CHAPTER forty-three #7
Tammie, meanwhile, is pretending to look disinterested while clearly fixing her lipstick in her phone camera.
I lean back in my chair, watching the two of them with an amused smirk.
"You know," I say, swirling my wine, "you guys could just say you're here for the free peanuts and air conditioning."
Katie waves me off, eyes still on the bar. "Shh, hunters don't talk while stalking their prey."
Tammie grins, taking a sip of her drink. "Yeah, Care, you wouldn't understand. You've already bagged the golden boy of the hockey team. Leave the rest of us something."
I roll my eyes, spearing a piece of salmon. "Please. The only thing I've 'bagged' is chronic exhaustion and sore calves."
Katie gasps dramatically. "God, listen to her. She's basically married. Next thing you know, she'll start meal prepping for him."
I raise a brow. "You mean like the way he brings me dinner almost every night?"
That earns me twin groans.
"See? Domesticated!" Tammie points an accusing finger. "You're basically a golden retriever wife now."
"You two are just jealous I get free food delivery with a side of abs and that jawline."
Katie throws a peanut at me. "Ugh, stop bragging, you unfairly blessed witch."
Her attention quickly shifts when a group of guys in board shorts and unbuttoned shirts walk by.
"Oh—game time," she whispers, already fixing her hair.
And just like that, both of them are up and moving, leaving me alone at the table with my wine, my salmon, and a front-row seat to the chaos that is my friends' love lives.
I take another bite, watching as Tammie "accidentally" bumps into one of the guys and Katie laughs too loudly at something she clearly didn't hear.
Maybe I am a little boring these days.
But honestly? Watching them hunt is better entertainment than anything on Netflix.
I glance back at my phone, smiling when the screen lights up with a new text.
ZACH
so this is what you do when I'm not around? sneak off to La Playa full of sunburned frat boys?
I bite back a laugh.
I might've sent him a photo of the bar earlier when he asked where I was—just a harmless shot of La Playa's beachside sign and my half-finished glass of wine.
ME
relax, Dad. I'm just here for dinner and babysitting my friends while they try to flirt with anything that moves.
ZACH
yeah, well, pretty sure half those "anythings" are gonna start trying to flirt with you instead.
I roll my eyes, already grinning.
ME
pretty sure none of them even looked at me.
ZACH
yeah, right. like anyone with eyes wouldn't.
ME
and what if they do? what are you gonna do about it? you're not even here to stop them.
ZACH
so? I'll teleport. break every law of physics. don't test me, sugarplum.
I laugh out loud, shaking my head.
ME
you're ridiculous.
ZACH
ridiculously into you? yeah, that checks out.
I can't stop smiling now.
ME
shouldn't you be doing something important right now?
ZACH
wasn't I?
ME
what, sulking?
ZACH
no, texting my favorite girl. but yeah, now that you mention it—sulking too.
I press my lips together, cheeks hurting from how wide I'm smiling.
ME
you're hopeless.
ZACH
only because I'm not there with you right now. seriously starting to regret leaving, sugarplum.
ME
well, whose fault's that?
ZACH
yours. you got me all lovesick and distracted.
I shake my head, smiling down at my phone like a complete idiot.
God, he's ridiculous.
And the worst part?
I miss him already.
I lean back in my chair, still smiling like a fool, but the thought creeps in before I can stop it—where is he, anyway?
He said he had to go somewhere, but he never said where.
Maybe he's out with the guys. Maybe it's some team thing. Yeah, that makes sense... probably.
I glance up, laughing as Tammie flirts with the bartender, but the sound dies in my throat when the door swings open and a group of tall, broad-shouldered guys walks in—loud, laughing, every one of them looking like they just stepped off a sports magazine cover.
For a second, I think, great, more fish for the girls to cast their nets at.
But then I recognize them.
Elijah. The twins. I think one of them's named Cody—the rest, I couldn't even guess.
They're Zach's teammates.
My heart stutters.
For a split second, I actually think maybe—just maybe—he was serious about that teleporting thing. That any second now, he's going to stroll in behind them, grinning like an idiot, ready to chase off anyone who so much as glances my way.
So I wait.
My eyes flick to the door, half-expecting to see him there—hands in his pockets, smug smile, some teasing line already on his lips.
But the door closes.
And he doesn't come.
The laughter around me blurs into background noise. My stomach twists, that small, stupid hope collapsing in on itself.
If he's not with them...
Then where is he?
CHAPTER thirty-nine
CAROLINE
For the last two days, I haven't seen Zach—not around campus, not in the dining hall, not even a passing glimpse of his shadow anywhere.
He still texts me, technically. But compared to before, when his messages came in faster than my notifications could keep up—now it's... sparse. A "good morning," a meme or two, and that's it. The silence between each text feels longer than it should.
It's stupid, I know. Two days isn't that long.
But after weeks of him showing up everywhere—grinning, teasing, finding excuses to see me—it feels... off.
He'd told me once that he couldn't go a day without seeing me. I remember how my heart practically did cartwheels when he said it, how the words sat warm and dizzy in my chest for hours afterward.
And now—nothing.
Just a weird emptiness where his presence used to be.
Like I got so used to the sunlight, I forgot what shadows felt like.
I drop onto the edge of my bed with a sigh, my chest tight and annoyingly achey. Maybe I've just been too happy lately, too na?ve. Reality probably decided to show up and knock me back down a peg.
See? You got comfortable, Caroline.
You let your guard down—and now look at you.
Another sigh slips out, this one heavier.
I glance at the pile of clothes spread across my bed—the chaotic mess of potential outfits I've been trying to pick from for our date.
Which is tonight.
Our date... which I've been stupidly, pathetically excited about all week—counting down like it's Christmas morning or the season finale of my sanity—that may or may not even be happening.
He texted earlier—just a quick see you later.
That was it. No time, no details, no plan.
What the hell does later even mean?
Seven? Eight? Next year?
My thumb hovers over my phone, tempted to text him and ask, but I stop myself.
I don't want to sound clingy. Or needy. Or like the girl who can't chill for five minutes without spiraling.
But what am I supposed to do—just sit here and wait?
It's already almost five.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair.
I hate this—this restless, twitchy feeling in my chest, the way my thoughts won't shut up long enough to let me breathe.
I grab one of the dresses from the bed and hold it up in front of the mirror.
If I can't stop overthinking, I can at least focus on choosing what to wear.
Maybe if I keep my hands busy, my brain will get the hint and give me a break.
The door swings open and Sam slides in like a cat who owns the place—hair in a messy bun, backpack still slung over one shoulder. She eyes the mountain of clothes on my bed and raises a brow.
"Somebody's excited," she teases, then flops onto her bed with a dramatic groan.
I force a smile. "Maybe a little."
Sam sits up on her elbows, all business. "So—where's Zach taking you tonight? Please say it's somewhere fancy. Don't say 'pizza in a car.'"
I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. "I don't even know if the date's happening." My voice comes out thinner than I intended.
Sam's expression goes instant-alert. "What do you mean, 'you don't know'?"
"He hasn't really mentioned anything about the date the last few days..."
"What? For real?" Sam blurts.
"Yep." I sigh again. "I think he forgot... or—"
"Or what?"
"Or...something must have happened last Tuesday when he said he had to go somewhere and maybe he changed his mind." The ache creeps back into my chest, sharp and stupid. I want to scream at it to shut up.
I look at Sam. "Do you have any idea what's going on with your brother?"
Sam gives me an apologetic smile and shakes her head. "Afraid not, Care. Sorry."
She scoots off her bed and pads over, dropping onto the edge of my mattress like she's landed on purpose. Then she tries to flip the mood, nudging my knee with her elbow.
"Do you want me to call him—or go down to the pond and beat the living daylights out of my brother so he realizes he's being a jerk?"
"No—don't," I say, forcing a laugh that comes out more like a hiccup. "I'm probably just being paranoid. I'll get ready anyway—just in case he texts. If he doesn't, I'll go out with the girls. No big deal."
Saying it makes my chest sting all over again. The words are small and practical—very grown-up—but inside I'm bristling. I wanted this. I'd been counting down like it was some dumb holiday, and now I'm pretending I'm fine with plan B.
Sam gives me that sympathetic look, the one she uses when she wants to make something less awful. "Okay. But if he flakes, I will personally drag him out of whatever hole he's hiding in and make him explain himself."
"Promise?" I try to sound casual.
"Promise," she says, but she's smiling—only half convincing. It's not quite the laugh I need, but it helps a little.
Sam stretches, groaning as she gets up.
"Ugh, I need a shower. I swear, Florida's humidity is trying to kill me."
She tugs at the hem of her blouse, fanning herself—and that's when I notice it. My eyes narrow on a blotch on her lower back, a dark purplish bruise about the size of my palm, the edges faintly yellowing. It doesn't look fresh, but it's deep enough to make me wince just seeing it.