Entering Shore Thing, which wasn’t around when I used to live here, I could see why this warm, cozy place had become a staple in a small town like Blueshore. It was a blend of family-friendly during daytime and an unassuming beach bar at night.
Simon was already at the bar, two half-pints waiting in front of him.
“God, I missed just going for a beer with a friend,” he said, nudging one glass toward me as I took the seat beside him.
“Nicole still doesn’t like you leaving her and the girls alone in the evenings?”
“Only if I classify it as a business meeting.”
Whenever he visited me in London, he used to drag me out nearly every night, even when I wasn’t in the mood, trying to make up for the lack of that sort of fun at home.
“Is that what you did tonight?” I asked.
“Nah. Told her I’d only seen you twice and you won’t be here for much longer.”
His word choice sent a jolt through me.
“I’m flying for checkups day after tomorrow.”
“I know. There was a piece about it on ESPN.
“How the hell did they find out?”
Simon carved the coaster with his nail. “My guess? Your agent. Creating a buzz.”
We both took long sips from our beers.
“You know that Chloe joined the school’s soccer team?”
I turned to look at him. “She did?”
“Yeah. She’s been talking about it for a while, but now she decided that if you started late and made it, she could try it, too.”
Warmth spread in me which wasn’t just the result of the beer.
“See? You’re an inspiration at home and away. I just don’t know which is which.”
The warmth in me turned to cold, gray lead.
“Listen.” I exhaled slowly. “Rio and I talked. We ...” I scraped a hand across my jaw. “Simon, let her make her own decisions. What you’re doing isn’t fair.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “And what you’re doing?”
I clenched my jaw. “I’m not making promises I can’t keep.”
Silence stretched between us. If it wasn’t Rio, if it wasn’t tainted with what he thought of me in that regard, I would have told him that I loved her, but right now it felt like exposing a delicate new bud to a gust of hurricane. So, instead, I ran a finger through the condensation on my glass, watching the beads of water slide down.
Simon’s phone buzzed on the counter, and he glanced at it, thumb hovering for a second before flipping it face-down. He sighed. “Okay, listen. That’s not actually why I asked you here.”
I shot him aspill-itlook.
“Chloe reminded me ... You built this career with your own hands. Or feet.” He smirked briefly before turning serious again. “You fought for every inch of it. You should fight to finish it the way you want. You owe that to yourself.”
“You just want me out of the way.” I let out a tired scoff.
“No. I mean it.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I care about you, Owen. I don’t think you’re right for Rio, but you’re still my best friend. You know me better than most. And I don’t want ...” He trailed off, then started again. “What I said before—I meant it. But I don’t want you giving up on your career. It’s always been your dream.”
I blinked, the words landing heavier than expected.Best friend. Knowing how much had shifted between us, it was strange to hear. Good strange. Once, that title had been effortless, unquestioned. Now, it carried layers of loyalty, of history, of conflict. I wasn’t sure whether it reassured me or twisted something deeper inside.
