Page 87 of On the Run
“Jonquil,” I began. “You see…”
“Or not married, per se,” she hurried on, like she was worried she’d offended me. “I just meant, until you can be together more permanently, that’s all. I hope it’s soon. Poor Beale hasn’t smiled in days and days, and that’s not like him.” She sighed sadly. “All the crystals in the Universe can’t guard a body from missing the one he cares about, huh?”
My heart twisted, and I let out a little puff of breath like I’d been punched in the stomach.
I’d very specificallynotasked Littlejohn about Beale, and if I were being honest, the reason I hadn’t called Mase to clear the air was because I was afraid he’d volunteer information I didn’t want to hear.
Like that Beale was making voodoo dolls in my image using all the toiletries I’d left behind in the pool house bathroom.
Or that he’d finally spoken his soul mate into existence, and they were off on some plover-counting honeymoon, chuckling about that moment of temporary insanity when Beale had screwed around with me.
I hadn’t known until Jonquil spoke that thinking of Beale being that unhappy nearly a week later was worse than either of those outcomes.
“Still,” Jonquil continued, “when I told him I was gonna call you today, he said that sounded like a great idea, and you always had the best advice even when you didn’t think you did, which I thought was real sweet.”
Oh, damn. Another gut punch. “He… he said that?” I whispered.
“Sure. He loves you an awful lot. Even Barbara Patenaude could see that, and that woman is aslaveto her cataracts. You know, I’ve always said she should’ve…”
I stared out the window at the beautiful, not-quite-right skyline, and right there, while Jonquil Pepper chattered on about eye surgery or some shit, I had what my mother used to call a come-to-Jesus moment.
I missed Beale.God, I missed him.
I wasn’t just sad that I’d been dumped by a guy, or feeling salty and unwanted. It wasn’t that my pride was injured, or my confidence was bruised. I genuinely missedhim. Specifically Beale Goodman.
I missed him in a way that I doubted all the Blue Bunny Peanut Butter Party ice cream in the tristate area could soothe.
I missed his smile and his warm embrace.
I missed the way he made me feel safe.
I missed the way everything seemedpossiblewith him.
And it didn’t matter that I’d been back in New York longer than I’d been in Florida. It didn’t matter that we were polar opposites. It didn’t matter that I knew better, or that our relationship had been a lie.
This part—the missing-him part—was very real.
A little over two weeks ago, I’d found myself on Whispering Key with none of the things I valued in the world—no money, no contacts, no best friend, no privacy—and instead I’d gotten Beale…
And if I had the chance, I’d trade it all again and consider it a fucking bargain.
But I didn’t know how to make Beale give me that chance.
“So anyway, about the bridge,” Jonquil finally said. “Guess you’ve heard there might not be a concert at the Extravaganza after all.”
I blinked out of my thoughts halfway to the kitchen area. “Oh?” It was hard to care about the concert, honestly. I needed more ice cream, stat.
“Poor Jayd. I do feel for him.”
“Uh-huh.” I stood in front of the freezer and shoveled ice cream in my mouth with a giant spoon.
“He went off grid, and now everyone’s saying he’s in rehab when the boy’s never done hard drugs.” She paused. “Or not very hard drugs.” She paused again. “At least, not back when I knew him.”
I shook my head, pretty sure Jayd hadn’t been a regular on the Key for fifteen years or something. “Uh-huh.”
“And hesayshe doesn’t care, but of course he does. I honestly think he’s as homesick for the Key as you, sweetie, though he’d never admit it.”
“Uh h—Wait.” I plunked my ice cream carton on the counter and licked some off my finger. “Did you say Jaydsayshe doesn’t care?” Unless something had changed in the last hour, Jayd hadn’t spoken to the media, so this was news to me. Pretty sure it would be news to his management team, too.
