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“There are tiny fish,” she said. “Come look, Fox.”
Before I went to her, a small cluster of stones caught my eye. One was white with black lines running through it, another waas blue, almost like seaglass, and another was orange with speckles. As soon as I spotted them, Maisy filled my head. I scooped them up, dusting off the sand. They were cooler than the finds we collected in our bucket, and I knew I had to give them to her.
“Here,” I said when I reached her side by the tide pool. “Found these for you.”
She took them with a murmur of thanks and her eyes lit up. “These are so cool.”
There was a weird warmth in my chest and I rubbed at it. When her gaze lifted to meet mine, it was like the butterflies she loved to chase in the field at the end of our block lived inside my ribs.
“I love them. Thanks, dude.”
“Yeah. They made me think of you.”
She held up the blue one. “This one looks like your eyes.”
Holden’s laugh sounded behind me. “You gave the crybaby pretty stones?” He nudged my shoulder. “Lame.”
“Shut up, Holden,” Maisy said.
“You’re jealous,” I added.
“Am not.” He shoved me harder. “Whatever.”
Maisy and I snickered as Holden trudged down the beach, back to the area our parents were set up. Her attention returned to the stones I gave her and her mouth stretched into a wide grin.
Again, I try to suppress the same warmth trying to unfold and take flight. The past is better left buried. She needs to let it go...and so do I.
My mouth fills with a bitter taste as conflict plagues me. I keep allowing my judgement to be clouded, holding back when I should be enacting my revenge.
It’s getting harder to keep my focus around her. Maybe I never should have touched her. If I didn’t know what the coconut and floral scent tasted like on her skin, didn’t know how to bury my fingers in her pussy and curl to make her breath hitch I wouldn’t be in these situations where my goddamn dick takes over and makes me forget to hate her.
Every time I think I know what she’ll do, she turns around and does the opposite. When I corner her, she lets me have her body. I threaten her and she…flirts with me. It’s got my head all kinds of fucked up.
What is wrong with me? Why is there a part of me considering giving it all up if I could have another minute of those moments together on the bike?
Blowing out an exhausted breath, I get off the motorcycle and plug my phone into the speaker set up on the workbench. The song blares through the sound system, filling the garage with the heavy beat of drums and guitar riffs. Colton didn’t have anything new that would help me out when I checked in with him after detention. Until he gets back to me, I’m at a dead end. The urge to work with my hands to clear my head wraps around me like a vice.
First I lose myself in tuning up the Charger, my thoughts swirling endlessly. As my fingers become coated in grease from changing the oil, I try to push Maisy’s tempting body out of my mind. Those addictive hazel eyes aren’t going to ruin anything, not when my goal is to crush her.
The only reason I came back to Ridgeview was because I’m out for blood. Nothing will stop my rampage against this town that turned on me. Time is running out for my plans. There are only a few weeks left until graduation.
It hits me then, after I finished with the car, while I’m making a piece of scrap metal bend to my will to become whatever my hands demand it create, that I’ve been more affected by allowing myself to touch Maisy than I was aware. I cut those thoughts off with a grunt.
I hate Maisy and everything she represents. She chose her parents over me. She lied to me and broke the promise she swore to keep the secret I showed her. There’s no way I can trust her, forgive her, or fucking have her ever again.
I told her I could hate her and fuck her, but it was so much easier to hold onto that feeling when she wasn’t in front of me all the time. Before those sounds began haunting my dreams, making me want old desires I burned out of myself years ago. Before I was faced with the same stubborn determination and wild spirit that I loved in her when we were kids.
Goddamn it. I didn’t try hard enough to cut my feelings for her out of my heart. I can’t want her. I won’t betray my family’s memory.
Longing for the misty ocean air at the cove in Thorne Point winds around me. I wish I could go there now. Instead, I rub at my chest where it’s tattooed as a permanent reminder. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks on foggy mornings always helped when I couldn’t run far enough from the demons in my nightmares. Wanting Maisy Landry more than I hate her and her family is the worst nightmare I’ve ever faced.
When working in the garage isn’t doing what it usually does to clear my head, I head upstairs and spend the next hour pushing my body until I’m drenched in sweat and panting raggedly. The smack of my fists against the punching bag becomes the only sound I’m aware of as
I picture Richard and Jacqueline Landry’s faces, throwing hit after hit. With a fierce growl I throw another jab.
I put my body through hell, punishing it for my mistakes. My chest burns with each breath I drag in, but I keep going, sweat droplets rolling down my flushed bare chest. Damp tendrils of dark hair hang over my forehead as I take another swing at the bag. Each brutal punch is penance, an apology to my parents’ ghosts.
Levi’s gruff voice becomes my conscience when my form becomes too sloppy, reminding me of the time I spent in the boxing ring with him back east. Colton’s friend would be pissed if he caught me right now. The guy is like a machine, with deathly focus on honing the weapon he’s crafted his body into. Not all of us hit the bag to be the terrifying demon whispered about throughout Thorne Point—the rest of us just need to shut our brains up for a while.
