Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
A moment of silence falls over the group and then Mr. Johnson steps up, wrapping me in a hug.
A few others walk to me to pay their respects on their way out, and the moment I can break free, I do.
I don’t mean to, but I can’t help but wonder if she’ll chase me down the sand as she chased him.
When twenty minutes go by, I accept the answer for what it is.
Fucking painful.
Chapter 48
Arianna
* * *
The ocean is much like life, ever-changing and unpredictable. I’ve always found that to be the beauty behind it, but lately, I wonder if that’s true.
Where is the beauty in the possibility of a hurricane with the power to destroy everything in its path, both memories of the past and forecasts of the future? Isn’t that why we return to places we love? For the peace it offers and the memories it brings?
What happens when that’s washed away and there’s nothing to look back on?
How are you supposed to move forward knowing that?
The breeze picks up, and I cross my arms over my chest, but something pulls my eyes left. Thirty feet in the distance is Noah, and he’s headed right for me. My feet are moving before I even realize it, and then I’m meeting him in the middle.
A small smile forms along his lips, and he slowly passes me one of the two coffees in his hands.
Eagerly accepting, I use the heat of the paper cup to warm my palms. “How’d you know I’d be out here?” I tease, pretending the reason he’s out here is me.
“You always are.” He doesn’t miss a beat, and for a moment, my muscles clench.
Noah knew where to find me, so much so that he took a little detour to the coffee house first, knowing I’d be in the place he expected when he came back.
There’s a deep pull low in my stomach, but I breathe through it, and without a word, we walk toward the firepit, sitting down along its edge together.
I lift my cup, inhaling the rich scent.
“Don’t worry.” Noah adjusts his lid. “It’s not caramel.”
My head jerks his way, and the softness of his gaze has me whispering, “What kind is it?”
“Peppermint.”
My favorite. Noah knows my favorite.
He knew I’d be out here, close to the water.
Confusion whirls within me, and I think Noah sees it. He answers by breaking eye contact, and brings his cup to his lips, making me curious.
“What’s yours?”
“Spiked.”
A chuckle bubbles out of me and his lips pull to one side.
“Well…” I take the lid from mine and hold it out. “Share.”
He studies me a moment and with a hint of amusement in his gaze, he pulls a small bottle from his hoodie pocket, adding a splash of Bailey’s in my cup.
I give it a gentle stir, taking a small sip. “Nothing like a little liquor before lunch.”
“It’s not even eight yet.”
“Yeah, but lunch rhymed.”
Noah chuckles. “Surprised you didn’t hit me with a little Allan Jackson and say, ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere’.”
My smile is instant, and I admit. “I thought it.”
A soft hmm leaves him, and something warms inside me when his eyes meet mine. “I bet you did.”
My smile is broken apart with a yawn and Noah’s blue eyes soften.
“Still not sleeping well?” His voice is scratchy with his own restlessness.
I wince. “That obvious, huh?”
Noah shakes his head, slow and steady, whispering, “No. It’s not.”
He stares into my eyes a long moment, and an equally foreign as familiar warmth blankets me. No, it’s not obvious. He simply knows.
Because he knows you, Ari.
I blink.
You know him.
I blink again.
We stare at each other, and it’s he who faces the water first, so I follow.
We sit in silence, enjoying the heat our drinks offer and the calm each other’s company brings. I’ve been on edge for so long, but this is the first time in a really long time that I’ve felt like I can just be, like I can let my pain show where it will, without worrying about others and the concern they try to hide around me.
My family tries to pretend everything is normal, and I know how hard that must be.
Noah doesn’t do that. He’s simply here with me, and that’s it.
I don’t feel like I have to smile and that alone is invigorating.
Only once I can see the bottom of my cup, do I decide I want to share something with him, even if I’m not sure what it means or why I need him to know.
But I do need him to know, so I shift to face him.
“I looked for you last night.” My voice is lower than planned, and Noah’s head jerks my way so fast, air lodges in my throat. His blue eyes search mine, a mix of shock and settlement, of unspoken pain clouding his own.