“Why? Do you surf?” I asked Charity, hoping she hadn’t already said she did.
She laughed and shook her head. “No. I’m extremely uncoordinated. But if you wanted to give me lessons, I wouldn’t turn them down.”
Oh, hell. I’d walked right into that one. I cut my eyes at Della, who was listening with a nervous expression. “Sure. I can do that if you want,” I agreed, hoping I never saw her again after we left the island on Sunday.
Charity looked giddy with delight. “Yes, I’d love to!”
“Good idea. Why don’t you take her out in the morning for a lesson?” Woods said.
I opened my mouth to spout some bullshit excuse for why that wasn’t happening. But Charity clapped her hands and beamed at me. “Oh, how exciting!”
Well, shit.
I danced with Charity twice before I was able to extract myself to find Bethy, but she wasn’t at her table or on the dance floor. Scanning the crowd and tables, I didn’t see her anywhere. Then I looked for Thad and realized he was missing, too.
What the hell?
I started moving for the door. I wasn’t explaining my exit to Woods. He’d do something else to screw it up. I had done my job all during dinner, and then I’d danced with Charity. Not to mention that I had to take her surfing in the morning. I was done with my goodwill for the evening.
I stalked out of the building and across the sand, keeping my eyes open for a sign of Bethy.
A giggle stopped me, and I turned to walk around the building and into a small thicket of palm trees.
“Got a famous mouth, now, don’t you,” Thad teased, and I tensed up. I followed the rumble of his voice as he made a groan. “Fuck, yes, take it all the way in. Back of your throat, baby,” he encouraged.
I stopped. There was no fucking way that was Bethy. She wouldn’t be sucking him off. The clouds shifted, and the moon lit up my surroundings. Thad’s eyes lifted from the girl knelt between his legs to meet mine.
He put his finger over his mouth to silence me. He didn’t want an interruption. The girl had brown curly hair and had on one of the uniforms the servers were wearing. It wasn’t Bethy. Thank fuck.
I turned and walked back toward the path leading to our huts.
“Oh, shit! Swallow the head. Yeah, God, yes!” Thad cried out.
I walked faster. I didn’t want to hear him get off. But if he didn’t keep it down, the whole damn island was going to hear him.
Bethy
I slipped my heels off and walked back out to curl up on the lounger and look out over the water. After watching Tripp dance with Charity for half a song, I’d realized I really needed to leave. It bothered me. Not that I should be surprised. I had been jealous of Della, too, back when I thought Tripp had a thing for her. I’d had Jace then, and I had no right to be jealous, but with Tripp, I didn’t seem to have control over my emotions.
Which sucked.
Being friends with him was my way of calling a truce. Finding a common ground so I could focus on living again instead of living with so much guilt and hate. Watching Tripp with other women, however, wasn’t part of the deal. Once this weekend was over, I would smile at Tripp when I saw him and keep it casual. No reason to be close friends.
Although I wondered if this meant he wouldn’t follow me to and from work anymore. Would I miss him sitting outside my apartment staring at my window for hours?
Yes.
That sucked, too. As much as I told myself I hated him for following me and sitting outside my apartment, the truth was, I was mad at myself for wanting it. For expecting it.
All these frustrated emotions weren’t things I’d had to deal with in my relationship with Jace. I’d been secure and safe. The drama and pent-up emotions I always experienced with Tripp had never been there with Jace. It had just been easier.
So what if Tripp was with Charity tonight? It wasn’t like I was ever going to be more than his friend. Seeing him made my heart speed up, and when he smiled, my stomach did a little fluttery thing. It always had. But that wasn’t enough. With Tripp came so much pain. I didn’t want that pain. I was closing the door on it and moving on.
“You checked out early.” Tripp’s voice startled me, and I jumped. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, smiling at my reaction.
He didn’t need to be here right now. Why wasn’t he with the blonde? Far away from me and my screwed-up thoughts. “It’s been a long day,” I replied simply.
His hands were in his pockets, and he had unbuttoned the top of his white shirt and rolled up the sleeves, revealing a peep of the tattoos that colored his arms. He stood with his legs slightly apart as he studied me. He was so dang tall.
“Want company?” he asked, looking at the space beside me.
No. Yes. Crap.
I shrugged instead of answering, since I didn’t have a definite answer.
He took that as an affirmative and sat down on the lounger. There was enough space for two, but it was a small space, which meant his long legs stretched out in front of him and touched mine. He crossed them at the ankles and leaned back.
“It’s peaceful here,” he said in a reverent tone.
I nodded. I wasn’t much for talking. Until yesterday, I had him in my “hate you” box. It had been all I allowed myself to feel where he was concerned. Now that I had taken him out, I didn’t know where to put him. Preferably in a box that didn’t allow me to care that he was with other females.
“Not now, because I realize I’m on really fragile ground with you, but one day, when you’re ready, I want a chance to explain what happened eight years ago.”
Not what I had expected him to say. I thought we were going to pretend that didn’t happen and move on with our lives. “What’s past is past. Let’s leave it where it belongs,” I said, not looking at him. My hands fisted firmly in my lap as a wave of emotions washed over me at once. The heartache, loss, fear, and intense love I’d pushed away. I didn’t want it.
“I’d agree with you if you actually knew the past. But you don’t. Just like there are things I don’t know. Things I want to know, even if it’s going to rip me open. I need to know, Bethy. For us both to find a way to heal, we have to deal with the past first.”
He was right. But I wasn’t ready. Our past was what would define the rest of my life. He had molded me into who I was. Our relationship had been the source of my greatest regrets and mistakes. “I’m not ready,” I said quietly.