Page 2 of Fragile Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #3)

The words are out before I even have a chance to think about what they mean, what they might imply and how they are going to be received.

But it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m not going to take them back.

Even if Sloane is looking at me like she’s trying to decide whether to laugh in my face or punch me in the face.

“What did you say?” she asks, but from the tone of her voice, I know she heard me loud and clear. Her question is to make a point. Like, are you seriously asking me this?

My gaze flicks quickly to Alana, who’s smirking, biting her lip like she’s trying not to smile.

I know she knows how much I like Sloane.

Hell, everyone knows how much I like her because I don’t exactly make it a secret.

The only person who doesn’t seem to know, or more likely, doesn’t seem to care, is Sloane.

I turn back to Sloane now, grinning as I slowly repeat, “I said, you can move in with me.”

Sloane tilts her head to the side, like she still isn’t quite sure she heard me correctly. “Seriously?” she asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Chuckling now, I lean against the doorframe, mirroring her pose. “Um, yeah, seriously. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

“Nope, I can’t move in with you,” she says, shaking her head.

“And why not?” I ask, brows raised as I hit her with a smile. Behind Sloane, Alana is definitely smiling now, practically laughing, as she watches this all play out.

“Because…” she starts before trailing off in frustration. “Because I just can’t,” she eventually huffs out.

I straighten, walking over to where Sloane stands, her body stiffening in that defensive way she has whenever someone, mostly me, gets too close.

“Sloane,” I say, my tone softer now as I gently rest my hands on her shoulders.

Her gaze drops at my touch, but I don’t take my hands away as I dip my head to meet her eyes.

“It’s totally fine, okay? I have the room, and it’s not like we’re strangers.

You need a place to live. Come and live with me. ”

She swallows hard, her eyes wide as they dart all over the place, looking anywhere but at me. I know this scares the hell out of her. I’ve heard enough about her background from Nate and Alana to know that Sloane doesn’t really like to rely on anyone.

“What about your cousin? I thought you lived with him?” she asks.

I smile, letting out a quick laugh. “Nah, Eli’s over on Oahu, doing his training and shit. Won’t be back for ages.”

She blows out a breath, and I know she’s running out of reasons not to stay with me. “What’s the rent?”

With a smirk, I glance over at Alana again, tempted to say it’s free, but I know that will result in a solid no from Sloane because she hates getting handouts or being treated like a charity case. “A hundred a month?”

“A hundred?” she scoffs, not bothering to hide her disbelief.

Behind her, Alana points a finger at the ceiling as though telling me to go higher, and I turn back to Sloane and say, “That’s rent, yeah, then another hundred for utilities. Sound good?” It’s way below what I should be charging, but fuck it, it’s Sloane.

I would do anything to help this girl.

Alana rolls her eyes at this, but she’s smiling as she gently pokes Sloane’s shoulder and says, “It’s a good deal, Sloane, and at least you know you’ll be safe with Owen. Better than living with some randoms.”

Safe with Owen.

I like the sound of that.

It takes Sloane another week to commit to the idea of moving in with me, but when she finally does, I am over at her soon-to-be-old place to help make it happen. I don’t even bother going home after the surf lessons I did with Malo, just head straight over there.

The guys had already given me a solid amount of shit this morning about the whole Sloane moving in with me thing while we were out catching waves. I expected it, and to be honest, I didn’t care one bit.

I’m excited about the idea of her moving in with me, of sharing her space and getting to see her in ways no one else does. Getting to just hang out with her with no one else around too.

Although I’m fully expecting a solid wall of resistance with all of this.

I take the stairs up to the front porch two at a time before knocking on the door. Daisy throws it open only moments later, her wet hair all piled on top of her head as she hits me with a smile and says, “Hey, Owen.”

Chuckling, I pull her in for a hug. “Daze,” I reply.

“Sloane’s in her room,” she says when I let her go, gesturing toward a half-closed door. “Good luck.”

Grinning, I give her a quick wink. “Nah, not gonna need luck,” I say, which only makes Daisy laugh. I’ve known Daisy for years, Alana too, and when Sloane became their friend, I made a point to try to get to know her as well.

Okay, to be fair, I didn’t just want to get to know her; I wanted her too.

She’s fucking gorgeous and smart, and even though she’s closed off to almost everyone, every now and then I catch glimpses of the fun girl underneath.

I’ve been asking her out on a date for the better part of the past year, but she’s never once said yes.

I’m kind of hoping being stuck in close proximity to me might change that.

Of course, it could also earn me a kick in the balls. Jury’s still out on that one.

I rap my knuckles on Sloane’s door before sticking my head in to find Sloane throwing her clothes into bags, her back to me. On the small desk beside the bed sits a bunch of textbooks packed in a still-open box, and I walk over to it. “This good to go?” I ask, picking it up.

Sloane turns, jumping a little at finding me in her room, and it’s only then I realize that she has pods in her ears. “You don’t need to help,” she immediately says, taking them out and looking more shaken than I’d expect.

“It’s cool, I got this,” I say, walking out of her room before she has a chance to respond.

In the end, most of her stuff could’ve probably fit in her car, but I make a point of putting some boxes in mine so my trip over here isn’t a complete and obvious bullshit excuse to make sure Sloane really does move in with me.

“That everything?” I ask, leaning against my truck.

“Uh huh,” Sloane says, blowing out a breath as she stands beside her car, Daisy next to her.

“K, you wanna follow me?” I ask, jerking a thumb at the road, even though Sloane has been to my house before.

She nods before turning to Daisy, the two of them hugging like it’s the last time they’re going to see each other. Laughing, I climb into my truck, resting my arm on the frame as I call out, “She’s moving houses, Daze, not going off to war!”

Daisy laughs, flipping me off as she says, “Whatever.” We both watch as Sloane now gets in her car, the expression on her face one like maybe she is going off to war. She slams her door shut, and Daisy turns to me, a smile on her face as she says, “Be good!”

With a grin, I reply, “Aren’t I always?”

When we get to my house, Sloane pulls into the drive beside me. Grabbing the box of textbooks, we head inside. “K,” I say, walking over to the dining room where a large table sits. Dumping her box of books, I add, “This is where I study, so you can have the other half of the table.”

“I can just study in my room,” she says.

Ignoring her comment, I continue on, showing her around the large three-bedroom house. She’s familiar with the living room, kitchen, and backyard, but she hasn’t seen the bedrooms. Mine, what’s now hers, and the one Eli and I have always used as a gym.

“And this is you,” I say, opening the door to her room.

Sloane looks around the space, the large queen bed pushed against the far wall, nightstands on either side of it, the double-door closet and the dresser opposite the bed. Her own bathroom is just down the hall.

“Everything’s empty, ready for your stuff,” I say, smiling.

She nods, her eyes moving to the large bay window and the ocean view that fills it. “This…this is great,” she says quietly as she walks over to the window seat.

“It is, yeah,” I tell her. “We can have breakfast on the back deck, it’s even better.” Sloane looks back at me, an unreadable expression on her face that only makes me laugh. “I do it every morning, Sloane, it doesn’t have to be a thing,” I say, winking at her.

She rolls her eyes, glancing at the wall where the dresser sits. “And you’re next door?” she asks.

“Uh huh,” I say, wondering if she’s thinking the same thing I am. Close proximity and none of our friends around. “Make yourself at home, Sloane,” I now say, before I turn and head out to grab more of her stuff.

We work in silence, neither of us saying anything as we haul all of her stuff inside.

I’m constantly stealing glances at her though, trying to get a read on what she thinks about all this.

She’s got to be thinking that this place is a huge step up from where she was previously living, and to be fair, it is.

I’m also pretty certain she knows that two hundred bucks a month is a fucking bargain, but I don’t care how much she argues with me, I’m not taking a single cent more. This place belongs to my family, and it doesn’t have a mortgage, nor did they ever charge me or Eli rent.

It’s just not what they do.

But I know Sloane needs to feel like this is an agreement, not a favor because if she knew that I was planning to keep her two hundred bucks and give it all back to her the second I thought she’d be open to taking it, she would run a fucking mile.

“Well, I think it’s beer o’clock,” I eventually say, walking into the kitchen to grab some as Sloane disappears into her room. I take a quick pull of my beer before I follow after her. “Here,” I say, leaving it on the dresser.

Sloane glances over at it before giving me a quick, almost-there, smile. “Thanks,” she says as she starts to unpack her stuff.

“Anything I can do to help?” I ask.

“I’m good, thanks,” she says, shaking her head.

A couple of hours later, Sloane wanders into the kitchen. The doors leading to the back deck are open, and the sound of the waves crashing against the beach compete with the low music that’s playing.

“Hey, all done?” I ask, opening the fridge to grab two more beers.

“Yeah,” she says, putting her empty bottle in the recycling.

“Cool, I’m just making us some dinner. Won’t be long.”

“Owen, you don’t need to make me dinner,” Sloane says, twisting the cap off her beer.

“I know,” I say with a grin. “But I still am.” She blows out a breath as she wanders over to where I am frying some chicken in a pan. “Chicken fajitas,” I say when she leans against the counter.

Sloane nods. “I’ll go shopping tomorrow and get my own food and stuff,” she says before taking a sip of her beer.

Shrugging, I say, “Whatever, you’re welcome to help yourself to anything in the fridge or cabinets. Eli and I were pretty casual about it all.” Sloane raises a brow at this, and I laugh. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head.

I turn off the heat and push the pan to the back of the stove before turning to face her. “Sloane, it’s totally okay. Just make yourself at home, eat and drink whatever, I really don’t mind.”

“I know,” she says, picking at the label on her beer bottle. “That’s the problem.”

I let out another laugh. “What, it’s a problem when a friend wants to help another friend?” I ask her.

Now it’s Sloane shrugging as she mumbles, “I don’t know, maybe.”

I reach out, sliding my fingers under her chin and tipping her face up. Her blue eyes lock with mine, and I can see so many emotions swirling inside them. Fear, confusion, hesitancy, maybe a little bit of anger even.

“Why?” I ask softly.

She licks her lips, drawing my attention to her mouth. A mouth I have fantasized about kissing an endless number of times. “Because I’m never going to be able to pay you back,” she says, her words so quiet I barely hear them.

I smile, stepping closer as my hand now slides to the side of her neck. Sloane blinks up at me, and I can feel the hard beat of her pulse beneath my palm. “I don’t want you to pay me back.”

She nods, her gaze dropping as she steps away, my hand now falling to my side. Just as she’s about to walk away, though, I grab her hand, stopping her.

“Sloane,” I say quietly, waiting until she looks up at me.

When she does, I smile, squeezing her fingers gently.

“I know this is hard for you. I get it. But please, make yourself at home. I want…” I trail off, puffing out a breath of air as I try to find the right words to say to her.

Words that won’t make her feel like running.

“I want you to feel at home here. So seriously, what’s mine is yours. It’s all good.”

Sloane nods, licking her lips again, which I’m starting to think is something she does when she’s nervous or doesn’t know what to say. Just when I think she’s going to pull her hand from mine and walk away, she tips her head toward the counter and says, “Anything I can do to help?”

With a grin, I squeeze her fingers once more before reluctantly letting go. “How are you with a cheese grater?” I ask, giving her a wink.