Page 85 of Ripple Effect

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After makingDaisy come three more times—with my fingers, my mouth, and then once more with my cock—we somehow force ourselves to crawl out of bed. It’s obligatory that we let Bentley out, no matter how much our bodies are screaming for us not to.

As we stand near the grass patch together, waiting patiently for my dog to do his business, Daisy kicks at a lone pebble on the pathway. “So ...”

I lift a curious brow. “So?”

“So, I’ve been thinking about going to Cape Casserat for Thanksgiving,” she says softly, giving me a shy smile. “I need to see my family. Get the yearly visit out of the way.”

My brow furrows. “You’re not going home for Christmas, too?”

“I’d rather just stick around here over winter break. I told you that my sister and I aren’t all that close. Well, it’s the same with my parents.”

“You don’t have a good relationship?”

“It’s not that, really.” She sighs, searching for the right words. “It’s just that we’re not, like, the warm and fuzzy family you see in the movies. I might want that, but it’s not reality.”

A pang of sympathy hits me. “I’m sorry, Daze.”

“Don’t be. It’s not like they’re particularly cold or anything, and they weren’t bad to me growing up.” She glances at her feet, kicking at the pebble once more. “It’s just, I don’t know, they weren’t all that interested in the baby, or the toddler, or the school-aged stages. When I was a bit older, they seemed invested in my potential surfing career. But then, after that went out the window, I felt like I was kicked out of the nest.”

A protective sort of outrage grips my chest. “That sounds pretty fucking cold to me.”

“Yeah, I suppose it’s alittlefrigid.”

I step closer, sliding her hand into mine. “I didn’t know you wanted to go pro.”

“I thought I might.” She gives me a placating smile. “I placed in the Under-18 Girls competition in El Salvador. But then I got injured, and I lost my sponsorship, and I just kind of let go of the dream altogether. I always intended to go to college first, anyway. So, when I hit my senior year of high school and still couldn’t surf, I ended up applying for a university further away from the coast. That’s how I ended up accepting a spot at Dayton.”

“And now that you’re back here, have you changed your mind?”

“No, I think it’s better to keep it as a hobby, a passion, rather than a job. It’s just too much pressure. I think, though, that giving up on the idea so quickly forced me to cling to something else in its absence.”

I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “And what was that?”

“You probably don’t want to hear about it right now.” A hint of a blush colors her cheeks. “Not after what we just did.”

I bump her hip. “Humor me.”

“Um, that last year of high school is when I first met Logan.” She hesitates, a war of emotions playing out in her eyes. “We’d gone to the same schools all our lives, but we never really crossed paths until senior year. He was laser focused on baseball, and I ran with a different crowd. When we both found out we were going to Dayton, it’s like our fate was sealed.”

A sting of jealousy surfaces, but I tamp it down with a joke. “So, a matter of convenience, then?”

“I guess so.” She chuckles, tilting her head. “At the time, I think I was looking for something that I didn’t have. A family tie of some sort to help keep me grounded. We didn’t start officially dating until right before college, and then all of our friends melded into one.”

I bring our clasped hands to my mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of hers. “You know, you don’t really talk about your other friends from Dayton.”

“I haven’t kept in touch with them, to be honest.”

“Why not?”

“I wanted distance from everything that reminded me of Logan. And then, I’ve sort of realized that I don’t miss them all that much.” She traces an imaginary line on the ground. “Since I cut ties, I don’t even feel their absence. It’s like nothing is missing from my life at all. In fact, if anything, life feels a whole lot fuller now.”

“Hm, I see.”

She winces, glancing up at me. “I know ... that probably makes me sound like an awful friend.”

“It doesn’t,” I say, “not in the slightest.”

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