Page 103 of Spring Break Fling

She gave me a look. “You know what I mean. Why are you here? In Boise? How did you even find me?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You mentioned where you worked. I Googled and here I am. Plus, I found myself with a lot of free time on my hands.”

She crossed her arms, one brow arched in that way that made her look both skeptical and gorgeous. “And you just decided to hop on a plane?”

“Pretty much,” I said, shrugging. “Look, you saw how messy things had gotten in Miami for me. It felt like a good time to get some space from all that. I went to book a flight, and when I saw Boise, I just knew I had to come here. To see you. To apologize.”

“Apologize?” she repeated, confused.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice softening. “For everything. For how things ended. For yelling at you. For being an idiot. I didn’t want to leave it like that.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “You don’t have to apologize, Nikko. I’m the one who messed up. I lied to you, I⁠—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I interrupted, taking her hands in mine. “Yeah, the revenge plan was a crappy way to start, but I believe you when you say it changed. I screwed up too, with the tattoo. I shouldn’t have done it. I would kick someone’s ass if they put that shit on my arm. So, let’s call it even, okay?”

She blinked at me, her lips parting slightly. Then she nodded, her voice barely audible. “Okay. Even.”

“Good,” I said, squeezing her hands. “Now, how about dinner? We can talk more, eat something good. I’m starving. I’m on Miami time and it’s time for dinner.”

She let out a soft laugh. “You’re always starving.”

“True,” I said, grinning. “So? You in?”

She hesitated for a beat, then smiled. “Yeah, I’m in.”

We found a cozy little bistro not far from where we’d been walking. The place was quiet, with soft lighting and a menu that made my stomach growl just reading it. Very homey. Very country. I didn’t see a single taco or cilantro anything.

I ordered a massive burger and fries, while Hannah got a salad. When the food arrived, I couldn’t help but tease her. “Salad? Really? After the day you’ve had?”

She rolled her eyes. “Some of us can’t eat like we’re preparing for a marathon.”

“Your loss,” I said, taking a massive bite of my burger.

“I’m planning a date with a tub of ice cream later,” she said. “I’m saving myself.”

As we ate, I could see the tension slowly leaving her shoulders. She told me more about work, about Clarke, about her frustrations. I listened, occasionally offering a grunt of understanding or a choice comment about her boss.

“I just want to prove myself,” she said finally, pushing around a tomato on her plate. “Is that too much to ask?”

I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Especially not to some asshole like Clarke.”

She looked up, surprise flickering across her face. Then slowly, a smile spread. “When did you get so wise?”

“Always been wise,” I said, winking. “Just didn’t always show it.”

She was quiet for a few minutes. I took a drink of the cold beer.

“I was heartbroken,” Hannah murmured.

“What?”

“Coming home after everything that happened—it felt so unfinished. Like we were in the middle of a sentence, and then the page just ripped. It was over before it ever started. I hated the way we left things. It has kept me up every night.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “I kept replaying that last day in my head, wishing I’d handled it differently. Wishing I’d…” I trailed off, shaking my head.

“What?” she pressed gently.

“Wishing I’d asked you to stay,” I said, my voice low. “But I didn’t, because I thought you deserved better than the mess I am.”