Mended Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #4)

Chapter 1

“Yes!” Daisy screams from the other side of the fire pit, her arms up in the air in what I can only guess is a celebration of her throwing her flip-flop further than the others in whatever ridiculous game they’re playing right now.

“I think your girl might be drunk,” Owen says beside me, half-teasing, half not.

I’ve stopped correcting him on the ‘my girl’ thing because he pretty much ignores me, even though we both know Daisy is not my girl. Not anymore anyway.

“Sloane!” he now calls, grinning like the fool he is when she turns around. “Babe, come here for a sec.”

Sloane skips over to where we sit, a huge smile on her face that is there way more often since she and Owen got together. “Yeah, what’s up?” she asks, standing in front of him.

He reaches for her hand, pulling her down into his lap as he nuzzles her neck. Sloane giggles in a way I’ve never heard before as she curls her arms around him. “On a scale of one to wasted, how drunk is Daze right now?” he asks, kissing his way down her neck and along Sloane’s shoulder.

Sloane sighs, her eyes fluttering closed as she murmurs, “She’s drunk, yeah.”

“Are you drunk?” Owen asks, kissing his way back up to her mouth.

She smiles now, her eyes a little glassy but still focused on her boyfriend. “Not that drunk,” she says.

Owen chuckles, his hand sliding down to her ass. Beside them, I clear my throat, and Owen looks over at me, a huge grin on his face like he’s the cat who ate the canary. Which I guess he probably thinks he is these days.

“What?” he asks.

I wave my hand at the two of them. “I’m not sure if I like you two more or less now that you’re like this,” I tease.

Owen laughs, turning back to Sloane as he says, “Where are you on the scale of let’s stay here or let’s go home and do dirty things to each other?”

Sloane grins, glancing over at the girls as she says, “I’m good with option two.”

Owen turns back to me, a wicked grin on his face as he says, “Yeah, gotta say, I love us like this.”

I laugh because the truth is, I do too. It’s taken them a while to get to this point, but there is no denying that my friends are ridiculously fucking happy together. Everyone is. Nate and Sage, Alana and Flynn, Owen and Sloane.

It’s just Daisy and me who aren’t. And while normally my brother is here to stop that obvious non-couple third-wheel thing, tonight he’s off somewhere, probably with some girl he just picked up at the beach. Meaning it’s all loved-up couples and then Daisy and me, the ex-couple who no longer are.

“We’re gonna go,” Owen says as Sloane now slides off his lap. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. “You good?”

I blow out a breath, standing. “Yeah, I’m good. See you guys later,” I say, smiling at my friends as they turn to say goodbye to the others before heading out to the street to walk home.

When I turn around, Daisy is chatting and laughing with Alana and Sage, and Flynn and Nate are watching me, easy smiles on their faces.

These two couldn’t be more different, but they’ve become great friends since Flynn moved in.

He’s become good friends with all of us, actually, easily fitting into the group and definitely keeping Alana on her toes.

She needed someone like him, and like with Owen and Sloane, I’m glad these two found each other.

“You wanna crash here?” Flynn asks, jerking his thumb at his house.

“Nah,” I reply, shaking my head. “I’ll call an Uber. Thanks, though.”

“What about Daisy?” Nate asks, chuckling when he sees all three girls hugging each other.

I turn to the girls, shoving a hand through my hair, sure I am going to regret saying this. “I’ll drop her off,” I tell them.

“You sure?” Nate asks. “You guys can just stay.”

“Right,” I say with a laugh. “Not like either of you have much room, and I absolutely do not need to listen to any sex stuff either.”

Flynn bursts out laughing at that. “Yeah, my girl can be pretty wild.”

“No shit,” Nate says. “We’ve heard you from up there,” he adds, gesturing to the apartment above the shop where he and Sage live.

Flynn laughs again, and fuck me, if that’s not my cue to get the hell out of here. It’s not that I’m not happy for my friends; I am. It’s just I’m also insanely jealous because everything they have is what I want too.

With Daisy.

Again.

Because fuck my life if I don’t regret whatever it was that broke us up. And whatever I don’t know or don’t understand, I no longer care because I just want Daisy back.

I want her to be mine.

Again.

When the Uber pulls up, I thank the guys before walking over to the girls. “Come on, Daze,” I say. “Our Uber’s here.”

“We’re leaving?” she asks, an adorably confused expression on her face, her long brown hair pulled into a messy knot on the top of her head, a bunch of loose strands hanging from it.

“Yeah,” I say, laughing. “I told you five minutes ago, remember? These lovebirds all wanna go to bed, and you are drunk.”

She pouts at this, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not that drunk, and you guys are no fun.”

Chuckling, I thank the others before grabbing Daisy’s hand and leading her out to the street. She is drunk, and that’s the only reason I can get away with any of this.

“You’re kinda drunk,” I say, letting go of her hand only for Daisy to fling herself against me, her arms wrapping around my waist and sending my heart into a free fall inside my chest.

It’s not like we haven’t been this close since we broke up. I mean, we’ve hugged and shit because we’re sort of still friends, but somehow in this moment, this feels different.

“I’m not,” she says again.

“Okay, you’re not,” I reply, slinging my arm around her shoulders because this feels nice, and that asshole isn’t here, and also, I really want to hold her again.

But five minutes later, we’re in the back of the Uber, and Daisy is fast asleep beside me, her head on my shoulder and soft snores falling from her mouth. When the car pulls up to the house she shares with her mom, I ease her up, trying to wake her so I can get her inside.

“Daze, come on, you’re home,” I say quietly.

“Hmmm,” she says, her eyes still closed as she feels around the back seat for her purse, one of her hands landing on my thigh and sending a jolt of electricity straight to my dick. “Find my keys.”

I glance down at the empty back seat, turning on the flashlight on my phone to check. As I do, though, I notice the text from Alana.

Alana: Hey, D left her purse here. We can wait up if you wanna come back?

“Shit,” I mutter, noticing the text was sent ten minutes ago.

Me: Thanks, but it’s ok, I’ll just let her crash at mine and send her over tomorrow.

I slide my phone into my pocket, not needing to see whatever reply Alana is going to send back. She’s asked me a million times why Daisy and I don’t just get back together now that I’m back, but I don’t have an answer for her.

Because the truth is, I have no idea if Daisy wants to get back together, especially with that asshole on the scene. When I left for the mainland, it was never permanent, and I thought Daze knew that. But I left, and things went to shit with us, and then I came back, and everything went to shit.

Big time.

“What are we doing?” the driver asks, interrupting my internal debate.

“Let’s just keep going, next stop,” I tell him.

He nods and pulls away from the curb, Daisy already fast asleep again beside me.

At the house I share with my brother, I silently plead that Kai is not home, or at the very least, in such a deep sleep that he doesn’t wake up to see this.

Kai is in the same camp as Alana, wondering why the fuck Daisy and I don’t just get back together now that I’m home.

Actually, Owen’s there as well, and probably Nate if he and I ever bothered to discuss it.

Even Sloane, Flynn and Sage, the three people who didn’t see me and Daisy grow up doing everything together, wonder about us.

The only person who doesn’t seem to wonder is Daisy.

After I thank the driver, I walk around to the other side of the car, my keys already in my hand.

I scoop Daisy into my arms, her body limp and her soft snores telling me there isn’t a chance she’s waking up.

Daisy sleeps like she’s in a coma, and with a few drinks in her, it’s more like she’s dead.

I can remember countless mornings waking up beside her and spending a good five minutes trying to get her to wake up so we could go surfing.

I did manage to find one way to do it, but I’m not sure she’d appreciate me doing that right now.

As I stagger up the stairs to my front door, Daisy in my arms, I can’t resist drinking her in. The feel of her in my arms, the weight of her against my body, the intoxicating smell that is all Daisy.

Fuck, I miss her so bad.

Inside, I walk quietly down the hall to my bedroom, grateful when I see my brother’s door open and his bedroom empty. He must be staying with whatever chick he picked up tonight.

In my room, I gently lay Daisy down on my bed, slipping her flip-flops off her feet and leaving them on the floor beside the bed. I go to the bathroom, grabbing some Tylenol and a glass of water, which I put on the nightstand beside her, and then I just stop.

And stare.

At Daisy.

In my bed again, her hair all spread across my pillow.

Her hand is resting on her stomach, her tank hitched up to reveal a stripe of tanned skin.

She’s already turned toward the other side of the bed, the same way she always slept when she was with me, and my heart aches so fucking bad that I literally have to clench my hands into fists just to stop myself from crawling into bed with her.

From pulling her into my arms and reminding her of all the ways we were so good together.

“Jesus, Daze,” I whisper. “When am I ever gonna get over you?”

She mumbles something, then as she turns onto her side, she buries her face in my pillow.

I swear she inhales, as though she’s breathing in the scent of me.

It’s the same thing she’d do when she rolled in and buried her face in my neck, and it’s so achingly familiar that I can’t stop myself from leaning down and brushing a soft kiss across her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get over you,” I whisper, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You were always it for me, Daze. Always.”

Then, before I do anything stupid, I grab my notebook off the nightstand and head out to the living room, knowing I can’t just climb into my bed with her, no matter how badly I might want to.

After I grab a glass of water, I kick off my flip-flops and collapse onto the couch.

Even though I was up early surfing and I’ve had a few drinks, I’m not tired.

My body feels wired and on edge, my fingers itching with the need to touch, grip, tug.

I’m fucking horny as hell too, having held Daisy in my arms, knowing she’s in my bed.

“Jesus, Miles, get a fucking grip,” I mutter as I switch on the lamp and try to write some shit down.

But I’m distracted as fuck, staring at the same blank page for what feels like an hour before I eventually give up, throwing the notebook onto the coffee table.

Instead, I pull my phone from my pocket, opening up the photo app and torturing myself with a trip down memory lane. Then, because staring at photos of me and Daisy together isn’t bad enough, I switch over to Instagram, clicking on Daisy’s profile, which I still follow.

She hasn’t posted anything since I left Maui, and I have no idea why. But all the posts from before that are still there, including all the photos of us.

The two of us sitting together at the beach, the two of us surfing, the two of us eating shrimp at Matt’s food truck, us huddling around a bonfire, kissing on a mountaintop.

All memories of better times.

A time I desperately want again because it doesn’t matter how much distance we put between us or how much we act like we’re friends and we’re okay with that; I’m not.

Because the truth is, I am still head over heels in love with Daisy Carmichael, and that hasn’t changed since the day I first laid eyes on her in junior high.

I loved her then, and I love her now, and I wish to hell we could find our way back to those better times.

But I don’t even really know why we broke up in the first place, or why she hooked up with Isaac, or why the two of us are like strangers now.

All I do know is that it’s torture seeing her every day and not being able to touch her or kiss her or do all the things I used to do with her.

I want that, and I want her.

I want to mend whatever is broken between us.

I just wish I knew how.