"I'll be careful."
"I mean it. You're my best friend and I love you, but you're also desperate and vulnerable right now. That makes you an easy target."
The words hit harder than they should. Because she's right…about everything. I am desperate and vulnerable, and Phoenix probably knows that better than anyone.
"I'll text you later," I tell her. "I should probably unpack."
"You're actually staying?"
I look at the suitcase, then at the cottage around me, then at the ocean beyond the windows.
"For now. Just to see what happens."
"Okay. But I'm one phone call away from booking a flight out there myself if you need me."
"I know. Thank you."
We hang up, and I sit in the silence of the cottage staring at the endless blue waves under the morning sun. It's beautiful here in a way that makes my chest ache.
I could get used to this. That's the dangerous part. And that's exactly what Phoenix is counting on.
I stand and lift my suitcase back onto the bed. The zipper protests as I open it, and I start pulling clothes back out.Hanging the dress in the closet and putting the jeans in the drawer. Unpacking like I'm planning to stay.
Maybe I am.
Maybe I'm making the biggest mistake of my life.
But I'm done running from things just because they scare me. I'm done letting fear make my decisions.
If Phoenix Crawford wants to play whatever game this is, fine. I'll play.
But I'm not going to make it easy for him.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number.
Breakfast on the terrace at 9. I'll be waiting. -P
I stare at the message. It’s not an invitation. It’s a statement of fact. It’s like he knows I'll come even though part of me wants to prove him wrong.
I should ignore it. Should stay in the cottage and avoid him for as long as possible.
Instead, I type back:What's for breakfast?
The response comes immediately.
Whatever you want.
Of course. Because he can afford whatever I want. Money solves everything in his world.
I'll be there,I send back.
I set my phone down and look at myself in the mirror. I look exhausted. Dark circles under my eyes from not sleeping. Hair that needs washing. The same anxious expression I've been wearing for years.
But underneath that, something else. Something I haven't seen in a long time.
Curiosity.
Maybe even hope.
