Page 38 of Stick Break (Boston Bucks #8)

Charley

T here’s no one else…

Those four words have been playing over and over in my mind for the last three days.

I can only assume he was talking to Lyra.

No one else calls him as much as she does and he obviously told her I wasn’t in the picture, because he wants her back.

What other reason could there be for him to say that.

None that I can think of and it does make me wonder if it really was Roman who called that day when he forgot to get the groceries.

God, I feel so stupid thinking he offered me a place to stay in Boston because he wanted me… not Lyra.

I’ve been playing it cool, hoping I’m wrong about everything.

I only heard a portion of his conversation, and in the past I’ve always offered him privacy when she called.

But something in the fact that he didn’t bring it up, then disappeared, only to come back with no groceries has left my stomach sour.

But it’s not just that. He’s been on his phone a lot more.

Going into town without me. Going for walks at odd hours, which to me, seems like sneaking around.

Here I am making plans to go back to Boston with him, but I can’t do that if he has an agenda that doesn’t involve a future.

Not only that, he doesn’t even know who I really am.

I’m sure of it. I still have to deal with my identity, the video, and the possible fallout if he doesn’t believe me.

I step outside and glance around, letting the warm salt air rush over me.

I’m wound so tight even the soothing sounds of waves slapping the shore in the near distance do little to relax me.

Honest to God, when I climbed through the kitchen window, I had no idea I’d fall for the man who kept that bed warm before I crawled into it. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Except maybe tell him who I was from the beginning, and maybe let him know that I knew who he was too. But it’s too late to go back now. We can only move forward and I pray to God we’re going to do it as a couple.

If not…if he and Lyra are getting back together, I can’t go back to Boston with him… Nor can I can’t stay here for a second longer.

I scan the sandy path leading to town. Rip left hours ago, and I thought he’d be back by now. I have no idea what’s keeping him. He seemed excited when he left, saying he wanted to check on a boat rental, and that he also had to pick up something up. What he had to pick up, is anyone’s guess.

I walk around the fire pit and when I hear Emma strumming next door, it lightens my soul. I walk the path to Betsy’s and a big smile lights up Emma’s face when she sees me.

“Charley, come over.”

“You’re sounding great,” I tell her, injecting enthusiasm into my voice.

Emma pats the chair beside her. “Listen.” I drop down next to her and she works on the hard note she’d been having trouble with.

“You’ve really been practising.” I’m honestly so proud of her.

She exhales, my praise making her smile extra wide.

I’ve been enjoying teaching her, and it got me thinking…

maybe I would be a good teacher. Maybe I could go back to school.

I know I’m leaving here soon, but it breaks my heart not to continue lessons with Emma.

I know there are other teachers out there, but she seems to enjoy my guidance as much as I enjoy teaching her.

God, what am I going to do when I have to leave this place.

Which might be sooner, rather than later.

I cut off that negative thought, but my gut is still tight with worry.

“Charley,” Betsy says peeking out the door. “I just made tea.”

“I would love some,” I tell her and adjust my sunhat on my head.

My stomach was so tight this morning, I could barely get a coffee down and I only fiddled with breakfast, not wanting Rip to think anything was wrong.

I dn’t want to be making a big thing out of his conversation, his disappearances, if it’s nothing.

Honest to God, my ex did a number on me.

Which is why I have to keep reminding myself that Rip is not my ex.

He’s not shown any red flags since I met him…

well, up until latterly…that phone call with Lyra.

A few minutes later Betsy comes out with a try containing two mugs of coffee and some croissants. They must have just been baked because they smell heavenly. She sets them down on the table and after my first sip of tea, my stomach settles. I set my mug down and find Betsy watching me carefully.

I give her a smile and she sets her tea down. “Have you been getting enough sleep, dear?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, a wave of emotion washes over me, and I feel weepy. I pick up my cup again and take another drink to hide my face, because Betsy is very good at reading me and I need a moment to think.

I finally set it down, and stalling a bit longer, I take a small bite of a croissant, and after swallowing, I say, “I think I’m just going to miss you guys when we leave.”

Emma sets the guitar down and throws her arms around me. It does little to help me keep my emotions in check.

“Oh, Charley, I’m going to miss you too. But if you buy Mrs. Conrad’s place, you can come back every summer, and we can have so much fun.”

“Yes, you’re right,” I agree, the croissant I’d just nibbled threatening to make a second appearance because suddenly, I can see Rip owning that cottage…with Lyra.

“Darling, you’ve paled.”

“I think I’m just too hot.”

“Go on inside and stand in front of the fan for a moment. There are clothes in the bathroom, if you want to wash your face.”

Needing a reprieve from the emotions these two amazing people bring out in me, I hurry inside, and go straight to the bathroom. I cool a cloth under the water and press it to my face. That’s when I notice how puffy my eyes are, because yes, Betsy is right. I’m not getting enough sleep.

I take a few deep breaths, and look at myself in the mirror.

Really look at myself. When did I become such a coward, hiding from the world, hiding my feelings from Rip.

Honestly my ex did a number on me but if Rip and I are going to have a future together, then we damn well need to have an open and honest conversation about what I heard him say on the phone.

I take a feuling breath, pull on my proverbial big girl panties and step out of the bathroom.

I walk toward the door, when a local newspaper catches my eyes.

Is that a picture of Rip and me. I move even closer and just as I’m about to pick it up, Betsy comes inside, her gaze going from me, to the paper, and back ti ne.

She puts her tea on it, and accidently—or purposely—spills it.

“Oh, look at the mess I’ve made.” She picks up the wet paper and deposits it into the trash.

But it’s too late for that. That was my face splashed all over the front page.

But not just my face, it was Rip’s too. He’d been a bit paranoid lately, sure that people were recognizing him.

I’d forgotten about the festival photographer.

“That was a picture of Rip and me.”

She gives a wave of her hand. “Oh, there are many pictures of many people at the festival in the paper.”

True but we were on the front cover, taking up the whole spread. I want to ask if they’d given our names, if that’s why the town folks are now recognizing Rip. But what I want to ask more than anything is…was my name listed, and if so…which one. I feel myself pale again.

“Dear, I think you should go home and lie down. You don’t look very well today.”

“Okay,” I agree quickly, and head out the door. I give a quick wave to Emma who is back to practicing and make my way toward our cottage. Except when I’m out of Betsy’s view, I veer left and jump on the sandy path leading to town.

I tug my big yellow sunhat lower on my head, and my short legs make quick work of the path.

I pass a few people who say hello and I mumble in return.

My gaze goes to Marta’s place as I approach town and there’s a weird pang in my stomach when I see the sold sigh.

I take a moment to stare and when I see movement behind the curtain, no doubt the Conrad’s getting ready to clear their belongings to some lucky family, I force myself to move.

Okay, sure it might have been a wild and reckless dream—a fairytale really—to think that someday Rip and I could own that cottage.

Fairy tales.

Maybe I was better off when I didn’t actually believe in them. But there’s a part of me that can’t let it go, can’t believe that Rip would go back to Lyra after everything she’s done, after everything we’ve done…

There’s no one else…

I reach town and shade the sun from my eyes, searching for Rip in the crowd of tourists milling about.

I walk along the shops, peer into stores, and restaurants and when I don’t see him anywhere I mentally berate myself for spying.

How can I be doing this. This is not Colby.

This is Rip Hart. He’s everything that Colby isn’t, and my actions are absolutely ridiculous.

How can I think we can build a life on trust when I’m acting like this. I’m about to turn, to head back home…

But then…

I spot him in the crowd, heading toward a café with outdoor seating. I raise my arm, my mouth open, ready to call out to him, only to shut it abruptly when he walks up to a pretty girl, with long dark hair who jumps to her feet and throws her arms around him.

The girl jumps from her seat and throws her arms out.

Rip’s return hug is clunky and awkward and he glances around before he drops into his seat.

I don’t need to ask. I don’t need to get closer for a better look—not that I know what Lyra looks like.

But I know it, with every fiber of my being, that that is his ex, Lyra, and from the looks of things, they’re about to be ‘on’ again.

Don’t jump to conclusions, girlfriend.

I’d just said we needed to talk and instead of letting my brain go down a path that’s far too painful, I stand back, pull my phone from my pocket and type in her name.

I honestly don’t expect to find much but when her picture pops up my stomach clenches tight, because yes, that’s the woman seated across from Rip, a woman who’s leaning toward him, with big eyes and open ears, like what he’s saying to her is the most important thing she’s ever heard.

Decided to do a deeper dive, I scan the article and that’s when I discover she’s reporter for Famewire, a magazine that report on celebrities, my heart jumps into my throat. “Ohmigod,” I murmur under my breath. A woman like that would no doubt follow The Spotlight, would no doubt know who I am.

Is that why she came to town. She saw me in the paper and wanted to check me out. No, that can’t be true, because why would she have the local paper. Unless she didn’t see me in the paper, and Rip told her I was here because…it’s his way of getting back with her.

I guess what he had to pick up in town was his ex, and that the other night’s soft, sweet lovemaking really was about goodbye. Well, I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait around and hear the words.