Page 105 of Spring Break Fling

“It’s a cactus,” I said, taking it from him.

“It’s soft. Isn’t that exactly the opposite of a cactus?”

“Because it’s crochet, genius.”

He smirked. “You crochet now? I learn something new every day.”

“I don’t crochet. I bought it at a craft fair,” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s cute. And the old lady that made it was nice. I wanted to help her out.”

“I don’t know if cute is the word I would use,” he joked.

I watched him take in the rest of the room. He spotted the collage frame with me and my friends and moved to look at it.

Nikko studied the collection of photos. I watched him smiling at some of the goofier ones.

“That’s from college graduation,” I explained, pointing to a photo of me with Tara and Rachel, our arms around each other and graduation caps slightly askew. “Tara was so hungover that day, but you’d never know from the picture.”

He chuckled, moving to another photo. “And this one?”

It was a group shot from a ski trip, all of us bundled up in puffy jackets, our cheeks red from the cold and wind. “Winter trip to Sun Valley. I’m not much of a skier, but they drag me along every year.”

Nikko’s gaze softened as he looked at the photos. “You’ve got good friends.”

“The best,” I agreed.

He picked up a trinket from a shelf, a small ceramic owl with a chipped wing. “And this?”

I smiled, remembering. “My grandmother gave me that. She always said owls were wise and would watch over me.”

Nikko set the owl back carefully, his fingers lingering for a moment. Then he turned to me, his expression suddenly serious. “Hannah, about Miami. About everything that happened…”

I held up a hand. “We don’t have to rehash it all. We’re even, remember? And we’re here. That’s what matters.”

He nodded, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “I just want you to know I’m sorry. For how I reacted. For not listening.”

“We were both pretty messed up,” I said softly. “Let’s just… start over. How about we open some wine and sit down?”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

He followed me to the kitchen, where I pulled a bottle of red from the tiny rack by the fridge and grabbed two glasses. A few minutes later, we were settled on the sofa, my legs draped lazily over his lap as we sipped our wine and let the day’s stress melt away.

“This is nice,” I said, twirling the stem of my glass between my fingers.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and warm.

We sat in comfortable silence for a bit, but I could tell his mind was still elsewhere. “So have you thought about your next steps?” I asked him.

He tilted his head back, groaning softly. “Ugh, don’t remind me. My head’s been a mess, to be honest.”

“What happened that night?” I asked. “You said it was your father’s debts?”

He snorted. “Yeah. I got jumped.”

“What?”

Nikko took a swig of wine before setting down his glass. “Remember how I told you my old man owed some people money? Turns out, they decided I was going to be the one to pay up.”

I sat up straighter, my hand instinctively reaching for his. “What happened?”