Page 14 of Broken Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #1)

I turn the page of the album, smiling when I see the next collection of photos of me and Kai and Miles, the three of us goofing around on the beach. Those two were the first real friends I ever made, pretty much accepting me from the get-go, despite the fact I tried really hard to piss them off and push them away.

I don’t know if it was their connection to Mitch or their stubbornness that kept them coming back for more, even when I was a total dick to them. But I’m glad they persisted. Alana too.

“Yeah,”

I murmur, turning the page again. This one has photos of me and Mitch, sometimes me, Mitch and Alana, hanging out in the back of the shop. I’m older in these photos, even smiling in some of them.

“Will you tell me?”

she asks, and I feel the warmth of her hand as it briefly touches my arm.

I continue flicking through the pages, which is like taking a trip down memory lane of my life here with Mitch and all the people he surrounded himself with. The people who embraced me and took me in too. I can feel Sage watching me, her eyes flicking to the album every time I turn the page to the next group of photos.

“Your dad was basically the closest thing I had to a father,”

I eventually say as I turn to a page that is a little out of place with an older photo of me and Mitch. We’re standing a foot apart, and I have a scowl on my face, and my arm is in a cast. You can practically see the anger radiating off me, despite the smile on Mitch’s face.

“Is this part of…”

Sage starts, gently tapping the photo I’m looking at.

I don’t feel drunk in this moment, but I do feel weirdly comfortable sitting here with her and it’s the only explanation I have for the words that now fall from my mouth, even though she doesn’t finish her question.

“I never really knew either of my parents,”

I say, turning the page again, that last photo a memory I’d rather forget. “I spent my childhood in and out of foster homes.”

Sage doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she’s looking at the photos still. This page is later again, my cast now gone, even though the scowl remains. I remember Mitch back then, the way he never gave up on me, even though I was a total asshole at times. A lot of the time, really.

“Mitch eventually took me in,”

I whisper, my thumb brushing over the photo.

Beside me, Sage takes a breath, letting it out slowly before she says, “Your broken arm, did…”

She trails off when I nod in response to her unfinished question. The broken arm that was just another thing in a long list of injuries I put up with. But it was the last straw for Mitch, particularly when it was coupled with three cracked ribs, a black eye and him finding me asleep on the beach with nothing but the clothes on my back.

“I’m glad he took you in,”

she says, her hand on my arm again, her touch warm against my skin.

I flick to another page, more photos of me and Mitch, Alana too and this time I am smiling as I stand beside the guy who saved my life and the girl who drove me crazy when I first met her, even if now she’s practically my best friend.

“He did more than that,”

I whisper, flicking again. This page is the last one in the album.

I have to swallow hard when I see the photo because it’s so recent. Maybe a couple of months before he died. It’s of me and him, standing together in front of the shop with the first board I ever designed a graphic for propped between us. I thought we’d sold it in the shop ages ago, but unbeknownst to me, Mitch had actually taken it. He kept it for me, giving it to me on my twenty-fourth birthday because he said I needed to own the first board I’d designed. I’d been fucking speechless at the time, unbelievably grateful that he would even think to do that for me.

“Fuck,”

I whisper, closing the album as the tears now threaten to fall.

I lean over and drop it on the table, risking a quick glance at Sage. Her eyes are also shiny with unshed tears as she gives me a sad smile. Picking up the other album, I sit back, taking a deep breath before I open it, unsure what I’m going to find inside. When I turn to the first page, though, I hear a gasp fall from Sage’s lips, because while the first album might as well have been my history with Mitch, this one is clearly hers.

“Oh my god,”

she says, her hand hovering over a picture of Mitch holding a tiny baby in his arms. Her hand is shaking, and she snatches it back quickly as we both stare at the photo.

It looks like it was taken shortly after she was born, but the smile on Mitch’s face is huge, as is the look of love and pride. When I turn the pages, I see they are filled with photos of Sage at increasing ages— crawling, walking for the first time, dressed in a Halloween costume, a school logo T-shirt, a soccer uniform, even just on the couch smiling at the camera. Every page I turn reveals another milestone in her life, and when I glance at her, I can see she’s now openly crying.

“Looks like he never gave up on you either,”

I say, handing her the photo album.

Sage nods, her eyes glued to the page that contains photos of her from recent years, from long after she stopped coming here to see her dad.

“He clearly loved you,” I add.

Sage lets out a sob, shaking her head as she says, “I gave up on him.”

Her words are garbled by her cries, her cheeks wet with tears as she stares at the pages. “Fuck, Nate, I messed up,”

she cries. “I messed up so badly.”

I have no idea what to say to her, what I can possibly say that will make her feel better. But before I can even try, Sage is falling against me, her head landing on my shoulder as she turns her face into my neck and cries.

I sit frozen on the couch, having no idea what to do, what to say, until eventually, I just wrap my arms around her, holding her close.

“It’s not your fault,”

I whisper, smoothing a hand up her back, my fingers brushing over the warm skin at the base of her neck.

“It is,”

she cries, nodding against my shoulder. “I pushed him away, didn’t let him be a part of my life.”

“Someone did,”

I murmur, taking the photo album from her lap.

Sage lifts her head, sniffing as she wipes at her cheeks. “It must have been my mom,”

she whispers, finally looking up at me. “She must have sent them to him.”

I nod, not really knowing what to say. Sage stares up at me, her ocean blue eyes somehow even bluer with the shine of tears. I watch as another one falls down her cheek, watch as my hand lifts automatically, my thumb brushing it away.

I hear Sage’s breath catch, see the way her eyes widen as she leans a little closer to me, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. My gaze drops to her mouth now, to the way my thumb brushes across that lip, pulling it free.

She draws another quick breath and, in that moment, it’s impossible to say which one of us closes the distance between us, but the next thing I know, my mouth is on hers or her mouth is on mine, and we are kissing. Sort of anyway. I mean our lips are definitely touching, but we are barely moving, just resting them against each other.

But just as I feel her start to pull away, I do it, I actually kiss her. The tip of my tongue traces that bottom lip of hers, teasing a groan from her mouth. Sage leans closer again, so our chests are pressed together, my arm still around her as she or me now deepen the kiss.

I know I should stop this, that this isn’t the time or the place or even the girl, but I don’t. Can’t. Because the longer I kiss her, the more I want it to continue. The more I want, period.

Eventually though, I force myself to pull back, my breathing heavy as I rest my forehead against hers. My eyes are closed as I try to steady my breathing and my heart, which is pounding inside my chest.

“I should go,”

I breathe out, not opening my eyes.

I feel Sage nod against me and when I finally open my eyes, she’s watching me, an unreadable expression on her face. Pulling back, I wipe my hands on my jeans before standing, hoping to fuck she can’t see the evidence of what that kiss did to me. Sage also stands and in silence we walk toward the front door.

“Thanks for dinner,”

I say, barely turning around.

“Thanks for today,”

she whispers in return.

I nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

I add before walking out.

The next morning, I wake early, although it feels like I barely slept. My night was consumed by memories of the kiss I shared with Sage. I’m fucking hard too, and while that is not new, it’s all the thoughts of Sage that are floating through my brain accompanying my morning wood that have me curling my hand around my dick.

“Jesus christ,”

I murmur, my eyes closing as I slowly start to stroke myself. It felt unbelievable to kiss her last night. I mean I know she’s fucking gorgeous, but somehow, it was even better than I imagined. I still can’t believe I managed to stop and walk away.

I don’t stop now though, jerking off to memories of that kiss of the way she felt pressed against me, until I’m coming in my hand. It doesn’t take long, and as I lie here in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I have no idea what to expect when I see her today.

With a groan, I drag myself from bed and into the bathroom to clean up before pulling on some boardshorts. Then I head outside, grabbing my board before crossing the street and walking down to the beach. Normally, I’d head a bit further down, try and catch Alana or maybe Kai and Miles, but today I don’t, preferring the solitude of this patch of ocean in front of the shop.

I paddle out, the ocean cold enough to wake me the rest of the way up as I scan the horizon for waves. It’s a still morning though, barely any swell and when I glance further down the beach, I can see I am the only one out here.

Sitting up on my board, my legs hanging over the edge, I turn back to the shop, to the apartment above it. The sliding doors to the balcony are still open, but from here, I can’t see any movement inside. I wonder if Sage is awake; if she too is thinking about that kiss we shared.

I wonder what Mitch would think about it.

Would he kick my ass for kissing his daughter, especially in that moment when she was grieving and upset? Or would he be okay with it? I honestly have no idea because up until a few days ago, I couldn’t even picture Mitch as a father. He took me in and looked after me, but I guess it felt different.

I don’t know how long I sit out here, my thoughts a jumbled mess inside my head, but eventually, I get cold and bored enough that I give up and paddle into the shore. I head straight to my house, avoiding looking up at the apartment.

After I’ve showered and dressed, I head over to the shop to open up, only to find Sage already inside, two cold brew coffees sitting on the counter.

“Hey,”

she says, offering me a smile as I walk in.

“Hey,”

I reply, joining her behind the counter, nodding a thanks as she pushes one of the drinks toward me. “Thanks.”

“You go for a surf?” she asks.

I shrug, everything feeling weirdly awkward between us after last night. “No swell, so just sat out there.”

Sage nods again, taking a long sip of her coffee. “You’re up early,”

I say, immediately wishing I could take my words back.

Her cheeks flush a little as she says, “Yeah, couldn’t really sleep.”

“Me either,”

I murmur, just as Alana walks in the back door, her “Good morning”

far too loud for the early hour.

Alana’s presence does help to push away the lingering awkwardness, though, as she launches into a conversation with Sage, allowing me to head into the office to get started on some paperwork. Mitch had started teaching me this shit a couple of months back, and even though I find it boring as batshit, I’m grateful now because it means I can actually pay people and suppliers and order new stuff.

The morning passes quickly, the three of us managing to work around each other, stocking supplies, serving customers and just getting shit done. I don’t miss the looks Alana gives us, though, her gaze flicking from me to Sage and back to me again, when it becomes apparent we are barely speaking to each other.

On the tenth or so time she does it, I roll my eyes at her, which earns me a quick laugh as she tips her head to Sage and then to me before holding her hands up in a heart shape.

I roll my eyes again, looking away, even as I catch her now walking toward me. “What?”

I snap when she stops beside me.

Alana punches my shoulder, not giving a shit about how rude I’m being to her. She’s used to it after all the years we’ve known each other. God knows I was a prick to her when we first met. I can’t actually believe she’s still friends with me.

“What’s the deal with you two?”

she asks, her words a low whisper.

“What are you talking about?”

I say, turning to open a box of stock that got dropped off.

“I don’t know, you’re like, acting weird and shit.”

I straighten, blowing out a breath as I force myself to turn to Alana. “We’re not acting weird,”

I say, even though we kind of are. “There’s nothing going on. We’re fine.”

Alana tips her head to the side, studying me as I try to keep my expression neutral. “So, you guys are friends now?” she asks.

My mind flashes back to the kiss we shared last night, to the way her body felt in my arms, pressed against me. Blinking, I shrug as I reply, “Yeah, I guess.”

She narrows her gaze now. “What do you mean, you guess?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Alana,”

I say, frustrated. “But we hung out yesterday and managed not to fight, so I dunno. I guess we’re friends now.”

That much is true. As is the fact I told her things I’ve never told anyone but Mitch. Not even Alana or Kai and Miles know all the details about my past. And even though Mitch and Tanner were best friends, I’m pretty sure he never said anything to him either.

All of which begs the question of why I said anything to Sage, a woman I barely know and who only a few short days ago showed up and completely messed up my life.

As soon as I think that though, the memory of that kiss rears up again, reminding me that it’s not all bad with Sage. That actually, that kiss with her, the way she tasted, the sounds she made, was all pretty fucking good.

And I’d really like more of it.