Page 70 of Brushed and Buried
“What are you doing?” I whisper angrily, my composure cracking under the blow of his honesty.
“What I should have done years ago.” He stops just close enough that anyone watching can see the intensity between us, the way we’re drawn to each other despite every rational reason to maintain distance. “I’m not going to waste any chance I get with you.”
The straightforward way he announces his intentions, like a battle plan or a business strategy, sends heat and panic warring through my chest. “You can’t just decide that.”
“It’s going to happen.” His voice drops softer but no less determined. “I’ll make sure you know I’m not going anywhere this time. Maybe I’ll convince you to give San Francisco a shot. Or hell, I’ll move to L.A. if that’s what it takes.”
Dinah makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
Vince looks at her, seeming confused about where he wasn’t clear. “Dead serious.” He shifts his gaze back on me, calm and unflinching. “Yeah, it took me this long to stop hiding it and start pursuing you properly.”
My hands are shaking now, and I grip them together to hide the tremor. This is everything I dreamed of hearing all this time, down to that night in my hotel suite when we finally said goodbye without actually saying the words.
“Everyone’s watching,” I manage to say weakly.
“Good.” The word comes out fierce and final. “Let them. Let them see and hear exactly where I stand.”
The beach has gone completely silent except for the whisper of waves against sand. I’m aware of our friends witnessing this moment that should be private, making it real in a way that can’t be taken back.
Somehow, the crowd begins to drift away. Maybe Trevor quietly asked them to give us space, or perhaps they simply sensed the need for privacy, but it doesn’t matter. The moment between us feels impossible to erase, raw and real. All I can focus on is Vince, standing in front of me with that same unwavering determination he used to bring to everything that mattered to him.
Yet, I cannot falter. “I can’t.” I have no words left beyond this. I pull back, out of his reach, my composure snapping into place like armor. “Excuse me, I need to finish the setup.”
But I can see in his eyes that pulling away this time isn’t going to work. For the first time in ten years, Vince Holloway is fighting for me.
And I don’t know if I’m brave enough to let him win.
I turn and walk toward the reception area, but I can feel his eyes following me. I can sense the unyielding nature of his resolve like a physical presence.
Behind me, Trevor clears his throat with a chuckle. “Well…that was one eventful wedding rehearsal.”
“But not unwelcome,” Becca adds softly, a teasing lilt in her voice that makes my chest tighten. “Love confessions are always welcome at my wedding.”
Lance’s voice carries over the sound of waves. “Dibs on that hangout invitation, Dinah. Unless you’re suddenly into football players who’ve just had public emotional breakthroughs.”
“I think I need a drink,” Dinah mutters, but there’s laughter in her voice now instead of shock.
Their voices fade as I put distance between myself and what just happened. For the first time in a decade, Vince Holloway isn’t running from what we could be.
And despite every wall I’ve built, every reason I have to protect myself, that changes everything.
25
Adrian
A cliff overlooking the water has always felt like the kind of refuge I need when the world becomes too much. The one here in Azure Tides is a fifteen-minute walk from the main resort, up a winding path that most guests never bother to explore, which makes it perfect for moments when I need space to think without interruption. The wooden bench positioned at the edge faces west, offering an unobstructed view of the Pacific that stretches toward the horizon like an endless promise.
I sink onto the weathered planks and let my head fall back, breathing in the salt air and trying to make sense of everything that happened. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below usually centers me, but today it feels like background noise to the chaos in my head.
Vince’s declaration replays on an endless loop, each word resonating with a possible truth I’m not sure I’m ready to face.
The sun hangs lower in the sky now, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. This is the kind of light I usedto chase when I was painting seriously, the magic hour when ordinary things become extraordinary. I try to imagine how I would capture this moment on canvas, but the visualization feels distant. Even with the breakthrough of sketching Vince last night, the deeper artistic connection still feels fragile, like something that might disappear if I examine it too closely.
Footsteps on the gravel path behind me interrupt my spiraling thoughts. Vince moves with a particular rhythm, confident and measured, the gait of someone who’s spent years being watched and evaluated. He doesn’t announce himself or ask permission to join me. He just settles onto the bench beside me with the same quiet determination he’s been carrying all day.
We sit in silence for several minutes, both of us staring out at the water. The late afternoon sun catches the waves, creating patterns of light that shift and dance with hypnotic beauty.
“You disappeared pretty quickly,” Vince says finally, his voice careful and neutral.
