Page 49 of Half Baked

“You didn’t ask me if you could get it for me. You said you would get it if it was too much for me.”

“Is that what I actually said?Poppy, I was a dumb kid. I’m sorry I didn’t express my intentions well. When I said that, I thought it was clear I wanted to get it because maybe then the pretty girl would pay attention to me.” He throws his head back in frustration. “And that was it, my parents disappeared right after that, and I left school. Then if I saw you in town, you would avoid me. I assumed because of all the gossip about my family.”

“You seemed so unaffected in town after everything that happened with them,” I whisper. “It added to the belief that you were just this snobby rich boy.”

“No, you know that’s not who I am.” His tone has an edge to it. “You wouldn’t bother fighting with me. You wouldn’t waste all that fire of yours on me if you truly believed that. You just want to believe it to deflect.”

“There’s nothing to deflect from,” I bite out. “All that matters is that I can pay you back for the mixer.”

“That’s ridiculous. Consider it a gift.” He reaches for me, but I step away. I need time to think. It’s all too much.

“People don’t give ten-thousand-dollar gifts.”

“They do if—” he starts before clamping his mouth shut again. He steps into the space I just put between us, and his voice is softer when he speaks again. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

He clearly has no intention of going anywhere. And despite everything, it feels reassuring. I’ve given him a hundred reasons to write me off over the years, like I’ve done to him. Instead, he’s standing here promising to continue.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Chapter 21

Hayden

Hell has officially frozen over.

Poppy Wheeler just thanked me, something I know she was always determined to never do. Warmth spreads through my chest as those two words sink in. This time when I reach for her, she doesn’t step away. I wrap my arms around her slowly, giving her the chance to reject the advance. When she leans into me, my hands settle on the small of her back.

“It’s my pleasure,” I tell her, pressing my lips into her hair. She clutches my shirt with both hands, resting her fists against my abdomen as my mouth makes contact with the top of her head in a gentle kiss.

My heart races from the intimacy she’s allowing. Both physically and the way she’s trusted me with this conversation. I tilt my face lower, this time kissing her temple.

“Whoa,” a high-pitched voice squeaks.

Keeping her tight against my chest, I turn my head in unison with Poppy to find Stevie, Wren, Ivy, and Tripp standing at the beach access mere feet away. Great, the gang’s all here.

“We uh… noticed you both didn’t show for the town meeting and then didn’t answer your phones. We were worried thatmaybe one of you murdered the other during the episode today,” Tripp offers uncomfortably.

“But you are clearly okay.” Ivy loops her arm through Tripp’s and pulls him back up the path. “So, we are going now.”

“And we’ll talk later,” Wren adds ominously. That comment was clearly meant for Poppy.

“No, it’s fine. We’ll come with you,” Poppy replies hurriedly.

“We will?” I gape at her. I was pretty happy with what we were doing before the interruption.

“We were heading back anyway.” She takes my arms and removes them from her. But her voice is lacking the sharp edge I was expecting, being around the others like this. All I can do is trust it’s a good sign.

“We were,” I agree. Another moment, another step towards her trusting me. There’s more to say, more she needs to understand. But we’ve started the conversation, and that’s enough for today.

I follow her up towards our friends, sharing a look with Tripp over her head. He mouths an apology my way as Poppy falls into step with the girls. But I’m not upset. This is progress, and she is worth waiting for.

I jump out of Tripp’s Defender into my driveway, lacrosse bag in hand. “Have time for a drink?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” He turns off the engine and steps out as well.

I open the garage door instead of turning towards the house and find Beckett’s black Aston Martin DB4 parked beside my Stingray. “He’s been home more than usual,” I note.

“Has he talked about wanting to come back to town?”

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