Chapter 13 #3
He watched me for a beat, almost like he was trying to figure me out.
No need—for once, I felt cracked wide open, everything right at the surface, raw and immediate.
“Yeah,” he said then, slow like the drip of maple syrup.
“Hence my awkwardness. And forgetting the answers to basic medical questions.”
Oh.
I wasn’t sure why it knocked me sideways quite like that. Just a crush, no big deal. I held my breath when his fingers slipped free. “Is that why you said yes to this trip?”
Again that look, like he was searching for something. “Part of it. But mostly I wanted the vacation.”
Easy. Don’t make this into something it’s not.
I found a grin at the base of my spine and dragged it up, locked it into place. My voice came out a little too thick. “Well, I’m just glad you said yes.”
“Me too.”
A second of silence followed that flowed in ways I couldn’t define.
Outside, night and ocean stretched, but in here, Tay was all I could see, all that I wanted, needed.
I tightened my fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss—deep and deliberate, trying to memorize the taste of his mouth and the way he pressed me down into the bed, beautiful between my thighs. Real and here and mine.
When he pushed into me, it was slow and steady, a burning stretch that felt so fucking good it sent fireworks up my spine. I gripped his fingers, closed my eyes to chase each spark.
“Dean.” He made it sound like a caress.
I dragged my lids back open just to see him, above and around and inside me, swimming in my head and in my blood. Our hands still laced, my body opening for him. It didn’t feel like surrender—felt like trust and truth, like shadowy words that dissolved the moment I shone a light on them.
“Hi,” I whispered, stupid and breathless.
“Hi,” he echoed, as if we were teenagers sneaking around behind our parents’ backs, the weight of a secret wrapped around us. “You good?”
“No.” I tilted up my hips, tightened my legs to pull him in deeper, and inhaled air that tasted like the first day of spring. “Actually, I’m great.”
“Yeah?” His smile glowed like a sunrise.
I kissed him in a messy slide of tongues and held on through the first gentle roll of his hips, heat spiraling out. Met his second thrust, chasing it, my fingers fluttering against the side of his throat. Impossibly desperate to make this last forever even though I knew it wouldn’t.
But right now, caught in these golden minutes, I could pretend.
Too fucking bright.
Morning light sliced through the curtains and added a tinge of oversaturation to the world—too sharp, too loud. My brain throbbed behind my eyes in a low, steady pulse of too much wine and rum and… Jesus, whatever else I’d had.
I shifted in the sheets and immediately regretted it; they were sticky with sweat and—right. Ew.
Tay’s side was empty.
I blinked up at the slow rotations of the ceiling fan, painting circles as sluggish as the thoughts in my head.
Usually, I got up first—his biological clock wasn’t set to owl time, but he enjoyed a slow start, dozing for a bit, while I tended to rise quickly, no point in lying about once I was awake.
Not today, apparently. Our last full day on the island, the first time he’d fucked me, and I was waking up alone.
Jesus, stop it. I wasn’t usually one for spirals—much preferred facts, certainty. Not this weird brain static I couldn’t switch off.
I pushed myself upright, head swishing for a second before it steadied.
One foot on the floor. And the other. Assess.
A little queasy, yeah, but no immediate urge to throw up last night’s experimental mix of liquids.
A hint sore, too—kind of pleasant, actually.
I grabbed some boxers off the floor and took the five steps needed to peer through the half-open curtain.
Tay was outside. Backlit by the sun, shirtless in just a pair of loose gray shorts, he was busy on his phone, mouth tugged into a serious curve.
Wind dragged lazily across the wooden planks and ruffled his hair, the overall effect a little absurd—an underwear model posing for the digital nomad lifestyle.
Except he didn’t have the curated perfection of a steely eight-pack—a gentle show of abs, yes, but they came with just the faintest hint of softness to his hips, twin dimples near the base of his spine, leanly muscled arms rather than absurdly bulging biceps.
And I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted him.
I didn’t know how to let him go.
But I had to, didn’t I? Friends—yeah. Maybe.
If he even still liked me once reality and shift work sharpened my edges, when we were back in a city that got too much sometimes, that made me crave space and quiet.
We might grab a coffee at work under the pretense of mentorship, maybe lunch once in a while.
Even that would raise eyebrows because the hospital rumor mill was ruthless, and if he really went for CT surgery…
I shook it off and stepped outside. “Hey.” My voice came out like gravel in a blender. “Everything all right?”
His attention flashed up from the screen, smile a fraction delayed. “Hi! Yeah. Just, uh. Logistics. Had to answer a few messages.”
“Logistics?” I should let it go—none of my business. So what if it felt like a lie? He owed me nothing. “What, like arranging when to meet your other fake boyfriends?”
Jesus, what even was my brain? That had made zero fucking sense.
He watched me for a beat, head tilted at an odd angle, then pocketed his phone with a tiny upwards quirk to his mouth. “Yep. Trying to coordinate the three other guys who want to take me on luxury vacations, you know? It’s hard out here for us hustling types.”
Right. I exhaled and shook my head. “Sorry, that was stupid. I didn’t mean to imply—I don’t even know.
Guess I just wanted you to be there when I woke up.
Not that it’s your job.” His job? Dammit, I wasn’t usually so prone to putting my foot in it.
“And I didn’t mean to imply it’s your job to be…
anything. Ignore me, please. Might still be thirty percent drunk. ”
His expression cracked, allowing for a real, warm grin to shine through. “So you were upset you woke up alone?”
I had no right. He didn’t belong to me.
“It’s our last full day here, and you left me to stew in my own filth.” I made sure to keep it light, playful. “Could have done with a morning grope, at least.”
He laughed a little, sun catching in his eyes. Or maybe that was all in my mind somehow, projecting how I saw him and letting nature fill the gaps—just, fuck, what even was this? My mind, my body, my… everything. Like something inside me had burst into a million tiny, glittering fragments.
“Let me fix that,” he murmured into my thoughts, suddenly close and intimate, inescapable.
“Fix what?” I asked—and. Oh. He kissed me. Slow, a little sleepy, mint and sunlight and coming home. No. This wasn’t home. He wasn’t home.
His voice drew me back into myself, words shaped against my mouth. “Better?”
I let my eyes drift open. “Somewhat appeased.”
“Only somewhat?”
“I’m high maintenance.”
“Now, there’s a surprise.” He sounded immeasurably fond, like he was laughing with and not at me. “What if we went back to bed?”
“What if we ordered coffee, waited for it to arrive, and then went back to bed?” I countered.
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“My sister’s a lawyer. I picked up a thing or two.”
His thumb drew hypnotic circles against my wrist. “Fine—if we order a fruit salad to go with the coffee.”
I grinned. “Hold the mango, though.”
“That’s discrimination,” he said, something so blindingly bright tucked into the corners of his eyes that I fought the urge to blink like a mole that had ventured above ground.
“Wrong,” I said. “It’s knowing the limitations of my hangover.”
“We’ll order you some watermelon, then. Solid hydration with a sugar chaser.”
“How are you not hungover?” I asked, perhaps a shade resentful.
While I felt better out here, with Tay in my arms and a breeze cooling my cheeks, the rays of light that sparkled on the waves still blurred behind my lids.
Should have brought sunglasses, but I’d barely managed to pull on boxers. Realistic goals, right?
“Lots of water and pacing myself.” He sounded smug. “Also, personally, I was smart enough to refuse all drinks that were served in a coconut.”
“I had one.”
“And was it worth it?”
“For the record…” I tucked a hand down the back of his shorts. “I really don’t like you right now.”
“For the record…” His smile was sweet. “That’s a lie.”
“Procure coffee,” I told him. “Then we’ll talk.”
“Talk?”
“Talk, kiss, fuck—same difference.”
He laughed, sunlight tangled in his hair and voice. “With your flair for poetry, I honestly don’t know how you didn’t have ten guys lining up to take my place.”
None of them would have been you.
I wasn’t sure why everything felt so close to the surface this morning. Or—no. I knew. Because while he was making arrangements for his time back home, I wanted to cling to the final shreds of what we had left. Less than twenty-four hours before the boat would take us back to the mainland.
I inhaled through the ache and smiled—told myself I couldn’t lose something I’d never had.