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TWENTY-ONE
Felix
“Is there a reason we’re heading into the woods today?” Mylo side-eyes me as he throws his rucksack into the back of my pickup. “Isn’t it forecast to rain?”
“It never rains when it says it will around here.” I grunt and dump a box of groceries on the back seat. “We’re going because I need fishing and beer. And space. Lots of fucking space. And no women.”
His face sobers. “You fucked up last night.” He drops his shoulders, scratching the tawny stubble on his jaw as he watches me lug my own rucksack over into the bed of the pickup.
“I fucked up.” I nod, still feeling like a complete dick. I almost fucked her on a desk with a bar full of people just meters away then blew up at her for something that had fuck all to do with her. It wasn’t her fault. The look on her face before she walked—no, ran out—flashes in my mind.
Dick move, but fuck. Rosa.
The jar breaking was like a fucking sign from above. I drag my hand over my mouth and stare at the wheel rim of my truck. Kenzi was right, I need to figure it out before I see her again. “I don’t know if I’m ready for someone like her.” A long sigh releases from my chest. “She’s—complicated, and I’m—fuck knows what I am. I thought I could.”
Mylo shakes his head. “Figure it out before it bites you in the ass, man. Or worse. Bites her in the ass.”
“I think she’s running from something.” I rub the back of my neck and turn to face Mylo. “I don’t know what, or who, but it’s something she wants to forget.”
“Pasts, man. Sometimes that shit is easier to hide from.”
Something in the sobering of his face makes me wonder if we’re still talking about Laia. He never talks about what happened pre Clua. Or the tour that finished his military career, but it must have left its mark. I jab him in the shoulder as I pass him. “We can talk about your shit too if you need to.”
“Nah, man.” His laugh is rough, but he shakes his head. “Your shit’s more interesting.”
I roll my eyes. “Beer is needed.”
Laia
My nose twitches. I peel my eyes open a crack. Coffee. Someone’s making coffee. I lift my head and unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. Pain explodes behind my eyeballs. Hangover. I’m definitely hungover.
Shoving my hands under my pillow, I wrap it around my head and roll onto my front, memories of last night needling their way into my fluffy head. His lips on mine. His hands roaming my back, myfront. That rocking thing he did with his hips. A groan—think injured cow—escapes me and I press my face into the sheets. I had to flash him my boobs to get him to kiss me. Maybe the jar angst was just his way of getting out of it without hurting my feelings. But then the kiss. That kiss. That hardness—you can’t fake that kind of hard. I groan again. I hate Drunk Laia. Drunk Laia is never allowed back.
“You awake?”
Kenzi’s voice drifts through from the kitchen, along with the unmistakable aroma of bacon. My tummy rumbles but I pull the pillow tighter over my head.
“I hear groaning.”
My tummy doubles its efforts to get me to take notice. I flip over and kick my covers off. “Coming.”
Kenzi’s already got the table set by the time I shuffle through to the kitchen in my old green pajamas.
She hands me a glass of orange juice and pushes me down into a chair. “Drink this, take those, and eat that.”
I grab a couple of pills from the table and swallow them down with the whole glass of juice. “Thank you,” I mumble, my mouth already watering at the greasy goodness on my plate.
“Don’t mention it.” Kenzi sits and stabs her fork into the sad-looking slice of pie on her own plate.
“Pie? For breakfast? Really?” I wrinkle my nose and pick up my knife and fork.
“Really.” She nods and stuffs a forkful into her mouth, closing her eyes as she chews.
“You realize that pie is like a week old? I gave the fresh ones to Simon.”
Her eyelids crack open a peep, but she just shrugs and keeps chewing. “Still tastes good.”
I shake my head and slice off a corner of my crispy bacon then dip it into the soft yolk of my egg.
“Seriously, Laia, Simon is right, you’re wasted as a receptionist. You need to be selling these bad boys. I can see it now. Laia’s Palace of Pies.” She waves her fork in an arc over her head between mouthfuls. “Once you sort it out with Fee, you should totally talk to him about selling them in the Beach Hut too.”
I drop my gaze to my plate.
“Lai, this is so good.” My dad’s face lights up and he shovels another forkful into his mouth. “Seren, have you tasted this? Our daughter’s a pro.”
My mom wraps her arms around my shoulders from behind and gives me a squeeze.
Pride swells my ten-year-old chest. “I made another to sell in the bakery. Do you think they’ll let me?”
“So … you wanna talk about last night?”
Kenzi’s gentle voice pulls me from my happy memories. It’s not often the good ones are the ones my messed-up brain decides to treat me to.
I shake my head. I don’t even want to think about what happened last night. “No?” So, why did that come out as a question? I really don’t. Like really don’t.
“Come on, Laia, Fee was a mess. You were a mess.”
I push my plate into the middle of the table and drop my aching head into its place. “We…” My cheeks heat against the cool wood. “I may have tried to climb him after he fixed my fingers.” A fresh wave of mortification rushes my fragile brain, and I hold my hand up to show her my still Band-Aided up fingers. “I think I forced him into it.” I don’t look up, just groan against the table. “He tried to stop me and so…” I snort out something that might be a mini cry. “I flashed boob to get him to keep going. No means no, but I didn’t take no, and then I accidentally smashed the jar and I think he used it as an excuse to get me to stop. And he shouted. And I just ran away. I’m so embarrassed.”
She laughs—actually laughs at my mortification. “You’re an idiot, Laia.”
I peek out from behind my arms. “You’re supposed to be making me feel better.”
“Laia, Fee is into you. He kissed you in the middle of his bar in front of everyone. He’s into you.” She sighs and places her fork onto her empty plate. “You left and he was worried. He would’ve been banging on your door last night if I’d let him.”
I lift my head but squeeze my eyes shut against the incessant pounding in my brain. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t know if I can face him again.” I stick my bottom lip out in full-on self-pity mode.
Kenzi cocks her head to the side then sighs. “You have to face him again.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t.”
“You can and you will. You’re better than that.” She sneaks her hand across the table until her fingers cover mine.
“I should call him, shouldn’t I? Just rip off the Band-Aid.” I drop my head onto the table again. “Apologize for running.”
“Too late.” Kenzi sweeps her finger over her now empty plate to catch some rogue filling. “He’s gone.”
“He’s what?” I sit up straight. Gone? “Where did he go?”
“They’ve gone to Jackson’s fishing hut for the rest of the weekend. I woke up to a message from him this morning. They won’t be back until Sunday night and there’s no reception.”
I slump back into my chair. How am I supposed to fix things when my fixee has gone fishing?
“Hey, come on.” Kenzi reaches over and squeezes my hand on the table again. “I’ve got a great idea. I’m not in the hotel this morning. Why don’t we go chill out on the beach and just forget about men?”
“Isn’t it meant to rain today?” I turn to look out of the French doors. Not even the palm trees are swaying. Maybe the weather app on my phone has it wrong.
“It never rains when they say it will in this place.” Kenzi grins and gets to her feet, pulling me with her. “Come on. Let’s get our tan on.”
Half an hour later, we’ve set up camp on the stretch of postcard-perfect beach in front of the bungalow.
“About what you told me last night.” Kenzi glances at me from beneath the huge straw hat she found in the back of my wardrobe. Mrs. Devon’s by the looks of it. It certainly isn’t mine.
I lift my eyebrows and pass her the sunscreen. I’d kind of hoped she’d forgotten about that.
“You know I’m here if you ever need to talk about it some more.”
“I know you are.” I offer her a grateful smile then stare up into the clear blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. Sitting on my towel, my knees bent, feet in the sand, I take a long breath of warm, tangy ocean air then blow it out.
“Maybe you could tell Felix.” Kenzi sits up and sprays the factor thirty over her arms, it’s sweet, coconut scent drifting to me on the slight breeze. “Then, at least he would know there’s a reason behind your crazy.”
A puff of unexpected laughter escapes me, and I dig my fingers into the cozy sand at the edge of my towel, flicking it at her feet, relieved she’s not going all heavy on me.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, but it’s one thing opening up to Kenzi, to see that pity on Felix’s face though? I chew the inside of my cheek. I don’t even know for sure what it is that I want from the guy. Or if I even have it in me to open up to him.
The silence of my non-answer stretches between us, the faint cries of seagulls and quiet rustle of the palm trees surrounding us. I sink my toes deeper into the soft white sand and turn to Kenzi. “I don’t like talking about it. Feels like I’m giving him power over me again, you know?”
Kenzi nudges the brim of her hat up with the back of her hand again and pins me with a serious stare. “In that case, your secret is safe with me. If you decide to tell him, then great. Either way, my lips are sealed.”
I swallow against the tightening in my throat. It’s hard to believe I’ve only known this woman for a matter of weeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I know, I know. You love me.” She winks, then lets her hat flop back down over her face. “It was only a matter of time.”
