Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

“Oops.” I give her an apologetic look. “Slipped.”

Quinn passes Finlay a towel, and I freeze as she starts to pat my chest dry.

Oh. Fuck.

Stay out of the gutter. Stay out of the gutter.

By the time she’s happy that I’m dry enough, I’m fighting a hard-on while she wipes down her own sweater. I move closer to the sink to hide the evidence of my arousal and focus super hard on not dropping another plate.

Only when I trust my voice not to break, I say, “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Judging by how hard I got just from her patting my sweater dry, I get a feeling I’m going to forget how to breathe if I ever get to kiss her.

No, not if. When.

Determination fills my heart. I don’t care how long I have to wait, but I will kiss Finlay Drake.

Chapter 14

FINLAY

Every passing day, the attack feels more like a distant nightmare and not something that actually happened to me.

I know it’s because I’m suppressing the trauma, but I refuse to deal with it because I just don’t have the strength. Constantly thinking of the disturbingly evil man who forcefully stole something precious from me will only drive me to insanity.

There’s a New Year’s party in town, the main street blocked off with food stalls, a live band, and dancing people. Dad stayed with Frank to feast on the food while I chose to come home. I’m glad to see Dad’s making friends.

Our neighbors are out on the beach even though it’s cold. Walking down the pier with my guitar resting against my back, I watch as the sheriff and two other men take a boat out onto the ocean, where they’ll probably set fireworks off at midnight.

The air vibrates with excitement, and it’s contagious.

I drop down on the edge of the pier and bring my guitar to my chest as I think about the coming year. The past month was hard, but the first of January brings new hope and strength.

It’s funny how a date can change everything. You go from feeling dead tired to being ready for another year in a matter of a second.

I’ll forget what happened and focus on my future. I want to start advertising private guitar and piano lessons. I feel it’s the right step to take, getting back to how things were.

I’ll just delete that night and pretend it never happened.

The demons creep around the edges of my mind, and I force them back, strumming the guitar strings.

I take a breath to start singing when Ethan sits down next to me, placing a bottle of water between us. “Hey.”

My lips curve up. “Hey.”

He gestures at the bottle. “In case you get thirsty.”

My eyes lift to his, appreciating the thoughtful gesture. Our gazes lock for a moment, and with the hopeful heart of an eighteen-year-old girl, I don’t reject the fluttering in my stomach.

It’s okay to like Ethan. It’s not weird or shameful. It’s normal.

Old me would’ve flirted with him and fallen head over heels within the first couple of days of meeting him. During the time we’ve spent training the past two weeks, Ethan’s treated me with respect. He’s given me back a sense of control in my life. It feels like my voice matters to him.

“What’s that look for?” he asks, his mouth curving in a hot grin.

My cheeks warm a little, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “Out of everyone in Southport, I’m glad you’re the first new friend I made.”

His grin softens into a warm smile. “I’m glad too.”

Strumming my fingers over the strings, I ask, “Any requests?”

“I’m good with whatever you feel like singing,” he murmurs, bracing his hands behind him on the pier and watching the boat bobbing in the water.

The smile stays on my face, just happy to sit on the pier with Ethan as I start to sing They Bring Me To You by Joshua Radin.

After the second song, the celebrations kick up a gear on the beach, and setting the guitar down, I turn sideways and lean back against an upright post. My smile grows when I see families having fun, BBQ fires glowing everywhere.

“You look happy,” Ethan murmurs. My eyes dart to him, and noticing he’s watching me with a tilted head, my smile grows wider.

I gesture at the beach and our neighbors. “This is nice.” I take a deep breath, then ask, “Isn’t there a party you should be attending?”

Ethan assumes the same position as me, leaning against a post, so we’re facing each other. He brings his left knee up and rests his forearm on it, looking relaxed.

His eyes drift over my face, determination tightening his features, then he admits, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than sitting on this pier with you.”

My heart instantly speeds up, and the intense fluttering in my stomach spreads through my body like a kaleidoscope of butterflies.