Sixteen…
Seventeen…
Eighteen…
When my phone shudders yet again, I yank it out my pocket and glare at the screen to find nineteen fucking text messages, along with twelve missed calls and five voicemails, all from Blake.
Squeezing the device in my fist, I grit my teeth looking out at the moonlight as it dances across the ocean in some last-ditch attempt to try to calm the fuck down, but then the damn thing starts vibrating in my hand, and before I can stop myself, I throw it as hard and as far as I can, straight into the water.
Fuck that phone.
And fuck Blake, too.
Tearing my fingers through my hair, I drop my head back between my shoulders and look up to the night sky, heaving a hard exhale and closing my eyes. But then I see Poppy, pressed up against that wall, that motherfucker holding her so tight, and I force my eyes open, my heart slamming hard against my chest.
If I’d been a minute later, fuck knows what would have happened. I feel sick to my gut just thinking about it. Seeing herlook so small and fragile, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, tears brimming her eyes, her voice trembling as she pleaded with him to let her go. Man, it did something to me. Something I haveneverfelt, something I can’t even begin to get my own head around, let alone justify. It took every waning sliver of will power that I possessed not to knock that fucker’s fake-ass teeth straight down his throat. Even now, my body feels like it’s thrumming; I can’t remember a time I’ve ever been this full of rage.
“Hey…”
Pulled from my thoughts, I spin around to see Poppy walking down the dune toward me.
Caught off guard, I look her up and down. She’s still wearing that black dress that has been testing my resolve all goddamn night, her bare feet wadding through the soft white sand. She stops in front of me, peering up through those long lashes, her dewy skin glowing beneath the muted light of the moon, the gentle sea breeze causing the longer lengths of her silky hair to whip against her skin.
Fuck. Goddamn Jonesy; this is all his fault.
“A-are you okay?” she asks after a beat, her eyebrows drawing together as her gaze roves my face.
And I can’t help but balk at her question. AmIokay. Me. She was literally attacked tonight, and here she is, checking on me, asking me if I’m okay. But that’s the thing I’ve come to learn about Poppy; she cares about everyone else first.
“I’m fine,” I grit out, folding my arms across my chest to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing her, pulling her flush against me and never letting her go.
I clear my throat, my gaze flitting down to her wrist—the one that asshole had gripped so tight—before meeting her big, dark-blue eyes again. “How areyou?”
“I’m okay.” She shrugs a shoulder, but then she averts her gaze, looking out over the ocean and I see her throat bob with a thick swallow, so I’m not entirely sure I buy it.
“Pops,” I say, giving in and reaching out to gently touch her shoulder, trying so hard not to notice the way just one touch sends a current surging up my arm while causing her to visibly shudder beneath the touch.
Her eyes slide to mine, and there’s something there, heated in her pretty gaze.
“I-I’m so sorry, I—” I swallow hard around the lump of trepidation lodged in my throat. “I’m just…Fuck. I swear, I could kill that fuckin’ guy. Man, I don’t even—” I snap my mouth shut because I honestly don’t even know what I can say to take back what happened tonight.
“Brookes.” Poppy steadies me with a look, a soft smile curling her lips. “I’m fine. I promise.”
I study her face, trying so hard to see the lie in her eyes, but it’s not there; she’s either really okay, or she’s a damn good liar. I heave a resigned sigh.
“Truth or dare?”
I look between her eyes, my brows tugging together.
“You know the rules…” she sing-songs before I can ask if she’s serious.
I huff incredulously. “Dare.”
“Let’s go for a swim.”
Pulling back, I blink hard, my face twisting with confusion.
“Huh?” I practically honk, like a fucking goose.
