Chapter 12 #2
My grip tightened reflexively—not bruising, not crushing—but firm enough to remind us both how close this was getting to something else.
Her breath hitched.
I released her immediately.
For a second we just stared at each other, chests heaving, adrenaline buzzing hot between us.
“This is foreplay for you,” I said quietly. “You know that, right?”
She stepped back into me, lips brushing my ear.
“Only because you never stop me.”
And that was the part I couldn’t argue with.
Because even now—angry, embarrassed, half-worried about who might hear us—I was already losing.
Her hands slid under my shirt. Mine found her hips.
We crashed together again, not tender, not gentle—kissing like we were trying to erase what had just been said instead of dealing with it.
Outside, laughter drifted from the house.
Inside the cabana, it was just heat and salt and jealousy and the sick, familiar rush of wanting her hardest when things were already going wrong.
And somewhere under the desire, a quieter thought pressed in:
This used to feel dangerous in a good way.
Now it just felt inevitable.
Afterward, everything went quiet.
Not peaceful.
Just… spent.
The kind of quiet that comes after a storm when the air feels heavier instead of lighter.
Sage lay half on top of me, skin warm, breathing slow like she’d just run a marathon. My cheek still stung faintly where she’d hit me. Her wrist still had the ghost of my fingers around it.
Neither of us mentioned either one.
We never did.
We just skipped straight to the part where we pretended we were fine.
“I love you,” she murmured into my chest.
“I love you too,” I said automatically.
It came out like muscle memory.
Not a choice.
Outside, I could hear everyone laughing back at the house.
The sound made my stomach twist.
Fourth of July weekend.
Everyone here to have a good time.
And we’d just… detonated.
Again.
“Let’s go back,” I said finally.
She nodded like nothing had happened.
Like we’d just taken a nap.
We showered. Chugged water. Made her a cold cut sandwich. Three hours later we left our room and faced the music.
People tried not to stare.
Which was worse than staring.
Chris gave me a quick nod.
Dan pretended to be very interested in his phone.
Tony clapped my shoulder a little too hard and didn’t make eye contact.
Nobody said anything.
Nobody joked.
The energy had shifted.
Not angry.
Just… careful.
Like we were fragile glass.
Or a problem.
And for the first time, it hit me plain and simple:
I brought this.
I brought her.
I brought the drama with us.
Everyone else just wanted beers and fireworks and dumb stories.
Not whatever the hell Sage and I kept doing.
Guilt sat heavy in my throat.
“Hey,” I said suddenly, too loud. “Let’s cook tonight.”
Tony blinked. “Cook?”
“Yeah. Big dinner. I’ll grill. Sage can handle sides. We’ll do it up. Lobsters or steaks or whatever. My treat.”
It came out like an apology wrapped in enthusiasm.
Sage lit up instantly.
She loved fixing things with grand gestures.
“Oh my God, yes,” she said. “We’ll do a whole spread.”
And just like that, we slipped into teamwork mode like professionals.
For the next two hours, we were perfect.
Embarrassingly perfect.
Sage tied her hair up and took over the kitchen like she owned it. Music on. Dancing between the counters. Tasting sauces off my fingers. Kissing my cheek like we were in a commercial.
I manned the grill on the deck, beer in hand, flipping steaks and corn like I actually knew what I was doing.
We moved around each other easily.
Comfortable.
Domestic.
Normal.
On purpose.
It was damage control.
And everyone knew it.
But nobody called it out.
Slowly, the house loosened again.
Chris started telling stories. Dan stole pieces of bread. Tony heckled my grilling technique.
By the time plates were passed around, people were laughing for real.
Not polite laughs.
Real ones.
Relief washed through me harder than it should’ve.
Like we’d just avoided something worse.
“Where’s Beth and Sean?” Mark asked, looking around.
“Yeah,” Chris added. “They dipped hours ago.”
Tony snorted. “Please. It’s Fourth of July weekend. They’re definitely not coming back.”
“Oh my God,” Dan laughed. “You think Sean finally stepped up?”
“Beth’s getting laid,” Chris announced. “That’s what this is.”
Everyone cracked up.
“About time,” Tony said. “Fireman finally putting out the right fire.”
Groans. Throw pillows thrown. Someone almost choked laughing.
Even Sage laughed, head tipped back, bright and carefree.
Watching her like that, you’d never guess we’d been screaming at each other an hour ago.
That’s what messed with me the most.
How easily she could flip.
How easily we both could.
Like none of it stuck.
Except it did.
Because every time someone glanced at us, I still caught that flicker.
That quiet, cautious look.
Like they were waiting to see if we’d blow again.
By the time the sun dipped and someone suggested heading into town, the mood was almost normal.
Almost.
“Club?” Tony said. “One big night. Let’s do it right.”
Everyone cheered.
Sage slid her hand into mine, fingers threading tight.
Possessive.
Claiming.
I squeezed back automatically.
And told myself this time would be different.
We’d already had our drama for the day.
We’d burned it off.
Right?
Yeah.
Right.
By the time we got to the club, the day had mostly reset.
Dinner had done what I hoped it would. Feeding people always helped. Cooking together made Sage and me look functional. Normal. Like a couple you’d bring on vacation without a disclaimer.
Everyone seemed willing to pretend the beach thing hadn’t happened.
Which I appreciated more than I wanted to admit.
It was packed inside—Fourth of July weekend, every summer rental kid within driving distance crammed into one place. Loud, crowded, anonymous. Exactly the kind of room where nobody pays attention to anyone else.
That helped.
The guys loosened up fast. Tony bought drinks. Chris started yelling. Dan disappeared toward the dance floor. Within ten minutes everyone was sweaty and laughing and acting like college again.
For the first time all day, I felt like we weren’t the problem.
Sage stayed glued to me at first, hands hooked into my belt loop, chin on my shoulder. Possessive, but calm. Not volatile. Just claiming space.
She wasn’t sloppy drunk. Not even close.
Just buzzed enough to glow.
Enough that her eyes were glassy and bright and her laugh came a little too easily.
I kept waiting for the mood swing.
It never came.
She danced with Beth. Spun around with Chris. Kissed me like we were fine.
And slowly, I could feel the group relaxing.
Conversations got louder. Jokes came easier. The carefulness faded.
Like everyone had collectively decided:
Okay. Maybe we’re safe tonight.
That relief almost hurt.
Because it meant they’d been bracing themselves before.
I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until I felt it ease.
Then I noticed something else.
That feeling.
Like someone watching me.
Not staring exactly.
Just… tracking.
I turned once. Twice.
Then I saw him.
Older guy. Silver hair. Fit. Too composed for the room. Not really drinking. Not dancing. Just standing near the bar like he didn’t belong but also wasn’t uncomfortable.
Looking straight at me.
Not Sage.
Me.
Long enough that it wasn’t accidental.
I held his gaze for a second like, What?
He didn’t look away.
Didn’t smirk.
Didn’t challenge.
Just… studied me.
It was weird enough that I felt it between my shoulder blades.
Before I could figure out why, Beth grabbed Sage’s hand.
“Bathroom,” she shouted over the music.
Sage nodded and went with her.
The second she disappeared down the hallway, the guy moved.
Straight toward me.
Calm. Direct. Like we’d already agreed to talk.
Up close, he looked mid-forties maybe. Clean-cut. Not drunk. Not messy like the rest of us.
“You’re here with Sage, right?” he said.
Not a question.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “She’s my girlfriend. Are you her old boss?”
He shook his head.
“We were engaged,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
My heart thudded once, hard.
“Engaged?” I repeated.
“Long time ago,” he said. “Different city. Same Sage.”
I opened my mouth to ask more—to ask why, when, what happened—
But his gaze slid past me.
I turned, instinctively, and saw the top of Sage’s blonde head disappear down the hallway toward the restrooms.
When I looked back, the man was already stepping away.
“Be careful,” he said over his shoulder. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Then he was gone—absorbed by the crowd like he’d never been there at all.
I stood there longer than I meant to.
Engaged.
She’d told me she was engaged once. Said it ended because they wanted different things. No details. No bitterness. Just a clean break. I didn’t press for more because everyone has a past.
Beth reappeared first, pushing through the restroom door, face flushed and eyes unsettled. She scanned the room and found me.
“Hey,” I said gently. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Outside on his phone. So much for a fun night together.”
Her shoulders dropped and she blinked, trying to hold back a watery tear.
I shook my head quickly. “That is not cool. Are you okay?”
She nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Sage followed a moment later, flawless again. Smile in place. Lip gloss refreshed. Like nothing had happened.
She slipped her arm around my waist.
“What are you doing over here all alone?”
I searched her face—looking for something I couldn’t name.
“Just grabbing water,” I said.
She smiled up at me. “You worry too much about how much I drink.”
Maybe I did.
But I had good reason.
As I held her close again, felt the club pulse around us, one thought wouldn’t let go:
The guy hadn’t sounded jealous.
He sounded relieved.
Before I could untangle my own thoughts, Beth’s boyfriend cut through the crowd with purpose—jaw tight, shoulders squared like he’d already made up his mind.
He wasn’t drunk. He didn’t look conflicted.