Page 38 of Hearts on the Line

Frustration rips at my chest. I have to fix the boat, then I need to drive home and cook for Nana. No, I’ll probably need to cancel. I wanted to get to the car tonight, but there just isn’t enough time.

She holds her hands up, then peeks at the engine. “What happened?”

“Worn belt. Should be an easy fix. I just can’t⁠—”

Those big brown eyes of hers stare at me, and she shifts forward, close enough for me to smell her shampoo and the scent of her sunscreen. She still has a bit of sand on her skin. Sloane nibbles on her bottom lip, something she does whenever she’s thinking.

It’s something that has always driven me crazy. Only draws my focus to what her lips would feel like between my teeth.

And then that has me remembering, once, I knew.

“I’ll help,” she volunteers. “Where’s Brooks?”

“Had something to do tonight.” I grab a rag from my toolbox and wipe the blood across my knuckles. “You don’t have to⁠—”

“Help?” she finishes.

“You don’t owe me anything, except the cost of the parts for the transmission.”

“Ethan.”

“Sunny.”

A small smile plays at the corner of her lips.

“That black eye….”

“Oh, I know…” She pulls down the sunglasses from on top of her head.

I instantly regret saying anything.

“Ran into Ruth today. Literally.”

I motion for the wrench.

She hands it over, crowding her head over the engine block. “She still hates me.”

“Ruth hates everyone.”

Finally, the belt slips on, and I start tightening everything up.

“You two must get along great then.”

I peek up at her, this time a grin playing at my mouth.

“You don’t fool me, Ethan Murphy. Never did.”

I shrug, diving straight back into work.

Sloane was an honor student, prom queen, and the popular girl with a rich, famous daddy. Flawless. I was not… that. My older brother Nolan was the responsible one. I decided early on that school was a joke and spent a lot of time in detention, got benched more than once in hockey, but still played well enough to almost earn a full-ride to Boston College. I would have, too, if I didn’t fuck it up. But I wasn’t smart then, too caught up in my head, chasing after impossible things.

Sloane Arden included.

“I thought the bad-boy act was only for high school.”

“Is that what I am now? A bad boy?” The word boy sticks on my lips.

I don’t miss the tinge of blush on her cheeks, though I wish I had, when I peek up at her. I stand, close up the engine block, and hand her the wrench to place back into the toolbox.