Page 134 of Reckless Hearts

Marcus sits motionless at the table, like a statue carved from pain. His chest rises and falls in shallow, irregular breaths as if even the simple act of breathing is a monumental effort.

Marcus. My beautiful, broken man.

I’d do anything to take away his hurt now. The intensity of this desire frightens me—I’m always rational, the scientist who believes in measurable solutions. But there’s nothing rationalabout how badly I want to reach back through time and protect that nine-year-old boy, to tell him that one mistake shouldn’t define his entire life.

I want to gather all his broken pieces and hold them together until they fuse, until the cracks fill with something stronger than guilt and regret.

But this is so far above my pay grade I might as well try to cure cancer with a Band-Aid and some positive thinking.

“We need to go for a walk. Get some sea air,” I say abruptly.

Marcus looks up at me. The lines of tension around his mouth make him look younger somehow, more vulnerable, like the nine-year-old boy who made one terrible mistake that shaped his entire life.

“Sea air is packed with salt particles that can actually boost serotonin levels. And the negatively charged hydrogen ions can help neutralize free radicals and improve our ability to absorb oxygen.”

As if a scientific lecture is exactly what Marcus needs now.

“Okay, let’s go for a walk,” he says quietly.

We untangle ourselves from each other and get dressed. I pull on my jeans and T-shirt while Marcus slips into dark pants and a Henley that somehow manage to make him look even more devastatingly handsome than when he was naked.

The weather is turning after the sunshine of the day.

In the dull twilight, the beach stretches out as a somber canvas of gray sand and churning waves. The wind whips around us, carrying the briny scent of the ocean.

I twine our fingers together, hoping that my grip can anchor Marcus in the present, prevent him from being pulled back by the undertow of his past.

This part of the beach contains no fairy terns, but I can’t help thinking about them as Marcus and I walk on the damp sand in silence.

Camouflage is what the fairy tern specializes in to keep itself safe. And I’m beginning to think it’s also what Marcus specializes in.

The whole time I’ve known him, he’s hidden behind his looks and charm. He’s put a false front on and never let anyone see beneath. I’ve known for a long time that Marcus wears masks, but I never understood until now that they aren’t just for show—they’re for survival.

Marcus’s phone beeps. He looks at it and frowns.

“It’s just Jake,” he says quietly.

If only he’d been slightly less beautiful. Maybe then the world would have left him alone, given him a chance to heal, instead of squabbling over him like seagulls fight over scraps, pulling him to pieces.

My beautiful, broken man.

“I love you.” I whisper the words because I know now why Marcus doesn’t want to hear them.

The wind carries my voice into oblivion.

The waves continue to crash on the sand, each surge erasing our footprints.

It’s just Marcus and me on an empty beach, the wind whipping the sea foam into weird shapes, stealing the heat from our cheeks.

Dark clouds mass on the horizon, promising a storm, yet we tempt fate, remaining exposed on this empty stretch of sand even as the first fat raindrops begin to fall on our faces.

It feels reckless to stay out here with the weather coming in, when nature itself is warning with the wind and the rain that we should seek shelter.

But I know all about recklessness.

My heart has always been reckless when it comes to Marcus.

Sayinggoodbye to Marcus is always hard. But this time, it’s unbearable.