“I know. I know what she’s going through.”
Leo chews on his inner cheek, and there is a distance in his eyes that has the unease pricking at my spine.
“I told you I’m not going to lock my daughter away, and last night when she took one look at her phone, leaped from the dinner table, went out the back door, and didn’t return, I realized how invested she is too. So...” He holds his hands out, as if he’s surrendering. “But if you are late one more time, if you stop giving this your all, then there is no need for me to continue.”
“I won’t. I’m focused, I swear.”
“If Willow decides that she’s no longer comfortable with you here, you’re done. The ball is always in her court, and if she says the word, this is over.”
“I agree.” I nod. “I’m not going to fuck this up with herorwith you, but if she asks me to leave, I’ll go.”
He swallows, dipping his chin in acknowledgment.
I bend down to grab my board before turning toward the cliffside when Leo calls from behind me, “And Weston?”
“Yeah?”
He catches up to me, and we ascend the stairs slowly. “If you two are going to be... whatever this is between you, you need to know that Parker has been trying to get in contact with her for some time now.”
“I know. I overheard a conversation at Honeysuckle a few?—”
“There have been more.” His tone is so low, it’s nearly a growl. A wave of apprehension crashes over me. “He’s sent mail to the house. Called the other boardwalk businesses. Even tracked down Willow’s ex-boyfriend, Camden. Messaged him and asked if they’d been together, and even after Cam told him no, Parker left threats, said shebelongedto him.”
Leo’s jaw quivers, squeezing his fists at his sides. The rage now shooting through my veins has my body reacting in much the same way.
“Before or after the Fourth of July?”
His eyes snap to mine. “After.”
Fuck. So Parker might know about me, then.
“You didn’t tell Willow any of this?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to burden her unless absolutely necessary. I told Parker when he called the surf shop that I had cameras on every piece of property I own, and that if he’s caught on any of them, I’ll ruin his fucking life. I also told him Willow was out of state for the summer, and if we heard from him again, I’d get a restraining order filed.” He sighs, running a hand through his blond hair. “Then, Parker found some photos on social media of our party on the Fourth, and must’ve assumed Willow was home after all. That’s when he contacted Cam. Left a nasty voicemail.” He barks a laugh. “Fucking idiot. I had Cam file a restraining order against him. It’s only been a few days, but we haven’t heard from him again. I’m hoping it’s over now, and Willow never has to stress about this.”
“I think she deserves to know,” I murmur as we reach the top of the stairs, tucking ourselves into a corner beside the guesthouse porch.
“She’s... facing a lot of guilt.” Leo chews his lip again, and I wonder if it’s a nervous habit, or if he’s not sure what to say. “Thelast thing I want is for her to internalize any of this harassment as a reason to feel guilty. I’d prefer she not know unless she absolutely has to.”
I don’t love the idea of this, but I nod. He knows her better than I do, and I have to respect that.
“I’m telling you because, if you’re going to be part of her life, this is what comes with it right now. Do you understand?” I nod, and he continues, “If you receive any sort of weird message, phone call, see anyone around the boardwalk who looks like they shouldn’t be there... you come straight to me, okay?”
“I will,” I promise. “I’ll take care of her.”
Leo sighs, pinning me with haunted blue eyes, offering only a shallow nod. “Prove it.”
He leaves me on the porch as he stalks away. I pull out my phone as I climb the porch stairs to the guesthouse, finding a notification from Willow. No message, just a photo. Her eyes are bright, lips playfully quirked as she spreads out in my bed, hair splayed over my pillow. She holds her phone with both hands, elbows squeezing her chest to accentuate her breasts, evidence of last night’s marking from my mouth on display above the neckline of her tank. It rides up at her midsection, showcasing a band of tan skin between her shirt and her panties.
I set the photo as my lock screen and slip my phone back into my pocket, grinning like a fool once again.
“Hi, can I help you?”A cute brunette asks in a mousy voice from behind the counter as the bell on the door chimes, signaling my entrance.
Sugar And Vice is completely different from the other shops. Once you step inside, you’re transported from the beach townboardwalk to a cozy bookshop. Painted in warm earth tones and wood furnishings, it almost feels as if I’m transported to a rustic New England village, with cobblestone streets, autumn leaves, and crisp, cold weather.
The smell of the bakery next door floats through the walls, offering an aroma of cinnamon and vanilla, and the low lighting is easy on the eyes. Soft instrumental music floats quietly through the space, creating a comforting ambiance.
Shelves line the store, categorized by sub-genres like “Sports” and “Cowboys” and “Touch Her And Die.”
