show you something in return.” Felicity tried not to beg, but his answer mattered so much.
Zane zipped up his jeans, leaving the top button undone in a way that played havoc with Felicity’s hormones. Shrugging back into his waffle-print cotton Henley shirt, he gave her a wary glance. “The beach?”
She nodded, doing her best to project calm emotional support. “You wanted me to admit that the world wouldn’t stop turning if I let go and had fun. We proved that together. Now let me prove to you that you’re strong enough to stand at the edge of the ocean.”
***
Fair was fair, Zane supposed, swallowing as a chill sweat broke out along his hairline. Ignoring the clenching of his gut, he said, “Sure. What the hell.”
Relief and happiness turned Felicity’s smile up to eleven. She clasped his hand, apparently not minding that his palms were a little clammy, and walked backwards onto the edge of the sand.
With Felicity holding his hands and pulling him forward, Zane managed to take that first step out onto the sand. The shift and scratch of it under his shoes tightened his stomach, bringing up memories, but Zane held them at bay by staring into Felicity’s soft amber eyes.
He inhaled salt sweet air and the sound of gulls calling to each other as they rode the breeze overhead. Sharp, dry cord grass brushed and caught at his jeans as they tramped through the dunes to the wide expanse of flat beach. The sound of the waves rushing in filled Zane’s ears, and for a disorienting heartbeat, the crying gulls sounded like humans shrieking for help. Zane tensed, but Felicity linked her arm through his elbow and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. As if it were the two of them against the world…or at least, the two of them against Zane’s darkest nightmares.
The Atlantic Ocean rolled out before them like a vast, endless blue void. White-capped waves surged and danced, hiding untold dangers in the depths below. Zane forced himself to confront it—not just the view of the ocean but the undertow of his memories. “This is the same ocean that killed my brother.”
Felicity’s arm tightened around his, but her voice was calm. “It’s never the same ocean. The water ebbs and flows, the tides go in and out, and everything changes. What happened to you and your family was horrible, Zane. But the ocean is as beautiful as it is terrible. And it has a lot of meaning, for a lot of people. I’m sure Miles and Greta would love to celebrate their vows right over there.” Felicity pointed a little ways down the beach to a protected inlet, small and intimate looking.
Heart pounding, Zane pictured it. He pictured himself in a suit, after standing up with Miles, who reminded him of Michael so much that at times, it was hard to be around him. Could he do it? Could he dance at Miles’s wedding reception, on the sandy beach he’d avoided for so long, and be happy for his friend?
Surprise washed through him. Instead of dread, the image felt good—right. It was what Miles wanted, and Miles should get to live his dream of the perfect wedding. Zane wanted that for him, and since he could never give it to Michael, he’d do his damnedest to make sure Miles got everything he wanted.
Which, for some reason, included Zane working together with Felicity Carlson to plan the reception. Maybe Zane owed Miles a thank you.
Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, Zane cracked his neck and dropped Felicity’s arm so he could turn to face her. She stared up at him with hope and compassion brightening her eyes to the color of ancient gold coins, and Zane couldn’t resist dipping his head to steal a kiss from her berry-pink lips.
His next breath came straight from Felicity’s lungs, and it gave him strength. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding,” he murmured, nuzzling against the silk of her cheek. “And it’s going to be a beautiful reception, too—right down there in that cove.”
Felicity breathed in sharply, pulling back to
Zane zipped up his jeans, leaving the top button undone in a way that played havoc with Felicity’s hormones. Shrugging back into his waffle-print cotton Henley shirt, he gave her a wary glance. “The beach?”
She nodded, doing her best to project calm emotional support. “You wanted me to admit that the world wouldn’t stop turning if I let go and had fun. We proved that together. Now let me prove to you that you’re strong enough to stand at the edge of the ocean.”
***
Fair was fair, Zane supposed, swallowing as a chill sweat broke out along his hairline. Ignoring the clenching of his gut, he said, “Sure. What the hell.”
Relief and happiness turned Felicity’s smile up to eleven. She clasped his hand, apparently not minding that his palms were a little clammy, and walked backwards onto the edge of the sand.
With Felicity holding his hands and pulling him forward, Zane managed to take that first step out onto the sand. The shift and scratch of it under his shoes tightened his stomach, bringing up memories, but Zane held them at bay by staring into Felicity’s soft amber eyes.
He inhaled salt sweet air and the sound of gulls calling to each other as they rode the breeze overhead. Sharp, dry cord grass brushed and caught at his jeans as they tramped through the dunes to the wide expanse of flat beach. The sound of the waves rushing in filled Zane’s ears, and for a disorienting heartbeat, the crying gulls sounded like humans shrieking for help. Zane tensed, but Felicity linked her arm through his elbow and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. As if it were the two of them against the world…or at least, the two of them against Zane’s darkest nightmares.
The Atlantic Ocean rolled out before them like a vast, endless blue void. White-capped waves surged and danced, hiding untold dangers in the depths below. Zane forced himself to confront it—not just the view of the ocean but the undertow of his memories. “This is the same ocean that killed my brother.”
Felicity’s arm tightened around his, but her voice was calm. “It’s never the same ocean. The water ebbs and flows, the tides go in and out, and everything changes. What happened to you and your family was horrible, Zane. But the ocean is as beautiful as it is terrible. And it has a lot of meaning, for a lot of people. I’m sure Miles and Greta would love to celebrate their vows right over there.” Felicity pointed a little ways down the beach to a protected inlet, small and intimate looking.
Heart pounding, Zane pictured it. He pictured himself in a suit, after standing up with Miles, who reminded him of Michael so much that at times, it was hard to be around him. Could he do it? Could he dance at Miles’s wedding reception, on the sandy beach he’d avoided for so long, and be happy for his friend?
Surprise washed through him. Instead of dread, the image felt good—right. It was what Miles wanted, and Miles should get to live his dream of the perfect wedding. Zane wanted that for him, and since he could never give it to Michael, he’d do his damnedest to make sure Miles got everything he wanted.
Which, for some reason, included Zane working together with Felicity Carlson to plan the reception. Maybe Zane owed Miles a thank you.
Drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, Zane cracked his neck and dropped Felicity’s arm so he could turn to face her. She stared up at him with hope and compassion brightening her eyes to the color of ancient gold coins, and Zane couldn’t resist dipping his head to steal a kiss from her berry-pink lips.
His next breath came straight from Felicity’s lungs, and it gave him strength. “It’s going to be a beautiful wedding,” he murmured, nuzzling against the silk of her cheek. “And it’s going to be a beautiful reception, too—right down there in that cove.”
Felicity breathed in sharply, pulling back to
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