Page 38 of Ripple Effect

“Do you need to ... I mean, I can give you that privacy you mentioned before. Maybe run to the store for a bit or something?”

I shake my head. “No, I finished my work for the day while you were sleeping in.” The relief in her eyes is clear, and I can’t help but offer her a half-smile. It’s easy, comfortable—this mutual understanding, this respect we already have for each other’s boundaries.

“I can’t believe I did that,” she mutters, a frown creasing her forehead. “I haven’t slept that late in forever ... well, no, that’s a lie. I was basically glued to my bed the first week Logan and I broke up, but other than that, never.”

The mention of her ex sends an odd pang through me, but I push it aside. “It’s been a wild weekend, and you needed the rest. How are you .. . I mean, are you feeling okay about it now? About Logan?”

Her shoulders shrug, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, better. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Maybe it’s all the distractions, but I don’t wake up thinking about him. I don’t reach for my phone expecting to see his name and then feel disappointed when it’s not there.”

There’s a quietness in her voice, a rawness that makes my chest ache. I curve an arm around the back of the couch, barely brushing a hand against the top of her shoulder. The contact is light, fleeting, but I hope it conveys the comfort I’m trying to offer.

“You know,” I say. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just ... I know I said you didn’t deserve what happened, what he did to you. And that’s the honest truth. ButGod, Daisy, I just hope your next love isn’t one you have to heal from.”

She turns to me, her eyes wide and full of tenderness, but I see a glimmer of something else there. Something that makes my heart thump a little faster, makes me hope for things I sure as shit shouldn’t be hoping for.

“Yeah,” she whispers, tilting her head back, cheekbone brushing against my knuckles. “Me too.”

16

DAISY

My damp wetsuit clings to my skin as I make my way back to the apartment, surfboard tucked securely under one arm. Salt water drips from my hair onto my back, a reminder of the pure bliss I’ve found within the waves.

Staying with Elio these past couple of days has been strangely ... normal. Comfortable, even. We’ve slid into an easy rhythm of shared meals, shared car rides, shared space that feels so natural.

So normal that I almost forget about the absurdity of the situation.

He’s been holding up, as far as I can tell. His heart seems to be behaving for now, but there are moments when it’s painfully clear how fragile he is. Like when he huffs up the stairs after a long day of classes, his chest heaving just a little too much, his face a shade too pale.

And I catch the fleeting glances he throws my way—little checks to see if I’ve noticed. I pretend I haven’t, for both our sakes.

“Elio?” I call out, pushing the door open. My board squeaks against the linoleum floor as I lean it against the wall. The apartment is quiet, except for the soft hum of the fridge and the faint whirring of the ceiling fan.

“I’m here,” he calls out from the kitchen, his voice light. I can hear the rustling of paper and the clinking of cutlery—sounds of domesticity that a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have associated with him.

Now, it’s almost second nature.

I find him at the stove, stirring something in a pot. The smell of tomatoes and garlic fills the air, making my stomach grumble. He looks up as I enter, his lips quirking up in a small smile. “Hey, you’re back already.”

“Yeah,” I say, walking over to the counter and leaning up against it. I watch him as he moves around the kitchen, a little in awe of how effortlessly he navigates the space. There’s a grace to his movements, a certain rhythm that seems intrinsically his. “So, whatcha makin’?”

“Eggs in purgatory.”

“That sounds ... kinda spooky.”

“It’s basically an Italian version of shakshuka. My mom always used to make it for me. I thought ... ” He trails off, his eyes flickering up to meet mine. “I thought you might like it, too.”

The simple sentiment, the thoughtfulness behind it, warms me from the inside out. “I’m sure I’ll love it. Thank you.”

“I thought we could eat together before classes today.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say, pushing myself away from the counter. “I’m just gonna grab a shower, and I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Take your time.”

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