, arms flexed with tension. Refusing to look. Refusing to let me in.
A cold disappointment pooled in my stomach. I hated how it hurt, that stupid ache behind my ribs. I should’ve been relieved he wasn’t staring. I should have laughed it off.
But of course I couldn’t, because every inch of me was twisted up with him, with the memory of his mouth on mine, the way he kissed like it was a fight. The way I kept letting him.
He’d spent years breaking me down, splintering my self-worth, making every hallway feel like a trap. I still felt his hands on my shoulders, pinning, bruising. I still heard those words—loser, worm, freak—like a second heartbeat under my own.
But Colorado changed everything. Left us raw and exposed, struggling in the dark together, needing each other to survive.
Since then, every touch from him felt different. Still dangerous. Still wrong. But also something else, something hot and bright that scared the shit out of me.
I hated him.
But I wanted him, too.
And that wanting felt like rot, like a secret infection eating its way out.
I tugged at the strap, nerves and shame crawling up my spine. “It feels…tight,” I said, barely above a whisper.
Sabrina grinned wider. “That’s the point, babe. You look incredible. Shane, agree with me!”
Shane, cleaning up after a curious toddler who’d knocked over a hat display, just laughed. “I don’t know if I should comment, I might get in trouble at home.”
