Page 19 of The Silent Count
“It’s a rite of passage.”
He shakes his head as he makes a left into the parking lot that leads us to the closest public beach. It’s 10:30 p.m. and the lot is sparse with cars. The street lamps and the moon are the only sources of light at this hour.
Fortune pulls into a spot close to the boardwalk, and I fish my purse from the floorboard and pull out two white mints covered in clear crinkly paper, then toss him one. His eyebrows raise and a small smile twitches at the corner of his lips.
I match his smile with an eye roll. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re not kissing again.”
He hums, and his smile only grows bigger as he pops the mint into his mouth.
“I’m serious. It’s not happening again.” I stand my ground as I pull the door handle and hop out of the car. “It can’t happen again.”
When I twist around on my heels to shut the door, Fortune is still sitting in the car with a smile on his lips, and his eyes lingering on the place where my ass was before turning. He tries to play it off by quickly flickering his gaze up to meet mine. “I like your outfit tonight,” he deflects before I have the chance to call him out for staring.
A swarm of butterflies erupts in my stomach as I peer down at my too-short-for-November shorts and skintight, low-cut black blouse I’ve got on. I silently applaud myself for choosing this outfit over the dress I’d originally planned on wearing.
No, Lea. You’re losing sight of what’s happening here.
I snap back my shoulders and throw on an impassive face. “I’m not susceptible to your charms, Parker.”
“You certainly were the other night.” He smirks, and I’m almost certain my eyes widen as I glance around the empty parking lot to make sure no one heard him. “If I remember correctly, it went something like… ‘Oh my god, Fortune! I love it when you call me a—’”
“Fortune! Oh my god.” My mouth drops open with a gasp.
“Yeah, it sounded exactly like that.” He’s smug, but not in a cocky way. The way he’s still sitting casually in the driver’s seat, relaxed like he’s got nothing but time on his hands, tells me his self-satisfaction comes from a place of confidence rather than ego. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, but then again, I shouldn’t like him either. “Don’t get shy on me now, Sterling. You and I both know you’ve never been shy a day in your life.”
“That doesn’t mean it can happen again.”
“Would you?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Would I what?”
“Want it to happen again…”
My shoulders slump forward as I sigh. I can see the glint of hope in his eyes, and I don’t want to be the one to disband it. Yet, part of me doesn’t feel like I have much of a choice. “I won't get either of our hopes up by answering that the way I want to.”
Fortune rakes his eyes over my face like he wants to hop out of the car, scoop me up, and throw me in the backseat for a redo of last week. Then, his gaze drops to the floorboard, and he shakes his head before opening the driver’s door and steps out. When I shut the passenger door, it feels like I’m shutting down the conversation for good.
Which only makes the butterflies in my stomach fall flat.
We walk down the small boardwalk toward the deserted beach—the only signs life was once here are the sunken footprints scattered across the sand. I look up and suck in a breath at the sight of twinkling stars illuminating the dark sky.
“I love being able to see the stars. They’re hard to see, so I rarely bother looking up.”
When we reach the cold, damp sand by the water, I look over to Fortune, but he’s only got his eyes on me. There’s an amused tug on his lips, but his longing stare is hard to miss and it makes my chest ache.
Fortune and I stroll along the moonlit beach as the soft sand crunches beneath our bare feet. Waves lap against the shore, acting as background noise for the comfortable silence hanging between us. I glance over at him before turning my attention to the vast expanse of the ocean, which seems even more immeasurable at night. Fortune looks so much like his dad, Vince, did when he was his age. Their dark hair and chiseled jawline are nearly identical.
My heart sinks, wondering what it would be like to look so much like someone who walked out on you. Looking in the mirror every day and seeing fragments of the person who has caused you the most grief. I swallow the lump in my throat, grateful that I am a spitting image of my dad.
Our steps fall in line with each other as we stroll along the deserted beach, and I’m half tempted to ask Fortune about his father. The article detailing Fortune’s name change and details about his relationship with Vince broke two days after our first meeting. He hasn’t said anything to me yet, but the weight of his situation is one I feel too. I hope I did right by him with the article release. I’ve been fielding all comments and questions away from him during the aftermath.
I suck in a breath before breaking my silence, but an unexpected twinge of hesitancy coats my voice. “I’ve been meaning to ask about the article, but I wasn’t sure if…”
“It was perfect, Lea. And I’m not just saying that to say it. There’s no one I trusted more to oversee this situation than you, and you didn’t let me down.”
I sigh, my eyes well up with tears I didn’t expect. A wave of relief washes over me hearing him say those words.
Most of my job revolves around cleaning up stupid messes for these players to ensure their public image isn’t completely tarnished. Sometimes I question the impact I’m making, if the work I’m doing really matters. Then, an assignment like this one rolls in that makes the shitty parts of my job feel worthwhile.
