Page 12 of Stick With Me
He runs a hand through his chestnut brown hair, which looks longer than usual, and shifts on his feet. “Brownies. Who eats only one—” His words cut off as he gently brushes his thumb over the moisture collecting on my lashes. “Oh shit, I thought they’d make you happy, not cry.”
I laugh, but with the swirl of emotions going on, it sounds a bit hysterical. “They make me happy.” I wipe the remaining tears from my face and lift to my tippy toes to kiss his scratchy jaw. “Thank you.”
He eyes me skeptically, then nods in acceptance before tucking me and my brownies into the car. While he’s focused on driving, I take him in. He’s wearing a black T-shirt, the fabric hugging his muscular chest and arms, decorated with a handful of tattoos—some looking fresher than the older ones I remember. His jaw, which I expect to be stubbled with his signature five o'clock shadow, is grown out into what I’d guess is a couple of weeks' growth. I notice a healing cut on his brow. It somehow only adds to his overall appeal. He looks over at me, his warm brown eyes meeting mine. When he raises his brows in question, I remember I’m supposed to be giving him directions. “Oh, turn left here on Clematis.”
“Do I have something on my face?” He runs his hand over his mouth.
“No, you’re good. Just taking in your beauty,” I joke, and he rolls his eyes. “It’s just up there, on the corner. I ordered ahead, so I can run in to get it if you want.”
He glances at me, eyebrows furrowed, like he’s trying to solve a complicated equation. Reaching into the back seat, he grabs a baseball cap and pulls it low, partially hiding his eyes from view. “Nah, I got it.”
“I don’t mind getting it. I know how annoying it is if people recognize you.” Bending over backward for others has become second nature after years of practice. It’s like a bad habit I can’t break.
He chuckles. “Hannah, no one’s going to recognize me, and if they do, who cares? Come on, come with me. I only have you for a couple of days; I don’t want to waste a minute.”
He reaches across me, unbuckling my seat belt, and then pushes my door open. The brief contact he makes with my hip makes my belly clench.
The sun sets over the water, painting the sky in cotton-candy shades as we walk down the beach, pizza and beer in hand. I don’t miss the constant heat and humidity of Palm Beach, but nights like this, when it’s warm with a crisp edge to the air, remind me why I love this place. The sound of the waves grows louder as we get closer to the water. As we look for the perfect spot, I kick off my shoes, letting the cool sand squish between my toes.
We settle near the shoreline, close enough to see the clear blue waves. I take a slice of pizza and hum as the cheesy goodness meets my tongue.
Ryan shifts slightly from where he sits beside me and clears his throat. “So, you wanna tell me what happened?”
“I already told you what happened.”
The last thing I want to do is talk about Jace with Ryan. Over the years of our friendship, we’ve kept certain subjects off-limits. My relationship and his, if he’s had any, are things we don’t delve into. I know Ryan’s not a fan of Jace. Their falling out isn’t a secret, but neither of them ever told me what caused it.
“Not really. You just told me he wanted a break,” he says, turning toward me.
“Well, I can forward you the article with all the details. I mean, that’s where I learned about it all.” I can’t help the huff of annoyance that leaves me. “Clearly, he didn’t like being committed, at least not to me, and giving up theperksof the job.”
“Believe me, the perks aren’t that great.”
“Yeah, okay.” I can’t help but narrow my eyes. I’m not clueless—I understand the appeal of beautiful women falling at your feet. I just thought what we had was stronger than that.
Ryan shrugs. “I’m serious. It’s fun at first, sure, but it gets old fast. You get to a point where you wish you had someone to come home to, someone to call after the game, someone to actually share your life with. Not just a string of cheap thrills.”
“Well, not according to Jace.” I shake my head. If only the motion could actually shake the memory from my brain. “I’m not just mad at him. I’m mad at myself for letting things get this far, for giving him so much power over me for so long. What do I have to show for myself without him? I’m starting from scratch, and I can’t stop kicking myself for it.”
“Hannah, this is not on you. You did what you thought was right at the time. It didn’t work out how you imagined, and that sucks. Now, you just figure out your next move. What’re you thinking?”
He makes it sound so simple. I can only plot my moves forward, and vow not make the same mistake again.
“Well, you know I hate this influencer gig. Maybe it would be different if I had chosen it myself, you know? If I were popular for something I was passionate about. But people only follow me because of him. It’s just one more thing I did to keep him happy. He thought it’d boost his image and help with sponsorships, and I went along with it like always.”
“Well, this is your chance to start fresh, right? You can do whatever you want now.”
“Right. So, I’m going to move back to Chicago?—”
“You are?” he interrupts, with wide eyes, his brows practically hitting his hairline.
“Mm-hmm.” I hesitate, not having said the words out loud yet. But Ryan has always been supportive of my dreams—who better to share it with? “I’m thinking about finally launching my dog rescue. Remember the one I always used to talk about? Highway to Home Rescue.” I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of excitement and resolve building. “I want to actually do it, not just keep dreaming about it. The overpopulation of dogs in the southern states is only getting worse, and I want to help. I’ll be transporting, fostering, and finding them homes in Chicago.”
“Of course I remember. I remember everything you tell me,” he says in a low voice.
I run my hands through the sand, avoiding his eyes. “Living in Texas only made me more sure of it. You wouldn’t believe how many animals they had to euthanize at the shelter I volunteered at, Ry. It was heartbreaking.”
He grabs my hand, my clammy palms making the sand stick, prompting me to meet his eye. “It’s perfect for you. If you need help with the launch, I’m here for whatever you need.”
