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Dragging breath into my lungs, I force words past my dry throat. “I was sorry to hear about your dad.”
His shadow shifts on my legs as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. No more too-short pants. Now they fit him just right.
“Thanks. You know he died five years ago, right?”
I look up, taking in his stony expression. “Yes, but we haven’t spoken in over a decade. Which begs the question—why are you talking to me now?”
Lucas sighs and plops onto the end of the chaise. For a brief, electric second, my foot touches his thigh. I scoot back, pulling my knees to my chest. Lulu lopes over to investigate the newcomer, her tail wagging as she sniffs his shoes. He gives her a quick rub before she hears something rustle near the back fence and takes off.
I watch her flight, my skin prickling under the weight of Lucas’s gaze searching my face. Eventually, he sighs.
“I should have known you wouldn’t make this easy on me, Peapod.”
The old nickname makes my eyes sting and my heart swell. Irritated by my reaction and overwhelmed by his nearness, I say nothing, instead staring blankly across the backyard. But no matter where I look, all I see is him. His broad, muscled back rising and falling. The shoulders that absorbed my tears on more than one occasion. The arms that sheltered me, held me, and ultimately turned my world inside out.
When he touches my foot, I jerk and nearly kick him. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.
My eyes snap to his. The contact is a punch to my gut, turning my voice acidic. “What do you care?”
Our last conversation rises between us, yelled through driving rain, dripping with a darkness far more consuming than that of the night sky. A darkness of onyx and crimson—my sobs and his helpless fury.
“You could have stopped him! He would have done anything for you!”
“You’re blaming me for his death? You think I want to be a pregnant widow at twenty-one? Fuck you, Lucas. You weren’t here. You disappeared off to your fancy college and forgot about us. I tried to talk him out of it—for months—but when Jeremy set his mind to something?—”
“You know what? Stop. I don’t care. I never want to see you or this place again. As far as I’m concerned, you’re both dead.”
“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?” he asks now.
Blinking my way out of the past, I meet his gaze. What I see in his eyes makes my stomach churn, makes the backyard blur.
“Why now?” I whisper, and what I’m really asking is why he came back.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head, gaze falling. “It’s been a weird couple of years. Lots of… change. Six months ago, I saw the old camp property come up for sale. I didn’t think—I just bought it. Then, of course, I had to figure out what I was going to do with it.”
“Besides burn it to the ground?” I mutter, then wish I could take the words back.
“Yeah. Besides that.”
Another memory whispers for attention, but I slap it away. “So instead of making it a place the community can enjoy again, you’re turning it into a resort only accessible to the super wealthy. Great choice.”
He sighs. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
I stiffen. “That’s right. The poor girl doesn’t understand economics.”
“Celeste—”
I leap off the chaise and point at the fence. “Just go, Lucas. Let’s go back to pretending the other person doesn’t exist. It was better that way.”
He stands, shoulders tight and gaze averted. This close, the difference in our heights is pronounced. My eyes snag on the base of his throat and the pulse thrumming beneath tanned skin. Suddenly, I can’t get enough air. I try to step backward, but my calves are against the chaise.
I blurt, “Have you always been so freaking giant?”
His gaze snaps to me, glimmering with challenge. “Have you always been so short?”
The bristles on his jaw catch the sunlight as he tilts his head. Waiting to see if I’ll play. The old, competitive edge in me ignites. My eyes narrow.
“Still can’t grow a beard, can you?”
