“Afterward, Daniel told me not to leave the city, with a heavy implication that I’d be sorry if I did.” My laugh comes out wrong.Small. Sharp. “That was the moment I realized I wasn’t sleeping with an arrogant asshole, but with a monster.”
The palms blur past faster now, or maybe that’s just my breathing.
“I ran,” I admit. “I left everything that mattered and ran, and I keep telling myself that was survival, but part of me still feels insane when I say it out loud.” I drag a hand through my hair and stare straight ahead because looking at him now might crack me open. “And I should have told you sooner. All of you. You have this beautiful life here, and I walked into it with this behind me, and now you’re making deals with dangerous men on my behalf and—” My voice breaks.
I hate that too.
“And I’m sorry,” I finish, quieter. “I’m sorry I brought this to your door.”
North is silent for a stretch of road. “My father used to beat me.”
The words slam into me so cleanly that they stop me cold. I face him as he’s driving, his attention on the road. His expression doesn’t change, hands steady on the wheel, voice even.
“He needed control the way other men need air. If the world around him wasn’t arranged exactly how he wanted, he took it out on whatever was closest.” A pause. “Most of the time, that was me.”
My chest hurts.
“So I left, as I told you at the luau. I left them behind, and the only thing I knew for sure was that whatever waited for me outside had to be better than what was inside that house. That doesn’t make us weak for running away from a dangerous situation, Adelaide. It makes us strong.”
His jaw hardens, and I swallow the lump in my throat. I shake my head. “It doesn’t feel brave.” I bite the inside of my cheek because tears are threatening me now and I will not cry.
North keeps going. “In my eyes, you’re brave as hell, Adelaide. You heard what that man was capable of, knew what staying would cost you, and you still chose yourself. That’s not small. That’s survival. So don’t sit there worrying that you’ve handed us more than we can handle. Whatever’s coming your way, whatever dark thing he thinks he can send after you, it won’t be worse than what we’ve already buried.”
My throat burns, yet I’m still hanging on his last comment. What’s he referring to?
His touch tightens slowly against my thigh, grounding me.
“So hear me clearly,” he says. “You did the right thing. And whatever Daniel Nixon is, he doesn’t scare me.”
I believe him, and suddenly, I have this insane urge to lean across the cab and kiss him just for being exactly this solid.
Instead, I say, “You make it really hard to keep pretending I can do this alone.”
His mouth curves, and he’s so ridiculously handsome that I can barely stand it.
“That’s because you shouldn’t have to.” When he moves his hand to shift gears, I reach over and put my hand on his.
We drive in easy quiet, with a soft Hawaiian song on the radio, the coast coming and going beside us. I lean slightly into the door and watch North drive, thinking about a man who walked away from something terrible with nothing and somehow ended up in my life.
Soon enough, we’re turning toward the marina, the road has narrowed, and the air has changed. Salt sits heavier in it now, gulls cutting across the bright morning sky, masts rising in the distance. North casually takes the turn toward the pier, one hand loose on the wheel, and I sit there trying not to think too hardabout being alone with him for what is apparently some kind of secret outing on the ocean.
Once we’re parked, North takes out two bags, including mine, and a cooler from the back without discussion and starts down the dock. I follow him over the boards, listening to the soft slap of water against the pilings, until he stops beside a white boat sitting in its berth with quiet, expensive purpose. It’s large, with plenty of space and a partially enclosed cabin.
I read the name on the stern.
“North Star. What does it mean to you?” I ask.
“Ace’s idea,” he says. “He bought the boat and told me naming it after me felt both accurate and annoyingly poetic.”
I grin, as I could see him doing that. North steps aboard first, sets the bags down, then turns and offers me his hand. I take it and step across the gap, water moving blue and deep underneath, and the boat rocks just enough to make me catch my breath. His hands come to my waist immediately, steadying me. He holds me there a second longer than he needs to.
“I’ve only been on a boat a few times,” I admit. “Apparently, I’ve been living a tragically sheltered life.”
Something eases in his face. “Then this is your first,” he says. His hands are still on my waist. “Good. I like being the one to give you your first experience.”
I smile, and my cheeks are burning up because he has a way of making me blush.
He lets go and struts across the deck, getting us ready. His sleeves are shoved up, his forearms flexing as he unties the boat and pulls up the anchor, and who knows what else he’s doing?
