Page 9

9

I stop on the boardwalk, between the white tents, clutching Carter’s triangular to-go box from the bakery, and pull in a nervous breath. Last night, I bailed on Maxim. Just turned around and booked it down the stairs without even a word.

It was a dick thing to do. A thing that cocky-Theo might have done without thinking about it if he’d somehow gotten into that situation before.

But I don’t want to be that guy anymore.

I find Maxim pulling a dolly with two kegs over the rise to the boardwalk, a white bar towel over his shoulder, his inked arms straining with the weight. I set Carter’s pie on the ledge and help him pull it the last few inches, my arms straining with the weight as I keep it off my knee. The kegs rattle as they hit the boardwalk.

“Good timing.” Maxim raises an eyebrow. “I was in need of a man built like you.”

“Uh, yeah.” I pause, then reach out and grab Carter’s pie off the ledge because I don’t want it to fall.

Shit, what do I say?

He leans on the dolly. “Laia’s.”

“What?”

“Laia’s Pies.” He nods at the box. “Best pie on the island. You’ll enjoy it.”

“It’s for… he’s… Carter.”

Maxim’s lips lift faintly. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.”

“I, uh…?” Shit. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Relax, handsome.” He tilts his head, dark eyes studying me. “Did you make the right choice for you?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Then we’re all good.”

My thumb presses into the top of the pie box. “Thanks.”

He pushes off the dolly. “For what?”

“Opening my eyes, I guess.” I kinda want to hug the guy, although that might be weird.

He doesn’t understand what he did for me. I’m not sure if I understand. But it feels like he’s on the list of things that brought me to Carter, and that’s making my throat tighten.

So, I just… step forward and wrap my free arm around him.

I hug him, and he laughs softly as he hugs me back.

“You know,” he whispers, close to my ear, “when you’re buying pie for a man, there’s probably something worthwhile there.”

“I hope so,” I say as I step away.

“Good for you.” He sets his foot on the bottom rung of the dolly and tips it. “And good luck, Theo.”

“You too.” I watch him push the dolly toward the tents, but I turn back before he goes inside. I want to get back to?—

Carter .

Jesus.

He’s standing in the middle of the walkway, avocado shorts and a lei around his neck, white flowers against his tanned chest. He looks after Maxim and then back at me.

Twelve feet between us, and I can feel every inch of distance. Like that space across the white sheet, but this one feels cavernous.

And he’s quiet. No words, no light in his eyes. No dimple. No smile.

He’s just standing there, looking at me, the white petals on his chest moving faintly with each breath.

“I came to speak to him,” I say, wanting so damn much to close that distance, but I don’t know what he wants, so I move forward about three feet and then stop. “I needed to apologize. But nothing else happened.”

“I know.” His forehead wrinkles, his eyes heavy with thoughts. “But I’m so fucking jealous .” He presses his lips. “You were gone. I didn’t know where you were, so I got worried and went looking for you. Then when I saw you hugging him, right out here in front of everyone.”

I swallow. “You’re right.”

His eyes move around my face. “I don't know where I stand with you. You’re so hot and cold. So up and down.”

He’s right about that too.

“You deserve more.” I’m all over the place. Barely hanging onto who I am. Struggling to make sense of everything . And he absolutely deserves more. “You deserve a person who is there.” My voice cracks. “Who can go all in.”

Can I do that?

I want to. With everything I have—I want to be that guy.

Fuck, my throat closes, eyes heating in record time.

I don’t want to lose him.

I get this flash of what that would really feel like, and it’s that black hole but a thousand times bigger, a thousand times wider. It’s all-encompassing. It hurts more than losing football. I never thought anything could hurt that much.

“I’ve been so fucking confused.” My chest feels like it’s going to collapse, like it’s going to fold. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.” I step closer, enough that I can see the catch in his throat when he swallows. “But you, that shower, that kiss, just getting to be around you—it’s the only thing that’s made sense to me. With everything else, I feel?—?”

“Lost.” His voice softens. And fuck, his eyes fill, wetness hanging in them. “I see it in you. All the time. Every day since your surgery. How lost you are. And I don’t know what to do. I just keep hoping you’ll start to feel better. That I’ll…?” He swallows. “I’ll help you feel better. That a place like this would help.”

He blurs. He doesn’t move, but he blurs. Tears collect in my eyes. One falls. Another. “You planned this to help me?”

“Of course.” Then he’s there, warm palms on my biceps, amber eyes, a waft of sunblock. “When someone you love is hurting, you try to help them.”

“Jesus, Carter.” Everything fuzzes. Tears well over, wetting my cheeks and tasting like salt on my lips. “I love you.”

I didn’t plan to say it, but it’s right fucking there , spilled out in tears and words at Carter’s feet.

His lips part, his eyes widen for a brief second, and then his chest is against mine, pressing the flowers between us. His smell and his warmth surrounding me, his big body and bigger presence.

“ Theo .” He cups my neck, and then his lips are on mine, moving with me, pulling me closer.

And I’m kissing him, my heart pounding in my throat, the pie box pressed against his back.

There’s noise all around us, but it’s static. I just kiss him until he breaks away and we’re hugging, tucked against each other, tropical sun beating down on us, our skin clammy. His lips pressing underneath my ear in one of those little kisses that I love so much.

“I want you to be okay,” he whispers into my ear. “So fucking much . I think about you all the time. I’m going around, pretending to be normal, but the only thing I’m thinking about is you.” He leans back, catching my eyes. “You know I love you too, right? Pebbles and everything .”

I choke out a sob. But I’m smiling. “Shit.”

“I know, right?” He’s still got tears in his eyes, but they brighten behind them. “It’s like the hugest deal of my life . And I don’t want anyone else. This mythical person is bullshit. No one makes me feel the way you do. It’s you , bro.”

I close my eyes, breathing him in. “Why do you call me that?”

“What? Bro?” His thumb smooths along my neck. “Because it’s for you. I never call anyone else that. Not even some random dude on the street. You’re the one. You’re it.” He hesitates, leaning back so that he can look at me. “Do you want me to stop?”

A shiver races from where the rough edge of his thumb brushes my neck. “No.”

“Because if you do, then I can. It’s just?—?”

“No, I’m good with it.”

He grins, and I love that smile.

I make a silent promise.

I don’t know what it will take for me to be okay. For me to fix myself. I can’t even guess how that would look, but I’ll do it. Rehab, therapy, looking at life differently. Not just for him, not just for us, but for me too.

I won’t fail this .

I lift the to-go box. “I brought you pie.”

“You did?” He breaks into that big smile, dimples and glee and enthusiasm. “Holy shit, that’s awesome . What kind?”

“Mango.”

His eyes say so much.