Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
The line fell quiet, taut with tension and more than a little apprehension.
“I’m a trigger,” she said slowly.
My stomach sank at the heartbreak in her voice.
“You’re a trigger, and my best friend, which makes this really, painfully hard.” I sagged against the counter.
“So…” She sighed. “So you need me to leave you alone. Stop calling. That kind of thing?” Her voice broke.
I felt the telltale burning in my eyes and blinked back tears. “Not forever, but for now, yes.”
“Okay. I can give you time.”
“I know. That’s why I love you.” My face crumpled, wishing we were back in our kitchen in Enterprise, snacking on popcorn and M&M’s. Wishing our worlds hadn’t been torn so completely apart that we couldn’t find each other…yet.
“Call when you’re ready. Can I talk to Sam for a second?” Her voice broke.
“Sure.” I handed the phone to Sam, and she started nodding.
“Yeah, I’ve got her,” she promised, crossing from the kitchen to the living room.
I sucked in a deep breath and hit play on the tape recorder. May as well go through all the pain at once.
“Okay, Morgan. Can you take me back to the moment you experienced Will’s death?” Dr. Circe’s voice came through the speaker.
I braced my hands on the counter, steadying myself for the impact of everything that was going to follow on that damned tape.
“I’m in the grocery store, picking out a jar of jam, and my phone rings. It’s Sam.”
…
We left the windows down as we drove up the coast toward Waves and Rodanthe Beach. The miles between Hatteras and Waves were filled with unpopulated beaches, the strip of island so narrow at times it felt like I could touch the Atlantic with one hand and the sound with the other.
Jackson’s Land Cruiser reminded me of his house—pristine in the front seats, where he was in charge, and perfectly cluttered in the backseat, where Finley reigned.
Banners’ Riot blared though the speakers, and with Fin singing at the top of her lungs from behind us and Jackson grinning when she got the words wrong, my heart lightened. This was the best reward I could have given myself after listening to the tape. Sure, maybe it had been a week since I’d been this close to Jackson, but I refused to bring that fact into the reward equation. But every time I looked his way, my pulse jumped at the memory of having his mouth inches from mine.
We reached Waves and fell in with a small line of traffic headed for the beach access.
Finley blew hard, moving some of her curls out of her face. “It’s all tangly.”
Jackson met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Then you should have let me pull it up before we left.”
“I didn’t want you to then,” she stated like it was the simplest truth in the world.
“Do you want me to now?”
We pulled into a parking lot that was already three-quarters full and parked.
“Yes, please.”
“Then it’s a good thing I brought a brush and a hair tie, huh?”
She nodded with a little twist of her puckered lips.
We got out of the car, and I sprayed on sunscreen, then hauled my beach bag over my shoulder. The temp had spiked again, bringing us an eighty-degree day.
“Fin, do you need some sunscreen?” I asked, coming around the back of the car.
“Yes, please,” she answered.
My breath caught stupidly at the sight of Jackson working a spray into her hair and then brushing the curls into a high ponytail. It was something so domestic, not in the least bit sexy, but that primal piece of DNA we couldn’t seem to wipe out with thousands of years of evolution sat up and took notice.
Okay, I could admit it: being a good father was insanely attractive on a molecular level.
Shut up, ovaries.
“All done,” Jackson declared.
Finley spun as he bent down, placing a kiss on his cheek in a motion so perfectly timed that it had to be routine. My belly clenched.
There had to be something wrong with this man somewhere. Anywhere. Maybe he squeezed the toothpaste from the center of the tube like a monster or something.
“Okay, what’s first for you ladies? Kiteboarding? Surfing?” Jackson curved the brim of his baseball hat.
Never mind, that was what was wrong with him. Wasn’t there an activity that didn’t require I fall on my ass in the middle of the ocean? Or something with a motor? I’d never been more aware of my indoor-girl status.
“Shirts!” Finley decided.
“Well, shirts it is,” Jackson said, taking her hand in his.
For a split second, I pictured him offering me his other hand.
Because clearly, I’d gone crazy.
“Come on, Fin, let’s show Morgan how we locals open the surf shop for the season.”
“It’s Hawkins Day!” Fin held up her free hand, and I took it.
“It is?” I asked.
“Mary Ann Hawkins was one of the first women’s surfing champions. It’s basically a day where you can learn about the ocean and all the fun stuff you can do in it. There are instructors for just about anything you might want to try,” Jackson explained as the three of us walked down the path to the beach, where hundreds of people were already celebrating, and it seemed like it was about 90 percent women.