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“That’s perfect,” he answers. “Because I’m nothing fancy, either.”
Au contraire. But of course I don’t say that. And it’s a good thing I slept in my clothes because this way, we can go straight there without pause. But of course I don’t say that either.
Instead, I simply lead the way outdoors and to the beach, not hesitating in the rain.
“We can still go,” I tell him. “It’s just a little rain, the waves aren’t bad.”
“I’m not worried,” he grins. “I’m used to rain.”
“That’s right,” I answer as I motion for him to climb aboard. “I forgot.”
He steps across and I untie the boat from the dock, before I toss the rope to him. I leap before the boat can float away, and land unceremoniously beside him.
He lounges against the hull as I steer through the bay, and suddenly, the rain stops as suddenly as it started. The clouds part, the sun shines down upon us and I lift my face to the warmth.
I live for times like these, when my grief pauses long enough for me to enjoy something.
And I have to admit, I’ve been enjoying more and more moments since Dare came to my mountain.
“You make me feel guilty,” I tell him quietly, opening my eyes. He’s sprawled out, his legs propped up on a seat. He glances at me, his forehead furrowed.
“Why in the world is that, Calla-lily?”
The name makes me smile.
“Because you make me forget that I’m sad,” I say simply.
Softness wavers in Dare’s eyes for a minute before they turn back into obsidian. “That shouldn’t make you feel guilty,” he tells me. “In fact, that makes me happy. I don’t like the idea of you being sad. Come sit by me.”
He opens his arms and I sit on the seat next to him, leaning against his hard chest and into his beating heart. His arms close around me and for the first time in my life, I’m lounging in a guy’s embrace. And not just any guy. Dare DuBray, who I’m guessing could have any girl he wants.
And right now, in this moment, he wants me.
It’s unfathomable.
It’s the perfect temperature as we drift in the sun, as the warmth saturates my shirt and soaks into my skin. I drag one hand over the side, letting it float on the surface of the water as I listen to Dare’s heart.
It’s strong and loud against my ear.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The rhythmic sound reminds me of the day he was punching the shed.
I pause, then freeze, my fingers on his chest.
What day was that?
I focus and focus, trying to recall the memory through foggy haze, but all I get is an image of Dare punching at the woodshed like a machete, or a machine.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, staring down at me.
“I…” I don’t know what to say.
“Sometimes, I have memories that don’t seem real,” I finally admit, not caring how it makes me look.
He stares at me for the longest time, his gaze so deep and penetrating. “How do you know they aren’t real?” he finally answers.
I cackle a hyena-like laugh. “Because they can’t be. If you could see my memories, you’d understand why.”
