“All that stuff’s still there,” he admitted. “All the things you left behind.” Including him, though she didn’t need him to tell her that.
“Why? Why would you stay surrounded by all those memories?”
He dropped his gaze to the white sand, digging a hole with the toe of his sneaker. “Because it’s the last place I remember you loving me.”
When she gasped, he jerked his gaze to her face. A tear slipped out of her eye to trickle down her cheek. He reached to wipe it away, but she backed up before he could touch her.
“Maybe you didn’t love me in the end, but before—”
“That’s not true,” she whispered.
His heart sank. If she told him she hadn’t loved him before the accident, he didn’t think he could take it. Cameron’s love was the only true, pure thing he’d ever possessed. Even if it hadn’t been long enough.
“I did love you when I left. I just couldn’t . . .” Shaking her head, she turned back to the water.
Hope fluttered to life in his chest. If she’d managed to still love him after Africa, maybe she could love him again.
“Then why? Why did you push me away? I was hurting too. We could’ve worked through our loss together.”
Her body stiffened and her hands fisted. She opened her mouth but closed it as if thinking better of what she’d been about to say. They stood in tense silence. Memories and secrets swam in the air between them.
Finally, he turned to stand beside her and face the water. “This place has helped you heal?”
She didn’t answer right away. Part of him worried he’d upset her, and she’d refuse to answer at all.
Eventually, she sighed. “It has. Mostly because of Ara. But how could I not be happy here? This place is paradise.”
She had a point. How could anyone be unhappy when surrounded by unspoiled beauty? Jungles untouched by society. Crystal clear water.
“I never thought to look for you on an island,” he admitted. Her fear of the water, the ocean specifically, had been too great.
“I figured it was time to face my fears. In life, we’re either going to sink or swim, you know?”
He turned to face her, watching her face as she looked out at what she’d once feared. “So, what did you do?”
Her lips turned up slightly. She tilted her head to meet his gaze. “I learned to paddle.”
He spun to stalk away from her. She learned to paddle. She learned to paddle? What the fuck? She’d left him alone, confused, worried. And all this time she’d been here, in fucking paradise . . . paddling? He wanted to understand. She’d been in pain physically and emotionally. But so had he. And she’d only added to his pain by disappearing. If she’d been somewhere mourning, recovering, he could understand. Instead, she’d been on a fucking vacation. Sleeping with a local. Making a life.
He turned back, ready to damn her for her selfishness.
“Oh my God.” With her eyes wide, she stepped forward and placed her palm on his stomach.
His abdomen tightened. His body stilled. All but his damn traitorous, thundering heart. Her touch shouldn’t affect him anymore. She certainly shouldn’t have the power to zap his mind of all thought.
“What happened?”
Her voice spurred him into action. He followed her gaze to the angry red scar running across his abdomen and disappearing behind the waistband of his boxer-briefs. He shrugged. “I was in an accident.”
“Oh, Ian.” Her voice hitched. As if she actually cared.
She stepped closer. He shuffled away.
Dropping her hand, she straightened. “Was it a car accident? Did someone hit you?”
The way someone drunk and foolish had once hit her parents and stolen her family from her.
“No. It was just me . . . and a pole.”
Her piercing eyes narrowed. “You were drinking?”
He clenched his jaw, unwilling or maybe unable to answer.
“You could’ve killed someone. What were you thinking?”
Oh, hell no.She didn’t get to walk away, leave him suffering, and then judge him. Fuck that.
“Excuse me.” He surged forward, pressing his face close to hers. “While you ran off to this island to learn to paddle, I stayed behind and tried to drown.”
Her mouth fell open, mirroring the perfect wide O of her tear-filled eyes. “Ian—”
“No.” He held up his hand to stop whatever sympathetic bullshit she planned to spout. He didn’t need her pity. And he didn’t need her.
He turned on his heel and stomped away from her. She’d been right. He needed to do his job and go back home. Now that he knew Cameron was alive and enjoying life without him, he could move on and forget about her.
If only.
* * *