Page 156 of Summer Love

“Yes,” I say.

His eyes don’t leave mine. It isn’t perfect. Two bodies searching for each other, fumbling, stopping and starting again. Jace grits his teeth when it pulls. I change position when I need to.

Jace is tender, attuned to every reaction of mine. His hands are everywhere, slow, sure. He kisses my neck, and the way he presses his mouth just under my ear…

It’s the same.

A shark, a scar eating up his thigh, six years of loneliness and shame, and he still kisses that same spot the same way.

I’m a fucking bet.

The voice is fainter than before. An echo, not a shout. I let it pass the way you let a wave pass—it rises, it falls back, it doesn’t take me under.

He’s changed. We’ve changed.

I close my eyes and come back to the present.

CHAPTER 49

Summer

WEDNESDAY

Iopen my eyes. Light slants through the blinds, a little milky. The ceiling is low, curved at the edges. The trailer smells like wax, eucalyptus... and Jace.

It all rushes back—the scar, his hands, the “you okay?” murmured against my ear, his thumb drawing slow circles on my hip until he fell asleep.

I turn my head.

The bed is empty. The sheet is rumpled on his side, the pillow still dented, but Jace is gone.

My stomach clenches—a sharp cramp that yanks me out of the fog of waking.

He’s gone. It’s happening again.

The last time, I was seventeen. We’d made love, I’d slept against him, and in the morning the bed was cold.

I’m a fucking bet.

The thought comes back too hard—not the faint echo of last night, but the original version, the one that won’t let me breathe.

I push the sheet back. My shorts and T-shirt are balled up at the foot of the bed, next to Jace’s too-big sweatshirt. Hands shaking, I pull them on, then rush out of the trailer barefoot.

Flip is waiting in front of the little deck, tongue lolling, covered in sand. He spots me right away and bolts for the steps, tail wagging, eyes wild.

“Flip, no.”

He stops dead, spins around, and trots back to Jace.

Jace is crouched next to the food bowl, a huge bag of kibble wedged under one arm. Bare-chested, he’s wearing tight boxer briefs and some kind of black sleeve around his left thigh. His hair is a mess.

“Easy, big guy. You’ll get your breakfast.”

He pours the kibble. Flip shoves his snout into the bowl with an obscene noise.

Jace catches my eye and his face lights up. He smiles at me; the cramp vanishes all at once.

I’m being ridiculous. He didn’t leave. He was feeding his dog.