Page 17 of Broken Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #1)

His words take on a desperate quality that I’ve never heard from him, and he’s different, wholly different from the guy I met when I arrived. He seems younger and happier and freer, and I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with me being here.

Moving so I’m now straddling his hips, my knees slide until they hit the back of the Adirondack chair, feeling his hard-on pressing against my center.

The hard pant of his breath fans along my lips, our mouths so close that kissing him again is all I can think about.

I find comfort in him like I’ve never found in anyone else, sitting out here in the gorgeous night air of the islands, the air filled with the smell of sea salt and hibiscus, and when I close my eyes and inhale deeply, I’m surrounded by the smell of him.

Of surf wax.

Of coconut.

Of lust.

Of something that feels strangely like home.

My hands slide into his hair, tangling in the tousled mess of brown waves left this way from the ocean water, and I hold him tightly. When our lips touch, it feels like an explosion ignites inside me, trailing my tongue along the seam of his lips, he opens his mouth to me.

I taste the beer on his tongue, a hint of sweetness lingering, and I want to kiss him until I can’t breathe, until I’m exhausted and sated and desperate for air.

His tongue tangles with mine, letting out a soft groan as his fingers hitch the hem of my dress higher, exposing my thighs to the coolness of the air, the warmth of his skin sends goosebumps covering every inch of me.

“Sage,”

Nate moans out, and I realize I haven’t answered him, my name a harsh rasp on his lips. “What do you want? Tell me.”

Every word is breathy but controlled, calculated but desperate, and I feel it too. It takes hold of me, like a hostage and I’m not sure I can move.

My heart is pounding erratically in my chest, and I feel lightheaded with the sound of my own heartbeat pulsing loud in my ears.

What would my father think of this? Would he want me out here with Nate? Would he approve of this? I’ve never had a thought like this in my entire life. If I’m being honest, my father never crossed my mind when I had a boyfriend, knowing he wasn’t around to care, he wasn’t there to make me worry about what he would think.

And my mind swirls with curiosity, clouded with this desperate need to end the ache that has now pooled between my legs.

“I want…”

I start, suddenly self-conscious about being so open with him, barely knowing anything about him. Not that I haven’t had random hook-ups, but this feels different, this feels like it could be so much more than that.

Nate reaches up, his fingers pushing back my hair, his thumb grazing along my jaw as his hand wraps around the back of my neck.

“You’re killing me here, Sage,”

he murmurs, his words quiet and I rest my forehead against his, letting out a long, slow breath.

“I want you to tell me about you,”

I say, closing my eyes and letting my words dance between us. I know this is not what he wants to hear, but for me, this isn’t just about sex. I might want him with everything in me, like really fucking desperately, but there’s more to him than just a hot body. And something tells me no one has ever asked him to talk about himself.

He pulls back abruptly; his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed, and I swallow hard as I watch his face suddenly change. He’s back to the guy I met that first day, surly and standoffish, and when his hands drop from my body, I know I’ve ruined whatever was happening between us.

“No.”

His word is curt, his lips pressed in a firm line, and he shakes his head, driving home the single word that holds so much meaning.

“Nate,”

I croon, resting my hand on his cheek, my head tilted to the side as I feel a lump form in my throat.

“Don’t do that, Sage,”

he hisses, taking me by the hips, he lifts me off his lap, and I stand in front of him.

“Don’t do what?”

I ask, confused, but understanding that this is something he doesn’t want to talk about. He’s touched on it before. I saw the old pictures in my dad’s house, saw the way he looked so lonely and hurt and broken.

“Don’t fucking act like you care!”

he shouts, dragging a hand through his hair as he stands from the chair, chucking his empty beer bottle into the can from where he’s standing.

The sound of his words, the loud clang of the bottle hitting the aluminum trash can startles me and I flinch, pinching my eyes shut. Blinking them open, Nate is still standing there in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest, the sound of his labored and angered breathing passing between us.

“I do care!”

I yell back. He’s not the only one who gets to stomp around here and throw around words without repercussions. “This wasn’t just a hook-up for me. I do care about you. Why the hell do you think I asked?”

“Way to ruin a perfectly good moment,”

he spits back, and the exasperated sigh that leaves my mouth only spurs him on. “Maybe it was just a hook-up for me. Did you ever think of that? You’re going to sell The Pipe Dream and take all your fucking money back to New York. You don’t give a fuck about me or anyone else here.”

My mouth falls open, the insult of his words cutting so deep that I feel the threat of tears blooming hot in my eyes. He doesn’t get to see me cry. That’s what he wants. He wants me gone and out of his life so he can go back to living his miserable existence.

I don’t even have the control to respond to him, to tell him that none of that is true. My thoughts are a mess, hazy and black and clouded. Piecing together anything other than rage is all I can do right now.

“You don’t have any idea what I’m planning to do!”

I scream, throwing my hands in the air. “But I can tell you this, my father would have never—”

Before I can even finish my sentence, Nate is standing directly in front of me, the anger between us palpable.

“Don’t you dare say a fucking word about your father. You lost that right when you cut him out of your life,”

Nate shouts, a pointed finger nearly touching my chest.

“Fuck you!”

I scream, the tears now streaming down my cheeks, and without thinking about it, I take off running.

And as I do, all I hear is, “Fuck, Sage. I’m sorry.”

But I don’t care if he’s sorry. It was a low blow and that’s why he said it.

If I go back to my dad’s, Nate’s going to be knocking on the door, and I can’t deal with him or his bullshit right now. I was serious when I said I wanted to know about him. There’s a reason my dad took him in, and there’s a reason Nate has stayed this long. There’s history there, a history that I want to be a part of, but a history I’m obviously not welcome to.

I slow to a jog and then to a walk, swiping the tears from my eyes. I stop in front of a little dive bar right on the water. It’s a place I never noticed before, but it’s open, and it’s not my dad’s house.

Pulling the door open, I find it pretty much empty with the exception of a man sitting at the far end of the bar and he doesn’t even look up when I come in.

I take a seat at the opposite end of the man, assuming he’s local and a regular, and the man behind the bar walks over to greet me.

“What will it be?”

he asks, a deep rasp to his voice that can only be created from years of smoking. His skin is tanned and weathered, and he reminds me a little bit of my dad, from what I remember of him from my childhood.

I look around, but there’s no menu to be found and that’s unsurprising. This isn’t the kind of place that attracts tourists, and whatever they have, has been here since the place opened.

“Mai Tai?”

the bartender suggests. “It’s the cocktail of Hawaii.”

He’s unimpressed with his suggestion, but I run with it anyway, giving him a nod.

It only takes me a second to realize I don’t have any money on me, awkwardly patting my legs as if my wallet or purse is suddenly going to appear. But before I can say anything, the bartender is setting the drink down in front of me.

“It’s been a super shitty night,”

I start, and the bartender leans back, resting his elbows on the bar diagonal from me, his lips pursed. “I don’t have any money on me, but I can run back and grab my purse. I’m so sorry. I’m staying just down the street so—”

And for the second time tonight, I’m cut off.

“Listen, there isn’t any place to stay down the street, so if you’re here as a joke to say you ripped off a local, just?—”

“No, no, I swear I’m not trying to rip you off. I’m staying at Mitch Harris’ place above The Pipe Dream. I know there’s no hotels, and I look like a tourist, and I seriously am sorry, but I will run back…”

A smile appears on the man’s face, sending a smattering of wrinkles to the corners of his eyes.

“Holy shit, you’re Mitch’s daughter. I knew you were in town. Shit, your dad was amazing. Spent a ton of time in here. It’s really great to meet you, kid.”

The bartender has totally changed his demeanor, and it feels like Mitch’s name opens every closed door on this island.

“I’m Eddie. Been a friend of your dad’s since, hell, gotta be like thirty years. It really is great to meet you.”

He waves a hand in the direction of my drink, giving me a wink and a smile, signaling that we’re all good when it comes to me not having any money.

“It’s nice to meet you,”

I say. “And thanks for the drink. I really need it tonight.”

We chat mindlessly, with Eddie sharing stories all about my dad and tons of pictures he has, including one of my dad drinking in his bar with nothing but a surfboard covering him. He was obviously much younger in the picture and it’s not hard to see why my mom was drawn to him all those years ago. People on the island love him.

Eddie never stops the Mai Tai serving, bringing me one every time my glass is nearly empty, and within a couple of hours, I’m completely drunk.

“Bring me another Mai Tai!”

I call out, slamming my hands down on the well-worn wooden bar.

Eddie laughs but shakes his head. “You’re done for the night, Sage. I’ve called you a ride.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet of you,”

I croon, pushing out my bottom lip. “I don’t need a ride. I’ll walk home. It’s only…”

And that’s when Nate walks through the door. He’s got to be fucking kidding me. Eddie called Nate. I thought we were friends and now he’s got this jerk coming to get me. I’m drunk, not stupid.

“Oh my god, you called him,”

I wail, covering my face with my hands. “He hates me.”

I let out a low moan, letting my head fall to the bar, my arms going over it.

“He hates everyone,”

Eddie mutters back to me, patting the back of my head.

“Let’s go, Mai Tai Queen,”

Nate says, holding out a hand, and I push it away, hauling myself out of the barstool.

But in typical drunk girl fashion, I stumble wildly, nearly falling on my face. Not that this stops me from trying to walk out of the bar on my own.

Putting one foot in front of the other like I’m desperately trying to pass a field sobriety test, I make my way over to the door. Newsflash, I wouldn’t pass a sobriety test even if the police officer were blind.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’ll get her home,”

Nate says, and I hate how I love the way his voice sounds, the low timbre sending a shudder up my spine, making me want to forgive him for being a dick.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’ll get her home,”

I mock, my voice high-pitched and annoying as Nate tries to slip an arm around my waist. “I’m fine!”

I screech, pushing him away again.

“Good luck!”

I hear Eddie call out as I shove the door open and stumble out into the parking lot.

“You wanna eat gravel tonight?”

Nate asks, and that’s the last thing I remember.

As soon as I wake up, I know everything is very wrong. I’m still wearing the dress I had on last night, and when I swallow, my mouth tastes of old booze. My teeth feel like they’re going to rot out of my head with the sweetness that still lingers on my tongue.

I try to sit up, but my body feels like it got hit by a truck: every muscle, every nerve, every inch of my body aches. I slowly open my eyes, immediately regretting that decision as the sun streams in from this damn island paradise.

“Isn’t it ever cloudy here?”

I mutter, pushing my palms against my eyes as they begin to feel like my retinas are being seared by the blinding sun.

Building up the courage, I swing my legs off the side of the bed, but my eyes remain closed. But when I open them, I wish like hell I hadn’t.

There’s Nate, asleep on the couch across from me, looking stupidly gorgeous, even in his sleep. I’m certain I look like a sewer rat on the hunt for garbage. At least that’s what I feel like.

What the hell is he doing here?

“It’s never cloudy here,”

Nate responds back, cracking one eye open as he looks over at where I’m currently sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What the hell happened last night?”

I don’t know why I ask it. It’s more of a rhetorical question. I don’t really need an answer from him.

“You got a little drunk last night and Eddie gave me a call to come get?—”

He doesn’t have a chance to finish his thought before I’m sprinting from the bed and into the bathroom. Falling to the floor, I retch over the toilet, my stomach emptying nearly everything I drank last night.

My head is resting on the toilet seat, not caring in the least but needing the cold porcelain to ease my throbbing head. It does nothing, and all I can think about is Nate sitting out in the living room, probably loving that I’ve put myself in this position.

That’s when I feel a cold rag against the back of my neck. He hands another to me, and I wipe my mouth. Falling back against the wall, I close my eyes, but nothing seems to help.

“Mai Tai,”

I mutter, my stomach churning at the word.

“Gets the tourists every time,”

Nate replies, a kindness to his words that weren’t there last night when we had that stupid argument.

My emotions are an absolute mess, and all I want to do is cry myself to sleep. I’m overwhelmed and lost, and I hate that Nate and I argued.

“I don’t want to be a tourist. I shouldn’t be a tourist,”

I say, my words shaky, the threat of tears about to spill over. “I should have tried harder.”

And that’s all it takes before I’m full-blown sobbing.

Without missing a beat, without any animosity, without the anger from last night, Nate says, “C’mere, Sage.”

And I go to him.

Falling into his open arms, he wraps them around me, holding me tight as I cry into his T-shirt.