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“Come on. I’ll carry you to shore.” John holds out his arms for me to come to him. I think about it. I do. But then I look up and see his girlfriend staring in our direction.

“Stella won’t like it,” I mutter.

“Who cares? If she gets mad at me helping a friend, then…” He expels a sigh and shakes his head a bit from side to side and demands, “Just jump on my back, Bex.”

As I wrap my arms around John’s neck, his hands come behind his back, holding me under my bum. He doesn’t squeeze my butt or give me a wink like he would have had in the past. Maybe we can be just friends like we’ve always been.

Kind of. Sort of.

Mentally, there’s always been more to my relationship with John. We talked on a deep level. We made out in college several times, but he’s the one guy who stopped when asked and respected me.

Reed makes it to us and asks Brooke, “Does my wife want a piggyback ride?”

“Yes!” she cackles, and he runs with her.

John can’t resist competition, so he sprints through the water, and his warm, wet body feels so good against mine. “You’re going to drop me,” I scream as my center slides down over his butt.

He stops when the water hits his ankles, twisting his head to look at me and uses his arms to bump me back up on his back. “Have I ever let you down?” His breathing slows while he waits for an answer.

“No. You’ve always been there for me.” He has. Through difficult times in college. Through Mamaw’s death. Through my divorce. “Now let me down. I can hobble the rest of the way,” I insist.

He motions for Lettie and Brooke but says to me as he slides me down his back, “Keep your foot up so sand doesn’t get into the cut.” He turns to face me. “You know, your stubbornness is holding you back from being happy.”

His eyes search mine. For what? I’m not sure.

But the girls grab me and sling my arms over their shoulders, taking me to the beach chairs. John rejoins his girlfriend. Why do I feel sick looking at them together? They’re a stunning couple.

“Lettie, grab a bottle of water and rinse it off. I’m going to get my first aid kit,” Harper instructs.

Oakley looks down at me with her hands on her hips. “Why did he bring her?”

“Who?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know who… Stelllllaaa,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

“They’re in a relationship. Why wouldn’t he bring her?”

“Because I remember who comforted you when Mamaw died and who—never mind, you won’t listen anyway.”

“We’ve all been friends since college, and we need to make her feel comfortable. Right now, she’s the only person here who didn’t go to college with us.” I can’t believe my own lies. I wanther to leave. I don’t like seeing her with John, but it’s my nature to make everyone feel comfortable.

Oakley does her over exaggerated eye roll. “I didn’t go to college with ya’ll either. Whatever.”

“Well, you’re different. You’re one of us.”

Then Oakley makes a beeline straight to John and Stella.

My stomach rolls. What will she say? There’s no telling with Oakley. It could be anything from John’s great at ping pong to do you plan on getting married?

She sits next to them, and John laughs as Stella sits stoically in her barely there, pink bikini. The triangles barely cover her nipples, and the meaty part of her breasts swell as she breathes.

Thankfully, Harper returns with her medical bag and pulls on a rubber glove.

“Do you think I have a disease?” I ask, laughing but curious.

“Sorry, it’s a habit.” She dabs an antiseptic wipe on my leg. My leg jerks at the sting, but then she places a large square Band-Aid on it and wraps it with tape. “This tape is waterproof, so you can still get it wet, but we’ll need to change the dressing once we leave the beach to keep it clean.”

“Thanks, Harper.”