Page 68 of Chasing the Sun

I didn’t thank him for staying, and he didn’t say he was going to leave.

Instead I sighed, resting my head against his shoulder and looking out onto the dunes.

TWENTY

CALLUM

I should have kissed her,sitting side by side with her on the porch steps, both of us covered in smoke and ash.

I should have turned my head, pressed my mouth to hers, and tasted the exhaustion and quiet relief that had settled between us. I should have traced the soot-smudged curve of her jaw with my thumb, let her breath ghost against my lips, let myself believe—for just a second—that she would have let me.

But I didn’t.

I just sat there like a fucking idiot, letting the moment slip through my fingers, letting the warmth of her body fade as the night deepened.

The walk back to the Drifted Spirit felt longer than usual, my boots dragging against the dirt path. The air was thick, sticky with the last traces of summer heat, cicadas droning in the distance. All I wanted was a hot shower and a cold beer, but when I saw Elodie, looking so small and fragile, sitting on those porch steps alone, I found myself walking right up to her and sitting down without a word.

When she sighed and rested her head on my shoulder, Inearly broke. A part of me wanted to scoop her in my arms, clean her up, and hold her. I wanted to press my mouth against hers and do whatever it took to erase the sad, defeated look from her face.

That would be thinking with my dick, and she deserved more than that.

I hated to admit it, but there was no denying that Elodie Darling had grown far more attached to the idea of Star Harbor Farm than I ever had. Sheachedfrom the loss of the barn.

A ripple of annoyance rolled through me. The problem was, I wasn’t sure whether I was annoyed at her—or at myself. For not keeping my distance. For letting her get under my skin.

I needed to concentrate on the restaurant, on Stan, and Levi. But instead all I could think about was the way she had felt against me, warm and soft, like she belonged there.

Now, almost twenty-four hours after sitting on her porch steps, I could still pull from memory the soft sound of her sighs, her sweet vanilla scent, and the weight of her exhausted body sagging against me.

“Blackwood, snap out of it.” Pulled from my thoughts, I glanced up to see Wes grinning at me, his hands spread open. “We’ve got a game to win, old man.”

I shot him a dirty look. “I’m younger than you, asshole.”

He jogged past me, slapping me on the ass before assuming his position at second base.

Despite the evening hour, July’s oppressive heat and humidity clung to the air. The WarDogs were a bunch of hot shots from a few towns over, and most of them looked barely old enough to be in the adult league.

They may have an undefeated record, but us Star Harbor Phantoms were scrappy and ready to fight. Imassaged the leather of my mitt, thumping my fist into it as I shifted on my feet.

Those kids liked to shit talk from the bench, but we were about to give them a lesson in not underestimating your elders. On the backs of their T-shirts, instead of last names, were cheeky, slightly inappropriate names like Swalls, Switties, and Swuts.

When Swalls—a play onSweaty Balls, I assumed—stood and stepped up to the plate, Brody’s intense stare glanced around at our team before winding up for the first pitch.

“All right, place your bets,” Wes called out, adjusting his cap. “Does Swalls knock it out of the park, or does Brody humble him?”

“Depends,” I said, shifting on my feet. “Are we counting Hayes as part of our defense, or is he just here for moral support?”

Hayes scoffed from third base. “The game hasn’t even started.”

“Yet,” Brody called from the mound.

“Yeah, man,” Wes added, shaking his head. “I swear your bad luck is rubbing off on us. We were winning games before you showed up.”

“Oh, come on,” Hayes groaned. “You seriously believe that bullshit?”

“I don’t know,” I mused, stretching out my shoulder. “This season has been in the shitter. Kinda makes you think.”

Hayes flipped us off without firing back.