Page 29 of The Game Plan

She comes to stand beside me, and her slim hand finds mine. Instantly, I thread my fingers with hers.

“Your parents live pretty nearby, then?” Her fingers tighten just a bit. “Or are they divorced?”

“They’re still together. The house is about an hour’s drive down the coast. But they’re in Europe right now with my littlebrother, doing a group tour.”

“But he’s got to be... what? Eight?”

“Yep. They homeschool him so they can all travel the world.” The corners of my mouth twitch. “They’re probably sampling bratwurst in Germany about now. Dylan, my brother, is probably whining for an American hot dog.”

“I think that’s lovely.” There’s a sigh in her voice.

From Ivy, I know their parents are divorced and have been for years. Sean Mackenzie spends most of his time in New York orAtlanta, and their mother lives in London.

“Do you miss your mom?” I ask.

She squints into the sun-dappled ocean. “Yeah, sometimes. I spent most of my summers with her, either in London or traveling.But it’s become forced over the years.” Her blond hair whips in the breeze, and she brushes it back with her free hand. “Idon’t know... we’re just not very much alike. She’s focused, organized. I’m...”

Fi doesn’t finish.

I give her hand a squeeze, tug her against my side. “Creative. Full of life.”

“Sweet-talker,” she scoffs, but her head rests against my shoulder.

We’re silent for a minute, just watching the ocean, my hand in hers. I run my thumb along her palm and find a callus.

She notices and gives me a wry smile. “Not very soft, I know.”

Taking my time, I follow a path of small, new scars and rough patches. Her hands are torn up. “What have you been doing toyourself?”

She moves to pull away, but I hold fast, catch her gaze with mine.

“Nothing bad,” she says, giving up on the little tug-of-war we’ve got going. “I’ve been...” Her plump cheeks flush. “I’vebeen making furniture. I wear gloves for some things, but you need to have a feel for the wood.”

“Furniture?” I find myself smiling. “That’s... Well, it’s fucking cool.”

Her color rises. “I haven’t really talked about it with anyone. It’s just something I do to relax. But I like it.”

“So those are hard-earned scars.” I hold up my own hand, knuckles swollen, nails cut to the quick so they won’t tear out duringa scuffle.

She leans in closer to me. “Yeah. I guess they are.” Fi pauses. “I made Ivy and Gray’s kitchen table.”

I hadn’t been paying attention to the table then because Fi had been in the room, but I can recall it well enough. “That’sa substantial piece. Beautiful.” I look down at her, my chin resting near her cheek. “You should be proud.”

“Thanks.” Her voice is quiet, almost shy as she stares out at the sea.

She’s shared a confidence with me. One she obviously has trouble embracing. I don’t know if she did it to let me know I couldtrust her, or she simply found herself exposing a truth. Either way, it humbles me.

Fi’s soft, feminine warmth at my side is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And I know I need to tell her everything if Ihave any chance of making her mine. I take a breath, smell the sweet mix of sage, eucalyptus, salt and sun. “Fi...”

“I’ve heard there’s a creamery around here that sells cheese.”

I frown, my eyes staying on the scene before us. People are easy for me to read. Fi is no exception. I get her on a bone-deeplevel. The problem is she reads me easily as well. I’m not used to that. No one ever really bothered before.

All day I’ve been expecting her to demand an explanation. But never once has she made mention of my cut-and-run. At first,I didn’t know what to make of it. Now I’m thinking she’s purposely avoiding it because she knows I’m struggling.

She moves to go, but I tug her back. “I know I fucked up, leaving you this morning.” A cold sweat breaks out over my skin,and I swallow hard, run a hand through my hair, only to have my fingers snag because I have it all bound tight.

Cursing, I look out over the ocean. “I...”