Chapter Eleven Missing Something
Chapter Eleven
Missing Something
Chase
I should be in heaven.
Perfect weather. Miles of open beach. I have nothing but time to work out, sleep, and avoid the firecracker next door.
And yet…
I toss a frisbee down the shoreline for Rip, watching him bolt after it as if his life depends on catching the flimsy piece of plastic. His paws kick up sand, and the late afternoon sun casts everything in a golden glow.
A perfect day. A perfect vacation. So why does it feel like something’s missing?
Or, more specifically, someone.
Scarlett.
It’s been a full week since I’ve seen her. A week without any snarky glares over the property line, without her stomping across the sand in another swimsuit or sundress that does insane things to my focus, without her sitting on her deck with a coffee and a scowl.
I should be relieved.
Instead, I’m standing here wondering why the hell I even care.
I roll my shoulders and shake it off. Maybe she left early. Maybe she finally got inspired and is locked away writing. Maybe she found someone else to annoy instead of me.
Whatever the reason, I shouldn’t be thinking about it.
And yet—
I toss the frisbee again, watching Rip race off, my mind still circling back to her.
Maybe it’s the bonfire night that changed things. I don’t know what the hell happened, but for the first time since I met her, Scarlett wasn’t just sarcastic and prickly. She was…different.
Less armor. More real.
And I liked it.
Which is exactly why I need to get my head on straight.
I head inside, grab a water bottle, and prop my feet on the coffee table. My phone sits face-up next to me, and I thumb through a dozen unread texts from women back home who would happily remind me that Scarlett Calloway is not my problem.
I don’t answer a single one.
Instead, I grab the book sitting on my table.
Her book.
I don’t even know why I bought it—just to annoy her, probably. But now, I stare at the title—How to Die Alone (and Love Every Second of It)—and something about it piques my curiosity. What could it possibly be about?
I flip it open.
I tell myself I’ll read one chapter. Just to see what she’s peddling. Just so, next time I see her, I can throw one of her own arguments back at her.
But then—
One chapter turns into three.
And by the time I stop, Rip is asleep next to me and my head hurts.
Not because I disagree with her.
Because some of what she says makes sense.
And I hate that.
I run a hand down my face.
I need a distraction. A drink. A fight. A game. A woman in my bed. Something.
But instead, I find myself looking out the window at her house—empty porch, untouched deck, no sign of life.
I miss her.
And that frustrates me more than anything.
I rub the back of my neck, then grab my keys. Time to get out of my own head.
Turns out, I don’t have to go looking for a distraction.
Because I run straight into one at the coffee shop.
Well, more like she almost runs into me, arms full of two coffees, balancing a bag of something against her ribs.
Scarlett freezes mid-step, barely catching herself before slamming into my chest.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she mutters under her breath.
Ah. There she is.
The tightness in my chest that I refuse to call relief eases slightly.
I lean casually against the counter, smirking. “So, did I scare you off, or did you just need a break from glaring at me every morning?”
Her lips press together. Adorable.
“If only I’d been so lucky,” she deadpans. “But no. Just working. Unlike some people, I actually have a job to do.”
I arch a brow. “Didn’t say you didn’t.”
Her expression sours.
Here’s the thing about Scarlett—poking at her is way too much fun. Because every time I think she’s maxed out on irritation, she finds a new level.
“So,” I say, “you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me, or should I just assume it’s because you can’t stop thinking about me?”
Her death glare is immediate. “I have literally never thought about you once in my life.”
I drop my gaze pointedly to the two coffees she’s holding. “That for me?”
She exhales sharply and shifts them out of reach.
“You know,” I muse, “you’re kind of proving my point here.”
She scowls. “What point?”
“That you’re avoiding me. Like, real effort, full-fledged strategy, radio silence avoidance. I’d almost be impressed if it weren’t so obvious.”
She huffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just busy.”
“Oh yeah? Busy with what?”
Her pause is all the answer I need.
I grin. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
Her jaw clenches, but then she forces a fake smile.
“Strange turn of events,” I say, meeting her eyes. “Looks like we’re stuck hosting a book club together.”
“That was all Harper. Just know she’s dead to me.”
I smirk. “Let’s try not to make it awkward.”
She scoffs. “You make everything awkward.”
“Nah,” I say, tilting my head. “You just make everything more fun.”
Her eye roll is brutal, but for the first time all week, I feel like myself again.
I decide to leave her to sulk and head to the counter to order. “See you soon, Calloway.”