11. hayes
ELEVEN
hayes
I didn’t plan to invite myself to sit and eat dinner with Fallon and Ryan, but after seeing him kiss her hand earlier, I couldn’t resist the urge to plant myself between them. Fallon didn’t look interested in him, anyway. I might’ve been doing her a favor. She seemed only a little suspicious about how I ended up at the same restaurant as her, but she never brought it up.
And now, I need to complete the evening by offering to take her home before Ryan does. I’ve deduced that Fallon doesn’t have a car. She either rides with Thomas, takes public transport, or walks everywhere, which is typical in a city as small as Sanderling. As cold as it is outside, I wish she had something for the winter months.
I watch as she pulls her hair out from the collar of her puffer jacket, and my mind wanders to what it’d be like to gather it in my fist. It’s long enough to twist around my wrist. “I’ll take you home,” I tell her before Ryan can offer the same.
This time, she doesn’t try to argue with me. Ryan looks at me like I just bought the last piece of his favorite candy, but he quickly hides it when Fallon goes in for a goodbye hug. He wraps his arms around her tighter than he should, and I don’t believe it’s purely to piss me off. He wants her. I could tell the second I saw them together. She’s a challenge for him. I recognized the look in his eyes as the same one Jace gets when he wants to conquer someone.
I know his type. He’s used to getting the women he wants. It’s evident by his socials. When Fallon mentioned having relationships with agents, I looked into who Alyssa’s is and discovered Ryan. His feed contains pictures of himself and what it’s like living in Los Angeles—more of the former. I found Fallon because he primarily follows women and a few gym rats. Her profile isn’t private—it can’t be based on how personable she is—but her feed is bare. A few aesthetic shots of her tennis shoes or a water bottle atop a yoga mat, some of her store, but nothing truly personal.
Ryan has liked all her pictures.
Surprisingly, I didn’t find an account for Shoreline Scribes, meaning her popularity has been purely through word of mouth. I can’t imagine how much more it’d blow up if she promoted through static posts, but time isn’t on her side. She’s already taken on so much, even with Thomas’ help.
When she pries herself away from Ryan, I hold my elbow out for her to grab. To my surprise, she does. She slides her hand through the crook of my arm like it’s second nature. “Are you in a rush to get home?” I ask, peering down at her. It’s late. We’re both exhausted. But there’s a place I want to visit, and I want her to experience it with me.
I see her mind working in the way her eyes search the parking lot. She isn’t looking for my car. She’s shuffling through the multiple papers in her mind. I want to urge her to relax, but I learned quickly that Fallon cannot be pushed. She has a gentle exterior, but she’s scrappy internally. Until me, it seems Fallon kept her circle close and controlled. Predictable.
I want to bleed through her edges.
Finally, she stops thinking of why she shouldn’t come with me and slightly shakes her head. “Not in a rush.”
Wordlessly, I lead her through the parking lot, not to the rental car from the other night but to my bike. It was dropped off right before dinner. And the sudden hesitancy in her walk causes me to chuckle, continuing to pull her alongside me. “It’s safer than you think,” I assure her. “I’ve been riding for years and haven’t wrecked. Skidded, maybe.”
“Lovely,” she mutters under her breath.
With a grin, I produce gloves for her to slide on. “Trust me, you’ll be glad for those when the wind hits.” After she slides them on, I take the passenger helmet and gently slide it over her head. Her smushed cheeks widen my grin, and I tighten the chinstrap without a word.
She rolls her eyes, acutely aware of how she must look. “Are you jealous I look better than you in a helmet?” she asks in jest, but she is completely correct. She’s adorable.
Pulling my phone from my jacket pocket, I raise it and snap a picture before she can protest. “Blackmail,” I say.
She smacks my stomach with a gasp, and I slam her visor shut. It slips from her grasp when she tries to pry it open, primarily thanks to the leather gloves but also because she’s never worn one. “I should fire you,” she shouts since her voice is muffled beneath the helmet.
“You should,” I confirm before sliding my helmet on and straddling the seat. “Throw your leg over, Fallon.”
She mounts the bike with ease, and I have to turn my head to stare straight ahead. Adjusting her body to fit tightly against mine, I stiffen when her arms slide around my waist. She’s either afraid, or this isn’t the first bike she’s been on. “You’re a pro,” I shout, curiosity winning over.
I feel her rest her head against my back. “I didn’t realize it was rocket science,” she retorts.
“Okay, smartass.” I jolt us, laughing when she squeals and tightens her hold on me. “Cling much?” Her fingers dig into my ribcage, and I flick her hand away. “This isn’t great passenger etiquette, you know?”
The laughter in her voice when she asks, “Do you know how to drive this, or do you just talk shit?” keeps me smiling the entire ride.
* * *
The wind bites against my skin as I pull my motorcycle to a stop in front of the old lighthouse. It’s been out of service for years, but something about it has always called to me. Maybe it’s the isolation or the way the waves crash against the rocks below, creating a steady rhythm that drowns out all the noise in my head.
I remove my helmet and turn to Fallon, who’s been silent most of the ride. Her eyes are fixed on the lighthouse as she removes her helmet, and I see the same awe in her that I feel each time I see it. “I’ve never been here,” she whispers, her voice soft, like she’s sharing a secret with me.
I smile, trying to push away the tension that’s been building between us. “I thought you’d like it. It’s peaceful out here. No distractions.”
Her footsteps are light against the gravel, and her body language is guarded. She’s curious but cautious, the same way I feel around her.
We climb the worn steps of the lighthouse, the wind howling around us. When we reach the top, I step aside to let her take in the view. She looks out at the dark horizon, her back to me, and I see her shoulders relax just a little bit as the weight of the world seems to melt away.
“Wow,” she murmurs, her voice awestruck. “I didn’t think it’d be this beautiful up here. I never imagined it.”
I stand behind her, close enough for her to feel my presence but far enough to keep a distance between us. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
Her wild hair flows freely down her back when she shakes her head in disagreement. “I moved here and immediately started working. I know surprisingly little about Sanderling.”
This is my chance to learn a little more about her. “And where did you come from, Fallon Madison?”
In an instant, her shoulders turn inward, and her chin drops slightly. I’ve hit a nerve. Maybe the question should’ve been, what are you running away from?
I step closer, inches spared between us. “You’re such a little tragedy with all your secrets, aren’t you?”
She spins when she hears the soft condescension in my voice. Her eyes flare when she notices the lack of space between our bodies, but she doesn’t step away. Instead, she squares her shoulders. “And what about you, Fitz ? Don’t think I didn’t peek at your paperwork today.”
I shrug a shoulder. “You have my social security number and last name. You don’t need my entire name. I never go by my first name. At least you know where I’m from.”
She releases a slow breath. “Missouri.”
I already knew that, of course. The name of her university was on her sweatshirt the day we met. “Missouri,” I repeat. “And what is a business major from Missouri doing in New Hampshire? It’s quite different than what you’re used to.”
She raises an eyebrow. “How did you know I was a business major?”
This time, it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “You have one of the best new businesses in the state, Fallon. It’s not hard to correctly assume what you studied.”
“I just…” she trails off and turns away. “I love the water.”
That’s a bullshit reason, and we both know it. I’m not going to push her for more right now. She could fire me on the spot, and this entire idea of mine would have been for nothing.
I watch her momentarily, the way the moonlight catches in her hair and her hands grip the railing. There’s something about this place that makes everything feel... different. Time moves slower here, and the past and future don’t matter. Only the present.
“I come to Sanderling to think. To escape,” I admit, leaning against the wall next to her. “When I need to escape everything. My father, work... everything. It’s the only place I’ve found where I don’t feel I must be someone else.”
That was more honest than anticipated.
Fallon faces me again, her eyes searching mine for something. “And what do you think about when you come here?”
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I let the question hang in the air, its weight almost suffocating. I’ve always avoided discussing my family, my father’s expectations, and how he controls every part of my life. But with Fallon, something feels different. Maybe I don’t have to lie to her about everything. I can let her in a little.
“I think about what it would be like to live without him,” I finally say, my voice rougher than I intended. “To just... walk away from all of it. But then I think about the price. The sacrifices. And I’m unsure if I’m strong enough to make those choices.”
Fallon is silent for a long time, her gaze floating between me and the view. She seems to be weighing my words against something inside her.
“You don’t have to do everything he says,” she says finally, her voice gentle. “You can choose for yourself. You just have to be willing to risk everything for it.”
Her words struck me harder than I expected, leaving me unsure what to say. It can’t ever be that simple. I can’t walk away from everything I’ve known.
I shake my head, confusion and anger bubbling up inside me. “I don’t have the luxury of just... choosing. There are consequences. People’s lives are tied to his business. My father built something, and I—” Careful, Fitz. Rein it back.
“You don’t have to carry all that on your own,” she interrupts, facing me fully now. Her eyes are soft and understanding, but their intensity makes me feel seen in a way I haven’t been in years.
And it’s too much too soon.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding the weight of the moment between us. “Let’s get you home.”