“What, you think I should’ve shoved her off in front of everyone?” I hiss. “You’d rather Max got his shot? Let that asshole stick his tongue down her throat?”
Ryan’s voice cracks through us like a whip. “Enough. Stop with the fucking imagery.” He drags a hand down his face, breath sharp. “Neither of you should’ve let her anywhere near that game. But you did. And when it landed on her—what then, Leo? You really want Max putting his hands on E?”
Silence. Just the cicadas, the creak of the porch boards.
Ryan exhales hard. “Eden’s safe with Nate. Safer than with anyone else. And if she’s gonna mess around one day, I’d rather it be with someone we trust.”
Leo doesn’t answer. Just mutters a curse, yanks the screen door open, and slams it behind him.
Ryan fixes me with a steady look. “You kept your hands to yourself, right?”
I nod once. “Just a peck. Chill, dude. Didn’t touch her.”
Lie. It was more than a peck, and every fiber in me is screaming to go back for more.
He studies me for a long beat, weighing it. Finally, he nods. “Keep it that way.” He takes a slow pull from his can, then adds, almost offhand, “For now.”
My head jerks up, caught by the edge in his tone.
Ryan claps me hard on the shoulder and disappears inside, the screen door creaking shut behind him. I stand in the dark, mouth tingling, chest pounding. I should crawl into bed, let the night die the way it’s supposed to.
But the anger won’t settle.
I keep seeing Eden’s face when she leaned across that circle, choosing me to evade Max. Brave, defiant. And scared enough to crack my chest open.
My fists won’t unclench.
So instead of heading in, I cut back down the dune path. The bonfire’s burned to embers, a few kids staggering home. Max is still there with two shadows, beer cans hissing open, voices full of cheap swagger.
I wait until his buddies wander toward the boardwalk. Then I step out of the dark.
He doesn’t even see me until my fist knots in his shirt and his back slams into the lifeguard stand. The wood rattles with the impact. I’m bigger, stronger, fueled by discipline and rage he’s never had. My forearm digs into his chest, pinning him.
His eyes flare wide, then narrow with fake bravado. “The hell’s your problem, Russo?”
“Stay. Away. From. Eden.” It’s a roar. A stranger’s voice.
He smirks. “Carverette? That who you mean?”
I slam him harder, cutting the smirk clean off. “Hands. Off. You understand me?”
He wheezes a laugh. “Christ, you already got your kiss. What are you pissed about? She leaned in. Guess little Eden’s not so innocent, huh? Wet and sloppy, looked like she wanted?—”
Rage detonates. My forearm drives higher, crushing his throat, cutting off the words with a strangled choke. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
His eyes water, the sound of him gasping ugly against my arm. Still, he rasps bitterly, “She’ll be a good time in a year or two?—”
That’s it. The asshole doesn’t know when to quit.
I fist his shirt tighter and drag him nose-to-nose. “You so much asthinkabout her again,” I snarl, voice scraping the dark, “and I’ll break your teeth down your throat. You hear me?”
His Adam’s apple bobs against my arm. Bravado gone, smirk dead. “Okay, okay. Jesus, yeah, I get it!”
I hold him a beat longer. Long enough for him to feel it. To know I could end him. Then I drop him. He slumps against the stand, coughing, face pale with the realization he’s outmatched.
“Remember this, Miller.” My voice is ice, my chest fire. “Eden Carver ismine. You go near her again, I won’t stop at a warning.”
I walk away without looking back, fists coiled tight. And I realize that what I feel for Eden isn’t only the need to protect her.
