“Slade…”
He winces at his name this time and my heart cracks.
“Isn’t what’s between us worth fighting for? Finding a way?”
“You were never meant to meet me.” He stares out across the water.
“But I did. And I’m glad I did. You’ve made me feel… not even like myself again, but different… better. I came here thinking breaking up with Callum was the worst I could feel. But that was nothing compared to the way I feel knowing I’m about to leave. You’re the guy I fight best with, you know that? Not that I want us to fight, that doesn’t sound right. But…” I blow out a breath.
He's the guy I care about enough to react, to want to solve things, to never give up and walk away from because things get too hard. That means something.
“What does the E on your carvings stand for?” I ask. Surely, he can at least give me that.
“Elaina,” he whispers.
“Your mom.”
He nods.
I suspected as much. I’ve tried to stay off Google. Tried to stop reading about his family and the awful accident. It was an unexplained fire on his father’s yacht. One that killed his mother, and according to the news, Slade as well.
“It’s why I live on a boat. She died on the water near here. It makes me feel closer to her.”
I nod, my throat aching and holding back words about how he’s not only remembering her but also torturing himself by staying here. It’s in his voice. The pain. The grief.
“My father loved being on the water too.”
“You miss him,” I state.
“I miss all of them. My brother, sister, uncle, aunt. All of them.”
“I don’t understand. Why don’t you speak? Why do they think you’re dead? I?—”
“They don’t.”
“What?” I snap my eyes to his face but he’s still staring out at the ocean. “Do they know you’re alive? That you’re here? How? Why?”
“Jude…” He shakes his head, his eyes pinching at the corners.
“You can’t say that and then not explain.”
“Just…” He clenches a fist in front of his face, his nostrils flaring. “Just stop talking for a minute, please. I can’t think.”
“But—”
He turns and captures my lips with his, kissing me hard so I can’t speak.
“Sla—”
“Stop. Talking,” he groans against my mouth.
I kiss him back, wanting to show him I’m here for him, that he can trust me. He just needs to let me in.
He pushes me onto the blanket and shoves his T-shirt I’m wearing up roughly so it’s around my ribs.
“What are you?—?”
“Shut up,please,” he snaps, his eyes burning with dark intensity as he positions himself between my thighs and hooks them over his biceps.
