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“What do you mean? Do you think I should’ve done something different with my life?”
The question hung between them for a long moment, and the air seemed to grow thicker. It felt like a crossroads, one where they would set aside the jokes and the casual banter and get to the meat of something. Maybe they’d even have their first argument. It was twisted that he almost looked forward to it. Because it meant she cared, and that they had something real, something worth fighting over.
Something worth fighting for.
“I don’t really have the right to say, one way or another.” She shrugged.
“Don’t you?” he asked.
She looked up at him through thick, dark lashes. “I don’t know what you want out of it, I guess. I just always thought it was for them.” She frowned at the idea of his parents, and Holden hesitated. It seemed like the perfect moment to tell her. And even if it wasn’t, he had to get it off his chest.
“At first, I wasn’t sure, either,” he hedged. “I had to sit down and do some serious thinking about what my life would be. So, I put together a list.”
“A list?” She raised her eyebr
ows. “Very practical.”
“It’s more of a plan. A ten-year plan, you know? How long I want to stay in the service, what I want to do afterward, what I want my personal life to be like.”
“Whoa, heavy stuff.” She focused on the sandcastle, straightening a leaning turret.
“Maybe. But I’m closer to thirty now than twenty. It’s time to grow up, think about marriage, children. Everything.”
“And those are the things you want? Marriage and children?” Her tone was lofty, and she still didn’t look at him, but he knew all of her attention was focused on what he’d say next.
“Yeah, I think it is. What do you think about that?” he asked.
“Well…it’s your life, and—” She broke off and let out a squeal as the tide rushed over her bare feet in a foamy wave.
“Our masterpiece,” she yelped as the water continued on, lapping at their shoddily constructed castle, dragging half of it back into the ocean as it receded. “Aw, man. Well, it was cool while it lasted,” she said with a shaky smile. “But your shoes are soaked now. We should probably go…”
He glanced down and noted his damp boat shoes dispassionately. He hadn’t even felt the cool water. He was too busy absorbing the casual shot to the heart she’d just delivered.
Because she’d finally answered the question that had been burning inside him for years without him even having to ask. It was his life. And she obviously had no interest in sharing it with him.
Fuck.
…
The expression on Holden’s face made her want to throw up. He looked like he’d been punched in the esophagus. And the worst part? She was the one who’d done the punching. This whole day had been a clusterfuck, and there was only one person to blame.
She aimed internal, invisible thumbs in her direction. This girl.
She was acting like a full-on psycho, talking nonstop one second and then running off like a golden retriever after a squirrel sighting. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Even now, looking at his stricken face, the panic crawled up the back of her neck. She wanted to go to him, curl her arms around his neck, and pull him close. Comfort him and tell him it was all right.
Hold him all night long.
And it was exactly that feeling that had her feet slapping through the shallow water as she ran.
“Race you back to the pier!”
Wind whipped through her hair as unshed tears stung her eyes. This was wrong. So damn wrong. He deserved better than this, but what could she do when she didn’t have better to give?
She still hadn’t found the nerve to turn back and see if he was in pursuit when a stabbing pain shot up her leg.
“Shit!”
She slowed to a hobble, her breath coming in pants.
