Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ETHAN
I spin the wheel of my truck toward Mom and Dad’s, my shoulders slumped from the weight of the cement that someone just poured in my chest.
You see, this is the problem. This feeling I have right now is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved with Chloe in the first place.
I saw it coming.
Still, I let myself fall headfirst anyway and lost control. I should’ve trusted my instincts, focused on the house instead of the woman who makes me feel as though I’ve just woken up when I didn’t even realize I was asleep.
Walking out the way I just did only makes everything worse. But when I saw her hug that fucking frat boy in the Hawaiian shirt, so warm and familiar with him, I couldn’t stand being there another second.
My truck veers past the Sand Dollar, and an idea hits me.
Instead of drowning my sorrows on the breezy deck tonight, maybe I’ll head there for dinner.
It’s a nice spot, and who knows when I’ll be back in Inner Shores.
Maybe Chloe’s friend, Lola, will be working, and I could pry some information out of her about Frat Boy.
Do I even want to know? Chloe said they dated before. Does that mean he’s her ex? I have exes, but you don’t see me bringing them gifts.
How serious was their relationship?
He called her “sexy,” like he already knew every curve of her body.
A throb of jealousy pulses through my veins, and I press the gas a little harder. The sooner I get out of Inner Shores, the better.
It’s not like Chloe tried to talk me out of leaving. She didn’t say a word, which is why I had it get the heck out of there.
I spend the rest of the day throwing myself into work. When I finally finish, I toss all my shit into my suitcase and then take a quick shower. Something tells me I’m gonna need more than one beer tonight, so I leave my truck at home and stroll along the beach to the Sand Dollar.
The only sound that breaks through the crashing waves is the occasional cry of a swooping seagull.
Even the row of pastel-colored houses sits silent above the sand.
As I get closer to the town center, I realize why.
The beach is still swarming with people, soaking up the clear skies and warm weather before the sun dips below the horizon.
The long walk seems to have knocked some of the bitterness out of my lungs, and I step into the Sand Dollar feeling a little lighter.
The place is getting busy, but it’s not packed yet.
I spot a couple of familiar faces—Lily Jane, and one of the cashiers from the grocery store, which feels weirdly comforting.
All my life, I’ve loved being alone, but for some reason, the novelty is starting to wear off.
I slide onto an empty stool at the end of the bar, spotting Lola clearing a table over near the jukebox. She eyes me and lifts her chin as if to say, “I’ll be right over.” Thank God there’s no sign of that Johnny Bravo she works with.
I grab a menu, unstick the plastic pages, and scan my options.
Lola lands on the other side of the bar, bringing a whiff of musky perfume. “Hey, Ethan. Where’s Chloe?”
The question stings like hell. “No idea.” My phone’s been silent since I last saw her this morning, and I’m working up the nerve to call her. I need to explain why I have to head back to Philly so soon, and to apologize for acting like such a jealous asshole earlier.
Which is funny, considering that’s exactly what I am.
Lola’s brows lift. “You two have a spat?” She grabs a glass and pours me the same beer I ordered the last time I was here. With Chloe.
“Nah, we’re cool,” I lie as she slides the beer toward me. “She’s just… got a friend in town. Short dark hair. Looks like a flamingo threw up on him.”
Lola tilts her face, thinking. “You don’t mean Steve?”
“Steve,” is all I say before chugging a third of my beer. A name as forgettable as the man himself.
It’s a bad sign, though, that Lola knows who he is.
Part of me had hoped she’d never heard of the guy. That he wasn’t significant enough for Chloe to even mention.
“Wow, it’s a bit early for him,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
A guy down the bar aggressively waves a credit card at Lola, and she shoots him a sneer. “Patience is a virtue, Bill,” she calls out, then drops onto her forearms to stare at me. “I mean that Steve is her Fourth of July hookup.”
I go still. Does she mean this coming Fourth of July or every Fourth of July? I clutch my beer glass so hard it could shatter, and then toss back another huge gulp.
Lola ducks off to deal with the credit card guy, and I return to the menu, even though my appetite just drifted out to sea.
Fourth of July hookup.
Not her ex. A recurring fling.
Is that what she and I are destined to become? Am I going to be her hookup whenever I come down to visit my parents for Christmas or Thanksgiving? Or does she already have someone in line for those holidays?
Shit.
Shit.
A flash of hot pink catches my eye from across the room. I glance up, all my muscles tensing.
Oh, fuck no.
Steve saunters in, his ugly shirt tucked loosely into khaki shorts. His snow-white sneakers slap against the floor toward the bar, fanning the flames in my chest with every step. My heart hammers as I scan behind him for Chloe. Thankfully, there’s no sign of her.
What if she’s meeting him here?
Bile rises in my throat as I turn back to the bar.
Don’t come this way. Don’t—
He edges into the empty spot right beside me, leaning over the bar and drumming his fingers against it. “Come on, slow-ass, you’re killing me,” he grumbles, his eyes fixed on Lola across the room.
He catches my side-eyed glare and does a double-take.
“Oh, hey,” he says, blanching at the sight of me. “We met this morning at Mugs.”
I look away, say nothing, and lift my beer to my lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip.
“Okaaay then, charmer,” he murmurs, a condescending laugh bubbling out of him.
When another bartender wanders over, Frat Boy orders a lychee mojito and plops his flat ass onto the nearest stool.
For crying out loud. The only joy I’m getting out of this situation is that he isn’t with Chloe.
“You from outta town too? Haven’t seen you around here before,” he says, like he owns the place. “Clo hasn’t mentioned you.”
Clo. The fire in my chest builds, smoky heat snaking up my throat. Finally, I set my gaze on him. “Really? Funny... she told me all about you.” I feign a look of sympathy, my eyes skimming over him with just enough pity to sell it, then shift to the row of colored spirits behind the bar.
He leans closer. “What does that mean? What’d she tell you?”
“Uh… hi?” chimes a sweet, unsure voice. I twist around, and a sharp stab hits my stomach.
Chloe stands there, her beautiful face done up with makeup, her wary eyes darting between Frat Boy and me. Something inside me dies. I’m not even gone yet, and she’s set up a date with someone else. Her “Fourth of July hookup.”
When I said to her that we were just hooking up, I didn’t mean it. I was just jealous and frustrated, and, fuck me, she’s so gorgeous tonight.
Frat Boy pushes to his feet. “Oh, hey, Clo. I thought you couldn’t come out tonight.”
Her gaze flicks to me.
Wait. Maybe she isn’t here to meet him after all.
“I… Uh…” she says.
Willow comes up behind Chloe, her eyes bright, her hair braided with feathers. “She agreed to come out with me for one drink. For my birthday.”
“Right,” Chloe says with a nod. “It’s totally Willow’s birthday.”
These women are terrible liars.
Not that he seems to notice. “Happy birthday,” he says with a grin, clearly not understanding that Chloe is trying to save face because she obviously turned down his offer to meet up.
Which makes me so happy, I momentarily forget how bummed I feel.
“What are you guys up to?” Chloe asks, tucking her hands into the pockets of her skirt.
Before I can answer, Frat Boy jumps up, his fingers curling around her arm. “Just came out for a little buzzy buzz. Something to wash away the long day of travel. But now that you’re here, we can make up for lost time.”
“I’m here with Willow,” she says again.
Hasn’t this idiot been listening?
His lips purse into a childish pout. “But you can see your friend anytime. How often do you get to see me? Come on. Let’s go somewhere quiet and get reacquainted.”
“Maybe later,” she says, slipping out of his grasp.
Logically, I realize she’s trying to be polite, but the possessive part of my brain is growling. Why doesn’t she just tell him she has no interest in him? Unless… maybe she does? And she’s just uncomfortable because I’m here?
Frat Boy smiles as he shakes his head, his smug face glowing. “Same old Chloe. Likes to keep me wrapped around her finger.” He pushes his tongue into the side of his mouth. “Not as much as I like her wrapped around mine,” he adds under his breath, so that only I can hear.
Every muscle in my body locks up. That’s it. I’ve had enough of this fucking idiot.
But it’s not my place to start something in Chloe’s favorite bar.
I have to leave—right now—before I put my fist through his face and ruin her Fourth of July hookups for the foreseeable future.
I fish out my wallet, grab a twenty, and set it on the bar for Lola. When I glance up, Chloe’s eyes lock with mine. “You deserve better,” is all I say as I slip off my stool, ignoring the dickhead beside me.
As I step outside, the salty air hits me, and I take a long, slow breath.
The neon lights of the Sand Dollar flicker behind me as I head down the beach, every heavy step taking me further away from Chloe.
And closer to a life without her.