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He hadn’t heard from Devon since she’d left. Not a text, not a phone call. Nothing.
And even though they’d made it through the past breakup, and he’d remained friends with her family, Michael and Logan were now acting weird as well.
Breakups caused tension, but considering he and Devon hadn’t actually been together, he was confused by the awkwardness. Maybe it was that she’d turned him down yet again?
Head down, he made his way to the bridge over the dunes. A bit of red caught his eye, and he frowned at the sand. Bending, he picked up the piece of sea glass and got a punch to the gut when he realized it was shaped like a heart.
He ran his thumb over the surface, feeling the smooth edges. A few steps later, he stopped again, spotting another piece of red glass.
Oz lifted his head, gaze moving from one red bit to the next, scattered across the sand leading to the bridge.
Heart pulsing, Oz quickly gathered them up, including the two on the steps, five across the bridge, and more down the steps and boardwalk toward his house?
Could it be?
He was afraid to hope and fought the urge to rush. Instead he forced himself to pick up every piece he saw, shoving them into his pockets.
Pulse pounding, when he crossed the road onto his property, the heart-shaped glass increased in quantity and his hands started to shake. “Devon?” he called, not seeing her.
He left the glass for now and rushed up the steps, only then noticing the open front door.
Devon stood in his living room, beautiful in a long, strapless red sundress that bared her shoulders.
He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to take another step. His mind snapped a mental photo of her so that he’d never forget this moment.
“Hi,” she said simply.
“Hi.”
“I hope you don’t mind. I remembered where the spare key was kept.”
He swallowed the fist choking him and forced himself to get to the point. “What’s going on?”
Oz watched as she pursed her lips and inhaled.
“I went back to New York.”
“I’m aware.”
“But nothing was the same. Ted and I… It’s over.”
“Good.”
“Don’t hold back.”
“You deserve better.”
“I think I do,” she whispered. “But I’m not sure I’m worthy of the guy I-I like.”
He narrowed his gaze, hands fisted to keep himself in check. “He’s probably a jerk, too.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t think Ted was a jerk, either.”
A wry laugh emerged from her, and he liked that he was able to draw the sound from her. “What about that job you interviewed for?”
“I got it.”
