Page 84 of Hard to Hold

I look up at him. At his strong jaw and thick lashes, but he keeps his eyes on the sky. “Didn’t your dad help keep her memory alive?”

Rush’s expression remains as guarded as his voice, which lacks any emotion when he responds. “I never knew my dad.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t . . .” My words fade as I insert my foot in my mouth and scramble for something to say in its place. “The two cell phones.”

“Two mobiles—oh, in your handbag.” He laughs. “What about them?”

“One is my mother’s. It doesn’t work but I can’t get rid of it. I mean, it’s not like I think she’s going to call me on it or anything—hell, it’s not even charged, but I carry it with me still. I don’t know if I think it’s good luck or because it’s something tangible of hers I can hold on to, but regardless of how stupid it is, I can’t get rid of it.”

“It’s not stupid at all. I understand that.”

“Sometimes I even charge it so I can listen to the voice memos she’d left herself.” I haven’t told anyone that. What is it about Rush that makes me trust him so implicitly?

His chuckles softly beneath my hand. “I understand that. For the longest time after my mum died, I carried around a medallion she gave me after she got sick. It was unexciting, except for the intricate compass etched on its front that she swore would bring me good luck. When I asked her what was so lucky about it, she told me that no matter where I went in life, it would always help me find my way back to what was right. That’s the first tattoo I got. Right here.” He points to above his heart. “It’s her compass so I’d never lose my way.”

I sit up on my elbow and trace the intricate lines of the design on his chest, knowing how important it is to feel like you have something to hold on to. “It’s perfect.”

“Just as you carrying her mobile is perfect for you.” He shifts all of a sudden so that he’s half lying on, half lying off me. “You know what?”

“Hmmm?” Those eyes win me over again.

“I think we need a morning swim.”

“We do?” That is not what I was expecting.

“Last one in has to cook breakfast.” Rush jumps out of bed, and I follow right after him.

Our laughter echoes off the halls as we chase each other down the stairs and through the house.

We don’t think about suits or towels or anything else as we jump off the patio into the sand. The sky is lighting up with streaks of color that soften the dark ocean water. We both yelp as we hit the cold morning water, but just as quickly, he reaches out to me and pulls me against him.

The last thing that crosses my mind before his lips make me lose my thoughts is that Rush just gave me a sunrise to remember too.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

LENNOX

“WAS THAT TERRIBLE TOO?” RUSH asks as he reaches out for me and pulls me through the warm water of the jacuzzi until I’m almost sitting on his lap, my back to his front.

“Horrible,” I say. “A huge mistake.”

“You seem to keep making mistakes and having horrible sex with me.”

“Dreadful ones.” He chuckles and shifts me on his lap so he can kiss me.

I startle momentarily at how used to this I’m becoming.

This feels too much like a thing, like we’re a thing . . . and I’m not sure what to do about it.

“You okay?” he asks, his smile fading, and I nod. The irony is while I’m silently freaking out, I’m also secretly reveling in everything about this weekend and him.

The way he made me coffee in the morning so I’d sit with him while he had his cuppa, as he called it. How when we sit near each other, his hand always finds its way to me somehow—fingertips tracing up and down my spine, a hand on my thigh, a finger tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. How he knows nothing about baseball, and how adorable he is trying to figure out its rules.

So many things that make me want to push myself back. But I find myself snuggling in a little closer.

Like right now. He’s wrapped his arms around me and set his chin on my shoulder from behind.

“I’m fine. I’m just dreading going back to LA tomorrow,” I murmur as I stare at the lights out on the ocean—some sailor somewhere trying to get home to his family—while we soak up the last night of our stay here.