Finding Solace

“I’m glad you did, but I want to know why you’re so upset. I’m sorry things happened the way they did, and I didn’t come to you, but you broke up with me and not the other way around.”

“I broke up with you because you broke my heart.”

“I had a full scholarship when I couldn’t afford college. I had to take it if I wanted to graduate, so how did I break your heart exactly?”

My mouth drops wide open as anger rushes through my veins. Shifting, I narrow my eyes in shock. “Really?” What the hell? How can he not remember something that’s scarred me for life?

“Yeah, really?”

I’m too wound up to sit still. I stand, walk off the dock into the grass, and start pacing under the same moon that hung high in the sky that first night I lost the love of my life. When I turn back, to possibly answer, I’m stunned into silence. His expression is one of pure curiosity as he watches me. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“No, but I want to.”

My emotional artillery falls like the walls I’ve built to protect myself. How can I stand here with weapons loaded when he sits there unarmed? The curiosity in his eyes renders him blind to our history. Does he really not remember? Something is off. For someone who’s guilty, he sure looks innocent.

“Wait a minute,” I start, tilting my head to the side while still staring at him. “Do you not . . . know?”

“No. I never did.” He doesn’t understand how much he hurt me . . . oh, my God.

My heart thumps in my chest, and I take a deep breath to help stop the erratic thoughts filling my head. “You hurt me, Jason.” He hurt me.

“How?”

One word stops my pacing. “How?”

“I loved you.”

Loved . . . My head is spinning, my thoughts whirling with all the angles I thought I had covered regarding our breakup years earlier. Sitting down on the grass, I look at the man he’s become. He’s still so much the man my heart misses. Could I have had it wrong all this time? The years we lost . . . they form a lump in my throat, but I manage to ask, “You weren’t going to break up with me when you came over to tell me about the transfer, were you?”

He looks up at me, his head shaking so small as if the pain still affects him. He appears so . . . troubled, so sad, and I feel the same. He looks me straight in the eye. “No, Delilah, I wasn’t. I was going to ask you to marry me.”

10

Jason

I don’t like to lie.

I’ve spent the past four years living in an abundance of them—for my protection, for the protection of others, protecting secrets and lives.

In Solace Pointe, I want to live in the truth. I want to feel the warmth of sunshine instead of sneaking around in the cover of night. Here, I can breathe.

But something about Delilah Rae steals my breath and my heart just from being close to her again. Even when her mouth is gaping open by an admission I promised myself I would never confess. Pushing off the splintering wood of the dock, I stand and toe my shoes off. It’s time for a diversion. Drastic measures need to be taken, and if I get to see what’s under that dress, all the better.

My socks and belt are stripped away, piquing her interest as she arches an eyebrow. Her mouth is open for other reasons, it seems. My plan of distraction from telling her my deepest secrets is working.

I unbutton my shirt and drop it to the pile of clothes gathering at my feet. Reaching over my head, I tug the T-shirt off as well. I’m not shy, but she’s looking at me like she’s never seen a man half undressed before. “Do you go out much?”

“No,” she replies defensively. “Why?”

“No reason.” I slide the zipper down slowly, giving her a show, and step out of my jeans.

“Why are you undressing?”

“I’m going for a swim to cool off. Even though the sun’s down, it’s a warm night. You should join me.”

“No. I haven’t been in that lake since . . . well, since we were a thing.”

“A thing?” I might be pushing some buttons, but I can’t deny I like her being so open with me.

“Dating, Jason. You know what I mean.”

Apparently, I still know how to rile her up. I’ll have her in there before she has time to decide otherwise. “I liked being a thing with you. How about we try it, you know, while we swim?”

She crosses her arms. “I’m not skinny dipping with you.”

“Why not? Are you scared?”

“Scared?” She scoffs. “Hardly. I’m just not a teenager anymore.”