Come Break My Heart Again by C.W. Farnsworth

Chapter Fourteen

Scout is nowhere to be seen when I wake up. I sit up in bed, suddenly wide awake despite the fog of alcohol lingering in my brain. One glance at the alarm clock tells me it’s an hour later than he normally wakes me up for his morning walk.

“Scout!”

He’s not on the bedroom floor. I jump out of bed and race down the hall.

“Scout!”

I rush down the stairs and across the living room, calling out for him again. My heart pounds from more than the exertion. He’s never been here before. What if someone left the door open and he wandered outside? He could be…

“What are you yelling about?” Paige calls from the kitchen.

I hurry over to the doorway. “Scout’s missing. I must have forgotten to close my bedroom door last night, and he’s nowhere in the house.”

“He’s outside. With Ryder,” Eliza replies.

“He’s what?” Slowly, I register the entirety of the bridal party—with the exception of me—is leaning against the far kitchen counter, sipping coffee and staring outside.

I walk forward. The outlook from the window that stretches the length of the counter above the sink provides a perfect view of a shirtless Ryder playing fetch in the sand with my dog.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter.

“Let them play. Scout looks like he’s having fun,” Paige tells me.

I pour myself a mug of coffee. “Yup. I’m sure you’re real invested in Scout’s happiness.”

Paige smirks at my sarcasm. “Maybe I would be if he liked me half as much as he likes Ryder.”

Eliza shoves away from the counter and heads for the fridge. “Anyone hungry?”

“Me! I’ll scramble some eggs.” Jessica joins her at the kitchen island.

I take the open spot by the sink, watching Scout race back and forth with a tennis ball firmly clutched between his teeth.

“Should I grab a mop?” I ask Paige when I glance over to see she’s studying the scene outside just as intently.

“What? Why?” She finally looks away from Ryder.

“To clean up your drool.”

Paige rolls her eyes. “Like you’re immune.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“So?” she challenges. “It’s not like he’s gotten uglier.” She glances behind us, then lowers her voice. “You knew. That’s why you went to see Kennedy.”

“I didn’t know he was about to be released. I knew there was a chance he might be,” I reply honestly. “Kennedy made it clear he should be. That he shouldn’t be there.”

Paige eyes me over the rim of her mug. “Did she tell you it was Liam?”

Shock ripples through me. “Yes. She told you that?”

Paige shrugs. “I called her a couple days after you went there. I was curious. We had a long talk. She seems to be doing well.”

“Yeah, she does,” I agree. “But Liam… I mean, it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Makes a lot more sense than Ryder ever did. Liam would act different when you weren’t around. A short temper and a massive ego never pair well together.”

“I guess,” I respond. I saw glimpses of some troubling traits in Liam, but I never thought he’d be capable of assaulting someone. “But Ryder taking the fall for him makes no sense. They didn’t even get along.”

Paige snorts. “‘Didn’t get along’? The only things Liam ever seemed to care about were you and football. Ryder took both. Of the two of them, Liam was the one with money and connections. Is it really a surprise Ryder took the fall?”

“You think Liam set him up somehow?”

“No idea. Maybe you should ask Ryder.”

I eye Paige, noting her smirk. “Yeah, great idea,” I reply dryly.

“Anyone want bacon?” Eliza calls out.

“Me! I’ll fry some up,” Paige offers, effectively ending our heavy conversation.

I turn my gaze back outside just in time to watch Ryder start for the wooden stairs that lead up to the back deck, as everyone besides me makes themselves busy in the kitchen. Tommy appears, along with a few of the other guys, fresh from a morning run. Scout bounds into the kitchen a minute later, sandy and euphoric.

“You stole my dog,” I accuse Ryder when he steps into the kitchen right behind the canine in question.

“Borrowed,” he corrects breezily as he fills a glass with water. He’s put his shirt back on—thankfully—but he still looks damn good clothed, as Paige pointed out.

“Borrowed implies you asked permission beforehand.”

“Stealing implies I didn’t return him. He’s right there.” Ryder nods to where Scout’s passed out at my feet.

Our morning routine normally involves a walk around the block. Endless rounds of fetch with Ryder seem to have knocked him out cold. Scout barely even stirs when bacon starts sizzling on the stovetop.

“Since when do you even like dogs?” Ryder asks me.

“I’ve always liked dogs,” I reply.

He raises one disbelieving eyebrow. “You wouldn’t even pet Spot.”

I startle at his reference to the stray that used to hang around his trailer. “That’s not true! Plus, I brought him food.”

“Yeah. To impress me. That wasn’t for the dog’s sake.”

Another spark of shock at his casual tone. His easy acknowledgment of how desperate I was to fit into his life. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you.”

“Yeah, well. That’s me. Presumptuous.”

I’m entirely unprepared for the devastating grin that accompanies the words. I take another sip of coffee. It seems like I always need to have a beverage in hand when conversing with Ryder. To have something to do. To keep from saying something I’ll regret. To recover from something he said.

“Breakfast is ready!” Eliza announces, playing the role of hostess.

Rather than move into the dining room, everyone merely gathers around the kitchen island to scarf down the hot eggs and bacon.

“It’s a perfect day to go kayaking,” Tommy tells us all. “I’m planning to head out after breakfast.”

Others chime in with their interest, but I don’t say anything. There’s a pile of work I should be tackling today. Weekends off aren’t a luxury I usually have. At least, not now that I’ve officially started summer work at my father’s firm. I had other options—I still have other options—but capitulating on the summer was my attempt to make amends after the engagement party mess.

I head upstairs to change out of my pajamas, and then settle on the sunporch with my laptop. Paige finds me before I’ve even opened it.

“Uh, no. You’re not doing any work.”

“I have to!” I protest.

“Because your dad’s going to fire you?” She rolls her eyes. “Are you actually required to work weekends?”

“Well, no,” I admit. “But—”

“Up!” Paige tugs me to my feet before I can follow the command myself. “You put a bathing suit on earlier, right?” She eyes my jean shorts and t-shirt like she’s suddenly developed x-ray vision.

“Yes.”

“Great. We’re going kayaking.”

“Why do I need a suit to go kayaking?”

“In case you capsize.” Paige shoots me a Duh look as she drags me out onto the deck and down the stairs. We pass Scout, who’s fast asleep on the rug, exhausted from his morning exercise.

Tommy, Eliza, Mike, and Ryder are standing and talking on the beach. The rest of the bridal party and groomsmen are relaxing in the lounge chairs that rest on the deck.

“Why can’t we sunbathe instead?” I ask, nodding up the rest of the group. The gathering that doesn’t include Ryder.

“Because we can do that in Boston,” Paige replies.

I can’t really argue with that logic, so I don’t say anything as we join the four other figures on the sand. The three guys all head inside the shed nestled amongst the seagrass, saving me from making any immediate conversation.

The ocean doesn’t appear all that fierce today. Waves trickle up the shore, then slowly retreat. Simply stroking the sand. There’s no sign of white-tipped waves, just an endless spread of glittering turquoise. Sunshine beats down brilliantly, bathing everything in warmth and erasing any shadows. The scent of coconuts wafts along in the salt-tinged air as Eliza and Paige apply sunscreen.

“Want some?” Eliza holds the tube out to me, distracting me from taking in the picturesque view.

“Yeah, thanks.” I take the bottle from her and smooth some of the lotion on my skin.

“So, we’ve got three tandems, or we could take some singles out…”

Tommy exits the shed, glancing around our group uncomfortably. There’s six of us. Three men; three women. The sexist yet obvious choice is we should pair up by gender. But those pairings could be problematic. Aside from Tommy and Eliza traveling together, the couplings aren’t obvious.

“I can take my own out,” I say.

If it doesn’t involve Pilates or dancing, I know Paige is pretty unmotivated athletically. I haven’t seen Mike in seven years. The ocean may look calm now, but I know that can rapidly change. I’m not inclined to put my life in his hands, either.

“Do you even know how to kayak?” the companion I didn’t even consider asks.

“I don’t think it’s all that complicated, Ryder,” I retort. “You just paddle along.”

“Have you ever been in a boat that wasn’t being steered by someone else?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” I haven’t.

“Right. Because experience never matters.”

“Not in a glorified rowboat. I’m perfectly capable of paddling!”

Mike opens his mouth, glances at Ryder, and closes it again. I’m guessing Tommy is probably regretting inviting the rest of us along. I doubt this is the romantic ocean outing he imagined for himself and Eliza.

“Let’s get the boats out,” Tommy suggests. “Then we can figure out… logistics.”

The boys disappear inside the small shed again.

“Do you want to go with Tommy?” Eliza offers. “I can—”

“No, not necessary,” I interrupt. “I’m fine going by myself. Really. If I get lost at sea, hopefully I’ll just drown and won’t have to listen to Ryder say, ‘I told you so.’”

Paige rolls her eyes. “Yeah. That’s definitely the best-case scenario.”

Ryder, Tommy, and Mike reappear, each pulling a brightly colored kayak behind them. A bit of my bravado wavers as I study the boats. They’re bigger than I expected. I hope the single ones are smaller.

“Should I get out one of the singles?” Tommy asks.

“No, it’s fine. Eleanor and I can go together,” Paige offers.

I raise both eyebrows, hoping she can tell under my hat and sunglasses. Either she can or she knows me well enough to sense my uncertainty. “I’ll actually paddle,” she promises.

“Or I’m happy to go with you,” Mike offers. “I’ve kayaked plenty of times before. Mostly on a lake, but…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ryder mutters, dragging the tandem kayak closest to us into the edge of the water. “Just get in the damn boat, Elle.”

The implication is clear. He’s planning to be my fellow passenger.

“How do I know you’re not going to capsize us?”

“Because I can paddle a boat without tipping it over?”

I scoff.

“Just trust me, Elle.”

“I do trust you,” I surprise myself—and him—by saying. “It’s the ocean I don’t trust.” But they’re unerringly similar, I realize. Both captivating, consuming, unpredictable forces. In my eyes, at least.

“I’ve seen you do crazier shit than go kayaking on a calm, quiet day,” Ryder challenges.

“Yeah. It worked out great for me,” I inform him dryly. But I climb into the kayak anyway. Ryder does the same, shoving away from the sandy shore as soon as he’s tucked his tall frame inside the plastic one of the boat.

Our companions scramble to keep up with our sudden departure.

Ryder was right. He can absolutely paddle a kayak without tipping it over. And he can do it pretty damn fast. We’re further from the shore and closer to the horizon in a shorter stretch of time than I would have thought possible.

A glance back confirms Eliza, Tommy, Paige, and Mike are following us, but that they’re also a ways behind.

“Is this a race no one told me about?” I ask pointedly.

“Nah. I’m just compensating for your lack of paddling.”

Yeah… I haven’t pulled my paddle out of the space between my legs since I climbed inside. I yank it out of the small confines, almost giving myself a bloody nose in the process. I start dipping the paddle in the water rushing by, but we’re moving at a fast enough clip I’m more hindering than helping. I can’t manage to pull it out before Ryder’s propelled us a few feet further along the water, and the brief drag of my paddle slides us back a few inches. I don’t make more than ten strokes before Ryder points my lack of progress out.

“You’re not helping.”

“I know.”

I keep paddling for another twenty feet just to make it clear I’m not giving up because he said something, and then pull the wet paddle back on board. Cold water droplets add dark spots on my shorts. The only sound is Ryder’s paddling and the splash of the waves acquiescing as the kayak is propelled through them.

“I’m surprised you came,” I tell him.

“Tommy’s my best friend.”

“Social events never seemed like your thing.” He doesn’t respond. “I guess the ones we attended together never went very well.”

I’m pretty sure Ryder mutters “understatement” under his breath, but I can’t tell for sure over the sound of the waves splashing and wind soughing.

“I went to see Kennedy Jacobs a few weeks ago.”

No response, and I turn in my seat so I can see his face. That same jaw muscle is flexing and relaxing. Yeah, he heard me.

“Not only did she tell me you weren’t the one who assaulted her, she told me Liam was the one who did.”

Still twitching, maybe a hair faster now.

“Which means not only did you go to jail for something you didn’t do; you let a rapist carry on with his life as though nothing ever happened. And I know it’s not because you were trying to protect Liam. Did he threaten you? Bribe you?”

Ryder stops paddling. It takes me a few seconds to realize that’s the equivalent of him walking away. Since we’re in a small boat and actually doing so would be physically impossible. I’m still turned toward him, so I watch as the other two red kayaks grow closer and closer to us. He thinks I won’t keep talking about this once they reach us. And he’s right. This weekend is about Eliza, not about my messy past with her fiancé’s best friend. Regardless of the fact that our past predates their own relationship.

They're not close enough to hear what we’re saying yet, though, so I press ahead.

“Kennedy told me she is the one who contacted Until Proven Guilty. You weren’t even trying to fix things. To get out.”

Ryder surprises me by actually responding. “Why did you go see her?”

“What?”

“Kennedy. Why did you go see her? After all these years?”

“A woman from Until Proven Guilty called me. Said they were working on your case. I went to try and see you. We both know how that went,” I add pointedly. Ryder doesn’t look the least bit repentant. “So, I went to see Kennedy.”

“Lily shouldn’t have called you.”

“Lily?” I catch. “You’re friends with your lawyer?”

“Who I spend time with is none of your business.”

Shock ripples through me, faster than the water churning around us. “More than friends, then.” My voice doesn’t betray any of the surprise I’m experiencing, and Ryder doesn’t respond.

“Jeez, James. I didn’t think we were ever going to catch up with you guys,” Mike comments as he and Paige paddle up beside our kayak. I spin back around so I’m facing forward again. I’m sick of looking at Ryder’s stoic expression, and tired of making sure my own isn’t betraying anything I don’t want it to.

“You good?” Paige glances over at me as the front of their kayak draws even with ours.

“Yup,” I respond, tracing some of the water droplets streaking down the side of the plastic boat.

“Whew! You guys were setting quite the pace,” Eliza comments as she and Tommy arrive on the scene. “You can barely see the beach from here.”

I twist around, being careful not to look at Ryder. Eliza’s right, the horizon behind us looks almost identical to the one before us. Only the upright frames of houses are an indication of which direction we came from.

“We should probably turn back,” Tommy adds.

Everyone agrees, and the five other people I’m with set about turning around. I don’t make any attempt to retrieve my paddle, not even pretending as though I’m a participant. I stare out at the water and think about how much I wish I’d stayed on that sunporch.

Because every time Ryder refuses to talk about our past it makes me want to dig it up even more.

* * *

After lunch, I retreat to the sunporch again. No one bothers me this time. Except for Scout, who abandons the comfy living room rug in favor of curling up on the floorboards by my feet.

I’m halfway through writing a brief when my phone rings.

“Eleanor Clarke.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Clarke. This is Andrea Thompson. I’m a partner at Gray and Ellington.” A partner. I got the job. They would make an associate handle rejections. “I’m thrilled to offer…” I tune her out as she starts to delve into details, waiting for the excitement I thought would accompany this moment. Learning I got the job I thought I wanted. Was told I should want. By professors, classmates, peers, summer employers… by William. By my father. Just like when William proposed, this moment doesn’t feel the way I envisioned it would.

Is that because reality never lives up to fantasy?

Or because being told you should want something doesn’t make you want it?

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I realize I’m supposed to say something in response.

“Thank you,” I state. “Uh—how long do I have to make a decision on whether or not I’m accepting the position?”

Another pause. Not a question she was expecting, I’m sure. This is the position you leverage others to get, not the one you leverage.

“Uh… I’m not—” Andrea clears her throat. “We’d like a decision as soon as possible, but I’ll have to confirm whether there’s a specific date.”

“Okay. Could you have someone let me know if there is one?” My voice is cool and detached, and I’m not making it sound as such. That’s simply how I’m feeling at this exact moment.

“Yes, of course,” Andrea replies. “Have a good evening, Ms. Clarke. Congratulations. Working here is a coveted opportunity.”

That final sentence makes me smile, not that she can see it. I’ve yet to meet a lawyer who hasn’t mastered the art of making pointed comments. “Yes, I’m aware. Have a good night as well.”

I hang up first, studying the half-written brief open on my computer. Rather than keep working on it, I open the web browser and pull up Until Proven Guilty’s website. Their staff is all listed. I click on Lily Sampson’s name. There’s a short biography describing where she received her undergraduate and law degrees, as well as her work experience. She’s only two years older than me. I’m also annoyed to learn she’s a smiley blonde, according to the small photograph included alongside the paragraph.

“Who’s Lily… Sampson?” Paige’s voice suddenly says to my immediate right, and I jump, before slamming my laptop shut.

“No one,” I reply hastily, shoving the papers I spread out on the couch back into their folders.

Paige raises both eyebrows. “Oh-kay. I came to grab you for dinner.”

“Great.” I finish cleaning up the papers I’ve littered about and stand up, stretching.

Paige’s still eyeing me, but she doesn’t say anything as we head into the kitchen.

“Did I hear you on the phone earlier?” Eliza asks when we enter.

“Yeah,” I reply, spreading cheese on one of the crackers set out as an appetizer on the kitchen island.

“Work call?” Paige asks, rolling her eyes as she pours wine into glasses.

“Yeah,” I respond. Hopefully that’s what she’ll surmise the online research was related to. “Job offer, actually.”

“From that big fancy firm you were waiting to hear from?”

“Uh-huh,” I reply, accepting the glass of wine she hands me.

“Woohoo! Cheers!” She clangs her glass against mine.

The guys enter the kitchen, shifting the conversation to a discussion on how to prepare the fish they caught. I swallow some disgust with another sip of wine as they pull out the fleshy, slimy meat. I’ve never gotten over my aversion to seafood.

Grilling is settled on as the cooking method, and we all end up out on the deck as Tommy fires up the grill. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, bathing everything in sight in soft, golden light. I watch the color infiltrate my wine glass as Tommy and Mike argue over which temperature to cook the fish at.

They must settle on one, because they both join the rest of us at the slatted table a couple minutes later.

“Congratulations on the job offer, Elle!” Tommy tells me. Eliza must have mentioned it to him. “The firm’s a really big deal, right?”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks,” I reply.

Ryder snorts, and I leap at the chance to challenge the passive aggressiveness that’s wafting off him. On the first sign of the lack of enthusiasm I’m experiencing in someone else.

“Do you have a problem with me getting a job at one of the largest, most prestigious law firms in the world, Ryder?”

“Nope,” he says breezily. “The millionaires they represent will be lucky to have you helping to line their pockets.”

There’s no easy chatter around the table anymore. Once again, we’re the car crash that no one can look away from.

I know I should drop it. But Ryder has always elicited the raw type of response uncharacteristic of the poise that’s usually effortless for me. Indignation wells, and I let it spill out.

“I graduated at the top of my class from the highest-ranked law school in the country so I could get a job like this! What do you want me to do? Work at a non-profit like Lily?”

“Jealous, Clarke?” Ryder mocks.

I’m engaged, as he already knows, and I should say so. Instead, I say something infinitely worse. “Of spending time with Lily? Not particularly.”

My heart races, because suddenly it really matters how he replies.

“Of her spending time with me,” Ryder says quietly, holding my gaze the whole time.

I’m dangerously close to crying. I set myself up for it because I didn’t think he would follow through. I thought that he was over the past. Mirroring a conversation we had seven years ago is pretty much the opposite of that. Memories and moments tangle and twist between us in an invisible string of connection until I veer off script.

“You made certain I don’t have any say in who you spend time with, Ryder.” I stand. “Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”

Without another word, I stride toward the stairs that lead down to the beach. Salty air smacks me in the face, and I breathe deeply, trying to center myself. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m letting a guy I haven’t seen in seven years dictate my happiness.

The job offer I got earlier is with a firm large and prestigious enough my father will accept I’m not working for him. The starting salary is ridiculous. I’ll have a big office, a secretary, and all the resources one could want. It’s the culmination of years—decades—of work.

I didn’t dream of being a corporate attorney when I was little. I knew my parents would push me to go to law school after college. But part of why I loved being with Ryder so much was that I didn’t—couldn’t—focus on anything else when I was with him. Graduating law school and embarking on a career felt awfully distant then. Now, it’s on top of me.

Have I let my parents influence my choices? Absolutely.

Am I proud of my accomplishments? Also yes. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.

I take a seat in the sand, pulling my phone out. I tap on William’s name, and it starts ringing. And ringing. Just when I think it’s sending me to voicemail, he answers.

“Hey, Eleanor.”

“Are you all right?” I ask. “You sound exhausted.”

“Yeah.” He yawns. “Just having a long day at the office. Was here until 2 AM and came in at 6.”

“You probably should have just slept there,” I reply.

He laughs. “Yeah, probably. Figured I’d try to maintain some semblance of a work life balance. Seems to be a futile effort with you out of town.”

“You should leave on time tonight,” I tell him.

“Yeah, I will,” he replies, although we both know he won’t. “How’s the girls weekend going?”

“It’s fun.” I try to inject some enthusiasm in my voice. “I went kayaking earlier.”

“That’s hard to imagine.” William chuckles.

“Why?” I reply, well aware there’s an edge to my voice.

William doesn’t hear it. “I just don’t think of you and water sports.”

“It was fun,” I state, as I look out at the sunset over the sparkling saltwater. Orange and pink have joined the streaks of golden.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He yawns again.

“I heard back from Gray and Ellington today.”

“You did?!” There’s a pause, where I’m obviously meant to fill in the outcome.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Eleanor! That’s amazing! You’re coming back Sunday, right? I’ll make reservations so we can celebrate.” There’s no indecision in William’s voice. No wavering on whether I should take the job. Just enthusiasm and encouragement.

“Yes, Sunday,” I confirm.

“Congratulations, babe. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

“Uh-oh, one of the partners is headed this way. I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you Sunday, okay?”

“Okay,” I respond.

“Love you.”

“You, too.” He hangs up.

I drop my phone from my ear, half-wishing I could throw it in the sea. It’s ironic I ended up living in one of the busiest cities in the country. Most of the time I wish I was someplace exactly like this with fresh air and the ability to hear yourself think. Without any distractions or obligations. Another thing I let my parents decide for me.

One deep inhale later, I head back up the deck. Happy chatter fills the air now, rather than the tense silence I left. The other change is the appearance of food. The fish has been cooked, and there’s also a spread of the salad, rice, and roasted veggies Eliza prepared earlier.

“Everything good?” Eliza asks as I return to my seat.

I nod, keeping my gaze on my glass of wine. “Just checking in with William.”

“He excited about the job?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “He is.”

Too bad his excitement didn’t have a fraction of the effect Ryder’s disapproval did. Not only because I apparently weigh the two men’s opinions differently. But because if I’m being truly honest with myself, I know Ryder’s opinion aligns much more closely with my own unfiltered one. I embarked on this path simply because it is what’s expected of me. I never expected how unfulfilling it might be. How knowing you’re going to end up someplace is different than actually arriving there.

Eliza lets the topic drop. The rest of the meal is spent rehashing the day’s activities and discussing all that is to come the rest of the summer. Specifically, Eliza and Tommy’s wedding.

Ryder’s silent through dinner. I overcompensate for his silence by chiming in on every topic. Thanks to my maid of honor status, I’m very well-versed regarding each aspect of the wedding. I also feel like I’ve contributed to shredding the relaxing peace that was meant to characterize this weekend. No time like the present to make some amends.

Everyone trickles back into the house slowly following the conclusion of the meal. I slip away in the opposite direction. Alcohol-less this time. I settle in the same spot in the sand I called William from, tucking my knees against my chest. The sun’s almost completely gone, taking its warmth with it.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here before another figure drops down beside me.

“I’m sorry,” Ryder tells me.

Rather than accept or acknowledge his apology, I ask him “Do you ever wish you could go back to being a different version of yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“I used to like myself better, I think.”

“You’re the same person, Elle.”

“No, I became the person I thought I was supposed to be.”

“Far as I can tell you’re just as stubborn and fiery as ever.” A small smile graces my lips. Because I’m absolutely, completely certain no one else would choose those two adjectives to describe me. “Is this about that fancy job? Because I didn’t—”

“It’s not about the job,” I cut in. “Well, not just about the job,” I amend. “I just feel like I stopped making my own choices. I’ve never been in a boat that wasn’t being steered by someone else, like you said earlier.”

“That wasn’t meant to be a deep metaphor, Elle. I literally meant you’d never steered a boat.”

“Yeah, well, it’s true. Literally and metaphorically.”

“So, grab a paddle.”

I shoot him a glower, and Ryder smirks. “Oh, now are you done with the lame analogy?”

“You make it sound easy.”

He lifts the can of beer he’s holding from the beach’s shore. Clumps of damp sand fall onto the navy board shorts he’s wearing. “You’re an adult. It is easy. Making your own decisions is supposed to be part of the gig.”

“I made them. I just said some obligatory yeses too.”

“So change them to no’s.”

“That will be… difficult,” I admit.

“Aren’t designer heels returnable?”

I choke on an unexpected laugh. It’s a reminder I don’t need of why Ryder James used to be the focal point of my world. Because I’m not just insanely attracted to his appearance. I’m also drawn to his dry wit. His unswerving confidence in who he is has always made me feel focused as well.

He’s still my favorite person to talk to.

“They are,” I reply. “But I don’t think custom-made engagement rings or law degrees are.”

Ryder doesn’t say anything. I was already looking out at the waves, but I don’t allow myself so much as a side glance as I let those words linger in the air. My guess is Ryder had some idea this topic of conversation means my discontentment runs deep. I’m not sure if he expected it to extend to my career and engagement.

“So, what’s your plan?” I ask. I’m trying to distract him. I’m also genuinely interested.

“My plan?”

“Yeah.”

“For my life?”

“No, for the rest of the night.” I look at him and roll my eyes, letting plenty of sarcasm seep into my voice.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Yeah, you are,” I counter.

Green eyes flick to my face and away. “I thought I might need to stay in Fernwood. That Mom and Chris would need me. They put on a good front when they visited, but I thought it was probably just that—a front. But Chris is doing well at school. And Mom—well she’ll never leave. But at least she’s stable. So… I started looking into options.”

“Options?” I echo.

“Guy I know has a construction business up north. Offered me a full-time gig.”

“North?”

“Someplace in Maine.”

“What about your job at the garage? Doesn’t Bob need you?”

Ryder shakes his head. “Taking me back was a favor. Practically charity. He’s got a full-time crew already.”

“So you're moving,” I state the words emotionlessly, but I feel anything but.

“Probably.”

Neither of us say anything after that. Unlike last night, I stand first. Ryder mirrors me, and we head back for the beach house side by side.

When he does speak, it’s not a topic I’m expecting.

“So you like fish now, huh?” Ryder asks as we weave through the waving beach grass to the stairs that lead up to the back deck.

I don’t need to look at him to know he’s grinning. I can hear the smile in his voice. “Uh-huh,” I respond, in what an impartial party would probably not call a convincing tone.

“Scales don’t bother you? Or the little bones? Or the slime—”

I punch him in the arm as we climb the stairs. My knuckles smart from the contact with solid muscle.

“Stop it!” I cringe. “I was trying to be polite.”

“The disgusted look on your face was super polite.”

“I couldn’t help it! It tasted terrible.”

Ryder just grins.

“I’m surprised you remember…” I admit, a little tentatively. Our track record of parting comments isn’t great. I’m worried my honesty might continue the streak.

“You’re a hard person to forget, Elle Clarke,” Ryder informs me. His smile is gone, but the humor hasn’t left his face.

“I’m sure you gave it a good effort,” I reply, trying to ignore the way his words imprint on my brain.

Ryder seems to appreciate my attempt to keep the conversation light-hearted. “Yeah, I did.”

“You’re tough to forget, too,” I admit, possibly ruining it.

“Did you try to?” His tone is light, the words anything but.

“Yes. No… not really,” I acknowledge as we pause outside the sliding doors that lead inside. I didn’t talk about Ryder. Doesn’t mean I didn’t think about him.

“Can I take Scout out tomorrow morning?” He lets my wavering slide, and I’m grateful.

“You’re asking my permission?”

“I thought that was a requirement to play with your dog.”

“I was surprised this morning. Scout doesn’t like many people,” I explain.

“Are you suggesting I’m not likable?” There’s a teasing glint in his green eyes.

“No. I know exactly how likable you are,” I reply. I seem incapable of lying to Ryder.

We reach the French doors and head inside. Tommy, Eliza, and Paige are all lounging in the living room. Which has a clear view out onto the back deck. I hope they weren’t watching us just now. Scout leaps up and runs over to me, nuzzling his wet nose against my bare legs.

“Hey, buddy,” I crouch down. He rolls over showing his belly, panting happily as I take the hint and rub the soft fur. “Ready for bed?” Scout barks.

“I’d be that excited too, if I was a dog who gets to sleep in a human bed,” Paige comments. She found out Scout usually sleeps next to me when he leapt on top of her when she stayed over a few months ago after having too much wine.

“Who’s the best boy?” I croon, in the voice I know drives her crazy. Mostly because she’s told me so multiple times. Scout’s tail thumps against the floor.

“I’m headed to bed,” Ryder says. I glance up to see he’s already looking down at me, an amused but mostly inscrutable expression on his face. “Night, Elle.”

“Night, Ryder,” I respond.

He disappears upstairs after saying good night to everyone else. I head into the kitchen to grab some water.

Paige appears in the kitchen as I’m filling a glass.

“You’re in trouble,” she tells me as she sets her wine glass in the sink. Guess that answers whether she was watching us, at least.

Unlike the last time she told me that, I don’t argue.

Because don’t I know it.