“The sunrise,” I say wistfully, pointing toward the gorgeous orange star rising over the horizon. Everyone should appreciate the sunrise. “You can’t jog and miss the sunrise. Also, sorry, but it’s not fair that you know my name, but you haven’t introduced yourself to me.”
The look he sends me is almost indecipherable, but it fallswithin the range of disbelief, if I had to settle on a word. “You know my name, surely.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Still polite to introduce yourself.”
I dig my toes deeper into the wet sand, wishing I had buried my entire body under the sand before he arrived so I could go totally unseen today. But the momentary embarrassment disappears when he tosses himself beside me on the over-large beach blanket. He smells like sweat and salt, like maybe he took a dip in the ocean prior to his run. It’s nice. But also, he could kill me and no one would find my body, so maybe I should stop letting his handsomeness sway me toward thinking he’s not some sort of evildoer.
I narrow my eyes at him and scoot away a little. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Charles.”
That was easy. “Cool.”
He shoots me another look I can’t parse, then looks back toward the sun that’s fighting to break over the horizon for the day. “What’s the whole thing about the sunrise?”
“Just… you can’t not watch it if you’re on the beach. That’s the rule.”
“There are rules about the sunrise?”
I purse my lips and look back at the sun just as she breaks over the horizon. Oh. I close my eyes and breathe the day in, making my wish like I’ve always done.Love, I wish, nothing more than that. I want to be loved for who I am by a gentle man who doesn’t want to change me, believes in my dreams, and thinks my particular brand of sarcasm and wit is cute, not annoying. Maybe if I wish on every sunrise for twenty years, I’ll finally find it. If only.
“The rule to sunrise,” I say softly as I blink my eyes back open to stare at the gorgeous sky, “is that if you’re in thepresence of the sunrise, you must stop to watch it, and you must always make a wish.”
“Well, I missed my chance at a wish because you didn’t tell me in time.”
I chuckle and turn to him with a smile. “Now you’ll have to watch the sunrise tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” Charles replies softly. “It was nice to enjoy the sunrise with you, but I need to continue my jog.” He stands smoothly, dusting the sand off his sweaty legs. He’s tall, probably a few inches taller than me. And very, very beautiful, also much more than me. Charles lifts one eyebrow with a twist of his wide mouth. “I’ll see you in town, I’m sure.”
“Bye,” I whisper, but he’s already gone toward the dunes, carrying my goodbye with him.
CHAPTER TWO
CHARLES
Retiring at thirty-six is not what I had expected when I started my career in the National Football League. I’d expected to play a few more years, go out with grace, not have a catastrophic knee blowout that ended my career in seconds. At least I didn’t blow all my money like some of my former colleagues. I guess most guys move home to restart their lives using their college degree, but I’m not too interested in computer science now. I also wasn’t too interested in going home to Nebraska, considering my family disowned me pretty soon after they found out I was gay.
So, I did the only logical thing a man could do. I’d pointed at a map and moved where my finger landed. How I picked Hope Island is beyond me, but it’s been nice so far. I’ve been here a year now, and I’ve settled into some sort of depressive, aimless routine. I made friends with some people in town, go to physical therapy, and spend time with my elderly Saint Bernard, Cupcake, but I need something more to fill my time.
I start the day like I do every day, a jog. Early morningbasically guarantees me an empty beach considering the vacationers don’t seem too interested in our small island. But the beach wasn’t empty last weekend. There’d been a curly-haired blond sitting and staring at the horizon like it contained every secret of the universe. He had a dusting of freckles on his round cheeks, bright green eyes, and brightly colored flower tattoos covering his left arm. He was beautiful. He also happens to be the son of two of the friends I’ve made in this weird town so far.
Ugh.
I really need to find a hobby.
I’m going a little stir-crazy without the consistency of football.
The problem is that my entire life since middle school has been football, so I don’t know how to disentangle that routine from my life. I’m looking at another couple of decades with just me, myself, and I, so I have to figure something out. My agent keeps trying to get me to do some sort of broadcasting shit, but I’m not remotely interested. I don’t want another day job, and I don’t have to figure that out anytime soon since I invested my salary so well over the past fifteen years.
It’s ten in the morning on a Wednesday and I’m sitting on my veranda, sipping a cup of coffee, with no plans for the day. My phone buzzes again with my agent’s name flashing on the screen. Yikes. No, thank you. I flip the phone over, lean back in my chair, and take a deep, long sip of my caramel-flavored coffee. Maybe there will be something I can do downtown, something new to find.Anythingthat’ll get me out of my own hair for a few hours. I’m sure there’s an activity Ms. Marcia can drum up for me. Ms. Marcia is the sweet elderly woman who seems to run the town, the de-facto mayor, much to the chagrin of the actual mayor.
With my mind made up, I finish my coffee and head back inside to find my keys. Summer on Hope Island means most days are warm, but with a cool ocean breeze, it’s definitely not sweltering hot like farther south. Cupcake pays little attention to me as I get ready; she only perks up when I grab the keys and give a whistle. Such a good girl, she can join me for the ride into town.
Cupcake trots toward me with no care in the world. In her world, time doesn’t exist. Her large brown eyes blink up at me as I open the door for her, and I can’t help but chuckle as my ancient Saint Bernard sways toward the truck in the driveway. I got her as a puppy a few years into my contract in San Diego. Cupcake is my girl for life, and this is proven when I easily lift her into the passenger seat and buckle her in. She gives me a grateful lick that only makes me smile in return.
My house is on the quiet side of the island, and it takes about twenty or so minutes to get to the downtown touristy side. Previously, I’d only ever lived in Nebraska and California, but Hope Island is probably one of my favorite places. Quiet and peaceful, always smelling like briny marsh with a wisp of jasmine downtown. People don’t pay me much mind despite being one of the most well-known quarterbacks of the past two decades. The roads are lined with moss-laced oaks the farther I get from the shore, but they disappear the closer I get to downtown on the opposite coast of the island.
Being a weekday morning, downtown is still pretty quiet and finding a parking spot isn’t difficult. My natural inclination is still to hide away from everyone after years of being in the spotlight, years of being hounded, but I’m trying to push myself out of my comfort zone since Hope Island has proven there’s nothing to be scared of here. At least not yet.
