Page 91 of Hearts on the Line

“Because I can’t do it. I can’t be the reason you hate yourself for choosing me. I can’t watch you give up the life you deserve just to hold mine together. You think I don’t dream about you every damn night? I do. But it doesn’t matter, because we’d burn each other alive if we tried to do this again.”

“Try? Ethan, what the hell do you call this summer? We work. We’ve always worked. It’s the rest that gets in the way. And I know it’s selfish to want to keep us to ourselves, but you have no idea how badly I needed that. You.” She wipes at her face, furious. “I came here because I needed to breathe. I didn’t need this town, this beach, even my house or the memory of my father. It was you, Ethan. I couldn’t admit it to myself, but there. I said it.”

“You wanted nothing to do with me.”

She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed in on mine in the dim moonlight. For a second, all I hear is the sound of the waves crashing over us. “I thought you hated me for twelve years. Then I came back when everything was falling apart, and you were there to catch me. And I hated you a little for being strong when I couldn’t. For loving me.”

“Loving you?” The words surprise me, ripping out of my throat with such a sneer, I know I should shut up. “Loving you isn’t going to make this work. I wanted you then, I want you now for the woman you’ve become, and fuck—I want so badly to know who you’ll be, Sloane. But you gave up a good job to be comfortable for a man before. You were ready to play the trophy wife, hang out with all the WAGs, right? And for what? You have no idea what you want. You’ve chased after other people’s dreams from the start. If you stay here, you’re going to be doing the same.”

Her voice is barely a whisper. “You’re not letting me choose.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Because I’ve already made that choice for you once, and it destroyed me. I’m not surviving it a second time.”

She looks at me like I’ve gutted her. Like I’ve stolen something she’ll never get back.

“Everyone thinks you’re an asshole. Hell, you think you’re worthless, so you push yourself to prove your worth to everyone. But you know what you are? A coward,” she says. “The worst part isn’t that you don’t love me enough to try. It’s that you love me so much you won’t. And you’re right, I hate you for it.”

I don’t move when she walks past me, back toward my parents’ house.

Watching the only thing I’ve ever wanted disappear back into the dark.

Again.

Chapter 29

Sloane

The newsroom is falling apart. Much like my life.

The phones are ringing off the hook, Lucy Fur knocked my coffee straight into a stack of edits, and the ancient desktop is wheezing like it’s about to burst into flames. I swear smoke will pour out any second.

I drove to Sarah’s last night and crashed there. We ate French silk pie on the floor of her kitchen while I cried until two in the morning.

And the stubborn ass didn’t call or text. I’m not sure what I’d say anyway.

I fight the urge, but lose, glancing at my phone to see one missed call. It’s a New York number. I almost call it back when Gloria walks in.

We didn’t get a second alone last night—everyone was too busy fawning over Jack.

I don’t know if she knows about my fight with Ethan on the beach, but I put on a smile just in case.

“I came to talk about the event you’re hosting with Ethan to benefit Ruth.”

A few weeks ago, well past midnight, and after a bottle of wine and snacks, I convinced Ethan to test out the concept of his supper club with a larger group. It’s a small, ticketed event at Ruth’s barn, and all the proceeds will go toward her medical bills. I would say it was difficult to convince him, but he’s not the only one who has a weakness. Just like Nana and her scallops, Ethan will say yes to anything if I feed him raspberry chocolate chip ice cream after going down on him. We’re both stubborn as hell, but we’re getting better at pushing each other out of our comfort zones, even if dessert is involved.

Now I’m not so sure.

“I’m super busy. Can we catch up later?”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it, giving me a brisk nod. “Everything all right, honey?”

I peek up at the ceiling before I look back down, determined not to cry anymore. “Fine.”

“It always is, isn’t it?” I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Thankfully, she doesn’t push further. “You’re doing great. Last week’s edition was the best in years. Ruth might be a grouch, but she recognizes talent when she sees it.”

My whispered “thanks” is lost as she shuts the door and the bell jingles, drowning out her goodbye.

I could get used to spending my days here at the paper, covering this town and reporting, and going home to Ethan. This whole summer, I have been sleep-deprived and got way too much sun and probably didn’t drink enough water, and still, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. There’s something to be said for that.