SCANDAL

A BLACK DIAMOND NOVEL

UNLUCKY 13
T. ASHLEIGH
Copyright © 2023 by T. Ashleigh
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission
from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors
imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Rebel Ink Co.
Proofs by: Pollyané Nichols & Lindsay Hamilton
Formatting: Marie Ann
 CONTENTS

Keep In Touch With T. Ashleigh

Playlist
Content Warnings
Welcome to Black Diamond

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24

Need More?
About the Author
Also By T. Ashleigh
 WELCOME TO BLACK DIAMOND RESORT AND SPA…

I come from a long line of con artists and crooks.

In a family where money and power outweigh integrity, there’s only
been one person I could always count on. My best friend, my other half, my
twin; until he betrayed me.
Thanks to his lies, both my family and the media are breathing down
my neck, giving me no choice but to ‘seek help’ at some fancy rehab resort.
Whatever.
I’ll do my time, go through the motions with this stupid five-step
program, then wash my hands of this place and my past.
But why not have a little fun while I’m here?
Specifically, with the mysterious man I feel a strong, undeniable pull
toward.
At first, it’s just some fun—a way to decompress after everything I’ve
been through. Only we grow closer, and I catch feelings, despite thinking
I’d never trust anyone again.
Big mistake.
It turns out, the person I fell for is not who I thought he was. And I
don’t know what’s worse—my shattered heart or the scandal that caused it.
KEEP IN TOUCH WITH T. ASHLEIGH
 PLAYLIST

Scandal- Unlucky 13 - playlist by T. Ashleigh | Spotify

Unsteady by XAmbassadors
Pieces by Rob Thomas
Red Lighter by SoMo
Unwell by Tawnted
Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi
Hurt People by Two Feet and Madison Love
Body to Body by Sture Zetterburg and Andrew Shubin
Anyone by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie
Hevan by FINNEAS
Iris by Our Last Night
Raine by Faime
Silhouette by Aquilo
Dynasty by MIIA
Love Is Gone by SLANDER and Dylan Matthew
 CONTENT WARNINGS

Homophobia
Mental Illness- Mild Body Dysmorphic Disorder
Body Shaming
Childhood Bully Mentions

This book is intended for an 18+ audience due to sexual and graphic
content.
If you have any questions, email me at Authort.ashleigh@gmail.com
 WELCOME TO BLACK DIAMOND

Since our founding in 2001 by the Diamond family, we've strived to provide
a unique experience from those who live in the public eye. Privacy and
discretion is of the utmost importance to us so you won't find paparazzi or
journalists looking for a juicy story on our shores, only the relaxing lapping
of waves and delicious drinks.
Enjoy the all inclusive, private, resort built exclusively for the elite.
From luxury villas to gorgeous white sand beaches, there's something here
for everyone on the island. Water sports, hiking, massages, and 5 star
gourmet meals will have you never wanting to leave.
So take a deep breath and let us handle the rest.
CHAPTER ONE
 BECKETT

I fight back a yawn as I listen to Cole and Darren, my co-workers and

best friends jabbering away about the latest E! gossip and America’s
trending story—Christina Juliani and Robert Kulty caught in a
compromising position after her latest movie premiere last week while his
wife was home with their sick child.
I roll my eyes at the cliché and tune them out, doing a full sweep of the
room, looking for something more exciting than this.
Bored.
That’s what I am. I need something other than Hollywood’s trending
crap to liven up my life.
What’s happened to the media? There are way bigger things we can
cover, but for some reason, the world is more interested in Hansel Cutter’s
last season's Louis Vuitton handbag, or Tina Huber’s new flavor of the
week than shit that actually matters. Like world hunger, helping the
homeless, basic human rights…
‘Gossip and trash talk sell magazines,’ or so my boss preaches daily… I
guess he’s not wrong, but it amazes me the things people are worried about.
Like hello, it’s been almost a decade, and we’re still going on about Justin
and Selena. I think it’s time the world moved on.
I spot Jett Roman and Zander Evans by the bar in what looks to be a
heated conversation, and I can’t help but perk with interest. I’m nosey by
nature, then throw in the fact I literally get paid to know people's business,
and you can pretty much guarantee I’ll know the full rundown of someone’s
life within hours of meeting them. It’s also a good way for me to drop them
into one of two categories: a fraud or a realist.
 I down the rest of my scotch, cutting off Darren mid-rant. “Going to get
another drink, be back.” Not waiting for a response, I’m up and out of my
seat, headed toward the bar.
I don’t get too close, that’d be obvious, but I get close enough to where
I can make out Jett’s whisper-shouts.
“What can I get you?” the pretty, petite bartender asks, setting down a
beverage napkin in front of me. His hand lingers a bit too long and I follow
the trail up his white linen shirt and slim neck, focusing on the pale blue
hues of his eyes. He’s cute, skinny, and looks bendy. I bet he’d be fun in
bed. I’m close to dropping something suggestive, but then the shrill panic in
Jett’s tone cuts off my runaway thoughts, and I remember why I came over
here to begin with.
Focus, Beck, your dick will just have to wait.
“Glenlivet on the rocks.” My tone is curt, and I see the bartender pout a
bit at my loss of interest before he sashays away to make my drink. I won’t
lie… my eyes eat up every bit of that bubble-butt when he’s turned away.
Then I peek at Jett again and wonder for a moment if he’s actually worth
me not getting my dick sucked. I mean, they’re probably just arguing about
his ‘broken Versace sunglasses’ or some shit. This guy is a drama queen to
the fullest. I have no doubt something simple would work him into a tizzy.
When the bartender comes back with my drink, I hand him a twenty,
telling him to keep the change before bringing the glass to my mouth in an
attempt to avoid any further interaction. I need him to go away so I can
focus.
He gets the hint, taking his money, and biteable ass with him to the
register. I apologize to my dick and have a very quick moment of silence to
mourn the loss of what could have been a great fuck before slapping on my
game face and getting back to work.
I can’t make out much over the aimless chatter and background music,
but I do hear the words Molly, vampire, and murder. Molly the Vampire
Murderer? Maybe that’s the name of a new show he’s auditioning for. I
wouldn’t be surprised; Hollywood comes up with some crazy shit these
days.
Intrigued, I slide over one chair, tilting my head and willing my ear to
catch more of the conversation. Why do we have to be in the Lotus Lounge
of all places? Probably because it’s the newest celebrity hot spot, you
dumbass.
 “Chill out, Jett. You’re always so high-strung,” Zander says to him,
pulling me from my wandering thoughts once again. Damn, I probably
shouldn't have another drink. My ability to focus is shit right now.
I catch Jett dramatically waving his hands in the air, clearly pissed off.
“Yes! I am. Precisely. And that’s why I needed the fucking Ritalin to help
me concentrate tonight! Not Molly!”
Oh damn! Jackpot! This sounds juicy, and my hand itches to pull out
my phone to record.
“Who’s Molly?” My body jerks with surprise at the newcomer and I
shift, catching a glimpse of the busty redhead in my peripheral. Thank fuck,
it’s just Lucy Love—not a real name, but she dropped Smith when she
became famous, and who can blame her? Can you imagine watching a TV
show starring Lucy Smith? It just doesn’t have the same oomph.
A beat passes and I wait with bated breath for what comes next, but of
course, that’s when some random person chooses to approach me, cutting
me off from the conversation. Fuck!
“Can I buy you another drink?” the George Clooney look-alike asks.
Now, I have a major soft spot for a silver fox, especially the closeted
Hollywood type. They’re desperate for great sex, and I’m usually more than
eager to let them take out whatever bit of frustration they have on my body.
Too bad this guy had to come over here and mess with me while I was
scoping out a story, though.
“Not interested,” I mutter, shifting away slightly and hoping he’ll catch
the hint… He doesn’t.
“Are you sure?” He reaches out, dragging his finger down the exposed
skin of my forearm, and that’s when I catch the golden glint of the wedding
band on his left hand. Cliché after cliché, coming in hot tonight. “We could
have so much fun together.”
Yeah, I bet we could, prick. I roll my eyes, pushing his hand away. “I’m
good. Why don’t you go find your wife?” I shoo him off, but he doesn’t
budge.
Typical.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He produces a slimy smile, his
hand coming back to grab my arm again, and I can tell this is going to be an
issue if I don’t nip it in the bud right now.
“Look, George,” I start, not giving a flying fuck if that’s actually his
name or not, then stand from my stool, plucking his hand from my arm.
“I’m not interested. I’m waiting on a colleague, so you’re wasting your
time.”
His eyes dance with humor and he leans in, his stale breath fanning
across my cheek as he speaks. Gross. “I don’t mind waiting. I can sense
you’d be worth it.”
Okay, I’m done. My fists clench and I do a mental countdown from ten,
willing my aggravation to go away. This guy is about fifteen seconds away
from being popped in the mouth, and I’m hours away from being plastered
on multiple magazine covers. I can already picture the headlines painting
me out to be the villain of this story, even though this guy has it coming.
Someone needs to get this man away from me before I choose violence.
A hectic turn of events happens next. It’s as if the universe is listening
for once in my damn life.
Jett staggers from his stool, successfully knocking into me, and I
stumble into George and the freshly made glass of brandy he’s holding. I
watch with smug satisfaction as it tips just right, covering the entire front of
his white button-down, staining it with the reddish-brown liquid.
Score!
George lets out a curse before setting his glass down forcefully on the
bar top as he glares at me like I’m the cause for this. When, in reality, if
he’d just left me alone to begin with, none of this would have happened.
“I’m sorry.” Jett’s whimsical voice meets my ears, and I turn to him in
time to see his face twist as a loud laugh bursts past his lips. “Oh, man.
Your shirt is fucked.” He stares at the stain, blinking rapidly, like his eyes
are trying to focus, then he pats George on the shoulder and shuffles with
unsteady legs toward the dance floor—clearly high off his ass. His friends
don't even acknowledge us when they pass, in too big of a hurry to catch up
with him.
Damn it! I missed the entire story.
“Spoiled, incompetent, unbelievable…” George mutters under his
breath before grabbing a stack of napkins off the bar top and storming away.
I glare daggers into his back, sending him nothing but bad vibes. Flat tire,
gain twenty pounds, break a tooth… Universe, if you're listening, grant the
world this service and give that guy what’s coming to him.
“Asshole,” I grit out, spinning around and heading back to my table of
friends. Well, I try to, but a sudden shriek followed by a cascade of flashes
draws me in and I spot Jett, rolling his hips to the seductive beat of “Pony”
by Genuine as he strips down to practically nothing. I note Lucy is trying
her damnedest to get him to stop, but Zander is nowhere to be found.
Interesting.
Also, fuck me! I just lost out on what could have been a great article
had it not been for fuckface George.
I’m irritated and the desire to be here is fading with every passing beat.
Turning to the table where my friends were sitting, I’m met with empty
chairs. They probably rushed to get up to watch the show, much like
everyone else in this place.
Not bothering to look for them, I pull out my phone and shoot them a
text, letting them know I’m leaving before ordering a Lyft. According to the
app, Marcus will be here in thirty minutes, which means I have enough time
to piss, and then grab my checked coat before heading out front to meet
him.
There’s a small line to get into the bathroom, and I busy myself weeding
through emails as I wait for my turn. It’s mostly just fake news and I roll
my eyes at the “UFO Sighting” title. Give me a break, people. Aliens aren’t
real. I don’t care how many ‘crop circles’ you think you find. It’s all smoke
and mirrors, like most of the shit I see daily. Fake—the world is full of
nothing but fake news and desperate people begging for a little bit of
limelight. It’s exhausting. I need a damn vacation.
“Hey, we’re not done here!” The shouting causes my head to snap up
with interest.
Speaking of limelight. Looks like I found where Zander got off to after
all. He’s marching down the hall, trying to catch up with someone I can’t
quite make out from this distance. Curiosity piqued, I step out of line,
bladder be damned, and follow him to the emergency exit. I catch the
outside door before it clicks in place and I push it open cautiously, not
wanting to be caught snooping. When I hear his yells and feet moving as he
continues on, I know it’s safe to follow. He’s too engrossed in whatever the
hell he’s doing to pay attention to me. Terrible news for him, but the best
kind for me.
Sliding out the door, I toe off my right shoe and use it as a door prop.
I’ve done worse. It kind of comes with the territory. I press my back against
the brick, doing a slow walk down the alley and trying to not cringe at the
snags being made to my new shirt. The shit I do for a good story.
 I don’t get far, just a few steps, but it’s enough for me to get a good
view of Zander and… wait. I blink hard, trying to clear my vision and
expecting the person to change, but when my eyes track up the discolored
skin of his neck, I know I’m right.
It’s Austin O’Kane. The mysterious O’Kane brother that no one really
knows anything about. He doesn’t do social events, choosing to stay out of
the spotlight. Austin’s seen at charity events now and then and in the
occasional post on Instagram by his twin brother, Aaron. He’s very quiet.
Too quiet, and it makes me want to step out of the shadows and head
straight to him to pick his brain.
Austin O’Kane is the firstborn son of Lucas O’Kane, the CEO of one of
the largest pharmaceutical companies in the United States. Lucas is a grade
A prick and his other son, Aaron, is the same. I don’t know about Austin,
but I’d bet he’s like them, too. Most people with power, money, or
popularity usually are.
“The fuck were you thinking? Molly? Seriously? You said we would
just mess him up a bit. Have him slur his way through an interview or
something… not destroy him completely,” Zander grits out, grabbing
Austin and slamming him into the wall. “He’s never going to forgive me.”
A loud laugh tears past Austin’s lips, and he jerks out of Zander’s hold.
Yup, my earlier assessment was correct. He’s a dick just like his family.
Such a shame because he’s hot.
“I can’t tell if you’re just pathetic or playing a part. Actors, you’re all
the same.” He dusts off his jacket and goes to step around him, but Zander
isn’t having that.
Grabbing hold of his arm, he spins Austin around to face him again.
“We had a plan,” Zander bites out in a mix of frustration and terror.
“Why are you acting like you didn’t know how this would play out?
You got what you wanted. Jett out of the way.”
“Not at this cost!” Zander takes a step back and fists his hair. “How am
I even going to explain this?”
A condescending smirk crosses Austin’s face and he leans in like he’s
telling a huge secret, giving Zander a two-pat tap on the shoulder. “Just tell
him… Austin did it.”
Wait… what?
“But Aaro—”
 “But nothing.” He reaches up, adjusting his jacket from where it was
earlier fisted in Zander’s hands. “I said what I said, and I meant it. Austin is
the one who fucked him up and Austin is the cause for all the shit that’s
going down tonight.” He pulls out a cigarette and then lights it, taking a
long drag before blowing the smoke in Zander’s direction. “Now… If that’s
all, I have shit to do. Unlike you, I have a full plate tonight. You done
having a bitch fit, or do I need to give you further reassurance?”
Damn, actually, I take it back. Austin may be a bigger asshole than his
dad and brother combined… Which is saying something because I’ve had
the displeasure of meeting Lucas at events on more than one occasion. That
guy could make concrete melt with his tone alone. He’s the true definition
of a tycoon—I like to add douche before the title to give it a little more
edge. ‘Douchey Tycoon O’Kane.’ Okay, yeah, I won’t be winning any
awards for my creative skills, but I guess it’s good I’m just the one who
finds the stories and doesn’t have to write them all out.
Zander’s jaw is set in stone, but he shakes his head, choosing to say
nothing, which is probably for the best. I can tell based on the last few
minutes that Austin doesn’t really give a fuck, anyway.
I watch as they exchange one last look before they continue down the
alley and disappear into the night, leaving me full of questions. The biggest
one being, what the hell was that about? And the second… who the fuck
talks about themselves in third person?
I shake my head as I head back to the door and slide on my shoe, unable
to weed through my confused thoughts.
The elite are fucking weird.
CHAPTER TWO
 AUSTIN

I ’m burnt out, exhausted, and ready to jump into bed. It’s been a long
week and I’m looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow. Sundays are my
only reprieve week after agonizing week. I glance down at my watch
and note it’s just past eight. Perfect. At this rate, I’ll be able to finish here
and head back to my condo for some catch-up sleep.
Fighting back a yawn, I grab the final box from the back of my Land
Rover and walk it over to where Katie, the director of Harmony Hope
Homeless Shelter, is standing in front of the old, slightly dented metal door.
Looks like it’s taken a few more beatings since I was here last.
The slight breeze ruffles the collar of my mock turtleneck shirt, cooling
my sweat-slick skin, and my arms break out in goose bumps while my body
shudders at the sensation.
My neck and the bottom of my face are very sensitive right now since
I’m doing pulse dye laser treatments. According to Dr. Marsh, I’m halfway
through them. Soon enough, my birthmark will be a thing of the past. I
can’t imagine it. A life without turtlenecks and scarves or not having to
shop or dress in things that ‘flatter’ me. My biggest insecurity will be gone.
I don’t want to get my hopes up though, so we’ll see. I just had my fourth
session and I don’t see much of a difference yet, but I’m trying to stay
optimistic. There are a lot of success stories, but there are always those that
the treatment didn’t work for. It’d be my luck that I fell into that category.
Shifting the box to my right arm, I plaster on a smile for Katie. The dark
smudges under her eyes make her appear years older than her mere forty-
five.
“This is the last box. Do you want it with the others?”
 “I can take it,” she says while reaching her hands out, but I shake my
head. No way am I letting her carry this heavy box. She gives me a tired
smile that I know mirrors my own. “Alright, you win.” She pushes the door
open and gestures for me to follow, waving toward the boxes I stacked
earlier on the cafeteria table. “You’re an angel in disguise, Austin. Thank
you so much for all you’ve done.” She says when I place the box down with
the others.
I shift awkwardly before lifting a shoulder. “It’s not a big deal.” I’ll
never get used to her compliments.
She waves me off and then opens the first box of hygiene products.
“You’re too modest.”
“Just doing what anyone would do.”
She pauses while pulling out the package of toothbrushes as she gives
me a sad smile. “We both know that’s not true.”
She’s right, and there’s nothing left to say. Sadly, the world I live in is
full of crooks who’d do anything to save a dollar, no matter who they have
to hurt to make it happen. Family and friendships mean nothing, despite
thinking it’d be the opposite. Sometimes I wonder if it’d have been better to
be born into an average family.
I mean, working-class American families seem so happy, or at least,
that’s how it’s made out to be in the movies, but what do I know? It could
all be bullshit, and those average people could be even more miserable than
I am.
At least I have money, right?
Yeah, that makes me sound snotty as fuck.
I clear my throat, trying to come up with what to say next. I need to
learn how to communicate with people better. How am I supposed to take
over for my dad one day if simple conversations like this intimidate me?
The thought makes my stomach sour. “Anyway,” I start, nodding toward the
door. “I’m gonna go. It’s been a long week.”
“Of course. I’ll walk you out,” she manages to say around a yawn. I feel
bad for her, and wonder when her last day off was. While I’ve only known
Katie for about six months now, every time I see her, she looks more and
more worn down. She needs more help here.
“No, it’s fine. I’m good. Just be sure to lock the door behind me.” She
nods and then follows me. I’m assaulted with the California heat as soon as
I’ve crossed the threshold outside. It’s fall for fuck’s sake; why is it this
hot?
“Thank you again, Austin. You’re such a good man.” Then she’s gone,
the clicking of the locks sounding and her words leave a residual feeling
that makes my skin crawl.
A good man? I don’t know if I would classify myself that way. Sure,
I’m a decent human most days, but ‘a good man’ just seems too pure for
someone with the O’Kane last name to carry. Ugh, the thought of my father
makes my stomach heat with anger. He’s my opposite in every way, apart
from looks. If it wasn’t for the fact that we shared so many of the same
features, I’d wonder if we were related at all. From his bigoted beliefs on
basic human rights to the lengths he goes to make a dollar. It baffles me as
much as it disgusts me. I can’t imagine being that way. Maybe that’s why I
do the things I do. Like I’m trying to balance the humanity scale. At least
then the world won’t think all O’Kanes are shitty.
My phone rings as I pull out of the parking lot, and I peep my brother’s
name across the screen of my phone. In any other circumstance, I’d answer
it, but right now I can’t muster up the energy. I love my brother. He’s just
too much for me sometimes.
They say identical twins are split from the same soul; two halves of one
whole. I don’t know if you can say that for Aaron and I. We’re just so
different.
He’s attention-seeking… The one who walks into a room and everyone
turns to check him out. Not because of who he is, but because of the type of
entrance he made. Nine times out of ten you can bet he either laughed really
loud, stomped, or tapped the side of his glass like he was about to give the
speech of a lifetime to draw all eyes his way. He loves that kind of thing.
Feeds off of it like a succubus or something.
Me, though? I can’t stomach it. The thought of everyone’s eyes on me
makes me physically sick. I’d rather blend in with the background than
stand out in a crowd. Hell, if I could help it, I wouldn’t be in the crowd at
all. Safe at home, where no one bothers me, is where I’m most comfortable.
Plus, it’s not like it’s hard for me to be the center of attention... My
birthmark earns me enough looks on its own, like I’m wearing a giant neon
sign that says stare at my port-wine stain. I hate it. Hate everything about it.
It’s my biggest insecurity, something that Aaron will never have to deal
with.
 Damn him and his perfect skin.
My birthmark runs across the bottom left side of my cheek and down
my neck, stopping at my collarbone. It’s dark red and splotchy with purple
hues. A lot of people assume I’ve been assaulted when they catch sight of it
for the first time, which only leads to more stares because they’re curious. I
get it. I don’t like it, but I understand the basic human instinct to stare when
we see something that’s not classified as ‘normal.’
I have two more birthmarks as well; one across my chest and the other
on my lower leg. I hate those too, but at least they’re hidden behind clothes
most of the time. It’s been years since I last wore shorts or a regular-fitting
V-neck in public. Not since I was a kid and received the name Leper from a
few bullies. Thank fuck for my brother, though; Aaron never let anyone
mess with me. He’s always been protective, despite being my little brother.
He’s strong, stronger than me in so many ways. I’ve always wished some of
his fearlessness would rub off on me. It’d be nice not giving a fuck what
others think for once.
My phone rings again, this time showing me that Dad’s calling, and I
bite down on the inside of my cheek, sliding to reject the call. I have to be
in the right headspace to deal with that man, and now is not the time. Next
my phone vibrates with a voicemail or a text, which I also ignore. He either
wants to talk about work or scold me for something stupid. Either way, I
don’t care. I wish he’d just pass over me and hand this all to Aaron. Aaron
wants it, and he’d be good at it. He’s too much like our dad to not be. Yet,
Dad insists on it being me.
The firstborn son being the head of a legacy is such an outdated bag of
bullshit. Especially considering I’m older by all of two minutes. Two damn
minutes set the entire course of my life. It’s suffocating to think about, so I
try not to. If it was up to me, I’d be on the other side of the country doing
something with design. Doing something I chose for myself like most other
twenty-four-year-old guys get to do.
I toss my phone in the cupholder when it starts ringing again, then turn
up the radio dial and let the lyrics of “Iris” by Our Last Night wash over
me. Some of the lyrics resonate within me on another level.
I don’t want the world to see me… When everything’s made to be
broken…
Too bad I don’t have a special someone to share my broken pieces with,
like the song says, though.
 Sheesh. Hell no!
I let out a snort and give my head a shake before smashing the next
button on the radio. I’m more tired than I realized if I’m letting sappy songs
get to me.
I need a break. A vacation. An escape from reality. A damn reset.
That’s not going to happen anytime soon.
On autopilot, I make it home and don’t even bother turning on any
lights once inside. My only focus is on my bed. I strip on my way toward
my room, letting my clothes fall haphazardly to the floor like a treasure
trail. I’ll clean them up tomorrow, maybe… but it’s Sunday. Who knows if
I’ll really be up for it. I may just let the cleaning service take care of it on
Monday.
There I go, sounding like a snob again. I really try not to be that way
because I’m surrounded by that crap all the time. Why can’t the world just
be more kind?
Connecting my phone to the charger, I fall into bed, barely pulling the
blanket up and over me before the world disappears and sleep pulls me
under.

ALMOST TWELVE HOURS LATER, I’m sitting on my couch staring at

the tabloid in front of me, waiting for the picture to change somehow,
because no way in hell am I seeing this correctly. I shake my head, trying to
clear the image away like a bad Etch A Sketch drawing, but it doesn’t work.
I’m dreaming… no, not dreaming—locked in this nightmare after a
week from hell because no way is this really happening to me. I’ll wake up
any moment.
“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” My dad’s voice meets
my ears, and I open my mouth, but no words come. My chest feels tight and
I feel like I can’t breathe. Fuck, I’m going to have a panic attack.
Wake up, Austin. Wake up!
I glance up at my father and Sherry, his assistant, sitting across from me
on my living room couch, expecting the room to morph into something else.
Like a dungeon, maybe the fiery pits of hell, or for them to change into
different people… something to let my brain know that this isn't my reality.
 “Austin!”
I jump, that dreadful feeling nearly causing me to keel over. This can’t
be happening. Why in the hell would he do this?
To me!
“This isn’t me!” I manage to say despite my shaky voice. Then I fold
my arms over my chest, trying to calm the racing of my heart while wishing
away the feelings of defensiveness and devastation. I don’t even know what
to say right now.
“You mean to tell me these images are fake? Made up?” he hisses,
snatching up the wrinkled magazine and giving it a shake in my direction as
if I hadn’t already looked at it a dozen times in a two-minute span. “If that’s
the case, then Hollywood is getting really damn good at editing. Even your
birthmark is done impeccably.”
Betrayal like I’ve never known slams into me and I shut my eyes, taking
deep inhales of air through my nose. My eyes burn behind my closed lids
and if it wasn’t for my audience, I know I’d be crying right now. I wish
they’d leave so I could wallow in my apartment alone.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment when I look at my father again,
but I refuse to look at the photo anymore. I’ve seen it. It’s done.
My life is over…
“It’s not me, Dad.” My tone is weak and despite the nine hours of sleep
I got last night, I feel exhausted. “I don’t know how it’s so precise, but it’s
not me.” I’m tired of always fighting with him about something. He and I
will never see eye to eye about anything. I don’t want to deal with it
anymore.
“That’s all you have to say? You can’t even explain? Give me more than
that? How am I supposed to believe you when you can’t even defend
yourself?” His tone pisses me off. He’s already made up his mind, so what I
say won’t matter, regardless.
Folding my arms over my chest, I level him with a glare. “Defending
myself would imply that I have something to feel guilty over and I don’t.
These pictures aren’t me. Come on, Dad. When’s the last time I walked out
of the house in something so revealing?”
He looks at the photo again, and I can imagine what is happening in his
head. He sees his queer son posted on the front page of a magazine with
two other men in a compromising position. Oh, and let’s not forget the
bottle of liquor, white powder, and rolled-up dollar bills on the table,
making it even more scandalous. He’s probably about to have a coronary.
“I don’t know what you do in your free time,” he bites out with disgust.
My guess is he thinks I’m a part of a never-ending gay orgy party.
Hell, I fucking wish I could be that free! Little does he know, I’ve never
even had sex because I’m too fucking embarrassed to let anyone see my
body!
“Never, Dad,” I grit out, ignoring his looks. “The answer is never. I hate
my birthmark, you know this. Why the hell would I showcase it for
everyone to see?”
“Is it the whole… gay thing?” he questions, ignoring me completely.
“Are you trying to get back at me for not going along with your cry for
attention?”
I jerk back as if I’ve physically been struck. Cry for attention? Is he
serious right now? I clench the legs of my pants, counting back from fifty as
I try to rein in my temper. I’m literally about to crawl out of my skin.
“My God, do you hear yourself? Being gay isn’t something I can help.
Believe me, I’ve tried. I don’t want to be gay. Don’t want to deal with your
constant judgment and comments about me and people like me.” It really
hurts me to know I’ll never have his support. He is so stuck in his beliefs
that it’ll never matter what I say to try to convince him.
His face is bewildered, like he’s the one at a loss when I’m the one
whose life is being destroyed. “I don’t understand where I went wrong with
you. Why can’t you be more like your brother?” Words I’ve heard my
whole life suddenly have a whole new sting to them.
“My brother? Like the one who pretended to be me and set me up?” I
bite out, snatching the magazine once more and giving it a shake. “Why
don’t you have him explain this? Last I checked, he was dating that
supermodel, Tatiana, so color me surprised when I see him batting for my
team.”
My father looks at me like I’ve grown another head, and I’m sure my
manic tone isn’t helping my cause. “How dare you blame your brother!” he
bites out with venom. “He’s got nothing to do with this. What do you think
he did, paint on your birthmark?”
I don’t want to think that, but what else could it be? “He has everything
to do with this! I’ll find proof.”
 He adjusts his tie before pulling out his phone from his pocket. I don’t
know why I bother trying to talk to him. He’ll never listen. “When I talked
to him this morning, he was just as concerned as I was. He’s been looking
up treatment plans to help you.”
“Yeah, I bet he was.” My voice is cold. Lifeless. I almost feel like I’m
not in my body. Like my consciousness has somehow floated away and I’m
looking down over myself, watching this all happen to someone else.
How could my own brother betray me like this? It doesn’t make any
sense.
“He just wants the best for you and here you are, blaming him. You’re
further gone than I realized.” My father goes on with his guilt trip, but I
don’t have a retort. I’m done. Since he won’t listen anyway, there’s nothing
left to say.
He gets on the phone with someone next, but I tune him out. I’m not
able to focus on what he’s saying with my mind whirling.
My brother set me up… How else would these pictures come to exist? I
wish I could mold the puzzle pieces together and make it all make sense in
my brain, but nothing is fucking clicking. I bring a fist to my forehead,
drilling a knuckle into my temple and willing my brain to clear the
madness. We were fine yesterday, or so I thought. What could have changed
so drastically in the span of twenty-four hours? What did I do to him?
Dropping my hand, I snag my phone from my pocket with shaking
fingers, needing to call Aaron. He has to explain this. Fix this! There has to
be some kind of explanation. I call him twice and he doesn’t answer, and
the third time I’m sent straight to voicemail. The son of a bitch turned his
phone off. I feel sweat breaking out across the nape of my neck, and I fist
the fabric of my shirt, feeling the room begin to spin. I’m going to lose it.
“Austin!”
My gaze snaps to my dad, who’s looking at me with cool indifference.
Can’t he see I’m about to break down? Or does he really not care at all?
“Did you hear a word I said?”
He was talking? “Can’t say I did,” I croak out, glad the yelling at least
pulled me from rising panic.
He shakes his head before standing from his chair and nodding to
Sherry. “Please get his things in order.” Then he’s retreating from the room,
like he didn’t just leave me with a dozen unanswered questions.
 “Get my things in order for what?” My voice is slightly panicked as I
jump from my seat to follow after him. “What’s happening?”
“I’m sending you to Black Diamond,” he states, not bothering to turn
around.
Black Diamond? The rehab place for pampered rich pricks? “I don’t
need rehab! I’m not on drugs. Give me a damn drug test right now if you
don’t believe me!” I shout, desperate for him to listen to me for once.
He pauses to look at me over his shoulder like I’m his biggest
inconvenience, like my life isn’t on the line. “You’re going and that’s final.”
“But, Da—”
“I said it’s final!” he barks out, and the tone causes my spine to snap
straight. He looks around, eyes passing over what I’m sure is a wary-
looking Sherry behind me. Then he clears his throat before looking at me
again. “Sherry will fill you in on the details once I have them emailed over
to her. I’m waiting for confirmation, but I’m sure you’ll be able to leave by
tomorrow afternoon. Go ahead and pack your bags and be ready. I’ll have
the jet on standby for when it’s time to go.”
I can’t say anything. Not when he nods, not when he mutters his
goodbyes, and not when he opens the door to leave. I just stand there, in the
foyer of my condo, trying to understand how the hell I went from delivering
goods to the homeless to being shipped off to some rehab place in a matter
of hours.
CHAPTER THREE
 BECKETT

“D amn it!” I bite out, slamming the tabloid on my desk and shooting
Darren a glare. “That’s the night I saw Austin, too. I should have
followed him. This story could have been mine!” I begin to pace
the length of my desk, trying to calm my rage.
Celeb!NUW—our biggest competitor—got the story of the year and I
want to kick my own ass over it. I was right there! I could have easily
gotten this story.
Fuckity fuck fuck!
“I don’t know,” Darren says, pulling me from my pity party. “Looks like
an inside job to me. I’ll bet my left nut those pictures were sold directly to
the press.”
Ugh, he’s probably right. It doesn’t make it any less frustrating, though.
Not only did I miss out on a Jett exclusive, but now I find out I let Austin
slip from my clutches too.
It’s all bullshit.
“What are we betting our nuts on?” I stop pacing, looking up at Cole as
he comes in, and my eyebrows furrow when I take in his disheveled
appearance. He looks a mess, nothing like his usual put-together self.
“I’m betting mine on the fact that you got laid last night.” My eyes scan
over his wrinkled shirt and messy hair once more. “Did you have a
sleepover? That looks like the same shirt you wore yesterday.”
Cole snorts as he sits down at his desk next to mine. “One, you didn’t
even see me yesterday, asshole. It was Sunday. Two, no, I wasn’t getting
laid, but I wish I could say I was. That’d be a better story to tell.” He’s a
little stiff and reaches up, massaging his temples like he’s trying to relieve a
headache.
“Well, share. Don’t leave us hanging,” Darren encourages, placing the
extra Coffee Hut cup down in front of him that he bought when we were
downstairs before coming up to the office. “Figured you’d need this since
you were running late.”
Cole sighs before grabbing the cup with both hands and taking a long
sip. “Thank you. I really did... Marshal was blowing up my phone as soon
as the article dropped.” Should have figured that. Our boss is high-strung,
and Cole is fighting for a promotion, so of course he’d take his call no
matter the time. “He’s pissed about the Celeb!NUW story. Apparently, they
received two insider scoops over the weekend. Putting them now two steps
ahead of us.” He opens his laptop and begins sorting through emails. “I’ve
been up most of the night searching for something we could publish to
compare, but so far I’ve got zip.”
This is not good.
“Fuck. See.” I look at Darren and toss my hands in the air before sitting
down in my seat. “I should have followed him.”
“Followed who?” Cole asks, his eyes still on his screen.
“O’Kane…” I force the words out on an exhale. “I saw him at Lotus the
other night when I was leaving. He was having a pretty heated conversation
with Zander, too.”
Cole turns to look at me then, abandoning whatever email he was
working on. “That’s interesting. There’s no mention of Zander in the article.
Where did you see them exactly? And what were they fighting over?”
I close my eyes, trying to piece together bits of my memory, but it’s all
kind of hazy after my last drink. Shaking my head, I give them an equally
perplexed look. “I followed them out a side door of the club, but I can’t
really be sure about what they were saying. The whole thing was strange.”
“What do you mean, strange?” Cole braces his elbows on his thighs,
leaning in as he waits for me to elaborate.
“Well, Austin O’Kane being seen in a club for one.” I count down with
a finger. “I don’t think that’s happened… Well, ever. The guy’s a total
mystery. If it wasn’t for the few photos I’ve seen of him, I’d think he was
just a figment of my imagination. I mean, who comes from one of the
richest families in America and is rarely photographed in public? No one.”
 “Well, I don’t blame him,” Litty, a colleague, butts in from her desk a
row over, successfully killing the conversation. Nosey bitch. I can’t stand
her. I bite my tongue a lot where she’s concerned because she’s Marshal’s
niece and I like my job enough to not want to be fired. “Have you seen that
thing on his face?” She walks over to stand by us. “Hideous! If I was him,
I’d hide myself too.”
On second thought, being fired would be worth it to tell her off.
“You’re just such a cun—”
“Litty,” Darren intervenes, his hand landing on my shoulder with a hard
thwack. Wincing, I shoot him a glare, but he ignores me while giving Litty
the fakest smile I’ve ever seen, and I roll my eyes. “A pleasure, as always.”
“I’ll bet,” she mutters snidely. “If you guys are done gossiping, we have
a meeting to get to.” Litty’s eyes roam over Darren like a bug beneath her
shoe and I bite down on my cheek to stop my earlier sentence from
escaping.
I look at Cole, waiting to see what he says. “A meeting?” he questions.
“I didn’t schedule any meetings.”
“Behind on your emails, I see,” she says condescendingly while
admiring her way-too-expensive manicure. “Marshal called for one, and we
don’t want to keep him waiting, do we?” Then she’s giving us a finger wave
before disappearing in the direction of the conference room.
I shoot daggers at her retreating form, wishing Satan would come up
and take his wife back to hell with him. It’s hard to believe someone can
really be that disgusting, but I should be used to it by now, considering how
often I come across it. “Next time, don’t stop me from speaking my mind.”
I grab my things and stand from my chair. “She needs to be knocked down
a peg or two.”
Darren nods his head as he grabs his own bag. “I didn’t do that for her
benefit. I was looking out for you. That New York promotion is too close
for you to ruin it by telling off Regina George’s clone.” His words make me
snort. He’s right, she’s got mean girl energy for days.
“New York. So close and yet so far away.” My voice sounds dreamy,
even to my own ears. It’s so close I can practically touch it.
“I still can’t believe you’re leaving us,” Cole adds, catching up with us
on our way to the meeting. “We’re the ultimate trio.”
“You’re making us sound like an Applebee’s appetizer,” I toss out,
trying to stop it from getting mushy. I’m not an emotional type of guy.
Other people’s feelings make me anxious, which is the main reason I don’t
do relationships. That shit is messy, and I don’t have time for it.
He gives me a small shove and we all laugh. “You know what I meant.
Three Musketeers, Three Stooges, The Three Amigos…”
“You forgot about Charlie’s Angels and Powerpuff Girls,” Darren adds
with a laugh.
“Why am I friends with you guys?” I smirk despite my words.
Darren throws his arm around my shoulder, ruffling my long hair in the
process. “Whatever. You’ll miss us.”
“Like a toothache,” I quip, pulling away and fixing my hair before we
enter the conference room.
All jokes aside, I will miss them. They’re not just my friends, they’re
my found family. The only people I have left that give a shit about me…
but I need something different. A change. I can’t really explain it, only that
for the past year I’ve been slowly disconnecting from my reality and the
people around me. Like I’m here physically but mentally, I’m miles away
living another life in another person’s world. Then when I come back to
myself and realize I’m at the same place I was five years ago, I get
slammed with these overwhelming feelings of dread. At twenty-eight, time
is just flying by while I’m sitting still and I couldn't take it anymore.
So when GossipTalk announced there was a position opening in their
New York office, I couldn’t turn it down. Not only is the salary better, but
they are paying for my housing the whole first year. It seemed like fate.
Now I’m counting down the days until I leave.
Once we’re all inside, I note Marshal is sitting at the head of the table,
his laptop open with those signature tortoise-shell glasses perched on the
end of his nose. Upon meeting him, you’d think he was a grade school
teacher, not the editor-in-chief of one of the biggest tabloids in California.
He’s ruthless, fearless, and honestly gives no fucks.
I snag a pastry when I pass the treat table, and then sit in the first
available seat—furthest from Marshal. I’ve found that when he’s pissed,
you’re less likely to catch any of his wrath if there’s distance between you.
Unwrapping my muffin, I tear off a chunk and pop it into my mouth,
savoring the blueberry flavor. They aren’t as good as the ones at Coffee
Hut, but anything free is a winner in my book.
“Who’s missing?” Marshal hisses at his assistant. She’s new, barely
been here a week, and I’ll be surprised if she makes it through one more. He
goes through assistants quicker than anyone I’ve ever seen. Most people
don’t understand him—hell, I don’t understand him—but I have respect for
him and the job he does, so I tread with caution. “Never mind. If they’re
late, they can just wait outside. I’ll deal with them later.”
He motions for someone to shut the door before grabbing his remote
and starting up the slide show. The presentation runs for about twenty
minutes, followed by us bouncing around ideas on what to feature next, but
Marshal isn’t happy with any of them.
“They’re just not strong enough.” He sighs, sitting down on the edge of
the table and plucking off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“We need something bigger. The biggest insider we can find.”
There are a few quiet murmurs around the room as people try to think of
something and my mind wanders back to the incident over the weekend.
“If only I’d just followed Austin…” Things could have been so
different.
“What do you mean?”
My gaze snaps to Marshal, who’s now staring at me, and the room is
suddenly quiet as everyone waits for my response. Damn it, I didn’t think
I’d said it so loud. Clearing my throat, I give Marshal the CliffsNotes
version of what happened that night.
“And he didn’t say where he was going or anything after talking with
Zander?”
I wrack my brain, trying to clear through the slightly buzzing fog I was
under toward the end of the night, but draw a blank. “No, he didn’t mention
anything, just said he had stuff to do.”
“Hmm…” Marshal’s eyes have that faraway look, like he’s thinking of
how he can twist this bit of information in his favor. I often wonder what
it’d be like to live in his head. He comes up with the wildest things.
“What if we talked to Zander?” someone throws out. “He may be
willing to give us some insight.”
“Zander’s agent won't let him talk. Especially not with him landing his
newest role,” Marshal says, fingers tracing over his goatee. “Where is
Austin now?”
Everyone glances around, waiting for someone to answer. Clearly, we
have no idea. Whipping out my phone, I do the thing I do best and click on
Google, doing a search for Austin O’Kane’s whereabouts. I scroll through
the clickbait before landing on a link to his barely used Instagram page.
 There’s a pretty standard apology, one I’m sure he didn’t come up with
himself, along with the mention of taking some time away to heal. That’s it,
though. No information on where he actually is. I scan the picture and
almost snort at the image of his thumbs-up pose with a beachy background.
Who lives near the beach and vacations to the beach?
That’s lame. Why didn’t he go to the mountains or something at least?
Oh well, that’s typical. The rich and famous get busted in a sex and drug
scandal and are off on some beach ‘healing.’ AKA hiding until the next big
thing breaks, pulling the spotlight off of them. That’s always how it works. I
glance at the picture attached to the post, admiring his clean-cut nails and
ghostly skin. For someone who lives in California, he sure is pale.
I take in the rest of the photo, trying to pick out something I recognize,
but I don’t see anything to give him away.
“He’s supposedly taking time off to heal,” someone says, obviously
reading what I just did.
“Let me call a few people. I’m sure someone knows,” Cole throws in,
but I don’t stop looking. I’ll figure it out.
Where the hell are you, Austin O’Kane?
I do a sweep of the background, eyes slowly dragging over every square
inch of the screen. I’m close to giving up when I notice the edge of a
bracelet on his left wrist. At first glance, it looks like a standard, black
Apple Watch band until I zoom in slightly and note the white diamond logo
etched on it. I know that symbol.
I close my eyes, my mind racing through all the things that a diamond
could stand for.
Come on. Come on. Come on. What is it?
Then the fog lifts and my eyes snap open as the answer hits me. “Black
Diamond!” All heads turn to me and I realize I’ve screamed it out in the
nearly silent room. Fuck it, they know I’m like this by now. “He’s at Black
Diamond.” I look at Marshal, seeing a wave of emotions pass over his face.
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely.” I walk over to him with my phone in hand before zooming
in on the bracelet for him to see.
The room is buzzing as everyone talks about the mysterious Black
Diamond Resort and Spa. The place everyone wants to know about, but
only a small percentage of the population ever will. It’s one of the most
prestigious resorts and recovery facilities for the rich and famous in the
world. Exclusive and extremely expensive. The information about the
island is limited, and it’s every reporter's wet dream to find out what goes
on there. Me included.
“Good work.” Marshal gives my shoulder a squeeze, and I can
practically see the dollar bills in his eyes. “I think you just unlocked our
groundbreaking story.”
The whole room grows silent again and I can’t help the confusion from
showing on my face. What is he talking about? “What story?”
His smile is wide and he gives me the most ravenous look I’ve ever
seen on him, like he’s struck gold. “I think it’s time we got the inside scoop
on Black Diamond.”
My body flushes and my heart kicks up at the possibilities. Something
like that has never been done before, and my hands itch to deep dive into
research. “How do you suggest we do that?”
“Easy.” His eyes gleam. “You’re going undercover.”
The entire room gasps and I practically have to pick my jaw up off the
floor, because no way in hell did I just hear what I think I did. How? When?
Is that even possible? You don’t just get into Black Diamond. It’s not like
the Hilton where you can walk inside and check-in. We’d need resources
that I’m not even sure Marshal has.
“Sir, no offense, but there’s a reason that’s never been done before. That
place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Not to mention NDAs and red
tape up to our ears. There’s no way he’d be able to get an exclusive with
anyone or find out anything about the island, and if he did, how would we
legally be able to use it? It seems impossible.” Cole’s words mirror my
thoughts. Glad it’s not just me who’s thinking clearly.
“Plus, how would I even get in? It’s not like I can just book a
reservation online.” Though I wish I could. This is a place where money
talks and that’s not something I have unlimited access to… I don’t know if
Marshal does either.
Marshal waves off our questions before dismissing the room of
employees. Everyone is stunned, including me, but they gather their things
and leave while I wait for something else to happen. I watch as they trickle
out one by one, not sure what to make of all this.
“I’ll iron out the details and get back with you.” Pulling out his phone,
Marshal begins scrolling through his contacts. “I have a plan. Trust me.”
“Sir, I don’t know if—” I start, but am cut off by his phone call.
 “Hey, Thomas, it’s Marshal from GT. I need a favor… A few favors”
Cupping his hand over the mouthpiece, he gives me his Cheshire cat smile.
“Head back to work. I’ll let you know once I get it all sorted.” Then he’s
back to talking on the phone and I’m feeling like a fish out of water.
Grabbing my things, I head out of the room, my mind whirling. What
are the odds Marshal has those kinds of connections? I mean, it’s Black
fucking Diamond! No way it’s going to happen, right?
Yeah, definitely never going to happen.

HE FUCKING MADE IT HAPPEN. I still don’t understand it all, but here

I am.
Tipping back the mini bottle of Jack, I relish in the burn at the back of
my throat as I try to settle my racing heart. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I
hate flying. Flying commercial is bad enough but now I’m in this tin can,
tiny as hell, wannabe plane. The good news is I’m almost to the Windward
Islands in French Polynesia. Black Diamond. I still can’t believe it. It’s like
my biggest dream come true, not only being here, but getting the
groundbreaking story.
The plane rattles before dropping suddenly and my stomach shoots up
to my throat. I grab the armrests for dear life, mentally rattling off the few
lines of the Lord’s Prayer that I know.
Forgive us for our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against
us.
Fuck, I’m going to die chasing a story. I always knew that’s how it
would end for me. I should have had more liquor. At least if I was drunk,
dying wouldn’t be so terrifying. I need to tell Cole and Darren that I love
them. I don’t even have a will. Who is going to take care of my Smallville
box sets? It has to be Cole; he knows how much I love Superman. Darren
will just donate them to the nearest thrift store. Asshole.
My heart breaks at the thought. They’re special editions. They deserve
better. Cole, I swear, if you let Darren get rid of my collection, I’ll haunt
you for the rest of your damn life.
I’m jolted hard then, and an uncontained screech leaves my lips. “Please
don’t be painful. Please don’t be painful,” I say over and over, clenching the
life out of my designer pant legs, trying to ground myself with how soft
they are. Well, at least I’ll be dressed nicely when they find my body. If
they find my body. Fuck, I’m too young to die. I’m not ready.
“Sir?” My eyes snap open and I stare at the concerned look of the
stewardess. “Are you okay?”
I look to the window on my right and realize we’re no longer in the air
but safe again on land. “I didn’t die,” I mutter in a voice I don’t recognize.
Oh, thank fuck!
“Um, sir, do I need to get someone to help you?”
This girl probably thinks I’ve lost my mind and I don’t blame her. I’m
sure I look insane with my rumpled clothes and sweat-slicked hair.
Reaching up, I go to drag my hand down my shoulder-length locks but am
met with short strands instead. Fucking Marshal and his makeover.
Not only do I have an entirely new wardrobe, my hair and beard are
gone too, leaving me trimmed and clean-cut for the first time in years. It
was shocking as hell to see, but at least I know no one will recognize me
when I don’t even recognize myself. It’s like I’m having a real-life Clark
Kent moment.
“Sir?” she presses again, and I realize I zoned off. Yeah, she definitely
thinks I’m crazy. Probably used to it, though, considering where we are. Bet
she sees all kinds of wild things in her line of work.
“Sorry, I’m good.” I give her a weak smile. “Just a terrible flier. I’ll be
good once my feet are on land.”
She nods apprehensively, but moves away from me. “Okay, well, the
staff will take care of your things. You can exit whenever you're ready.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m ready to get off this damn plane.
Quickly, I unbuckle the seat belt with still trembling fingers and stand on
my weak legs. I need to get a grip. Adjusting my clothes, I take one deep
breath and give myself a mental pep talk before exiting the plane.
Black Diamond Resort and Spa… I’m here. Hope you’re ready.
Hell, am I even ready?
CHAPTER FOUR
 AUSTIN

I stare down the long pier, feeling numb. It’s as if I’m trapped in a daze
that I can’t get out of. I still can’t believe this is happening. I haven’t
talked to Aaron since everything went down. Everything happened so
fast, I didn’t even talk to my dad again. Sherry handled it like she always
does, and I make a mental note to thank her later. Somehow she kept me out
of the rehab side of this place.
Black Diamond Resort and Spa is split into two sides. The first is the
rehabilitation center for the world’s elite to come and heal. Then the resort
if you just want to escape from reality. Meaning, truly be free. No press, no
fans, no expectations.
I’m also almost certain I should have been on the rehab side considering
my dad now thinks I’m an out-of-control drug addict fucking my way from
one man to the next, and yet somehow, here I am on the resort side.
Though, in case there was a mistake somewhere, I didn’t question it. I’d
much rather hide away in bed than do some stupid five-step program,
anyway.
Gathering up all the strength I can muster, I head down the pier. My
body is flushed from the sun and I can feel sweat gathering at the small of
my back under my long-sleeved shirt. I’m glad I’ll be spending most of this
trip inside because it’s hotter here than it is in California.
My gaze sweeps over the endless abyss of blue water in the distance,
and I pause for a moment to enjoy how quiet it is. I’m not used to this. LA
is already loud and busy, then add in all the things I do for work and my
volunteer stuff... I’m never at a resting point. Even in my sleep, I dream
about my laundry list of things to do. My brain is always working, so I’ll
admit it’s nice to tune it all out.
Taking a deep breath, I continue toward the bungalow and use my
keyless entry wristband at the electronic lock to let myself inside. It’s quaint
and not too big, but that’s fine. I don’t need much space, anyway.
The floor-to-ceiling windows make the room feel bigger, but I still
consider closing the cream-colored curtains to keep some light out. But I
don’t in the end, wanting to see the ocean view. I need to stop being so
uncomfortable in my skin. I’m far away from anyone who knows me. It’ll
be fine. Plus, the neighboring bungalow is several yards over on the
connecting pier. I can’t see them from this angle and I doubt they can see
me. It’ll be good pretending no one else exists for the next six weeks.
Six damn weeks.
I’ll be out of here in time for Thanksgiving. The thought depresses me.
We’ve never done a traditional family Thanksgiving, but we always had
dinner at least. What will I do this year? Volunteer instead, most likely.
On my flight here, I did a lot of thinking and decided that when I’m
back home, I’m telling my father I’m done working for him. I’ve been
trying my whole life to please him, and it’s never going to happen. So it’s
time I start living for myself. I’ll have to anyway, because once I tell my
dad I’m done, he’ll likely disown me. I try not to care about that, even
though deep down it stings.
But screw him and my brother. They can have each other. I don’t need
them. I don’t need anyone.
I was considering selling all the stuff I own and buying an RV. I’ve seen
some people do this on TikTok and never gave it any thought, but now that
I can make my own decisions, why not? Maybe I’ll spend some time
figuring out what it is I actually want from life. I’ve been following the
commands of others for so long that I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I pass the kitchen and head to the sectioned-off room in the back. My
bags are already there, along with a welcome note and a pamphlet with a
directory of people to call in case I need anything. I scoop it from the bed
and set it by the phone, shucking off my shirt and toppling onto the pillowy-
soft comforter. The linen smells like coconut and pink salt, and I inhale
deeply, chasing the scent.
I should probably take a shower before rolling around in these nice
sheets. Hopping up from my spot, I grab my bag and snag the first shirt and
boxers I see inside before stumbling to the attached bathroom. Again, not
very big, but I love the dark granite counters and matching gray walk-in
shower. It’s chic. Whoever designed these bungalows is good at their job.
After thirty minutes, I feel refreshed and decide to make quick work of
unpacking all of my stuff. I wish my phone had service. My dad must have
cut off my phone because I haven’t been able to check anything since I’ve
landed. Not that I’d have anyone to check in on me, but at least I’d be able
to watch random videos on TikTok. I mean… Stray Kids and their hip
thrusts are everything!
Taking a deep inhale, I grab a water from the fridge and down half
before walking back to my room for a nap.

WHEN I WAKE HOURS LATER, the sun is setting and I’m struck with a
hunger like I’ve never known. Making me realize I don’t even remember
when I ate last.
I grab the pamphlet and look up the room service number before calling
them on the landline. Then I order a basic cheeseburger and fries, hoping
it’ll be something they can bring quickly. I’m past the point of regular
hunger and am beginning to feel nauseated. These last few days have made
food the least of my priorities, and I’m feeling the effects of that now.
I finish the rest of my forgotten water on the nightstand, hoping it will
quell my hunger for a little while. Snagging my iPod and Beats from the
drawer, I connect them, hit shuffle, and pop in the earphones before putting
on some sweats and socks.
The array of colors as the sun sets is beautiful as it reflects off the water,
so I slide open the back door and slip outside.
The setup out here is great too, with the matching lounge chairs, mini
table, a little hammock, and small infinity pool to the side. These little
bungalows are awesome. They have everything; I just need groceries and
I’d never have to leave. Too bad I can’t just stay hidden away here forever.
The pool looks refreshing, and I squat down, testing the temperature
with my hand. It’s perfect. Standing, I wipe my hand down my pant leg,
glancing around and realize that I still can’t see the other bungalow from
where I am. I may actually be able to swim without my shirt on. I can't
think of the last time that happened. Covering my body is like second
nature to me. Even when I’m alone at home, I do it. It’s my security
blanket. Maybe once these treatments are done and I’m feeling more
confident, I can work on changing that too. It’s not like I’m ugly—not to
sound conceited, but I have a nice body. Toned from hours spent in my
home gym, and my face is handsome. My birthmark just keeps my walls
up.
Who would want to see my body when I don’t even want to see it myself?
And so the cycle of self-hate continues.
Pushing the thoughts away, I fall back onto a lounge chair, trying to
clear my head. The whole point of being here is to decompress, and that’s
what I plan to do. Or try to at least. I just need to flip a switch inside my
brain to shut the fucker up.
The song “Unwell” by Tawnted begins to play and I almost snort at the
irony. I’m mentally unwell, trapped at some elite rehab resort in the middle
of the ocean needing to get my shit together.
I hit skip four times before admitting defeat and snagging the buds from
my ears. Music is supposed to be my escape, but lately, it’s been hitting too
close to home. I should have downloaded a happy playlist or something to
balance the moodiness on this thing.
I stand and get about two feet before I come to a dead stop. “Oh, hell
no,” I whisper, taking in the monkey that’s perched by the open sliding
door. I don’t do animals. Sure, they’re cute in pictures and I’ll donate to the
Animal Society any day, but having them up close and personal is a big no.
“Alright, little guy. Why don’t you just head back to your home, okay? You
won’t have any trouble from me. I promise.”
He takes a little step toward me and I take a step back, barely missing
the chair. “Shit.” I drop my iPod and buds on the chair, putting my hands up
in surrender. “Nice, monkey. I won’t hurt you.” My voice is squeaky and I
feel sweat breaking out across my forehead when he takes another step
forward. Fuck, is he going to attack me? I’m probably going to get rabies or
something.
He does a little hop thing in my direction next and I squeal, stumbling
back and falling into the pool behind me. I have a moment of panic when
my back hits the water, expecting to be clawed at in the next minute, and I
flap my arms around trying to get to the top, breaking the surface with a fit
of coughs.
 “Are you okay?” a young guy asks as he bounds from inside the house
to the stairs of the pool. Where the hell did he come from? How did he get
in? He steps in with his flip-flops on and the water dampens the bottoms of
his Khaki shorts. I look over his uniform and realize he’s a part of the staff.
My eyes bounce around in terror despite my coughing fit. “Mon… key,”
I get out, waving my hand in the air.
The guy looks at me confused for a second before he chuckles a bit.
“Oh, sorry. You’re talking about Bob.” He shrugs, grabbing my arm and
helping me up the pool steps. My body feels heavy under the layers of wet
clothing. I look around, searching out the little devil when the guy’s words
register.
Wait, did he just say Bob? “I’m sorry, who’s Bob?”
“The monkey,” he says, then he’s running inside and coming back out
with towels a few seconds later. “I’ll bring you more towels from room
service. These are all you have for now.” He holds out his arm, producing
me two hand towels which I take.
“I think I got water in my ear, or my brain has stopped working. Either
way, I misunderstood. I thought you said the monkey’s name was Bob.” I
push out a laugh, giving my head a shake as I drag the towel down my
damp hair. I’m losing it.
“Oh, no. You’re right. I did. Bob the monkey is an island staple. He’s
Holden’s.”
My towel-filled hand falls to my side in an instant, nervousness taking
over. What if he’s crazy? Really, maybe he is. Look where I am. He’s
probably from the rehab side. Bet he snatched an employee's uniform and is
on the run. Not like he’ll get far; we’re literally in the middle of nowhere.
Doesn't mean he can’t kill me, though.
“Listen, man. I don’t want—”
“Anyway, sorry.” He chuckles. “You’re probably hungry. I set your food
on the counter for you. I’ll run and grab you some towels and drop them off
in a bit. Do you need me to get you anything else while I’m gone?” My
mind is spinning from the subject change, so I shake my head as I try to
catch up. “Great. Well, Mr. O’Kane, I’m John, and I’ll be your primary
butler while you’re here. If you think of anything else you need, let me
know anytime.”
Then he backs away, leaving me soaking wet and lost in my thoughts.
Where the hell did I get shipped off to?
CHAPTER FIVE
 AUSTIN

A fter another shower, and being one-hundred percent certain the

monkey was not hiding in my bungalow, I scarfed down my very
cold burger and fries. It was still delicious despite not being warm.
Stupid monkey ruined my dinner.
The rest of my evening was pretty uneventful, and I ended up falling
asleep on the couch while watching some Netflix.
The next day was pretty much the same. Me lying around my bungalow
and then swimming a little in the pool—with my shirt on. I wasn’t ballsy
enough to take it off yet. Maybe that’ll be a goal of mine I can work toward
over the next few weeks. It really sucks that my laser treatments will be put
on hold while I’m here. It’s going to set me back a bit. Such bullshit.
Now here it is, day four and I’m going out of my mind with boredom.
How am I going to do this for the next several weeks? There are limited
channels on the TV, leaving me with minimal options on what to watch, and
I can’t scroll aimlessly on TikTok because there’s no cell service. I found a
deck of cards in the kitchen drawer yesterday, but you can only play
solitaire so many times… I attempted to build a house with them but only
managed to get it two levels high before they all fell down. Clearly, that’s
not for me.
John keeps trying to push me to go explore and I think I’m finally going
to cave. I pull on a pair of jeans and a high-necked tee, wishing for not the
first time that I’d brought shorts with me. It’s so damn hot outside.
I finish getting ready, reflexively grabbing my pointless phone and
wallet before heading out onto the pier. The sky is clear, almost matching
the crystal blue ocean water. It’s breathtaking. I take in a deep breath,
loving the mix of coconut and ocean smell. I wish I could bottle that natural
scent because the artificial ones aren’t the same.
I wander to the end of the pier and pull out my phone to snap some
pictures, then I head back the way I came on my first day, taking the path
through the canopy of trees and getting some cool shots of the sun peeking
through the palm leaves.
There’s a fork at the end of the walkway and I head down the right path,
knowing the left will lead me back to the check-in point.
I’m on the beach in a matter of steps and the sand beneath my feet
makes walking in boat shoes difficult, so I kick them off and leave them by
the entrance. I doubt anyone will take them.
That monkey, however… I peek around, searching it out. I’m
overreacting. That monkey is probably long gone by now.
Rolling up my jeans to just above my ankles, I walk along the
moistened sand, letting the water run over the tops of my feet. I’m trying
really hard to relax and enjoy the fact that I no longer have obligations, but
it’s so hard to shut off that part of my brain. Especially because I know I’m
not here on vacation. I’m here because I was set up by the one person in the
world who was supposed to have my back.
I still can’t make sense of it all. Usually, if I offend or piss someone off,
I know it, there are glaringly obvious signs. But I’ve been thinking about
this for days and I’ve got nothing.
Aaron and I couldn’t be more different if we tried. It’s been that way for
as long as I can remember. When we were kids, it was small things, like
candy and superhero preferences. Then, as we got older, we did our own
thing. He was big on sports and I was on the yearbook committee. Aaron
was prom king, and I was valedictorian. He was always surrounded by
friends and I was nose deep in a book. Things that molded us to be
completely different adults.
Despite all that, though, he still had my back. He never let the kids bully
me, never let Dad be too hard on me. Hell, he took a few beatings for me
when we were young. So I’m truly lost about it all. I’ve gone through all the
possibilities of how the photos came to be. The biggest one that comes to
mind is that it’s fake. I’ve turned the idea over in my head a dozen times,
wanting desperately for there to be another explanation. There isn’t one
though and once again I’m back at square one, devastated by the betrayal. It
doesn’t help that he never answered my calls that day, either.
 The breeze ruffles my shirt, sliding across the sweaty skin of my back,
giving me a little reprieve from the scorching sun. I try to keep my mind off
how miserably hot it is, taking photos instead. There’s a few guys in the
distance surfing and I get a few good shots of them riding the waves. After
that, the pictures are basically all just aesthetic ones. Rocky cliffs in the
distance, footprints in the sand, waves crashing, and booths set up with
things you can rent.
I’m so lost in taking photos that I’m not paying enough attention to my
surroundings. One second I’m backing up, trying to get a landscape shot of
the whole beach. The next, my calves hit a solid object, causing me to
stumble back. Then my phone goes flying, landing in the sand a few feet
away, and I fall on top of something…
Not something.
Someone!
I hear his harsh grunt as my entire weight lands on top of him, and I do
this awkward tuck-and-roll thing, trying to move quickly but end up rolling
off his beach chair and onto the sand.
“Ow,” I mutter, cringing as the sand bites into the skin of my forearms. I
manage to push myself up, settling on my shins as I look at my lightly
scraped skin. Wincing, I brush away the speckles of sand. It’s not bad, it
just stings like a bitch.
“You okay?” a deep voice says from beside me. Damn, his tone is rich
and thick. I lick my lips when the realization that I’m going to have to talk
to him hits me. It takes everything I possess to not scurry away like a damn
mouse. This is one of my least favorite things—talking to people I don’t
know. Especially one that I embarrassed myself in front of.
My cheeks heat as embarrassment takes over, and I mentally facepalm.
Why, Austin, why? Literally, an almost vacant beach and somehow I trip
over the one other person in my vicinity.
“Sorry. I didn’t…” My words come to a dead stop as I make eye contact
with the most intense set of brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Holy Shit. My throat
instantly feels tight at his predatory stare. Good God. He looks like he’s
looking through me. He cocks a brow with amusement and swivels around,
sliding to the edge of his seat as he waits for me to continue.
Great, he probably thinks I’m an idiot and he wouldn’t be wrong. I feel
pretty stupid right now. Can we just rewind the last five minutes and this
moment never have happened? That’d be nice. “Sorry,” I whisper, standing
to my full height and dusting off my legs. “I wasn’t paying attention. Are
you okay?” I give my hands an awkward shake at my sides, not knowing
what to do with them. My tone’s a bit shaky and squeaky and I’m fighting
the urge to run away because of how intimidating this guy is. This is my
luck though, the kind of thing that would only happen in the movies, or to
me!
He smirks, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug, and that’s when I realize
his shoulder is bare. He’s bare everywhere up top. My eyes glide over him
slowly, tracking over his chest and abs while I’m at it. Jesus, he’s tan, fit,
and I’m suddenly really damn thirsty. There’s a bar not far from where I’m
at. Maybe I should get some water…
The sound of him clearing his throat breaks through my wandering
thoughts and my gaze snaps to his knowing look. Jesus, get a grip. I just got
caught checking him out, and I officially need to get the hell out of here.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. Like I said, I’m fine.”
He said he was fine? When? God, how zoned out was I just now? Why
is he affecting me like this? He’s a hot guy. I see dozens a day back home,
this is nothing new. So why is this happening right now?
“Right.” I grab my forgotten phone from the ground and hitch my
thumb over my shoulder, already walking backwards to get away from this
man before I embarrass myself more.
“What’s your name?” he questions, bracing his elbows on his knees as
he stares at me with those damn eyes. Eyes that suck me in and make me
stupid. Note to self: never date a man with eyes like this. You’ll spend half
your time lost to the world.
He’s staring at me, patiently waiting, and I realize I’ve just done it
again. I’m screwed. No coming back from this. I shouldn’t even tell him my
name. I should make my escape while I can, but that just seems rude. So in
the end, I tell him. “Austin.”
His smile widens, and he stands, closing the small gap I made between
us. He walks like a cat. Slow, measured, precise. Like he’s stalking his prey
—stalking me. I’m the prey. Oh, fuck.
My eyes scan the length of him and my earlier assessment didn’t do him
justice. He’s not just hot, he’s stunning, with thick, rich brown hair that’s
short on the sides and longer on top. The kind you get lost playing with
because it feels so good between your fingers. He’s got a dimple on the
right side of his cheek and a jaw cut from stone. He’s almost too handsome
to look at, but at the same time, I can’t look away.
“Nice to meet you, Austin.” The throaty way he says my name makes
my skin pebble with awareness. Damn, I want to hear him say it again and
again. He offers me his hand and I take it, trying not to gasp at the heat
seeping from his palm to mine.
I need a drink. Right. Now.
“Right.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, tugging my hand from
his. “I’m just gonna—”
“Beck.”
My brow lifts in confusion. “What?”
That blinding, white smile of his spreads more and I’m tempted to lean
in and taste it. “My name. It’s Beck.”
My thoughts come to a screeching halt and it's like I’m doused with a
bucket of ice water. I should not be thinking of him this way. I don’t even
know him. Jesus, what is wrong with me? Now we really can add rude to
the list. “Look, I’m usually not like this. I think the sun is getting to me.”
Then gesture to myself for effect. “I’m going to go. It was nice meeting
you, Beck. Sorry for the trouble.”
I don't give him time to respond. Hell, I doubt he’d have anything to say
after that train wreck of a meeting, anyway. Deciding I’ve had enough
exploring time for one day, I briskly walk back to my bungalow, trying to
push Beck and those smoldering brown eyes from my mind.
CHAPTER SIX
 BECKETT

I think Black Diamond is the most surreal experience I’ve ever had.
First things first, the bungalow I’m staying in is better than any five-
star hotel. It’s equipped with anything I’d need and things I never knew
I did. Like the heated floors in the bathroom, I tried those after my shower
last night—incredible. That’s going to be on my goals list. Buy a place with
heated floors.
Also, I have a personal infinity pool. I mean, I don’t know how all the
other bungalows are here, but if they’re all fully loaded, like mine, I can
understand why this place is so expensive.
The people that claim money won’t buy you happiness have never had
more money than they know what to do with. Let’s be honest, money could
buy me a lot of things and those things would make me happy. I sound like
an asshole and maybe I am, but at least I’m an honest asshole, which is
more than I can say for most people.
I’m currently sitting at Midnight Lounge, the resort bar, sipping on a
margarita as I people watch. The atmosphere surrounding the bar is a good
one. The scenery is pretty, with the trees and clear water; you can even see
the fish and wildlife swimming just past the pier.
My mind drifts to my encounter with Austin yesterday and I feel a smile
tug at my lips. He was nothing like I expected, especially after seeing him
and Zander’s interaction that night at the Lotus Lounge.
Cool indifference, lack of emotion, and a fuck off demeanor is what I
prepared myself for. Instead, I got timid, demure, and anxious. Add in the
fact he was looking at me like a blushing virgin… It threw me for a loop.
That’s not something that happens to me—being surprised by people. And I
think that’s why I’m even more interested in Austin O’Kane than I was
before. I want to dive inside his brain and learn everything I can about him.
What makes him tick, smile, sad, exhilarated. Give me everything.
I want to know him, and I never want to know anyone. It’s not my MO.
I’m not a relationship guy. I’m not even talking about just dating either; I
mean all avenues of companionship. The only reason I have Cole and
Darren in my life is because they’ve been with me long before I threw up
the Great Wall of China around my heart.
We were three kids getting bounced around in the system like rubber
balls because no one wants teenagers. We weren’t always at the same place,
but kept up with each other on Facebook whenever we could.
They aged out first, pooled their money, and rented a cheap two-
bedroom apartment. When I finally did a few months after, I didn’t have
much to contribute, but they never cared. Letting me take permanent
residence on the busted-up couch I bought for their living room while I
saved money working two jobs and getting my GED. It was a struggle, but
we all survived together and raised each other, too. Thinking back, I know I
wouldn’t have survived without them, and honestly, I wouldn’t have wanted
to.
They’re my found family.
I tip back the rest of my drink, wishing I’d opted for something stronger
than this.
As if sensing my need for something else, Holden, the bartender, comes
over. He’s attractive and if I hadn’t heard him mention a boyfriend already,
I’d be trying to pick him up for a little fun.
He leans forward, bracing his elbows on the counter in front of me, and
gives me a toothy smile. “Are you ready for another drink, Mr. Taylor?”
I look down at my glass, contemplating it. I could go for something
different. “How about a shot?”
He raps a knuckle on the bar top, motioning toward the line of liquor
bottles. “Anything specific?”
“Surprise me.”
“That I can do.” He grabs a mixing tin, throwing in some ingredients
before cupping it and giving it a shake. “Hope you like fruity.”
His teasing tone makes me wonder if he’s meaning the shot or asking if
I’m into dudes. Both are accurate, so I run with it. “Fruity is good.”
 He releases a belly laugh, straining the shot out into a glass and sliding
it over to me. “Glad you have a sense of humor. A lot of people don’t these
days. Where are you from?”
“California.”
He gives me a nod while busying himself with cleaning up. “Nice. Hot
there?”
“Eighty-five percent of the year, yeah.”
“I’ve heard that, never been myself. Though, I live with the heat
everyday so it can’t be much worse.”
Now that’s true. I wonder if they ever have seasonal changes here, so I
ask him.
“It stays relatively warm most of the year. We see more rain around
December/January, but mostly the weather is nice.”
That’s what I’m used to, mostly. I think that’s another reason I’m
looking forward to going to New York. I’m finally going to see snow.
“What about you? Where are you from?”
“That’s a loaded question.” He pauses, thinking it over. “I’m not really
from anywhere. My last residence was New York City.”
“Ah, a city boy. I plan on moving there in a few months.” As soon as
I’m back from Black Diamond. I can’t wait. This work-vacation and then
moving should help lift me from the funk I’ve gotten myself locked in.
“Oh, yeah? For work?”
I think back to my conversation with Marshal before I left, reminding
me to be vague about my job. Obviously, no one can know what I do, so I
need to tread with caution. “Just helping out with some company financials.
I don’t know how permanent it’ll be.” That was a good lie, I think.
He nods, grabbing a beer for another guest across the bar before coming
back to me. “That’s cool. So you’re like a fixer. One of those corporate guys
who buys a company that’s failing; turns it around and makes it profitable
again?”
Oh, that’s a good cover. Thanks, Holden!
“Something like that…” I trail off, looking down at the shot he gave me.
“What is this anyway?”
“It’s called a ring around the raspberry bush. Pretty standard. Raspberry
liqueur and vodka. I add a splash of cranberry and grenadine to give it a
pop. It’s a staple. Everyone loves it.”
 I bring it to my nose, catching the berry scent, and my mouth waters at
the tang. “I’m sure it’s delicious, it smells like it is.”
He raps the counter with a knuckle, giving me an encouraging nod.
“Well, don’t leave me hanging. Try it.”
So I do. “Damn,” I mutter, smacking my lips together. “That was good.”
“And dangerous,” an older brunette woman says, sitting down next to
me. “You have to be mindful of that hundred proof. It’ll sneak up on you
quickly.”
I lean over, giving her my most charming smile. “You sound like you’re
speaking from experience.”
Holden produces a martini out of nowhere, then gives it to her. She
reminds me a little bit of Shirley MacLaine. I watch as she gives him a wad
of cash that he tucks in his pocket, and my eyes widen at the quick
exchange. What the hell is in that drink, gold flakes?
“Holden here makes a mean cocktail,” she says as if reading my mind
before tossing me a wink, tipping back her martini in one go, and
impressing the hell out of me. Who’s grandma is this? “Hate to drink and
run, but my husband's waiting.” She hops down from the seat, adjusting her
clothes.
“Golf again?” Holden questions, and I smirk at their exchange. Clearly,
they have some kind of system established and I’m eager to know more.
“Worse, tennis.” She sticks out her tongue and releases a little grunt,
immediately becoming the best person I’ve met here so far.
“My condolences.” Holden sighs, dropping his voice as if to whisper.
“Sneak down to me after. I’ll take care of you.”
She throws her hand up in the air as if she’s praying and I bite down on
my lip, trying not to laugh. “Bless you. I wish I could take you with me
when I go home. Are you sure you can’t be bribed? I’ll triple your salary.”
Well, damn. I’ll come work for you, Grandma.
He laughs, but his eyes glaze over when he declines her offer. “My heart
is here. I’d be lost without him.” Well, that was sweet. And extremely
unexpected. As an outsider looking in, I have to admit I’d take the money.
If his relationship is that strong, they’d still find a way to make it work, but
whatever. That’s not my business, and I don’t know anything about being in
a relationship.
“Fine, I’ll accept that for now, but don’t think I won’t ask again. I still
have a week before we leave.”
 His whimsical laugh rings out and he humors her. “I’d expect nothing
less.”
With one last wave, she’s gone, and I cock a brow at Holden. “She’s
something.”
“Isn’t she? Her husband doesn’t like her to drink during the day because
he says she gets too loose-lipped. So she sneaks down here several times a
day for a comfort martini. Cracks me up.”
“She’s a firecracker. Her husband should embrace it, let her be. I bet
he’d have more fun.” One can only hope to have a partner so down to earth.
“I know, right? I agree.” Then his eyes do that glazed over thing again,
probably thinking about his boyfriend. I can’t imagine being so wrapped up
in someone like that. It seems so inconvenient… But again, not my
business.
He makes me another margarita before moving to take care of another
guest, and my focus once again strays to the water. My stomach grumbles,
reminding me that I haven’t had dinner yet. I’m about to ask him for a menu
when I’m cut off by a shy tone I recognize quickly, even though I’ve only
heard it a few times.
“Can I get a seven and seven, please?”
Austin O’Kane.
My head snaps to my left and I take in the profile of Austin O’Kane.
He’s wearing the same type of high-necked shirt as yesterday, just a
different color, and blue jeans. Damn, who wears jeans on the beach? My
eyes trail down to his shoes—the ones he left on the beach yesterday. I’m
glad John was able to get them back to him.
Our initial meeting was up to chance… or maybe even luck. Who
knows? I do know though the second I spotted him, I couldn’t tear my gaze
away. He seemed so lost. In all ways. If I’m honest, I probably could have
warned him before he tripped over my chair. Hell, I don’t know why I
didn’t either. I just let it happen.
“Austin, right?” I find myself saying before I have a chance to think it
over. I feel the desire to talk.
His head whips around to look at me, eyes widening, like he didn’t
realize I was here. “Oh. Um, hi, Beck.”
The fact he remembers my name makes my stomach do some weird flip
thing. Wait, maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten. That’d make more sense.
 Holden places his drink down in front of him. “What’s your bungalow
number?”
Austin tells him and my eyes nearly bug out of my head because out of
all the bungalows on the island, he’s in the one directly beside mine? What
are the odds?
Holden enters the number on his kiosk before grabbing a menu and
putting it down in front of Austin. “Thank you, Mr. O’Kane. I’m Holden.
You’re welcome to eat at any of the restaurants, but here’s a menu in case
you want to order something out here. Everything is included, so don’t
hesitate to let me know if something interests you.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, flipping the page over.
“Are you hungry?” I lean into his space, not sure why I do this, but
when I catch a bit of his cologne, I can’t find it in me to pull back. It’s nice,
and I’m tempted to bury my face in his neck to chase the sweet scent. My
eyes drag over the appetizer page and my stomach growls again. “I was
thinking of getting something myself.” He doesn’t say anything and I tilt
my head, only to realize we’re practically nose to nose as he stares at me
with wide eyes. I jerk back in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd you.”
He blinks, eyes bouncing around every square inch of my face as his
tongue snakes out to wet his lips and I track the movement. “It’s fine,” he
rasps, turning back to the menu. Damn, is he affected too?
“You want your own menu?” Holden asks, reminding me of his
presence. What in the hell is the matter with me?
“I think I’m good. Saw fish tacos. I’ll get those, please.”
“Gotcha. Anything for you, Mr. O’Kane?”
“Yes, please. Shrimp cocktail and an avocado salad would be great.” He
closes his menu and then hands it back to Holden.
What the hell is an avocado salad?
“Perfect. Got those in for both of you. They’ll bring it out soon. Ready
for another drink, Mr. Taylor?”
“That’d be good. Thanks.”
“I’ll take one too,” Austin throws out before gulping down his seven
and seven quickly.
I cock a brow, eyeing his now empty glass. “Thirsty?”
His cheeks flush and he shrugs. “Something like that.”
Holden gives us our drinks before disappearing to help other guests,
leaving us in awkward silence. My mind spins as I try to think of what to
say next. I never have trouble with things like this. Conversations, meeting
people, small talk… It's a part of my job. Yet here comes Austin, making
me lose my head. What is it about him that makes me so scatterbrained?
“Thanks for getting my shoes back to me,” he finally says, breaking the
awkwardness. Thank God.
“I saw you come onto the beach yesterday. There weren't a lot of people
around and you caught my eye…” I trail off when his body stiffens. Damn,
way to make myself seem like a stalker. “When you left without them, I just
asked a staff member to get them back to you. Glad to see they were
successful.”
He nods, taking a long drink from his cup. “They were.”
“How’s your bungalow?”
His eyes sweep to me and I see the questions swimming there. Damn,
he’s expressive. Another thing I didn’t pick up on that night at the Lotus
Lounge. “It’s fine.” Come on, give me more than that. He looks more than
ready to flee and my ego is taking a little hit by the lack of conversation.
“Yeah,” I push on, needing the conversation to continue for whatever
reason. “Mine’s nice too. Can you believe it has heated floors in the
bathroom? I discovered it yesterday.”
“Oh.” He pauses, giving me a shrug. “I didn't realize that. Maybe mine
doesn’t have that feature.”
“Well, if not, you can always come try mine.” No sooner than the words
are past my lips, I wish I could reach out, snatch them from the air, and
shove them back into my mouth. What in the actual hell, Beck?
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head vigorously. “Um, I’m okay.
Thanks though,” he mutters while shifting away a bit, and who could blame
him? I sound like a weirdo.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” I chuckle, reaching up to fiddle the
collar of my Tommy Bahama shirt, needing something to do with my
hands. “It came out wrong.”
“Mm-hmm.” He tips back the rest of his drink, signaling for Holden to
get him one more, and I’m close to asking for a whole bottle.
What in the world is happening to me right now?
CHAPTER SEVEN
 AUSTIN

I peek at Beck from the corner of my eye, trying like hell to chase away
the nerves. Did he really ask me to come test out his shower? If I hadn’t
already ordered my food, I’d have run back to my room by now.
I’m socially awkward and he’s strange, two things that don’t blend well
together. We should probably separate as soon as possible before anything
else happens. I can tell he’s wanting to say more, but I pray he doesn’t.
Let’s just let the moment dissolve and forget it ever happened, for both our
sakes.
I’m starting to feel buzzed by the time my food gets here, not surprising
considering I’m not a big drinker. I have one, maybe two, during social
events and I’ve already had more than double that.
Our food arrives and I try to stay mindful of my manners while I eat,
but it’s difficult with the alcohol muddling my brain.
“Is your food okay?” Holden asks, giving me a water.
“It’s great. Can I have one more drink?” Why not?! I’m already close to
being drunk, so I might as well just tip over the edge. It’s fine. I almost
laugh at the thought, but catch it before it bubbles out. I don’t need to add
anything else to the odd dynamic Beck and I seem to be locked in.
Holden makes me another drink and I finish it off, along with the rest of
my food.
I feel warm, my insides tingly, and I shove my finger into my mouth,
touching my gums. They’re numb. The biggest sign I drank too much,
besides the obvious.
“You okay?” Beck asks, and I can’t help but smile. It’s kind of sweet
that he’s checking on me.
 “Yeah, feeling the drink now… You have really intense eyes, you
know,” I mutter, reaching up and poking him on the forehead. He looks
stunned, but I push on. “You don’t have to look at me like you’re trying to
read my mind. It’s creepy.” Okay, so maybe it’s not creepy, but it’s
definitely nerve-wracking. And my nerves are bad enough on their own,
without adding anything extra to the mix.
His brows lift and I hear someone chuckle. Probably Holden watching
this disaster unfold. Usually, I’d be embarrassed, but the liquor has lowered
all my pretenses, and I honestly just don’t give a fuck.
“Most people find my eyes charming.” He gives me a little eye waggle
for emphasis.
I snort, shaking my head a little too hard, and the world spins. Damn, I
shouldn't do that again. “They lie. They’re soul-sucking.” I lean in, holding
his gaze like I’m trying to look inside his own head. “The kind of eyes that
you lose yourself in.” I sigh. “It’s overwhelming. Too bad too. You’re very
handsome.” Yup, I’m officially done. Need to leave ASAP.
“You just described the perfect movie boyfriend. People love intense
eyes. Did you watch Vampire Diaries? Damon did it right.”
You know, now that he’s mentioned it… I do see the Damon Salvatore
Resemblance.
“Yeah, and Damon did that weird hypnotizing thing, too. Put people
under spells and shit. I don’t want to be locked in a spell. I want to be free.”
The last word comes out too loudly, and I glance around to make sure no
one is paying me any attention before looking at him again. “Plus, Damon
killed people.” I lean in, dropping my voice a bit and tapping his chest
softly. “Are you a killer, Beck? If so, can you be a good killer, like Dexter?
Only hurt the bad guys? Then I know I’ll be okay. I haven’t done anything
wrong. I even donate to charities and help the needy.”
Somewhere in my mind I know I sound like I’m setting up a really bad
Tinder profile, but this about me section won’t have anyone swiping right…
or is it left? Do you swipe with Tinder?
Beck laughs, shaking his head with amusement. “I can promise you, I
don’t kill people.”
“Good,” I start, blinking rapidly to try to focus. “That’s really good.” I
give his arm a pat. His intense two-eyed stare has now turned to four and I
can’t handle that. It’s time to go. I stand from my chair, but my legs don’t
cooperate and I’m instantly back on the barstool. Shit.
 He reaches out to steady me, looking concerned. “You okay?”
Nodding to Beck, I stand up again, bracing my hand on the bar for
support. “Fine. Just trying to get my sea legs…. Would it be sea legs though
if we’re on the ocean? Or wait, maybe it’d be liquor legs.” I snap my
fingers on my free hand. “That’s it. Liquor legs. It even sounds better.” My
words are starting to slur too. Damn, I hope I can make it back to my place.
I’ll just sleep it all off. It’ll be fine.
There’s that word again. Fine.
“Here, let me help you.” Beck stands, and I try to shake my head, but it
ends up making me dizzy. “It’s fine. I’m heading that way too. I’ll just drop
you off at your door.”
“Oh, you’re leaving too? Okay. Only if you promise you’re not a serial
killer. I want my organs to stay inside my body.” I give my stomach a pat
for effect. Leave them all where they’re supposed to be.
He laughs before tossing some bills on the counter and exchanging a
few words with Holden. I try to focus on what they’re saying, but my brain
isn't processing right now. Then Beck puts his arm around my shoulder,
helping me stand. “Lean against me.”
“I thought I was.”
“Come on, lightweight. Let’s get you back to your place,” he teases, and
I attempt to swat him in the chest with my free hand, only to fail miserably.
“I’m not a lightweight. I just don’t drink much.”
I swear I hear him laugh again. Does he do anything else besides that?
No one can be that happy all the time. “And those aren’t the same thing?”
His voice sounds laced with sarcasm, but I can’t be too sure with how loopy
I feel.
Okay. Maybe the alcohol was a bad idea.
I stumble three times in a two-minute span and Beck helps me balance
against a tree before spinning around and squatting. “Wrap your arms
around my neck and I’ll carry you.”
“Yeah, no thanks. I’m not five and I don’t want a piggyback ride. You’ll
drop me.”
“I won't. I'm sure I bench press more than you.” He says a bit too
cockily.
He’s acting like I’m some scrawny guy. I’ve got a bit of muscle. Thank
you very much.
 I snort. “Doubt that. I’m leaner than I look.” My eyes fall closed as I
lean against the tree, wondering if I can sleep sitting up.
“It’s either this or I carry you bridal style. You choose.”
“Okay, geez. I’ll jump on, hold your horses.” Placing my hands on his
shoulders, I inhale deeply. “You better not drop me.” Then I’m hopping up
with the same skill level as a newborn kitten. He manages to grab my
thighs, jumping up to bounce me higher up his back, but I almost lose my
hold on his shoulders in the process. “Hey!” I shriek, tightening my arms
around his neck. “A little warning.”
“But did you fall?” he throws back, sounding hoarse, and I realize I’ve
got a choke hold on his throat.
Lord, if you’re listening, kill me now. End me. I can’t bear this
embarrassment any longer.
“Shit, sorry.” I shift my hands to grip his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Clearly he is, considering he’s already walking again, but I have to ask
because I feel bad.
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
His tone is teasing, but I want to know more. “Worse than choking?”
He pauses for a moment and I think I may have hit a nerve.
Damn it, Lord, did you not hear me?
“You call that choking?” he says, and I let out a relieved sigh, thankful I
didn’t upset him.
“So, should I be offended? I had most of my weight on your throat just
now… Did it really not hurt you?”
He shakes his head, shifting me a little. “I think maybe you should take
a self-defense class. That was a terrible choke hold.” This asshole.
“Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re so funny. I could kick your butt if I tried.”
Doubtful. Very damn doubtful.
He gives my thigh a squeeze, and the sensation almost makes me groan
in pleasure. Now I want a massage. I bet he’d be good at giving those. Too
bad you have to take off your clothes in order to get one. “I like this
confident side, it suits you. Maybe you should drink more often.”
“Maybe I need a personality transplant,” I mutter, letting my head fall
forward to rest on his shoulder.
“That seems drastic.” His voice rumbles up through his chest and that,
mixed with the swaying of his steps, is causing my eyes to fall shut.
 I try to speak, but my voice no longer wants to work. I feel good, like
I’m floating. He continues to talk but I don’t understand what he’s saying,
so I just hum my agreements during every pause.
This was stupid. The drinks, letting a stranger take me back to my
secluded bungalow, falling asleep in the process… But all of that is for
future Austin to worry about. Hopefully. As long as current Austin isn’t
walking into Dexter’s murder room. Despite the turn of my thoughts, I snort
before everything goes black.

I DON’T FEEL like shit when I wake up. That’s the first surprise. The
second is waking up in my bed at all. I thought Beck would just drop me off
on my couch and call it a night, but he really got me inside and all the way
back to my room. I’m still fully clothed with my phone and wallet in my
pockets, so I know nothing more happened.
Despite my ridiculous babbling yesterday, I didn’t think he’d actually
do anything. He’s intense, definitely, but he’s not scary. Plus, Holden saw us
together. If Beck had killed me, he wouldn't have gotten away with it. My
mind is a weird place. Why am I still thinking about being murdered? I feel
like I’ve been stuck on that a lot lately.
Shaking my head, I order breakfast before taking a quick shower.
I've barely got my pants on when the knock sounds on my door. Damn,
that was fast. I pull on my shirt and head to the door. My hair is a damp
mess and I drag a hand through the locks, trying to tame it before tugging
open the handle.
“John, you’re early I—You’re not John.”
Dressed in a pair of pink flamingo swim shorts and a white tank is
Beck. “Not John.” He smirks, eyes roaming over me as a frown takes over.
“You can’t go paddle boating like that. You’ll be hot.”
I look down at my jeans and shirt in confusion. “What?” What’s he
talking about?
“Oh, Austin, I’m wounded,” he mock-pouts. “Don’t tell me you forgot
about our date?”
“Date?” I blurt out in horror. When the hell did we agree to a date? I
was drunk last night, but no way was I that drunk.
 “Ouch! Hit him while he’s down.” He grabs his chest, trying to feign
hurt, but that’s really hard to buy when he’s in a pair of bird shorts. I mean,
where did he even buy those?
“Flamingos, huh?” I choose to ignore everything else because no way
am I going anywhere with him…
“You like them?” He beams, grabbing the band and giving it a snap, and
my eyes track the movement a bit too closely. “I have a pair with ducks if
you want to borrow them. We’ll look like quite a pair on the paddle boat.”
I snort, slowly shaking my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Well, the offer stands.”
I see John walking down the dock and motion for Beck to come inside
so John can bring in my tray. He does, sitting down on the couch just as
John crosses the threshold.
“Mr. Taylor, I wasn’t aware you were here with Mr. O’Kane. I’d have
brought breakfast for you, too.”
“It’s fine. I ate already.”
I cock a brow, taking the tray from John and place it on the table before
passing him a tip. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. You gentlemen have a good day. Let me know if you
need anything else, Mr. O’Kane.” Then he backs out, shutting the door
behind him with a knowing look on his face. Hmm. What was that about?
“What time did you wake up?” I open the lid and snag a piece of bacon,
shoving half into my mouth in one go. Mmm. It’s so good. My eyes close as
I enjoy the salty goodness.
“I’m an early riser. I hit the gym already.”
Oh, I didn’t realize there was a gym here. I need to have a better look at
that brochure.
Also, when the hell did he get closer? My eyes snap open, and I watch
as he takes a piece of my toast from the tray.
I roll my eyes, gesturing to my plate. “Sure, help yourself, even though I
thought you ate already.”
“Thanks. I will.” He smiles, eyes holding mine as he takes a bite. When
the hell did eating bread become so attractive?
“That was sarcasm,” I quip, folding my arms over my chest like a two-
year-old. What in the hell is happening? I’m not acting like myself. He’s
making me act strange. “
 “I know.” We continue to look at each other. Him eating and me
gawking before I finally break the trance and grab more bacon. “Are you
really going paddle boating in jeans? You’re going to get hot.”
“About that. I’m going to pass.” I shove the food into my mouth,
moaning because damn, it’s just so good.
“Nope, denied.”
“You can’t just—”
An evil gleam takes over those brown eyes, and he leans a hip against
the corner of the table as he drops the first bomb of the day. “You told me
last night you were going to try to back out and made me promise I
wouldn’t let you. So too bad. You’re stuck now.”
I’m too stunned to speak. No way that’s true. “I did not.”
“You so did. Made me pinky promise and everything.” Jesus! He snags
another piece of my toast. “Now, eat! We have fish to catch.”
“Fish? I don’t know how to fish!” I’ve never had anyone to take me,
even though I’ve thought about it a time or two.
He gives me a knowing look before popping the last bit of toast in his
mouth. “I know. You told me last night you wanted to try it. Now come on.
We have to rent all our stuff before it’s gone for the day.” He’s so boyish,
like a kid in a candy store, and I smile despite my inner freak-out.
Fishing? We’re going fishing? On a paddle boat? With live bait?
This just keeps getting better and better.
CHAPTER EIGHT
 BECKETT

O kay, so when I said paddle boat, I thought we were talking about the
ones with the foot pedals. I didn’t realize they met the small wooden
ones with oars. I guess it’s a good thing though, because no way
would we have been able to fit this fishing stuff on a pedal boat.
I never in a million years thought I’d be fishing with Austin O'Kane, but
here we are. He’s cute as hell in an orange life vest, holding his fishing pole
with two hands while he stares intently at the little bobber in the water.
“You’re tense. Fishing is supposed to be relaxing,” I tell him, resting my
pole between my parted knees.
“How could you relax knowing any minute something could grab your
pole and snatch it from you? I’ve seen Hardliners, I know how it works.”
I can’t help it, I snort. He needs a chill pill. “You’re talking about
professional fishermen. People who do this for a living. Of course it seems
more intense on TV. Not to mention their weather conditions and how far
they are in the ocean. We’re in water that’s barely ten feet deep here.”
He shoots me a glare that I barely catch with his baseball cap sitting so
low on his face. He’s adorable. “I’m not an idiot. Obviously, I know it’s not
like the show. I just meant you never know when they’ll bite, so I want to
be prepared.”
“What if they never bite?” I ask, curious if he plans on being like this
for the entire afternoon.
“You think that will happen?”
Shrugging, I lean forward to look down through the crystal clear blue
water and don’t see much around us. “I don’t know. But it’s possible. I go
fishing pretty regularly and there’s been several times where I’ve walked
away without so much as a bite.”
He lifts his hat an inch to see me better. “You have time to fish? What
do you do for work?”
My slipup and his question is like a punch to the gut. Of course the
average millionaire doesn’t go fishing regularly, at least the famous ones I
know don’t. Stupid, Beck. Really damn stupid.
“I work in marketing.” Not a complete lie. “And when I’m off, I’m off.
Don’t take work calls, leave my phone at home. That kinda deal.” I shrug.
“I need my own time as much as the next person, you know.” That is
actually true about me. I don’t work when I’m off.
He looks impressed. “That’s awesome. I’m envious of that. If my dad
had been like that even a quarter of my childhood, I think so many things
would have been different.” He shakes his head. “Do you think your
employees struggle with your absence?”
Oh shit. We need a subject change and fast. “Considering no one really
works on the weekends, I don’t think so. I guess it just depends on who you
ask,” I answer vaguely.
“True. Everyone views things differently. Perspectives and stuff could
vary...” he trails off, and I take advantage of that, steering us in a different
direction. A safer direction.
“So, you’ve never been fishing. What about camping?”
He bites down on his lip, sliding his cap down again. “Um, like, with a
tent?”
“Yeah. Where you cook over an open fire, go hiking, tell ghost stories,
roast s’mores. All those fun things.” I never went camping as a kid but as
adults, Cole, Darren, and I have gone a few times. It was fun and we have
plans to do it again before I head to New York.
“Nope. I did sleep in my uncle's RV during Christmas break one year.
Does that count?”
I bite down on my cheek, trying not to smile. “Afraid not.”
He sucks in his teeth, releasing the pole long enough to smack his leg.
“Bummer.”
Is he… teasing me? I note the small lift to his lip and smirk back at him.
He’s so surprising and cute as hell. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to find a
tent here and try it out.”
 He freezes, eyes widening with horror. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t
want to be eaten by wolves or bears. We don’t know what’s out there. We
could die. I don’t want to die.”
It takes everything in me to not laugh. He’s ridiculous and oddly
obsessed with death. “Are you always this dramatic? No one is going to die.
It'll be fine.”
“Me? It’s you who is dramatic! You and your face.” He jabs a finger in
my direction, shifting the pole to balance between his knees. “You and
those soul-sucking eyes.”
A hardy laugh tears from my lips then and I’m tempted to throw one of
these worms at him. Little shit. I reach into the water, scooping up a
handful, and toss it at him. He shrieks, trying to dodge it, but the water rains
down on him, wetting his hat and some of his vest and jeans.
“Ugh, don’t do that. Wet jeans are terrible!” he scolds, shaking off a
little water that fell on his hand.
“Why are you wearing jeans, anyway? It’s too hot for that. I can literally
feel the sweat sliding down my back.” Speaking of which. Reaching down,
I tug the bottom of my shirt up and off, throwing it on the boat floor. His
cheeks flush and I don’t know if it’s from the heat or embarrassment from
seeing me strip. Again, this is the part that confuses me. If he’s slept with
other guys, he’s definitely been close and personal with a six-pack. So why
does he seem so shy?
He doesn’t say anything for a moment and I almost think he won’t, but
then he surprises me like he keeps doing. “I don’t like showing my body.”
He fidgets with the pole anxiously, and I wonder what’s happening in his
head. Like, does he think I’ll judge him or something?
“Is that like a religious thing or…” I know it’s because of his birthmark.
He tries to hide it with his clothes, but of course I know he has it. It really
isn’t bad. Honestly, I find it kind of cool. Only ten percent of the population
have them, which makes him unique in my book.
He tilts his head, eyes searching mine; for what? I have no idea. “We
both know you’ve noticed my birthmark by now. It’s huge, flushed like a
strawberry, and impossible to miss. I appreciate you not bringing attention
to it, but I’m sure you can guess that’s why I don’t like showing my skin.
It’s on other places of my body too. It’s easier just to keep it covered.”
I bite down on my lip, trying to think of what to say. I really don’t care
about his birthmark. The problem with the world is that we’re so busy
judging people on the things they lack rather than complimenting the
positive things they have.
Austin is truly beautiful. From his brown hair to his deep blue eyes and
that insanely plump pouty bottom lip that I’ve thought about catching with
my teeth multiple times already today. Maybe I should tell him that? Not
the lip biting thing, I don’t want to creep him out again, but that he’s
attractive just the way he is. He seems like he needs an ego boost.
“Yeah, I noticed your birthmark,” I say, watching as he hunches in on
himself. I feel the need to make this better somehow, like I don’t want him
to be upset. It’s so out of character for me, but I can’t seem to stop myself
from comforting him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I also
noticed your beautiful blue eyes.” His breath stutters, but he doesn’t look at
me. “I noticed your cute button nose and perfect cupid’s bow lips.” His eyes
track over the water as his chest rises and falls rapidly. “Your birthmark
doesn’t make up who you are. It just adds to you. It’s a part of you. Why not
embrace it? So you’re a little different. Who cares? Be proud of that. Own
it.”
He finally turns to look at me, and that’s when I see the lone tear sliding
from his left eye. “If only it were that simple.” I’m assaulted with a rush of
warmth as it spreads through my chest and down into my stomach. What
the hell was that? Why does that keep happening? I wonder if the medical
station has any Tums, because I’m getting a lot of heartburn here.
“Fuck. Don’t cry. I wasn’t trying to do that.” Damn, I keep putting my
foot in my mouth. Then I lean over, rubbing the tear away, and cup his face.
I can’t believe I’m doing this; feelings are a big fuck no. So I’m shocking
myself with every thought that passes. “All I meant is you’re free to be who
you are with me. You don’t have to hide.” I don’t understand how this got
so deep, so fast. I don’t even know him and he definitely doesn’t know me,
but I don’t want him to hurt, either. For some reason, I want to help him
heal.
This is batshit.
His eyes ping back and forth between mine before his gaze drops to my
lips and I lick them reflexively. His chest is heaving and I’m still cupping
his face. It’s the perfect kissing moment, so I lean forward, about to say
fuck it and embrace it. Embrace the magic island because clearly we’re
locked under some kind of spell.
Well. We were.
 Until a fish decides to snag Austin’s line the next second, turning our
Notebook moment into a Jackass scene.
The pole that Austin let go of for only a second, is now being ripped
from the boat and dragged across the water at rapid speed. I jump up, trying
to catch it, and end up knocking the container of worms from the seat
beside me and straight on the bottom of the boat beside Austin’s feet. Upon
impact, it busts open, releasing the worms from their contained prison.
Austin is up and trying to jump over the seat and into my lap as I’m
getting up to help him, which basically just means Austin shoved me
overboard and into the ocean.
I surface, coughing slightly from the salty water going up my nose, and
Austin is sitting in my seat, hands covering his mouth as he stares at me in
horror. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Waving him off, I do a lap around the boat. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Just trying to calm the buzzing feeling from our almost kiss. Well, that was a
disaster. After a few minutes, I calm down, manage to get myself back on
the boat and settle beside Austin. His once worried look is now covered by
a smug one. “What?”
He bites down on his lip, giving me a one-shoulder shrug. “I told you
the fish was going to take off with my pole.”
Oh shit. He had. I forgot about that. I look out at the water, expecting to
see the pole laying on the surface or something, but I don’t. It’s seriously
just gone. Turning to look at him, I see the wide smile across his lips and I
can’t help but mirror his expression.
“Well, you got me there.”
CHAPTER NINE
 AUSTIN

I really hate not being able to just go to my kitchen and grab snacks
whenever I want. That’s probably the only downfall to being here, so
far. Sure, I can order food whenever I’m hungry, but it’s not the same as
being able to grab a bag of popcorn or some Chex Mix whenever I want. I
sigh, flipping the channel again, bored out of my mind. I even contemplate
walking to the beach, but don’t really feel like moving.
I should have downloaded more books to my Kindle. I already burned
through the four I had on there. Though, I guess I could read them again.
Maybe play some solitaire. A knock sounds on my door, cutting off my
thoughts, and I tilt my head, trying to call on my Matilda superpowers so I
don’t have to get up. It obviously doesn’t work, and after another set of
knocks, I force myself to move.
Tugging open the door, I’m not surprised to see Beck. Since our
finishing trip the other day, he’s been randomly stopping by for dinner,
walks, or just to hang out. He’s obviously just as bored as I am. He tried to
teach me how to play poker last night and that was an epic fail. So we stuck
to Go Fish—something I hadn’t played since grade school.
“Back for another exciting round of cards?” I question, leaning against
the doorframe.
“As exciting as that was, I think I’ll pass.” He shifts, bringing a bottle of
vodka from behind his back in one hand and a container of cranberry juice
in the other. “I brought these. Was thinking we could have some drinks.
Maybe order some pizza from one of the restaurants. John already said he’d
bring it to us once we ordered.”
 “I do like the way you think.” Snagging the vodka, I head to the kitchen
with him following behind me. “I didn’t take you for a vodka drinker.” I
grab two cups from the cabinet and put ice into them.
“I’m an equal opportunistic drinker.” He shrugs, adding some cranberry
after I pour the vodka and I wonder if he feels that way about all things…
Sexuality in particular. “What about you? I know you got seven and seven
that one night. What are your thoughts on vodka?”
I nod, taking a sip from my glass before answering. “I do like whiskey,
but I’m usually picky when it comes to what kind I’ll drink. Has to be a
certain brand. Vodka—it all tastes like rubbing alcohol to me, so the brand
doesn’t matter, it’s more about the mixer. Like cranberry, tonic, pineapple.
The classics.”
Beck agrees before taking a generous sip from his own drink. “And
pizza? What are your thoughts on toppings?”
“Basic as basic can be.”
He groans, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “Plain cheese?”
He looks at me, hitting me with those probing eyes. “We can’t just do plain
cheese. Pepperoni? Pineapple?”
“Oh, God, are you one of those? Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza. I
don’t care what you say.”
“Guilty, pineapple and ham. Pineapple and chicken. Pineapple and
sausage. Pineapple and green peppers,” he rambles on, literally naming
every possible ingredient you can put on a pizza and pairing it with a
pineapple. God, it’s so gross.
My face is twisted in disgust when he finishes. “That’s a hard pass for
me. Usually I can handle pepperoni, and if I can’t, I’ll just pick them off.
But when you start adding vegetables, that’s a no. I want a pizza, not a
salad.”
“I guess it’s good we can order separate pizzas, even though my heart is
destroyed by this revelation.” He proceeds to wipe fake tears from his eyes
before snagging the phone from the counter.
“And you called me dramatic.” Rolling my eyes, I head outside with my
drink and relax in the deck chair.
He’s something else. I don’t know what we’re doing exactly, but it’s
nice not feeling so alone.
“Pizza will be here soonish,” Beck says, joining me outside. “Wanna
swim?” He motions to my pool. “Yours looks bigger than mine.” He pouts
before shrugging out of his shirt. Damn, I’ll never get tired of, or used to,
seeing how good he looks shirtless. It’s impossible for me to not look.
I close my eyes, though, trying to shift my brain from Mr. Sex on legs.
It’s never going to happen. He’s so far out of my league, it’s not even funny.
“I doubt it, and even if it was, yours has a heated bathroom floor,
remember? Mine doesn’t. I guess they make them all a little different. Some
variety doesn’t hurt.”
“I get that, but who wouldn’t want their floors heated? Seems like a
cheat for the other guy, if you ask me.”
I hum, the sun making me feel tired. I want to take off my jeans and feel
the warmth of the sun against my skin, but my mind keeps going to the
large birthmark that stretches across my calf and up my leg.
The water splashes as he gets in and I open my eyes, watching as he
submerges himself. I bite my lip, waiting for him to surface, and almost
choke on my tongue when he does. I want to climb into the pool with him
and catch every falling water droplet with my mouth. He clears his throat
and I jerk my gaze up to his. Busted… again. He’s cocky, of course, looking
at me like the cat who got the canary.
Then he beckons me to him with a finger. “Get in the water with me.”
I look down at my jeans and shirt before shaking my head. “I’m good
here.” Need to get my dick under control.
“Austin.” He sighs, resting his arms on the edge as he leans against the
side. “Leave your shirt on if that’s what you’re comfortable with. Just take
off your jeans and come get into the pool. I’ll even turn my back so you can
get in without me seeing.”
Sitting up, I place my drink on the side table, trying to calm my
thudding heart. He always does and says the right things. It’s the only
excuse I have for what I do next.
I stand on wobbly legs, rubbing my sweaty palms down my jeans. “You
really won’t look?”
He nods, eyes holding mine, before he spins away from me. “If that’s
what you want, I absolutely won’t.”
With shaking fingers, I toy with the button of my jeans before finally
undoing it and my zipper. This is crazy. I don’t ever do this with anyone, so
why do I feel like I can with him? I barely even know him. But, hey, maybe
that’s the appeal.
 My breaths are shallow when I glide my pants down my legs. They fall
past my thighs and when I see the top of my birthmark, I have to stop for a
moment to get a grip.
Am I really going to do this?
“It’s okay.” Beck’s soothing tone washes over me, giving me the
courage I need to push them the rest of the way off.
Yeah, it is.
My body is trembling, and I take a cautious step toward the pool. I can’t
believe I’m doing this. I keep my gaze on his back, making sure he doesn’t
turn around as my foot meets the first step. The lukewarm water causes my
skin to pebble with awareness and my teeth chatter as my anxiety blooms.
I take another step, then another until my feet are finally touching the
bottom. I did it. Somehow, I’m in the pool with another person and nothing
is hiding my leg. Fuck, my limbs are trembling and I give my hands a shake
to try to calm down.
Beck doesn’t say a word, letting me take a few minutes to get my head
together, and it only makes me like him more. How can this guy I’ve just
met be giving me more confidence than my own father has in twenty-four
years?
“You can turn around now,” I tell him, ducking under the water to wet
my hair, wanting to avoid that awkward moment where we try not to
discuss what just happened. I’m a world-class avoider. If we ignore the
elephant in the room, maybe it’ll go away. “So, Beck?” I ask once I surface,
swiping the water from my face. “How is it we’ve been hanging out for a
few days now and you know so much about me, but here I am, clueless
about you?”
I didn’t realize it until last night, but Beck has a way of turning me into
a chatterbox. He asks me questions, gets me talking, and it’s like I can’t
stop.
“What do you want to know?” he asks, leaning back against the pool's
side. He seems stiff, kind of shut off, and I bite my lip, trying to think of
easy topics to not scare him off. Ironic considering he has no filter or
boundaries when it comes to his questions.
“How old are you?” I can’t believe I haven’t asked this yet.
“Twenty-eight. Soon to be twenty-nine,” he answers, snagging his drink
from the side of the pool. That’s not bad. I just turned twenty-four, so he’s
almost five years older than me.
 “When’s your birthday?”
“December 22nd. I’m a Christmas baby.” He tosses me a wink before
tipping back the rest of his cup.
“And a Capricorn.” I sigh, flicking my fingers through the water. “I’m a
Leo. Pretty sure we’re the least compatible signs on the scale.”
“You know astrology?”
“Not really. I follow my daily horoscope, but that’s about it. If it didn't
warn me to take caution with a Capricorn every month, I’d never even
know.”
His eyes dance with humor, and he gives me an amused smile. “I’d have
never taken you for someone who reads those things. Tabloid trash… Do
you believe them?”
“I don’t know if I believe them per se, but it doesn’t hurt to check in on
the type of day I might have, and honestly, sometimes they’re scarily
accurate.”
“I feel like that's more of a manifestation. You read something saying
your day is going to be like this because of XYZ, so you're automatically on
alert waiting for those things to happen. Meanwhile, your brain is already
working, preparing your body for the things you’re expecting to feel. Kind
of like a magic trick, but in this case, you’re the magician.”
Wow. How have I never thought of it like that before?
“That’s an interesting thought. I guess you never really know.” I
contemplate his words, wondering how much weight they carry and how
much of it is true. Am I really calling things into fruition? It wouldn't
surprise me if I was unknowingly sabotaging myself.
I eye my drink sitting on the small table by my folding chair and wish
like hell I’d have grabbed it before getting in.
“Want me to get it for you?”
My gaze snaps to Beck and, of course, he’s looking at me with that
searching gaze of his, like he’s trying to read my mind. Is he like this with
everyone or am I just that interesting to him? Can’t be option two because
I’m basic as hell and he’s… Well, he could get anyone.
“Do you mind?” I wince, looking at my cup longingly. “I should have
brought it down here with me. But I wasn’t thinking at the time.”
He’s already climbing out of the pool before I finish speaking. He’s
really nice. Too nice. Not something I’m used to, and it’s throwing me off.
“It’s fine. I don't mind. Besides, I need a refill. Want me to top you off?”
 “Yes, please. Thank you.”
“Be right back.” He tosses me a wink before heading back inside.
Ah, fucking swoon. This guy is going to kill me. I’ve never really
wanted to have sex with anyone. Not that I don’t want to, I just never
thought I’d feel comfortable enough to let my guard down like that with
anyone. Beck is quickly making me change my mind, though. Even if I
wasn’t completely comfortable, I think I’d still go for it. He doesn’t treat
me like I have a disease and he’s compassionate. Two things I don’t get
very often. Plus, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again once we’re off the
island.
“Here you go. One double vodka cran.” He places our glasses next to
the pool before sitting down on the edge, then dangles his legs in the water,
and I watch as his thighs flex under his shorts. Mmm. I want to touch him
so badly. Snatching the glass, I take a hardy sip, ignoring the vodka burn.
“Slow down, hotshot. You haven’t eaten yet. You’ll be drunk before the
pizza gets here if you keep it up.”
Eh, that sounds good. Drinking didn’t steer me wrong the last time.
Hell, even the attempt at fishing wasn’t terrible. Nodding, I salute him,
plastering on a grin. “Maybe that’s the goal. I’m more fun when I’m
buzzed, don’t you think?”
Contemplating it, he finally shrugs before drilling me with a look that I
can’t read. “I think you're fun in any state. I like that about you. You’ve got
a lot of different sides.”
Damn, how does he do this to me? My stomach does a weird flip thing
and I tip back my glass again, needing to get drunk to push away these
emotions he’s giving me.
I can’t catch feelings for the first guy to ever give me attention. That’s
setting myself for heartbreak and I didn’t come to this island to find love.
That’s the last thing I need right now…
So, I finish off this drink and ask for another one. Letting the liquor take
my worries away.
CHAPTER TEN
 BECKETT

“‘N other drink, please,” Austin slurs, giving me what I’m thinking is
supposed to be a charming smile but is only half-cocked
considering he can hardly keep his eyes open.
Damn, why is he so adorable?
“I think you’ve had enough. I’ll help you to bed and you can sleep it
off.”
Placing the half-eaten pizza in the fridge, I stack the rest of the dishes
and place them by the sink for John to grab tomorrow. Poor Austin. He
can’t hold his liquor to save his life; so I don’t know why he insisted on
drinking so much. After the fourth one, he was already starting to slur a
little. Then I got him to eat some pizza, which helped until he started
drinking again.
Drinking does make him less tense, though. He even stopped trying to
hide his birthmark; clearly he felt relaxed enough or just didn’t care. It was
slightly satisfying to know he let his guard down enough to be vulnerable
with me. I can tell he’s struggling with a complex. Like his face, the port-
wine stain on his leg is dark, covering a large portion of his calf. And I stick
by what I said about his face, it’s not bad. In fact, I think it’s really badass,
plus he could always get a tattoo or something to cover it. I make a mental
note to mention that to him. Maybe he’s never thought about that before.
I head over to where he’s now laying on the couch, eyes closed and
chest rising and falling as he sleeps. His clothes are still slightly damp from
the pool and I sigh, knowing he’s going to fight me on what I’m about to
suggest. “Austin,” I whisper, pushing a bit of hair off his forehead. “We
need to get you changed.”
 He frowns, giving me a subtle head shake. “Can’t, too comfy.”
“You’re in wet clothes. We need to change them so you don’t get sick.
You’ll be more comfortable with dry clothes, anyway. Come on. Let me
help you to your room.”
It’s a struggle to get him up, and he fights me a little at first before just
wrapping his arms around my neck and letting me carry him. He’s still
stubborn. That’s not something even alcohol can deter, apparently. Aren’t I
the lucky one?
I sit him on the bed before going to the dresser and rummaging around
until I find him a pair of underwear before doing the same with a shirt. His
wardrobe is depressing. All high-necked shirts, sweaters, and pants. Not a
pair of shorts or tank in sight. We need to work on that. He deserves to be
comfortable in his own skin, like every other person should, too.
Taking my findings to where he’s slumped forward on the bed, I crouch
between his slightly parted legs. “Austin, can I take off your shirt? I want to
help you change.”
“No. You’ll see. You can’t see what I look like,” he mumbles, though I
can hear the worry there.
I hate that he’s so down on himself. “I promise I’ll be fast. You won’t
even know it happened.”
His face pinches, and he shakes his head, peeking at me through one
eye. “You won’t like what you see. No one does.”
Then the people you’ve met are all idiots—I want to scream, but I know
it won’t do any good. Gripping his thighs, I try to reassure him instead,
hoping he understands he doesn’t need to hide from me. “I’m not like
everyone else.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs dreamily, a smile tugging his lips. “That’s
why I don’t want you to see. As of now, I have a… fifty-fifty chance of
sleeping with you. If you see me, I’ll probably never get my chance.” My
throat tightens at his words and my stomach does that weird swoopy thing
again and I’m about ready to tell him his fifty-fifty is more like one hundred
percent. Until his next words throw me for a loop and he says something I
would never have expected. “Then who knows if I’ll ever lose my
virginity.”
I’m stunned. Completely stunned, as he eyes me through squinty lids.
His hands come up to rest on my shoulders as he leans in to whisper, “I
don’t want to die a virgin, Beck. I want to have sex, too.” Then he laughs
somewhat manically, falling back onto the bed, while I’m too fucking
speechless to do anything else.
“I—Oh… I…” I’ve got nothing.
Did he just say? No way did he say… A virgin? But the tabloid… and
the picture. It just doesn’t make any sense. I stand straight, looking down
over his half-sleeping form. He couldn’t have meant that, right? He’s drunk.
Aren’t drunk confessions honest ones, though?
Fuck! This is not what I needed tonight. Or ever, for that matter.
I reach up, fisting my hair and do a slow spin as I look around the room.
What do I do now? Sex with Austin has crossed my mind. I’m a single guy
spending time with someone I find attractive. Of course I’ve thought about
it, but could I really do that with him knowing what I do now? It’s one thing
to have meaningless hook-ups with no name, faceless people who you
won’t ever see again. But taking someone's virginity, especially someone
like Austin, who has so many self-esteem issues… I worry he’d become too
attached and in the end I’d hurt him.
I’d feel guilty, sure, but it wouldn’t change anything. Sex is the only
thing I can offer someone, and Austin O’Kane isn’t any different. It’s
something I’d have to consider seriously, because it's a lot.
I look at him again, eyes roaming over his still form. And by sex, does
he mean all sexual things or just intercourse? Like has he ever had a hand
job from someone else? A blow job? Just how virginized does he mean?
Virginized, is that even a word?
Now my head is spinning with tons of ideas, positions and things we
could do together. Things I literally just said I wouldn’t do because of his
inexperience.
You need to stop this line of thought now, and focus on more pressing
issues. Like him still in these damp clothes. Everything else can wait until
later. I snag the shirt, laying it over my shoulder and helping him sit up
again.
“Austin, I’m going to take off your shirt, okay? I won’t look and I’ll be
quick. I promise.” Quick is what I need too, because everything happening
right now has me on edge.
He mumbles something incoherent and I take that as permission, pulling
the shirt up and over his head before tossing it to the floor. True to my
word, I don’t look. Instead, I quickly get the new shirt on. Next are his
boxers and after his revelation I have a harder time with this step—feeling
like I’m crossing a line somehow. I manage to wake him up enough and he
changes them himself with very minimal help from me. Thank God.
Once he’s dry, I get him settled and under the blankets. “Get some
sleep, Austin. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I brush his hair back one more time
before standing and going to leave.
“Wait.” He reaches out, catching my arm. “Beck, you didn’t think I was
disgusting, right?” Jesus, what do I even say to that? I want to demand him
to tell me who hurt him so deeply that he feels this low about himself. Then
again, if I know, I’ll be ready to sail at dawn to fight for honor or some shit
and again, here I am trying to figure out what the hell is happening to me.
“Beck?”
My stomach flips at the vulnerability in his voice, and I feel the spread
of warmth rush up and over my chest. He’s destroying me. I squat down
next to the bed, looking into his squinted eyes. “No, I didn’t. You’re not
disgusting. You’re beautiful.” He hums at that, his eyes falling shut and a
small smile appearing before it fades and his breaths even out with sleep
again. I can’t help myself. I lean up, placing a chaste kiss to his forehead.
“Good night.”
He doesn’t say anything, obviously gone to the world, so I take it as my
cue to leave.
The walk back to my bungalow is quick as I’m lost in my head. Lost in
wonderland, because no way is this real life.
What am I even doing with him in the first place? This is such a bad
idea. I’m going to fuck this up. He’s going to get hurt. I know how this
ends, and I can’t let that happen. He’s too good. He’s already been through
so much without adding my mess to the mix. Like what if he learns who I
am? Then what? It’d be a shit show. One I can’t afford.
I swipe my wristband at my door, heading inside and straight to my
shower, where my mind goes rogue and I try to reason with myself on why
we can make this work. Maybe I can just help him with this one thing?
Teach him the ways of sex and how good it could be. There’s no harm in
that, right? Two consenting adults who know the score.
This is how I get myself in trouble, because of stupid shit like this. With
everything inside of me, I know this is a bad idea, but it won’t matter. I’ll
still do the wrong thing, I have no doubt. I always do.
Once done, I dry off, mad at myself for not remembering to turn on the
heated floors and throw on a pair of gym shorts. I’m tired, but my brain’s
too wired right now to sleep. Plopping down on my bed, I reach into the
nightstand and snag my phone, booting it up. I haven’t used my phone
much since I’ve been here, trying to separate the two lives I’m leading right
now.
My notifications start going crazy and I give it a second to chill before
clicking on the group chat between Darren, Cole, and myself.
Darren: Don’t forget to check in, fucker. You know I worry.
Cole: He doesn’t worry, he just wants to be nosey.
Darren: Please, don’t act like you’re not curious, too. If I hear you
mention Black Diamond again, I’ll jump out of my skin.
I can’t help but smirk, picturing them sitting side by side on their couch,
texting each other instead of talking. That’s something only they would do.
Cole: I never claimed to not be nosey, though. So, spill, Beck. Tell us
everything.
Looking at the time stamp on the message, I realize it’s from yesterday.
I think they’re asleep right now… Maybe? The time difference has me
confused as fuck. I was going to call them, but decide to send them back a
quick text instead.
Me: Glad to see I’m so missed. Honestly, this job is a lot more difficult
than I expected, for more reasons than one. I’m still not sure how Marshal
is going to get anything from my notes with all the red tape, but I guess
we’ll see when the time comes.
I hit send, contemplating telling them about Austin before deciding
against it. I don’t want to dive into all this shit with them. They'll work in
tandem trying to pick my brain, and I’m not up for that right now.
Me: I’ll send you guys some beach pictures tomorrow or something.
Don’t get into too much trouble without me there. Talk soon.
I hit send again and turn off my phone without checking anything else.
Marshal has probably been reaching out too. I’ll deal with that tomorrow. I
don’t feel like talking right now and he’ll want to keep me on the phone
forever asking me a ton of questions I don’t have the answers for yet.
With a sigh, I toss my phone back into the nightstand and take out my
notebook next. I’ve already got pages of things island-related so far, but I’m
honestly not sure if anything can be used for an exclusive, especially with
the NDA I signed. I like my job, but not enough to do prison time over it.
So I have a feeling this will be a bust. Marshal won’t be happy, but I tried to
warn him.
 Even after he gave me all the details and worked out a plan, I still tried
to tell him this wouldn’t work. He was insistent, saying he knew I could do
it. Which didn’t do shit but add pressure. I mean, we’re talking about six
weeks. That’s going to fly by in a blink, hell it already is. And the more
time I spend with Austin, the faster the days seem to go.
I look down at my notes again, knowing I shouldn't, but unable to help
myself from flipping to the back. To the pages of things I’ve written about
Austin. This section has nothing to do with Marshal or work, it's really just
for me. I don’t know why I started keeping notes on our days together, but
it’s become my nightly routine; writing in my notebook about Austin. I feel
like I’m becoming obsessed with knowing him, like I can’t get enough.
I think I’m starting to like him. Me: the non relationship guy. It makes
no sense. We barely know each other, but here I am, writing in a diary like a
love-sick teenager. If my friends could see me right now, they’d never
believe this. I don’t even believe it.
In my head I know I should stop this, step away before it’s too late. But
my heart’s telling me to let it all play out. The cards will fall where they fall.
God, what a fucked up mess this is going to be. My head pulses with the
start of a headache, and I realize I’m overthinking everything. Tossing the
book back into the nightstand, I roll over and bury my face into the pillow,
releasing an exaggerated groan. I’m annoyed at myself for all these
thoughts and for letting Austin get to me.
I’ll just pretend he never told me what he did. That’ll work. I’ll act like
my regular self and it’ll all be fine. I can do this.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
 BECKETT

I can’t do this.
We’re thirty minutes into our walk, exploring the island, and I’m
about to jump out of my skin. I see him glance at me again through my
peripheral and I know I’m going to cave soon. There’s no way I won’t. I’m
being too obvious and he has to know something’s up.
“You okay?” he asks, as if reading my mind.
“Yes,” I say a bit too quickly, and mentally scold myself. Way to play it
cool, Beck.
“Uh-huh.” I don’t look at his face, but I can read his tone and he’s not
buying it.
I chuckle awkwardly, cutting to the side and down a small path. I have
no clue where we are or if we’re even allowed this way or not, but it’s too
late to go back now.
“Do you know where we’re going?” he asks, following behind me.
“No clue, but I’m pretty sure it’s all one big circle. I figure we’ll end up
somewhere eventually and if we get lost, someone will be able to direct us
back.” I hope so anyway. Maybe if my mind wasn’t so scattered, I’d be able
to focus better.
“I’d rather not be lost in the middle of the woods,” he mutters under his
breath.
“Not lost,” I say, turning to give him a reassuring smile. “Plus, we can
always backtrack in a few minutes if we don’t find anything.”
I just need a minute to focus on something other than the pink flush of
your cheeks or how often you bite down on that plump bottom lip. It’s
driving me insane.
 “True. I should really look at the map John gave me. I say that every
time and never do.”
“I’ll remind you to bring it next time.” The sound of rushing water
meets my ears and I pause to tilt my head, seeking out the sound. “Do you
hear that?”
He mimics my action before nodding. “A waterfall?”
I don’t remember seeing anything about a waterfall anywhere, but it was
my first thought as well.
“I was thinking that, too. Come on, let’s go see.” I grab his arm, tugging
him to follow. I love the little grunt he releases. Such a little grump… My
little grump. It only takes a few minutes, but we close in on it. “Holy shit. I
didn’t expect this to be here.”
We’re toward the side of the waterfall and I realize it’s one of those you
can walk behind.
How cool is this?
“Me either. It’s really beautiful.” He pulls out his phone to snap some
photos. Something I noticed he does everywhere we go.
“It looks like we can walk behind the water through there. Bet you
could get some good shots.”
“Oh, good point. I’ll head that way in a second.” His tongue peeks out
the edge of his mouth as he bends down to get an angle he likes. It’s cute
how focused he gets.
Sweat trickles down my back and I’m interested in feeling how cold this
water is. Most waterfalls tend to be cool in temperature, and I could
definitely use that right now between the sun and the tempting guy I’m
with. “Wanna test out the water?” I ask, sliding off my T-shirt and tossing it
to the ground. “I bet it feels nice.”
His eyes track up my body, and I fight the urge to flex and give him a
show. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love having all of his attention on me.
He shakes his head in the end, folding his arms over his chest as he gives
me a shrug. “Probably not.”
Back to square one, I see. We can’t have that. “Come on, just take off
your pants. It’ll be fine. You did it yesterday.”
“Yeah, and here you are, acting strange. Not really good for my self-
esteem.”
Oh shit. I didn’t think about that. Of course, he’d think they were
connected. I bite down on my lip, not really sure how to proceed. I don’t
want to tell him about the shit from yesterday, but I feel like I need to, so
he’s not trapped in his head. “That’s not the problem.”
His gaze is searching as he looks for the lie he won’t find. “Then what
is? You’re acting stranger than normal.”
Wait, what? “Hey! I’m not strange.” Am I?
His shoulder lifts. “You are a bit, but don’t change the subject. What did
I do? What’s putting you off? I can hardly catch your eye today. Why is
that? Since I’ve known you, I haven’t been able to get you to stop staring.
So, what gives?”
The fact he can read me like that shows me: one, I’m not as clever as I
think I am, and two, he’s reading me more than I realized and I should be a
little more cautious about that. There’s too much at stake right now.
I feel backed into a corner, but what choice do I have? The last thing I
want is for him to rebuild the wall I’ve been slowly knocking down. “I
didn’t want to tell you this, because I didn't want to make you
uncomfortable.”
“Oh, God!” he groans, reaching up to cover his face. “What is it?”
“Well, you told me some stuff last night, and I was trying to be a—”
“What’d I say?” His hands fall to his sides, and his face is a mix of
horror and worry, only adding to my unease.
“Well…” I reach up, grabbing the back of my neck and trying to figure
out how to word it. Do I just throw it out there? Build it up?
“You’re killing me here,” he barks out, tossing his hands in the air.
“I don’t know how to say it.”
“Beck, I swear on everything I own, if you don't tell me now—”
“I know you’re a virgin,” I blurt out, instantly regretting saying it like
that when I take in his shocked expression. Great job, Beck.
He blinks once, twice as he tries to gather the information bomb I just
dropped. “I… What?”
“It’s not a big deal and I don't care, but yeah, you told me last night.”
He stares at me for a moment and I’m expecting him to run away, so
when a loud laugh tears past his lips, I’m even more shocked. I give him
time to collect himself, which takes longer than I could have anticipated. I
can’t tell if this is one of those ‘laugh because the only other thing to do is
cry’ moments or if he’s at a breaking point. Neither of those options are
good, though.
“You okay?”
 He looks at me, wiping his eyes as his laughter fades. “Yeah, just
mortified and yet not surprised that I told you my deepest secret. I mean,
you have a way of making me do that. Why is that?” He shakes his head.
“I’m so sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable? Is that why you’re acting
off?”
Damn, I really am bad at this friendship, comforting thing. They should
really make a beginner’s guide to friendships for the clueless. I’d buy that in
a heartbeat.
I walk toward him, closing the gap between us. “No, not uncomfortable.
I was worried about how you’d react once I told you. I didn’t want you to
be upset.”
He snorts. “I’m more embarrassed than anything. I didn’t want you to
know that.”
Taking hold of his arms, I give them a squeeze, letting my fingers glide
across his smooth skin. He rarely wears short sleeves and I’m fully taking
advantage of this. “Well, don’t be. It’s not a bad thing.”
“It’s not a good thing either.”
“I think it’s more of a neutral thing.”
He cocks a brow, clearly amused. “Says the non-virgin.”
Well, he’s got me there. “It’ll happen when it’s supposed to. No need to
stress about it.”
Rolling his eyes, he gives my chest a light shove. “Now you sound like
a fortune cookie.”
When he laughs, his whole face lights up. He should do that more.
Happy looks good on him.
I clear my throat, tapping my temple. “It's old age. Brings me wisdom.”
“You’re not old enough to be considered ‘old aged.’”
Turning toward the waterfall, I gesture for him to follow. “Older than
you.”
“Yeah, such a grandpa,” he calls back, not moving from his spot.
“Come on. Don’t make me do it alone. Just lose the jeans and bring
your cute self over here.”
I’m teasing, but his whole face flushes, validating my statement. So
fucking cute.
“You really think I’m cute?”
“You already know the answer to that. Stop fishing for compliments.”
 He doesn’t say anything else and I give him time to decide what he
wants to do, going to the water. It feels good and I lean forward, dunking
my head under the stream. It’s cool and I instantly feel refreshed. Exactly
what I needed.
The water glides down my neck and back when I pull away, soothing
my heated skin.
“Hey, you started without me. That’s rude.”
I do a mental fist pump, glad that he decided to come after me. I was
worried I’d end up having to chase him down.
“Yeah, well...” Swiping some water from my eyes, I turn to look at him.
“You were taking too long and I—” My tongue feels thick in my throat and
I lose the ability to speak.
Fuck. Me. Sideways.
Austin is standing a few feet away in his T-shirt and tight as fuck black
boxer briefs. Who knew a pair of underwear could look so good?
“You’re…” I start, but have no idea what to say. Beautiful. Sexy.
Stunning. Got my dick ready to bust—yeah, don’t say that. “You’re
beautiful, Austin.”
His breath hitches and our eyes hold as we zero in on one another. His
eyes are full of so much emotion and I have no idea what he’s seeing when
he looks at me. I just know the longer we stand here, all my rational
thoughts slowly dissipate, leaving me with nothing but desire.
I take a step toward him, closing the space between us. Then watch his
Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and track the movement, wanting nothing
more than to nip it with my teeth. I stop a foot away, noting the way his
chest is rising and falling rapidly under his shirt. “Austin.” My voice is
husky. “I need to kiss you.”
His eyes glaze and he bites down on that lip, the one I’m about to taste,
and I snap. Cupping his cheeks in my palms, I look into his eyes, waiting to
see if he tells me no. If he pulls away or backs down. He doesn’t, so I lean
in, closing the gap between us.
His lips are hesitant at first and I don’t push, only giving him light pecks
until he’s ready. His hands come up to grip my forearms and I moan into his
mouth as I press a little harder. It’s a sweet kiss. Nothing I’ve ever done
before with anyone. It’s soft as we learn each other, and I let him take
control. Allowing this kiss to be what he needs it to be. And it’s probably
the best kiss I’ve ever had.
 Usually I’m not big on kissing, but with Austin, I’d kiss him every day
if he’d let me.
The thought almost has me ripping my lips away. He really makes me
stupid. My brain just can’t keep up. I’m drunk on his lips. We’ll blame him
for these irrational thoughts—must be under his kissing spell. His lips are
pillowy soft and if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m almost positive this was his
first kiss, I’d be biting the plumpness. I want to worship his mouth. Own it.
He pulls away, our chests heaving as we try to catch our breath. His
cheeks are flushed and his eyes are slightly glazed.
I stare into his eyes, unable to break whatever hold he has on me.
I think… Maybe… I’m falling for this guy, which means I’m
completely screwed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
 AUSTIN

A fter reading the same line of my e-book for the fifth time, I give up,
closing my Kindle and setting it down beside me on the hammock. I
haven’t been able to concentrate since that kiss yesterday.
Beck. Freaking. Kissed. Me.
I feel like I’m floating. Living in a dream. I never expected it to happen,
even though I really wanted it to. I like Beck. It’s odd to say because I never
like anyone. There’s just something about him. I don’t even know him, but
he makes me feel human. Like I’m not something broken, in desperate need
of fixing. How is it that someone I barely know can stir up such deep
emotions?
Maybe it’s the island fun I didn’t know I needed. I can enjoy my time
with Beck here and then go back to my life with a totally different outlook
on myself. A whirlwind romance, just minus the love part. That’s doable
right? I can have a fling. Tons of people do it. I can too. I think this would
be good for me. It may not be foolproof, but my life has been set to a
schedule for as long as I can remember. Maybe it’s time I did something a
little more reckless. And what’s more reckless than having a summer fling
with some guy you don’t really know?
He’s nice, he doesn’t judge me, and sex with Beck, holy shit. I can’t
even imagine how good it’d be. If that kiss was anything to go by, I think
it’d be amazing. I deserve that. Hell, I need it. But how do I make it
happen? Should I ask him if he’d be open to the idea? I don’t want to come
off desperate, even though I kinda am.
But what if he’s not interested? That rejection would not only sting, but
be really embarrassing. Now I’m back peddling and remembering why I
never put myself out there in the first place.
Ugh! Damn it, why is this so hard? It should be the easiest thing in the
world. I like you; do you like me? Yes? Good, let’s have sex.
I swear hooking up looks easier in the movies. Really, everything looks
easier in the movies. I blame Hollywood for all my faulty thoughts on love,
family, and relationships. They’re the reason ninety percent of Americans
get their hearts broken. We set the expectation too high and then are flooded
with disappointment when it doesn’t happen.
Or maybe that’s just life and I need to suck it the fuck up.
Okay, I need to stop thinking about this for now. Clearly I have no idea
what the hell I want to do and stressing about it isn't going to help anything.
I’ll go back to reading. Let my brain focus on something other than Beck
for a while.
Snagging my Kindle, I’m about to open it when it’s suddenly snatched
from my grasp.
“What the fuck?” I yelp, pulling off my sunglasses and sitting up. My
aggravation turns to terror instantly when I spot the monkey from my first
night here. He’s close, standing on the side of the hammock just staring at
me, and my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, causing me to jump back and
tumble off the side of the hammock.
Well, I’d say crash more like. My left leg gets caught in the rope
material, causing the bottom half of my body to hang off the ground while
my shoulder, head, and upper back meet the deck with a crack, knocking
the wind from me.
I stare up at the sky with wide eyes, mouth open, waiting for my lungs
to work again. I swear to God this monkey is out to kill me.
Finally, air rushes in, along with a coughing fit, and my eyes water as I
try to catch my bearings. My head is throbbing from where it slammed into
the deck and I touch the sore spot, surprised when I don’t find blood. That’s
a good thing, at least.
I hear the tapping of feet and look over in time to see the monkey as he
settles on the deck with my Kindle tucked under his arm. Little Bastard.
“Give me that back,” I bite out, angry as fuck at the whole situation. I try
and fail to sit up. It's almost impossible to stay upright with the way my leg
is caught up in the hammock.
The monkey, Bob, I think John called him, just makes this noise that
sounded an awful lot like a chuckle. Which is absurd. He’s a damn monkey,
for Christ’s sake. I lay back once more, still trying to catch my breath.
Now this is crazy, but I swear Bob's looking at me smugly. Almost as if
he’s saying, ‘catch me if you can.’
Yeah, I think I hit my head a lot harder than I realized. And I'm not sure
how I'm going to get my leg out while I'm hanging like this. I'm suddenly
flooded with panic at the realization that I could be stuck like this for a
while. What if no one ever comes to check on me? Then what?
"Help!" I yell out, hoping like hell someone can hear me. Even though
the possibility is slim to none, considering the only other bungalow is yards
away. "Help!"
Bob is making these gestures with his hands, like we're playing a game
of charades, which isn't doing anything but causing my anxiety to rise.
Because if this is really happening, that means I could have a concussion or
brain bleed.
"Help!" I try again, sounding more frantic this time. “Help!” I scream
and scream until my throat hurts, but still no one comes. I give my foot a
wiggle, trying to break free, but end up making it worse somehow in my
panic. This is bad, so, so bad. “Can you go get help or something?” I ask
Bob… yup. Okay. It’s time to accept my fate. I’m going to die here, on the
deck of my bungalow, next to the most psychotic monkey there ever was. I
wonder what my obituary will read, or what kind of story the gossip rags
will come up with.
Will my dad even care? Will he miss me?
“Austin?” someone yells and I shoot up, grabbing my head and wincing
at the sudden movement. Yeah, definitely shouldn't do that again. “Austin?”
the voice calls again in worry.
“Out here. I need help,” I yell back.
I can hear splashing before banging as if someone is trying to climb up
and over the deck before a wet plop meets my ears and I spot Beck,
dripping and out of breath, eyes a little wild as he seeks me out. When he
finally sees me, he pauses, brows shooting up his forehead in surprise.
Yeah, I’m sure I’m quite a sight. “What happened?” he questions, rushing
over to help me.
“The damn monkey.” I turn to where Bob was seconds before, only to
find the space empty. My eyes ping around the deck, but of course he’s
nowhere to be found. Beck is now staring at me, a little unsure, and I want
to fall through a damn hole in the ground. “I swear there was a monkey. His
name is Bob.” Yeah, I know how that sounds.
His face is priceless and I see him look around again as if searching for
the Punk’d camera crew. Why did it have to be him, of all people, to come
out to my aid? “How hard did you hit your head?” He leans in and holds my
eyes. Jesus, his probing stare is intense as fuck. He sits up, fanning his hand
in front of my face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
God, this is humiliating. “Two, asshole,” I mutter, pushing him slightly.
“Can you please get me out? My leg is going numb.”
“Shit, right! Sorry.”
It takes way more time than I’d like to admit and he ends up having to
cut some of the hammock to get me free. It literally makes no sense how I
got so tangled, but I stand by the fact that if something bizarre can happen
to anyone, it'll happen to me. My luck is complete trash.
He helps me stand, and I wince, rubbing my sore back and head. He
grabs my head in his hands gently, tilting it as if to access the damage.
“Should I take you to get medical treatment?”
Oh God!
That’s the last thing I need. I’m already feeling silly about my dramatic
thoughts earlier. Having Beck see me is enough. “I’m fine.” Just have a
little headache, and my ankle is throbbing a little.
“Are you sure? Maybe I can call John and ask if someone can come
down here and check you out at least?” He looks worried, and I really like
that he cares.
I look down his chest, noting the red blood stain soaking through his
damp white T-shirt. “Fuck, Beck. What about you?” Without even thinking,
I grab the bottom of his shirt, tugging it up to get a look at his wound. It’s
not bad, just a scratch. Probably from when he hopped over the damn deck
like some kind of superhero. “Come on, there’s a first aid kit in my
bathroom. Let’s clean this up.” I grab his arm, tugging him to the bathroom,
while limping on my sore leg.
“You can’t even walk fully and you’re trying to take care of me.” He
places his hand over where I’m tugging him, stopping me at the phone in
the kitchen. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch. Let me call someone to come look
at you.”
I frown, turning to look at him. “I’m not the one bleeding.”
 “How about this? You check out my wound, and I’ll call someone out to
come look you over?”
I contemplate it for a moment before agreeing. I guess it won’t hurt to
have someone make sure I’m not actually concussed. “Fine, you win.”
“Figured you’d see it my way.” He smirks and I roll my eyes, pushing
past him to wobble my way to the bathroom so he can make his phone call.
There’s a first aid kit under the sink and I take it out, grabbing a few
alcohol wipes and some antibiotic ointment. It’s not bad, just a scrape, so
what I have out should be enough. I hear his footfalls and turn to see him
leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, a teasing smile on his lips.
“Well, Nurse Austin, the resort’s doctor will be here shortly.”
“You’re so corny.” I bite down on my cheek to stop the smile from
showing. “Now, come here. Let’s get you taken care of.”
“Yes, sir,” he says in that husky tone of his that makes my insides
swoon. He’s so damn sexy. I keep trying to find flaws and there aren’t any.
Well, unless you count his awkward strangeness, but honestly I find it
endearing.
He plucks off his damp shirt, tossing it on the bathroom floor before
plopping down on the toilet seat, and I try like hell not to stare. It’s been a
long time, if ever, since anyone affected me the way Beck does, and I’d be
really stupid to not try to sleep with him while I can.
I tear open the alcohol wipe, coming to stand between his parted thighs.
I’m trying to remain calm, but my insides are doing crazy things. We’re
close. I can smell his aftershave, see the stubble running up the side of his
jaw and his eyes. Damn his eyes.
Pulling my gaze away, I take out the wipe and press it against his chest.
“Shit.” He winces. “That burns.”
I apply a little pressure, running it over his cut. “That means it’s
working.”
“That’s such a hard ass thing to say. Aren’t you supposed to kiss my boo
boos better, Nurse Austin?” He juts his lips out in a pout. It’s meant to be
cute, but the second my eyes take in his mouth, I’m thrown back to
yesterday and how damn good they feel.
Without thinking, I lean in, pressing my lips to his. It’s a quick peck,
and I love the surprised gasp he releases. I pull back, finding the strength to
look into his eyes. “You wanted a kiss. Did it work? Do you feel better?” I
have no idea where this courage came from, but I’m here for it.
 He doesn’t say anything. Doesn't even move and I think maybe I’ve
gone too far. I’m about to apologize when his hands come up to grab my
face and he pulls me in, slamming his lips against mine.
The kiss is explosive. Nothing like the gentle and slow first time.
He devours me. Nipping at my bottom lip before dragging his tongue
across the bitten flesh. It feels good. So good that I want more. I want to
kiss him all night. His hands come to my hips and he shifts me, pulling me
down to sit on his lap, and I comply easily. Dropping the medical supplies
to the ground, I reach up, sliding one hand through his hair, enjoying the
feel of the thick strands between my fingers, while my other hand settles on
his shoulders.
“Mmm,” he moans, and the sound travels from his mouth and into mine.
His hands are holding onto my hips and he drags me forward, causing me to
slide over his erection.
I gasp, tearing my lips away from his so I can see his expression. He
feels really big underneath me and I almost panic at our position before I
remind myself that this is Beck. He’s never done anything to make me feel
uncomfortable, and I need to trust that it’ll stay that way.
His chest is heaving, and his expression is full of desire as he waits for
me to do something. I have no doubt if I got up right now, he wouldn’t stop
me. But I don’t want to get up. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to stop
this.
So I lean in and press our lips together once more, trying not to moan
myself at how damn good it feels. Our hands are everywhere. Touching and
grabbing and I’m about five seconds away from begging him to take me
right here when a loud gasp followed by a ‘sorry’ meets my ears.
I’m up and off of Beck and on the other side of the bathroom in a flash,
trying to ignore my sore ankle. My eyes are wide as I search for the source,
spotting an equally alarmed guy dressed in scrubs standing in the open
bathroom door.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. O’Kane. I knocked. A few times, but when you didn’t
answer, I thought something happened, so I let myself in.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. We just… Got carried away.” That’s
one way to put it. I plaster on a smile, feeling like an idiot. “I’m sorry about
my carelessness.”
“Yeah, we got carried away,” Beck finally says, standing from the toilet
seat. Oh, God. I just made out with Beck on the toilet and was caught by a
damn medical professional. This shit can’t possibly get any worse. “I mean,
I tend to get carried away with this guy,” Beck adds, giving me a small
shoulder punch. “Right, guy?” He releases an awkward chuckle and I just
stare at him, wide-eyed.
I was wrong. Apparently, it can get worse.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
 AUSTIN

W ell, the good news is I didn't have a concussion or a broken ankle.

The bad news? Beck was the most awkward person ever. I
swear I’ve never seen anything like the way he acted while the
doctor was checking me over. Normally he exudes so much confidence and
cockiness, so it was funny to see that side of him. Then he left not long after
the doctor last night, clearly needing to gain his bearings.
Poor guy.
As weird as he acted, though, I liked it.
I like him and after that kiss, I have no doubt he’s the guy I want to have
sex with for the first time. Who would have thought Black Diamond could
actually turn out to be good for me? Maybe I can thank my brother if I ever
talk to him again. I’ll punch him first for being a dick, then thank him for
leading me to Beck.
He deserves to be punched, even though the thought of it makes me feel
like an asshole. Funny how he can set me up for some weird orgy scandal
and not bat an eye, but I’m over here feeling like shit for even thinking
about a punch.
Yeah, we are not the same. But I knew that already.
Stop thinking about Aaron. He’s ruining your mood. Think about Beck.
My stomach grumbles, and I almost laugh at the intrusion.
Hopping up from the bed, I go into the kitchen and rummage around,
spotting the leftover pizza I’m about to destroy. I grab it and a water, then
head to my couch. Friends is on, and I settle back in my seat, balancing the
plate on my knees as I watch Ross explain to everyone that he and Rachel
were on a break. I’m with Rachel on this one.
 I finish off my pizza and get lost in reruns. I don’t know how much time
passes, but I’m close to falling asleep when the long awaited knock sounds
to my door. After taking a calming breath, I walk to the door slowly, trying
not to rush and seem crazy or make him think I was waiting for him. I
wasn’t. I totally was.
“Hey!” I practically shout, tugging open the door a bit too hard. Yeah,
definitely making myself appear indifferent, I think sarcastically.
Beck’s smirking, of course, when I take him in. “You just waking up?”
“I was dozing on the couch.” Lost in thoughts about you.
“That sounds nice.” He holds out a large bag, giving it a shake. “Can I
come in? I brought games.”
I wave him in and go back to my spot on the couch. “What kind of
games?”
He shrugs, handing me the bag. “They’re John’s. Well, the staff’s. I
asked him if they had anything I could buy besides cards and he said no.
Then today he brought me breakfast and had these. He said they’re the rest
of the crew’s games, but he’d let me borrow them for the day.”
“That was nice of him.” I open the bag, pulling the games out one by
one. We have Yahtzee, Uno, Checkers, Jenga, and Connect Four. “Not bad.
I’ve never played Yahtzee, though. Have you?”
He shakes his head, looking at the games, a little perplexed. “Can’t say
I’ve played any of these,” he says, sitting beside me on the couch.
“I don’t know why I’m as surprised by that as I am. You’re probably
surprised I have played them. I probably wouldn’t have had it not been for
my nannies. They were more like my friends than employees.” I grab the
Jenga blocks, deciding we’ll start with that first. “Any objections to Jenga?”
“Nope.” He pops the p, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s do it.”
“This is pretty self explanatory.” I upend the box, and begin building a
tower.
He catches on, helping me stack the blocks in rows of three. “Do you
still talk to your nannies?”
I pause, shaking my head quickly. “Oh, no. My last nanny was… fifth
grade? So it’s been a while. Once Aaron and I were in middle school, we
stopped having them. I’m surprised we had them for as long as we did.”
“Gotcha. That makes sense,” he adds, stacking the last block on top.
“Do you want to go first?”
 I shrug, leaning forward and easily slide out one in the dead center
before placing it on top, starting a new row. “Your turn.”
He eyes the stack for several seconds before removing one near the
bottom. “Now, you.”
“You always so precise when playing a simple game?” I tease, quickly
moving a side piece.
He runs a thumb across his chin as he eyes the stack. “I’d say
methodical.” It takes him a minute to move another piece, and I’m trying
really hard to fight back my smirk.
“If you’re like this over some Jenga, how are we ever going to finish a
game of checkers?”
Leaning back against the couch, he eyes me with amusement. “I guess
it’s good we have so much time on our hands.”
There’s something suggestive in his tone and my mind wanders to our
make-out session last night. If only he hadn’t called that damn doctor. I
wonder how far we would have gone.
Nope, not going there. I don’t need to get hard right now.
We go back and forth, pulling and stacking for several minutes while
talking aimlessly about nothing. Another thing we do, it’s strange. I know
his favorite color is blue and some other basic bits of information, but that's
it. He’s a closed book. Only wanting to know things about me. I don’t know
if it’s because I’m not used to talking about myself or what, but when he
asks me things, I tend to go on and on. Like he’s my therapist.
The tower gets more wobbly with every pull. “It’s going to fall on me. I
know it,” I groan, pushing out a middle piece as slowly as I possibly can. It
teeters but doesn’t come down, thank fuck.
“Don’t put that bad juju on me.” He’s cute as hell, biting down on his
lip as he tries and fails to move another block. “Damn it!”
I watch as all the blocks fall and I jump up, doing a victory dance.
“YES! I won. I seriously can’t believe it. Mr. Methodical, I think you need a
new system. I can suggest the grab and go method.”
His brow lifts. “Oh, you can suggest that, huh?” Then he’s grabbing me,
pulling me down on top of him, and I release a surprised grunt as I fall onto
his lap.
“Hey!” I squeal, trying to fight him off as he wrestles me underneath
him. “I didn’t take you for a sore loser,” I quip, bucking up and trying to
break his hold on me.
 “I’ll show you a sore loser.” Then he’s doing something I’d never
expect from him. With one hand pinning both of my arms above my head,
the other glides down to my side and begins to tickle me.
“Oh. Beck!” I screech, twisting and chuckling as I try to break his hold
on me. “I’m sorry!” My voice is wheezy as I laugh.
“You give?” His deep, teasing tone meets my ears and I want to be
annoyed at him for this, but I can’t be when I’m laughing like I am.
“Fine. Fine. I give. I GIVE!” I manage to get out through my fit of
laughter. He stops tickling, letting his hand rest against my stomach. My
eyes are closed, I’m sure I’m smiling like an idiot, and my chest is rising
and falling rapidly as I try to catch my breath. “You’re a jerk.”
He doesn’t say anything and I peek open my eyes to catch his probing
ones. Damn, he’s so intense. My body flashes hot, all jokes demolished in
an instant, replaced with sexual awareness. His body is stretched over mine.
Thighs and hips flush together while his left hand holds both of mine and
his right is drawing lazy patterns on my stomach. It feels good. I bite down
on my lip, and his hungry gaze slides up to watch the movement.
“Austin, I want to kiss you again.” The gravely tone tells me he’s just as
affected by me as I am by him. It gives me an ego boost. I can’t believe I
have this hot as hell guy here and he actually wants me.
I don’t know where I pull the courage from. Call it the heat of the
moment, but I lift my head, giving him the invitation he needs to close the
gap between us. It’s ravenous.
I moan, opening my mouth when his tongue slides out, tangling with
mine. It feels so good. My cock is hard and I rock my hips up involuntarily,
needing some friction. Our groins meet and I feel his hardness too. He
wants me just as much as I want him.
"Fuck," he growls, after tearing his lips away from mine. He drops his
head forward, resting our foreheads together. "I should stop," he whispers
before kissing me again.
I'm glad he doesn't stop because I don't want him to. I just want more.
More feeling, more touching. More of him on me, in me. Everywhere.
His teasing hand doesn't slow, grazing my nipple, and I arch up off the
couch. "Oh, God."
"You like that?" His voice is hoarse and I'm pretty sure I could come
from just this little bit of friction alone.
 "Yes, I do. I love it and I want more." I sound desperate, and maybe I
should care, but honestly, I don't have it in me right now.
"You're so sexy like this, Austin. Spread out, panting, begging me to
touch you. Do you want me to touch you here?" He drags his hand across
my chest, teasingly slow. Yeah, he's definitely going to kill me.
"Lower." I pant, rocking my hips up into him.
"Here?" he whispers, moving down to my stomach. I'm getting
frustrated. Being turned on will do that to a guy.
"You know where I want you to touch me. So do it already."
"So feisty when you're keyed up." His eyes are filled with raw desire,
and the devilish smirk on his lips only makes him ten times hotter.
"Please." Yeah, I'm not above begging. "Touch me."
He stares at me, his fingers finally moving down to the bands of my
sweats and boxers. He teases the material and I'm five seconds away from
snapping when he finally reaches inside.
Holy shit. My eyes close and my hips jut up when he makes contact
with my cock. "Mmm." The sound escapes me before I have time to suck it
back in. This is everything. Nothing like doing it myself.
“Shit. You’re soaked,” he rasps, and my cheeks heat with
embarrassment. “Your cock is desperate for some attention, huh?” Why in
the hell are his words so hot?
“Fuck.” Oh, God. It’s too much. My toes curl and I close my eyes,
letting my body melt into the couch as he works me over. His hand glides
up and down my shaft slowly and he uses my pre-cum to help guide him.
“It’s so good.” I whine, my back bowing as I seek out his hand. His lips
graze across my chin, sucking my jaw, and I wish for the first time ever I
wasn’t wearing a damn turtle neck. I want to feel him everywhere.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You have no idea
how much I want to strip you naked and worship every square inch of your
body.” He’s panting above me, hot puffs of breath gliding across my lips as
he works me to completion. I need to see his eyes. I peek up at him and sure
enough, he’s staring at me like he wants to eat me alive.
“Beck!” I cry out, hips rocking into his hand as I come, covering him
and the inside of my boxers with my seed.
“Fuck. Fuck,” he cries, sitting back and shoving his cum covered hand
into his shorts, jerking his own cock.
 It’s so fucking hot. He pumps his cock with a few quick tugs before he
releases a guttural moan, coming himself. If it wasn’t for the fact that I just
came, I’d be rock solid.
He falls forward, body slumping against mine, and I reach up, wrapping
my arms around his back and holding onto him tightly. He feels so good
against me and even though I know it’s a terrible idea, I let my mind and
feelings wander to avenues they have no business going down—
possibilities of the future we could have together. And as nice as it sounds, I
know it would never be in the cards for us.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 BECKETT

“M r. Taylor. How’s your stay going?” Holden asks, giving me a

knowing smile.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to try to suppress my
own smirk. “It’s going well. Found the waterfall a few days ago.”
“Ah, the waterfall. Such a fun place. That’s something I like about
Black Diamond. It has a bit of mystery. You never know what you’ll find
when you explore.” He grabs a glass, tilting the bottle of tequila in my
direction. “Margarita?”
“Please, extra lime.”
He nods, grabbing the ingredients. “You got it.”
“Slow night?” I question, noting the half empty bar.
“It died down about an hour ago. It usually does this late, people
heading back to their villas for the night. What about you? You’re up late.”
He sets my drink down in front of mm and I grab it, taking a sip instantly.
“Couldn’t sleep.” I shrug, running my fingers down the side of my cool
glass. “Figured I’d grab a drink to loosen up a bit.”
“I get it. I’m like that too sometimes. You should hit up the hot spring
once while you’re here. It’ll help relax you.”
“Ooh, where’s that?”
He presses a finger to his lips, indicating to keep quiet. “It’s another
island secret. Like the waterfall.” He winks, resting his elbows on the bar
top. “You go the way you went to the waterfall, but keep going. Walk about
another half a mile. A lot of people stop there, not realizing there’s more to
explore. There are some caves too. Really good to get some… private TLC,
if you know what I mean.”
 Oh, I know what you mean, and I wouldn’t mind having all the TLC
with Austin. “That sounds like something I need to check out.”
“It’s badass. I wish it wasn’t so damn dark out there at night. It’s nice
relaxing and watching the stars. Scary as hell trekking back through the
trees and stuff in the dark, though. I don’t like snakes, they freak me out and
I have this fear I’m going to run into one in the dark and it’ll eat my foot off
or something.”
I snort, drinking the rest of my drink. “I don’t do snakes either, so I feel
you.”
He shudders, grabbing the tequila and making me another drink. “Any
animal without arms and legs is an animal I don’t fuck with. I can’t get past
the slithering. Grosses me out.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I tip my cup back, loving the limey tang.
“Speaking of animals…” he trails off, eyes tracking something to my
left. I turn and almost fall out of my bar stool when I see a damn monkey
sitting on the counter beside me.
“Fuck!” I shout, stumbling back. The random guys at the end of the bar
laugh and I shoot them a glare, not caring that there’s more of them than me
and I’d lose in a fight.
“Bob. Get off the counter,” Holden says, and my gaze jerks to him in
surprise, all aggravation forgotten.
“Bob?”
“I know.” He sighs, giving me a one shoulder shrug. “He’s a mess.
Swear this monkey is smarter than any human I’ve ever met.” I watch as
Bob jumps up, grabbing a part of the ceiling before swinging over and
landing on Holden’s shoulder.
I’m stunned. There’s no way in hell am I hearing and seeing this
correctly. Austin was telling the truth then. That’s insane. “So, he’s like…
your pet?” That’s cool. Most people have cats and dogs, but I guess a
monkey works.
He snorts, looking at the monkey parched on him. “If you were to ask
him, he’d probably say I was his.”
Bob nods his head as if he understands and I almost gasp because what
the fuck?! Is this some kind of joke?
Bob hops down from his spot on Holden’s shoulder, going down to the
guys who were laughing at me a minute ago. Of course, they’re in cahoots.
Fixing my chair and sitting back down. “I think I need a shot after that.”
 “That I can do. Ring around the raspberry bush?”
“That’ll work.”
He gets to work making my shot, and I watch Bob as he takes one of the
guy’s cigars and begins smoking it. That’s the oddest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Here you go.”
I don’t waste any time grabbing the shot and shooting it back. “Yeah,
those things are dangerous. I can’t even taste the alcohol. I could easily
drink four of those back to back.”
“I had a guy who loved them so much he wanted me to make him a full
drink version, which was basically six shots in a cup.” He shakes his head.
“Never seen so much pink vomit in my life.”
“Yeah, I’m good on that.” I wave my hand a little. I haven’t thrown up
from drinking since my teenage years and I don’t want to relive that.
The rowdy guys at the end of the party cheer, and I turn in time to see
Bob snag a fedora off one of the guy’s heads before he swings up and heads
back to Holden. I’m not drunk enough for this.
“So, where’s Mr. O’Kane? Already in bed…” Holden asks, drawing my
attention back to him.
I cock a brow, eyeing him with amusement. “Well, you’re about as
subtle as a brick through a window.”
“It’s the bartender’s charm.” He winks. “So tell me. How’s it going?”
He leans in and my eyes track to where Bob is perched, equally invested in
my story as Holden. Yeah, he’s the smartest animal I’ve ever seen.
I bite down on my lip, unsure of how much information I want to
divulge. “It’s nice.”
He waits for me to say more and when I don’t. he sighs loudly. “Ugh,
come on. You can do better than that, can’t he, Bob?”
Bob nods, almost knocking off his fedora in the process. Okay, I gotta
admit; the monkey is kind of cool.
I run through the things in my head, grasping for what to say. “I’m not
good with stuff like this. Talking about my feelings. It’s bullshit.” Much
like all feelings—they’re not for me.
“Well, I heard John brought you guys some games.” He slides in
nonchalantly, but clearly fishing for information.
“You guys gossip like little old ladies.” I can almost picture them, back
in their own bungalows, sitting around a card table telling stories about the
guests.
 Holden shrugs, like he doesn’t give a fuck. “That we do. The things I
could tell you would blow your mind.” His eyes gleam with delight and
those words are usually the kind that will have the reporter in me perched
on the edge of my seat, ready to pick apart his brain. Holden is the
informant. The guy I’d be schmoozing, trying to get him to give me the
lowdown on all things Black Diamond. But instead I’m going a completely
different route, proving to me just how gone I am for Austin O’Kane.
So despite my apprehensiveness, I decide to get the confusing shit out
of my head. Maybe It’ll clear my brain enough that I’ll be able to focus like
the old Beck again. “He’s not like I thought he’d be. I feel drawn to him.
That’s new for me. I’m not the type of guy who chases. I’m more of a
playboy and yet ever since he’s been on my radar, I haven’t been able to
focus on anything else.”
Am I really drunk confessing to my bartender right now? Hell, I’m not
even drunk, just purging all my feelings.
“I understand that way more than you know. That’s the thing about love.
It sneaks in and bites you on the ass when you least expect it.”
“Love?” I blurt before I can stop myself. I reach up, scratching the back
of my neck as I stumble over what to say. “It’s not like I’ve known him
long. I don’t know if we could call it love.”
He shrugs, giving me a look that screams, been there, done that. And
denial is a river in Egypt. “I’m just saying I get it. Don’t waste your time
trying to pretend it’s not happening or pushing him away. That shit doesn’t
work either. Embrace the feelings, let them do their thing. Freak you out,
suffocate you, whatever.” He waves a hand. “Once you get past the fear,
you’ll be glad you did.”
I contemplate his words, wondering if it’s even possible to have feelings
like that after a mere few weeks. I mean, this isn’t a fairytale. Things like
this don’t happen in real life.
“You’re thinking too hard about it. Just hang on for dear life and enjoy
the ride.”
Oh, that’s not good. “You’re a terrible bar therapist.” I look at Bob.
“Well, what about you? Any advice?”
Bob shrugs, hopping down from his spot on Holden and rummaging
around in something behind the bar I can’t see before coming back and
handing me… “Lube?”
 Holden laughs, and Bob gives my arm a pat before swinging away,
fedora and all. “It’s weed lube. You don’t have to use it. It’s another island
staple. Apparently, Bob wanted to give you a sample to enhance your
experience while you’re here.”
My mouth opens and closes a dozen times, but no words come as I stare
at the bottle. This feels like the tenth time in an hour I’ve been surprised by
something. Maybe I shouldn't come down here and drink with Holden.
Between him and Bob, they’re messing with my head too much.
“So… want another shot?” he asks, and I just nod, because why the hell
not? Drinking is the only thing that’s making any damn sense anymore.
Black Diamond is undoubtedly something I’ll never forget.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
 AUSTIN

“W hat are your thoughts on a beach picnic?” Beckett asks,

plopping down on the couch beside me.
“Can’t say I’ve ever been on one, but it seems like it’d be
fun.”
“Good, I was worried you’d think it was lame.” He chuckles, standing
and offering me a hand.
I take it, cocking my head in confusion. “Lame? Why? It’s food. I like
food.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of old school for a date. I didn’t know if it was your
thing or not.”
It’s definitely not my thing, hell I don’t even know if I have a ‘thing’ but
I don’t say that as my brain short circuits. “Date?” I blink, staring into his
intense gaze. “This is a date?”
“Two people doing fun things together, why not?”
He says this so nonchalantly, but my insides are twisting up. He’s
mentioned us going on a date once, but that was before I even knew him.
Now that I’m getting used to him, those words have a totally different
meaning. I clear my throat, trying to seem as unbothered as him. “Oh,
right… Yeah, well. A picnic sounds nice.”
“I’m glad. Let’s go.” He grabs my arm, tugging me to the door.
“Wait, don’t we need stuff?” And it dawns on me that I don’t actually
know what you’d need for a picnic.
“Already covered.”
We step outside and, sure enough, there’s a picnic basket sitting beside
my door. “Always so prepared. Now, what would you have done had I said
I wasn’t down for it?” I can’t help but tease.
“Then I would have persuaded you.” He plants a quick kiss on my lips,
then grabs the basket. “So, are you ready to go?”
Between the kiss and the gesture, I’m at a loss for words. This is my
first real date. And it's with a guy who kissed me in public like it was the
most natural thing in the world. Beck’s making it really hard to not catch
feelings for him when he does things like this.
I realize he’s still looking at me, waiting for me to answer, and I give
him a nod.
Beaming, he slides his free hand into mine, lacing our fingers together.
“Let’s head to the beach.”
His hand is warm and feels good against mine. He’s holding my hand—
we’re holding hands! Is it juvenile that I’m so excited about it? That I want
this moment to drag on longer so I can soak it up as Beck shares another
one of my firsts.
Dating, romance, all of it is new to me and yet, it feels like the most
natural thing in the world. I’m pretty sure it’s because of the person I’m
doing it with. And when I’m home, reflecting on the fling with Beck, I’m
almost positive I’ll have no regrets about our time together. He’s giving me
the experience I want and I’m grateful for it, no matter how diminutive our
time is.
The beach is pretty empty, and we find a spot to set up our stuff. There’s
literally everything in here. A blanket, wine, glasses, charcuterie set up,
plates, the works.
“Well, John really outdid himself.” I smirk, sitting down and taking the
bottle of wine.
“He did.” He takes the wine from me, grabbing the corkscrew and
opening it, pouring me a glass.
It’s good with a strong grape taste. “This is good.”
“I’m glad you approve. I figured you’d prefer a sweeter kind.”
“Confession, I’ve never really enjoyed wine, but I think you’d be right.
The few times I’ve tried red, they were always so dry. Not for me.” I take
another sip before putting my glass down, not wanting to drink it too
quickly. I’ve been drunk around this guy too many times now and I get way
too loose lipped. I don’t need to tell him all my secrets. Not that there are
many left at this point. “So, when did you ask John to do this?”
 “A few days ago.” He shrugs. “I was trying to figure out things to do.
Plus Holden gave me a few ideas, too.”
“Holden?” I question, trying to place the name. “I can’t think of who
that is.”
“The bartender who served you seven and sevens.”
“Ah, okay. Yeah, I had a bit to drink that night. I don’t remember much
about him. What’d he suggest?”
His cheeks flush, and he averts his gaze, shifting to look out at the
water. “Nothing noteworthy.” Uh huh, I don’t believe that, but he stops me
from inquiring further when he moves on to the next topic. “I did finally
meet Bob, though.”
“Oh, God.” I groan, eyes looking up to the sky. “That little fucker stole
my Kindle.” I didn’t realize it until hours after the fact, but I know he took
it. He had it tucked under his arm last I recall.
“You serious?” He laughs, opening up the box of fruit and eating a
grape. “Makes sense. He seems to have sticky fingers. He made off with a
guy's fedora the other night at the bar.”
I roll my eyes, following suit and angrily chomping on a grape. “That
doesn’t surprise me, although I’m surprised they allow that here.” Not to
sound snobby, but this is an elite island. A thieving monkey with a mission
to kill doesn't seem to fit in here.
“I think the guests love him. That’s the take I got when I saw him with
those guys.”
Of course, the monkey would only be out to get me. “Yeah, well, they
can have him,” I grumble, eating some more grapes. It’s silly, and it’s
confirmed by the little chuckle from Beck a moment later.
“Don’t laugh.” I give him a gentle shove. “He’s a terror. My first night
here, he pushed me into the pool.” That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but
he doesn’t need to know that I tripped and fell in on my own. I wouldn’t
have fallen in had it not been for Bob.
“Did he really?”
“Mostly…” I trail off, grabbing my glass and tipping it back. So much
for going slow.
He shifts, grabbing the wine and refilling my cup for me. “Well, the
next time he comes around, I’ll tell him to stop picking on you.”
He’s teasing me, and I try like hell to stop my smile from exploding
across my lips. “Oh, thanks for your concern,” I sass, moving on to the
cheese next, pairing a bite with a sip of wine and the combined flavors are
delicious.
“So, you like Friends, huh?” he says randomly and I lift a brow,
shoving more food into my mouth. That’s the most random conversation
change ever.
“I do. It’s old as hell, but really good. I watched it at least three times
before they took it off Netflix. That’s how I spend my Sundays. Relaxing,
binging shows. It’s the only day of the week where I don’t have a laundry
list of things to do and over the top obligations.” My favorite day of the
week.
“What obligations?”
“Oh, no no.” I shake my head, gesturing toward him. “You do this
everytime and I go on long rants about myself. It’s time for me to learn
things about you, oh mysterious one.”
He shifts a bit, giving me a tight smile. “Would you believe me if I said
I was boring? You're just so much more exciting.”
Ugh, no way. You’re not getting out of it this time. “Humor me.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s your favorite show?” Since we just were on that topic, I figure
it’s a good spot to start.
He thinks it over, a little smirk popping up the corner of his mouth.
“Smallville.”
“Really? Superheroes? I didn’t take you for a Marvel kind of guy.”
He gasps, hand flying to his chest as if I’ve physically struck him. “You
monster. It’s DC, not Marvel!”
I hold my hands up in surrender, going along with his antics. “Um. I’m
sorry. A DC guy.”
“Nope, it’s too late. You’ve already fumbled. The world is over.”
I cock a brow, grabbing my wine and trying like hell to not smile. And
he calls me dramatic. “I think you’ll live.”
“I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty faint.”
“You poor thing.” I give his head a little pat. “So why Superman?”
I watch as his expression does a one-eighty, shutting off completely. His
eyes focus in the distance, but he’s not really seeing. It’s almost like he’s
not here. I don’t say anything, worried that I’ll somehow make things
worse. I figured Beck has some demons hiding away in his closet by the
lack of things I know about him and I wonder how deeply the pain runs.
 “On my eighth birthday, I received my first ever Superman action figure
from my parents. Really, it wasn’t anything special. It didn’t even come in a
box. My mom probably picked it up from the thrift store, but you couldn't
have convinced me it wasn’t a bar of gold. I thought it was the best gift
ever.”
He stops talking, and I let him collect his thoughts, and I’m reeling over
the information. Beck grew up in a poor household, with loving parents, it
seems. It makes me wonder how he got to where he is now. I’m dying to
know more.
“I carried that thing everywhere with me. For months. To the point the
red and blue paint was starting to rub off because I never put it down.”
I smile, imagining a little version of him idolizing this small Superman
doll. How freaking cute I bet he was. He turns to me, his face very stark,
and my smile falls away at the expression.
“When they died, I got bounced around the system for a long time, and
that Superman was one of the few things I had that reminded me of my
parents.”
His words slam into me and I’m left feeling like I can’t breathe. My
mom passed away during childbirth, so I have no memory of her. It’s sad,
but not as sad as knowing her only to lose her. This entire story just paints a
whole new outlook on Beck for me. A happy little boy, turning into a
broken kid after losing the people who meant the most in the world. That’s
heartbreaking. “Beck, I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “It’s
okay. I’ve dealt with it. It was a long time ago.”
I squeeze back, wanting to give him some reassurance. “Well, I’m still
sorry.”
“Thank you.” He sighs, “Anyway, yeah. That’s why Superman. He’s
always been with me in my darkest moments. I relate to him in a lot of
ways.”
“Do you still have your action figure?” I can’t help but ask.
“I don’t. When I was sixteen, a little boy was brought into my foster
house—same situation as me. He was so lost, so sad all the time. One night
during a storm, he wouldn’t stop screaming for his parents. I remember the
guardian trying to calm him down, but it didn’t work. It was like he was lost
in a nightmare. I don’t even know why I thought to do it. Maybe just
instinct. One broken soul recognizing another.” He shrugs. “But I went to
my room, got it out and gave it to him. He didn’t cry for long after that.”
My heart’s pounding in my chest and my lip wobbles slightly. There’s
so much more to him than I even realized. How selfless of him to do
something like that at such a young age, too. He really is something special.
Without thinking, I lean in, placing a gentle kiss to his lips.
His eyes are glazed when I pull back, but it’s not desire, it’s something
else. Wonderment, maybe?
“You keep surprising me,” I whisper, eyes never looking away. We’re
locked in this moment together.
“I could say the same thing about you.” He pushes a bit of hair off my
forehead. “You’re nothing like I expected.” I want to know what he means,
but I’m cut off from asking when he leans in, kissing me again, making me
forget anything else.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
 BECKETT

I try to push the guilt at what I’m doing with Austin to the back of my
mind. I know this is wrong, considering he doesn’t really know who I
am and yet I can’t find it in me to stop…
I want him. Pure and simple. At Black Diamond, where no one knows
me, I can have him. And he’s the only thing that matters right now.
I toss the notebook back into the drawer. I haven’t written about the
island in a few days. Too absorbed in whatever world Austin and I seem to
be wrapped in. Marshal would kill me if he knew how much I was
neglecting the job. I should be worried about that and the fact that I’m
potentially fucking with the career I’ve worked so hard for over the last
several years.
It’s concerning how much I really don’t care, though. Whatever, I’ll
worry about that later. Right now, I need to get dressed and ready for my
date with Austin.
Date. I can’t believe I’m going on another date.
I’ll do my best to keep this one from getting as heavy as the last one did.
I really can’t believe I told him what I did. My past, my family,
Superman… Those are things I’ve only ever told Darren and Cole. But I
couldn’t not tell Austin about it. I felt like I needed to give him something.
I’ve been dodging telling him anything about myself and I thought maybe if
I told him, it would lessen my guilt… It didn’t, but I am glad he knows
now.
Jesus, what the hell is happening to me? I’m turning into someone I
never thought I’d be.
 I’m catching feelings. No, that’s wrong. I’ve already caught feelings and
I don’t know how to deal with that. It’s not who I am. The relationship guy.
The one who takes you out on dates and you introduce to your mom. I’m
the guy you come to when you want a quick roll in the sheets. And that’s
something I’ve always been okay with.
Until now. He’s making me feel things, and I’m really damn terrified.
I’ve gotten in too deep. Way over my head and drowning in Austin O’Kane.
This isn’t going to end well. I feel it deep in my bones. Gnawing away at
my brain. I’m going crazy with the what ifs. One thing I know for sure,
once he finds out who I am, I’m done for. I’ve been trying to come up with
a way to tell him. Soften the blow somehow, but I’ve got nothing. No
matter how this plays out, I know he’s going to get hurt.
I know I’m going to get hurt, too.
I need to just tell him. Go ahead and rip off the Band-Aid and put us
both out of our misery. Only every time I find the opportunity, I chicken
out. I’m not ready for us to end. I want to soak in the feelings he gives me
and hold on to it for a while longer.
Just a little longer.

I’M ADDICTED to kissing Austin and I never want to go back.

He woke up the beast inside and now I’m past the point of no return. We
can’t keep our hands off each other. Anytime we’re in the same vicinity,
we’re like magnets being pulled together with some unseen force.
I barely got in the door of his bungalow before we were all over each
other.
His tongue snakes out, lapping at my bottom lip, and I open for him
easily. He tastes so good. I never want to stop kissing him.
The best part is, he seems just as affected by me as I am by him. So at
least I know this isn’t one sided.
“Fuck,” he gasps, tearing his mouth away from mine. Our foreheads
connect as we pant together. We made it to the couch somehow, but I’m
about ten seconds away from coming in my pants from the way he’s
rocking against my dick.
 “You feel so good,” I moan, diving back in to connect our lips once
more. I feel like I have to kiss him all the time. Like I’ll die without this.
How insane is that?
“Mmm. I want to touch you,” he groans, kissing down my neck.
I palm his cock, giving it a lazy pump through his pants while my other
hand is holding onto his ass, pulling him into me. Trying to rock him faster,
wanting friction for my aching cock.
He tears his lips away with a gasp. “Yes, God. Yes. It's so good.”
He’s going to make me come, but I don’t want to do it like this. “I want
to try something.” I murmur in a soothing tone.
His lust-filled eyes meet mine and he nods, not even knowing what I’m
thinking. I love that he’s so trusting. So eager.
I move him off of me, settling him beside me on the couch. I slide down
to my knees between his thighs. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and
his lip is trapped between his teeth. My dick throbs and I reach down,
adjusting myself. He follows the movement, and his cheeks flush an
adorable shade. I love this side of him, and especially that I’m the only one
who’s ever seen it. It’s mine. At least for now, and I’m taking full advantage
of that by owning his pleasure anytime I can.
Dragging my fingers up the leg of his pants, I tease the seam before
settling on his button. “Can I?” I question, knowing he’s still shy about his
body.
He nods, and I take my time unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, then
working the material down his legs and tossing them to the side. He’s tense,
but I don’t let it deter me. I kiss his leg, just under his knee, near his
birthmark.
His breath hitches, and I continue on, kissing a path of lazy kisses up his
thigh until I meet the edge of his boxers. Sitting up, I toy with the band,
eyes holding his. “These too?” I wait with bated breath, half expecting him
to turn me down because it’s such an intimate thing I’m asking for.
“You can.” His husky tone is like music to my ears and I grab the band,
sliding off his boxers in one go. His cock is hard, dripping, and begging for
the attention I’m about to give it.
I settle between his legs, grabbing him with one hand and dragging my
thumb across the damp head. “If at any point you want me to stop, tell me,
okay?”
“I will.”
 With one last reassuring smile, I lean in, pressing a kiss to the head,
before opening my mouth and letting my tongue lap at the pre-cum. He
gasps, one hand shooting out to rest on my head and it fills me with pride to
know I’m the man to give him this.
Wrapping my lips around the head, I give him a little suck before
gliding down half way. His panting breaths and moans ring out in the room,
letting me know that he’s loving what I’m doing. Yes, baby, moan for me. I
bob up and down a few times, wetting him fully, before sliding all the way
down and letting him settle in the back of my throat.
“Jesus, fuck, Beck,” he whines, hips rocking up slightly. “That feels so
good.” I swallow around him, then glide up, repeating the action. His
moans are loud, and his hips jerk with every downward swoop, and I can
also feel the pressure building in my own cock. “I’m going to come soon.”
Yes, please do. I want to taste your pleasure.
I double my efforts, wanting him to get there faster, needing it as though
it is my own orgasm. “Beck.” He tries to push me off, but I am not having
that. “Beck!” He tries again, but I shake my head, wanting him to see how
badly I need this too.
His breath stutters, and he releases a little hiss before he erupts in my
mouth. I swallow, trying to get it all down, but it’s a lot, and some spills out.
When I finally pull off, I chase the drops with my tongue, wanting every bit
of him.
I sit back, taking in his flushed face, closed eyes, and blissed out
expression. Damn, he’s so beautiful. He always is, but there’s something
special about this. Probably because I know I’m the only one who’s ever
gotten this with him.
I grab his boxers, helping him get them back on. I forgo the pants. He
doesn’t need them anyway, then crawl up his body, shifting us around until
I’m laying flat and he’s spread on top of me. I rub his back, pressing kisses
to his hair as I let him come down from.
As we sit in silence for several minutes, my mind wanders and I’m
flooded with guilt over all the secrets I’m keeping. I had no idea we would
get here—that he’d come to mean so much to me in such a short time. Now,
I’m running the risk of breaking not only his heart, but my own too. Is it
better to tell him now? Or to enjoy the little bit of time we have left and
hope for the best? Honestly, at this point, I don’t even know anymore.
 “You okay?” Austin asks, fingers grazing across the furrow of my brow.
“You seem tense.”
The understatement of the century if there ever was one.
I shrug, leaning up and planting a kiss on his pouty lips. “I’m good.
Tired. Wanna nap with me?”
He gives me a lazy smile, hand gliding up the bottom of my shirt to rub
my stomach. “We could nap or I could return the favor.” He teases, kissing
my neck.
I place my hand over his, stopping his movement. He tilts his head to
look at me and I shake mine. “That was for you. I don’t need you to do
anything in return. I got exactly what I wanted out of it.”
His eyes bounce back and forth between mine, and I watch a swarm of
emotions wash over him. “Beck…” he starts, trying to find the words, but
they don’t come.
I get it. I get exactly how he’s feeling. It's what’s happening inside of
me every minute we’re together. Pressing another kiss to his lips, I pull him
down on top of me. Letting him settle against my chest, hoping he
understood the message I was trying to convey.
I know. I feel it, too. I feel it all for you.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
 AUSTIN

“T his sucks,” I whine, folding my arms over my chest and turning to

where Beck is rummaging around in his kitchen. “We had so much
planned.”
It’s already our last few nights on the island together. I can’t believe
how fast time has gone by, and Beck suggested we make the most of it.
Sadly, the storms that have been rolling through are making it seem
impossible.
“Don’t worry. We’ll make it work.”
Curious, I walk over to where he has a row of random items stacked on
the kitchen counter. “What is all this?” I pick up the bag of marshmallows,
squeezing one through the plastic.
He faces me, grabbing the stack of blankets and tucking them under his
arm. “We’re going camping.” Then he walks past me and into his living
room. We’re at his bungalow, and it’s the first time I’ve ever been here
because he said he had all the supplies here for the day he had planned. I
don’t mind, but I’m itching to look around, considering I’ve never been
here before.
I cock a brow, looking out the back door once again, noting the rain.
“Um, Beck. It’s pouring. How are we supposed to go camping in that?”
He begins shifting furniture around the living room, using the chairs and
table to create a structure before throwing blankets over the top of it. “I was
thinking, since you’ve never been camping and we don’t really have the
means to go on the island anyway—plus we can’t go out and do things
because of the rain—why not do some indoor camping?”
 He grabs the cushions from the couch, tossing them into his makeshift
tower thing, before going back to my room and coming back with all the
pillows off my bed. I stand to the side, watching as he makes a mini bed,
nest thing.
After about ten minutes, he finally stands, waving toward the thing he
just created. “Ta-da! I give you a blanket fort.”
Oh, my heart. This man. He’s too much, but it’s everything I didn’t
know I needed.
“It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.
He gives me a toothy grin, adding to the boyish charm. “Thank you. I
worked so hard on it.” He teases, coming up and giving me a playful smack
on my butt. “Now, go change into some PJs. I’m going to make us some
snacks and we’re going to relax for the rest of the day.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting in our blanket fort, surrounded by
popcorn, chips, and other random junk food that he had John bring the day
before.
“I need to work on my smooth talking. John never brings me anything
like this,” I say around a mouthful of popcorn.
“He’s a good guy. All I do is tell him what I want, and he gets it to me.
I’m surprised they had some of the items I requested. I have a feeling
they’re more so for the staff than for the guests.”
“That’d be really nice of him, though. Just giving away his snack stash,
can’t say I’d do the same. I’m a junk food connoisseur.”
“I noticed.”
“It’s easier to eat snacks than meals when you're on the go.”
“That’s true.” He nods, snagging a handful of popcorn. “Most of my
breakfast and lunches include some type of energy booster.”
“Same. Plus, coffee is a must.” I drink more coffee than anything else.
It’s probably more of an addiction than a need at this point.
“I lean more toward Monster.”
My face scrunches, and I shake my head. “Those taste like baby
powder.”
“Well, the last time I tried baby powder…” he trails off and I roll my
eyes, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it. He laughs, snatching and
tucking it behind his back. Successfully stealing my weapon.
 “That’s not what I meant. I’ve never tried baby powder either. You
know when you smell something, but you can imagine how it tastes. It’s
like that, but the opposite.” Ugh, does that even make sense? Based on his
smirk, I’m thinking not.
“I was kidding; I know what you mean. It’s like tasting or smelling
something and it triggers a memory.”
“Exactly,” I grumble, shoving more food into my mouth. “You always
have to tease me.”
“I can’t help it. You’re just so adorable when you’re flustered.” He
gives my cheek a little squeeze and I bat his hand away.
“Stop it, before I bite your hand.” I click my teeth together for effect.
“Oh, kinky.” He leans closer to me, nipping my cheek before pulling
away.
I rub the spot, trying and failing not to smile. That’s all I do when I’m
with him. Smile like a damn loon. “I cannot with you.”
“You love it.”
Oh, I love it all right. I think I’m starting to love a lot of things, if I’m
honest.
We’re staring at each other, the air around us is stifling, and I’m about
five seconds away from crawling into his lap.
I clear my throat, folding up the chip bags, needing something to do
with my hands. “So… Do we have any dessert? I’m in need of something
sweet.” Sweet like your mouth on mine again; that’d be nice.
“It just so happens that I do.” He smacks a kiss to my lips as if reading
my mind before crawling from the fort. “Be right back.”
I watch him go, and if this was an anime, I’m sure there would be little
hearts dancing around my head right now. I’m falling so hard for him, and
who can blame me? It’s impossible not to with the way he treats me. I sigh,
flopping back on our pillow nest and stare up at the blanket covered ceiling.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. The days have gone by so fast and
it’s almost time to go home. I want to talk about the possibilities of our
relationship moving forward outside of Black Diamond, but will that make
me seem clingy? We haven’t really talked about the logistics of our
relationship at all. It’s been more of a whim since the beginning. Doing
what feels right, taking things slow. He’s not once even pressured me to
have sex, though we have gotten pretty hot and heavy a few times. He’s
really just so considerate and I want to see if we could have something
outside of the island.
I hear his feet shuffling back and I sit up, grabbing the pillow and
placing it in my lap. “Voila, dessert,” he says, passing me the plate.
“What are these?” I question, eyeing them before picking up the
chocolatey graham cracker concoction.
He beams, grabbing one off my plate and taking a big bite, before
setting it back down. “S’mores,” he mumbles around a mouthful. “But
they’re modified. You’re supposed to roast the marshmallow over a fire, but
desperate times call for desperate measures.”
I eye the plate, feeling my eyes mist, and I can’t really explain why.
He’s just so thoughtful. So caring. He’s been like this since the start,
making me feel comfortable in my own skin. Showing me things I didn't
know I wanted. I look up at him, not at all caring that he can see the tears
lingering in my eyes. He needs to know how I’m feeling, all the things he’s
doing to me.
I move the plate to the side, the desire to eat long gone, and I kiss him. I
kiss him with all the desperation inside me. Trying to push out every ounce
of emotion I’m feeling and shove it into him. He kisses me back with just as
much hunger. His tongue comes out to tangle with mine, and he tastes like
chocolate, so sweet, so perfect. I never want this to end.
Our hands are everywhere, grabbing, tugging, pulling. Trying to get us
closer than we already are. I’m overwhelmed because nothing in the world
has ever felt so right before. It’s like he’s the missing part of me I didn’t
know was lost. Leaning back, I pull him down on top of me, wanting to feel
the press of his weight.
“Want you,” I manage to say between kisses. “I’m ready, Beck.”
He tears his lips away, chest heaving as he stares down at me with those
smoldering eyes of his. “Are you sure?” he whispers, running his hand
across my cheek.
“I’m sure,” I whisper back, knowing for a fact I’ve never been more
sure of anything in my life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
 BECKETT

A ustin’s cheeks are flushed a pretty pink as he stares, expression open

for me to see. He’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful
ever.
My heart slams against my rib cage, and I lean down, brushing my lips
across his. They’re slightly damp, warm, and fit perfectly against mine.
Leaning back, I push a bit of hair off his forehead, wanting to see his
eyes better. His big blues stare up at me and it almost knocks the wind from
me. His eyes are so expressive, they hold a story just waiting to be told.
Kissing each lid softly, I move up to his forehead, then his cheeks. Trying to
show him how I’m feeling, too.
“I want to touch you,” I whisper, leaning up to look into those eyes once
more.
Nodding, he bites down on his lip, pushing gently on my chest so we
can sit up. All the while, his heated gaze holds mine. It’s nothing like the
apprehensive one he used to give before we did things. This one is sure,
ready, eager. He pulls off his shirt, exposing his body to me, and the
confidence he’s exuding is sexy as fuck.
My eyes eat up every bit of exposed skin. From his slender neck to his
broad shoulders. He’s lean and tone with a defined chest and stomach. I
spot his birthmark stretched across his chest and ribs, only adding to his
beauty. He shouldn't be hiding all this underneath those clothes every day.
He’s really doing the world an injustice by not showing off his body.
My eyes trail up and over his abs and chest to every inch of exposed
skin I can see. I lightly trail my fingers over his birthmark, loving the way
his breath hitches. His skin pebbles under my touch and I lean in, letting my
lips drag across his collarbone. “Does this feel good?” I whisper against his
skin.
“Yes, please, more,” he moans, grabbing my hair.
I kiss down his chest, letting my tongue graze over his left nipple and I
watch it fascination as it pebbles. I love the way he reacts to my touch. Like
his body is starved for me. Running my tongue across his birthmark and
down the middle of his chest, I take in every moan, whimper, and groan that
leaves his mouth. It’s intoxicating to be this connected to someone.
In the past, I’ve been the guy who really only cared about his own
pleasure. Sure, I’d make sure the other guy got off too, but it was just that.
A quick way to come. Austin, though, is nothing like that. I want to take my
time. Want to worship every bit of skin, and spend hours thoroughly loving
him.
“Beck,” he whines, hands tugging my hair. “I need more.”
God, he makes it so hard to stay in control. “I got you, baby, relax.”
He gives me a little unhappy grunt that does nothing but make me
smile. I love when he gets like this. So desperate.
I sit back, pulling off my shirt and throwing it to the side. His eyes roam
over me and he traps his bottom lip between his teeth as he stares at me
hungrily. He looks like he wants to eat me alive, and I’m pretty sure my
expression isn’t much different.
My hand goes to the button of my shorts and I give him a little show,
going as slow as I possibly can, undoing them and gliding them off.
“You’re teasing me,” he says in a breathless whisper.
“Maybe just a little.”
Then he surprises me, sitting up, and pushing me over, flipping our
positions so I’m underneath him. Fuck, that was unexpected and really
sexy.
He takes off his pants; not as slow or as graceful as I did, but it was still
one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Until he one ups me, slowly
dragging his boxers down, exposing himself to me. I track the movement,
wanting to reach out and touch him.
He throws his underwear to the side and settles on my lap; the only
material separating us now is the thin layer of my boxers. I reach out, ready
to grab his cock, but he smacks my hand away. “No, you had your time; it’s
my turn now.” He gives me a sexy smirk before sliding down my body,
taking my boxers with him. He settles between my legs, taking hold of my
cock, giving it an experimental tug.
“Fuck,” I moan, almost coming on the spot as I watch his tongue snake
out to wet his bottom lip.
“Let me know if you want me to stop.”
I can pretty much guarantee that’s not going to happen ever, but I nod,
knowing he needs the reassurance from me. Leaning forward, he lets his
tongue run over my crown, and I feel like I’ve been struck with a live bolt
of electricity. “Damn.”
I grab some of his hair gently, needing to touch him. He gives me a few
experimental licks before he sucks the whole head into his mouth and my
hips rock up on instinct, chasing the sensation. It feels so good. I close my
eyes, letting my head drop back to the mattress as he makes love to my
cock with his mouth. He’s slow, taking me deep and coming back up, the
slickness of his saliva coating his hand as he jacks me in time with his
sucks. The suction noises he’s making combined with the actions of his
mouth are about to make me bust. “Wait, wait,” I push out, the orgasm
sneaking up on me.
He pulls off, eyes wide, lips swollen, and my control snaps. I flip us,
needing him back under me like before. Our dicks rub together and I have
to close my eyes to stop from embarrassing myself. I can’t come yet.
“Hey,” he groans, poking me in the chest. “I wasn’t done.”
“Well, I was about to be. That’s why I needed you to stop.” His cheeks
heat and I run a finger over the flush.
“Oh.”
I kiss his lips softly, reaching down and giving his cock a slow tug.
“Yeah, oh.”
He moans, rocking up into my hand as our kiss turns from soft and
sweet to needy and desperate again. His hands glide down my back, nails
biting into my skin, and I relish in the bit of pain it brings.
“Beck, please. I’m ready,” he says against my lips.
“Not yet,” I mutter, leaning back to grab my shorts. “But you will be.”
I grab out my wallet, snagging the packet of lube and a condom I keep
there and toss them on our makeshift bed beside him. I claim my spot on
top of him once again, and he opens his legs, inviting me in.
Swiping some hair off his forehead, I look into his eyes, wanting to be
sure this is really what he wants. This is a big deal and we can’t go back
once it’s been done. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off with a
quick kiss. He takes the lube, pushing it into my hand before connecting our
lips once more.
It’s all the invitation I need. I sit back, tearing open the packet, and after
pouring it out onto my fingers, I tap his leg, needing him to raise his knees.
“Bend,” I whisper, kissing his knee when he does.
His chest is rising and falling as he watches me watch him. Taking my
lubed finger, I rub his hole, gliding the lube over him before working in a
finger. We go slow; me giving him time to adjust before I go on from one
finger to two, then three. I lick the head of his cock, cleaning up his pre-
cum and groan at how good it tastes. I’m slowly dying. Ready to get inside
of him.
He’s panting harshly and throws his head back when I crook my fingers
and find his prostate. His hips shoot up off the cushions and a sharp cry
escapes him. “Beck, stop. Don’t wanna come yet.”
His throaty tone makes me shiver, and I pull my fingers free, taking a
calming breath as I grab the condom. My fingers fumble to get it open—
you’d think I was the virgin here. I get it open and on, settling my body
over his, lining up my cock. I hold his gaze, searching for anything to
indicate he isn’t ready for this, but there’s nothing. He wants this as much as
me.
I push in, never breaking our eye contact. I need to see his expression
when I slide inside him for the first time. He feels so good and it takes
every bit of control I possess to go slow.
“Beck,” he whimpers, hands digging into my shoulders. His brows are
pinched and his mouth is open in a gasp. I don’t know if it’s the intensity of
this moment or if it hurts, but I pause, giving him a moment to adjust. I feel
suspended in the universe. Like nothing outside of this room matters.
Because nothing else in the world exists besides us and this moment.
I hold there for a moment, giving him lazy kisses, letting him get used
to me as I slowly slide out and push back in, this time going all the way
inside. He moans into my mouth, one hand coming up to grab my hair
while the other slides down to the small of my back. We never stop kissing
and I give a few slow pumps, eating all the sounds he releases.
I pull my lips away, letting my forehead rest against his and I soak in
the way he’s making me feel. My limbs are shaking and my body is flushed
with sweat as my heart pounds in my chest. I lean up onto my elbows,
opening my eyes to see he’s already looking at me. His hairline is damp,
cheeks rosy, and his eyes are glazed with pleasure.
I can’t hold it in anymore. Everything that’s been nagging at me for
weeks, wanting to come out, is no longer taking a backseat, refusing to be
ignored any longer.
Dragging my thumb across his bottom lip, I say the words that I never
thought I’d ever say to a partner. “I love you.” They feel foreign leaving my
mouth, but it doesn’t make them any less true. “I love you so much.”
He gasps, those sweet lips parting and eyes misting over, wrecking me
with his open expression, then doing it all over again with his words. “I
love you, too, Beck.”
It’s all too much and I lean down, slanting our lips back together,
rocking my hips into him once more. Everything is too much and my ability
to go slow is fading with every thrust. I need more. More of him, more of
these feelings and suddenly, the desperation to come is smothering.
Reaching down, I take hold of his cock and begin to pump it, needing him
to come with me.
“Beck,” he moans, hands clinging to my biceps as his body tenses and
he unleashes on my hand and his stomach.
“Fuck, fuck,” I cry, eyes slamming shut as my orgasm slams into me.
Lazily, I continue to pump my hips, chasing the overwhelming sensations.
I’ve never felt anything like this. It was so much more than sex. It was
everything.
I stay inside of him for as long as I can, kissing him over and over
again. Not wanting to break our connection. I’m fearful that when it breaks,
the light of day will shine in, reminding me that when Beck finds out who I
really am, I may lose this beautiful thing that I’ve only just found.
And that thought is absolutely terrifying.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
 AUSTIN

R olling over, I reach out a hand for Beck but am met with cool, empty
sheets. I frown, lifting my head from the pillow to search him out, but
realize quickly he’s not in the bed with me. I groan, rubbing my eyes
to clear the sleep, and sit up slowly. My body feels sore and I fight back a
smile as I roll my neck, trying to loosen up a bit.
Memories from last night flash through my mind. Like when we moved
from our fort to his bedroom where we had round two… and maybe three.
Last night was everything I wanted and more. He was sweet, gentle, and
made me feel beautiful in my skin, for probably the first time in my life. I
didn’t realize sex and relationships could be like this. He makes me feel
special. Like I matter.
I get up from the bed and head to Beck’s shower, turning the knob for
the heated floors and doing the same with the water. I will say I’m jealous
of how much better Beck’s bathroom is than mine. Like he even has the
rainfall shower head. I got screwed, big time. My mind goes back to the
night at the bar when Beck told me I should use his heated floors and I
almost snort as I’m assaulted with the memory. All those weeks ago, I never
could have imagined we’d be here now. It’s crazy how life brings people
into your life when you need them. Ones you never expected.
I get to work, washing quickly; I want to be dressed and ready when he
comes back. It’s my last day at Black Diamond before flying home
tomorrow and Beck promised to make it extra special. I’m not ready to go
back to reality yet, but I’m excited about the future possibilities with Beck.
He promised we would talk about all of it tonight and I can’t wait. I
know we’re on the same page with our feelings, so we just need to work out
the logistics, which should be easy.
I finish in the shower, get out, and dry off before heading to Beck’s
closet. All my clothes are at my place so I grab one of his v neck shirts,
tugging it on and over my head.
I still can’t believe how free I feel with him. Like I can do and be
anything I want. It’s exhilarating.
Searching around his drawers, I eventually find some sweatpants. I pull
them out, and when I do something smacks the floor with a thump. I look
down at the ground, noting the black-and-white marble composition
notebook and cock a brow in confusion. That’s a strange thing to just fall
out of nowhere. Tugging on the pants, I then scoop up the notebook,
preparing to put it back when a magazine clipping falls from inside, falling
down to the floor by my feet. I go to grab it, preparing to shove it back into
the book and put it away when the article causes me to freeze. Sweat breaks
out across my body as I take in the scandalous photo of ‘me’ from weeks
back.
My stomach bottoms out as I stare at the paper before ripping it to
pieces. Why would Beck have this? Are there tabloids here on the island?
Did he see it somewhere and is waiting to confront me about it? He’s been
acting so off the last few days, I thought it was because we’d be leaving
soon, but is this why?
Oh, God. Is he going to break things off with me?
My stomach churns as I think about Beck and how he must feel seeing a
picture of me like that slapped all over the news. He probably thinks I lied
about being a virgin, or something. I’ll tell him what happened. Tell him
about my brother and what I suspect. If I explain, he’ll understand; I know
he will. I open the book, about to put the shredded article back inside when
the words on the front page catch my attention.
Unlocking the Secrets at Black Diamond.
I frown, reading over the first page. It’s just a bunch of bullet points of
things to do here. Like the waterfall and the beach. Curiosity peaked, I flip
to the next page and the next, continuing to read as bullet points turned to
paragraphs.
This is really strange. What exactly am I looking at here?
I flip ahead, going to the back of the notebook. When I do, my eyes
nearly bug out of my head. I start flipping through the pages, not even
really reading, just skimming over things about me. Things Beck wrote
about me!
Self conscious. Lonely. Fragile. Naïve. Broken. Virgin.
My heart cracks and my stomach heaves as nausea washes over me. Oh
my God. I’m going to be sick. I rush to the bathroom, falling onto my knees
and expelling bile into the toilet bowl. But it’s not enough; terror and
betrayal continue to rush through me, and I dry heave several times. Snot is
clogging my nose while tears stream down my face and my head spins.
This can’t be happening. This seriously can’t be happening. Who the
fuck is Beck, and why is he documenting so much stuff about me? Very
private, personal things that I told him because I trusted him.
I try to let logic take over, telling me there’s an explanation for this, but
what in the hell could that possibly be? Anger replaces pain and I stand on
shaking legs, then head back to his room. The journal thing is laying on his
bed and I scoop it up, flipping back to the beginning. He’s writing some
kind of story about the island, I think. Or at least that’s what I’m gathering
by the information here. Is he doing the same thing about me? Getting a
bunch of stuff together so he can sell information to the press?
It just doesn’t make any sense. None of this is making any sense.
I hear the beep sound, letting me know someone is coming in the front
door, and I contemplate putting the notebook away before thinking better of
it. I want to know what this is.
Lonely, fragile, naïve Austin has left the fucking building and has been
replaced with someone ready to set this bungalow on fire.
“Austin? Are you awake, baby?”
Baby. The word makes me cringe and I honestly never want to hear it
again. Who the fuck does he think he is? Calling me that when he’s clearly
been lying to me these last few weeks. Well, the entire time we’ve been
together, really.
“Austin?” he tries again and I look down at the notebook in my hand,
trying to decide if I want to chuck it at him when he comes back here. I hear
the sound of his feet as he makes his way down the hall and my stomach
churns with the anticipation of what’s to come. “Austin?” he questions, and
I hear him stop at the threshold. I’m not looking at him. And where seconds
ago I wanted to confront him, now I would rather never see his face again.
Without looking at him, I tilt the notebook up, as if he can’t see it
already. “I found something interesting while you were gone.” My voice
sounds odd. A tone I’ve never heard before, but it’s definitely me that
spoke.
“I can explain.” His voice sounds full of worry.
I look up and almost die on the spot when our eyes connect. The
mixture of my pain and anger is a dangerous combination. “Please, do
enlighten me.” I growl out.
His brown eyes don’t hold that intensity they usually do. Instead, they
look almost scared. Well, good. He should be fucking scared. “I was going
to tell you tonight.”
A bitter laugh escapes me, and I shake my head. “How convenient. You
need to try harder than that.”
“Austin—”
“Who the fuck are you?” I bite out, holding up the notebook. “And what
the hell are you going to do with all this? Sell it to someone? Break a pretty
penny? Newsflash, I’ll sue the hell out of you for every cent you’re worth if
you do that.”
“I’m not going to sell it.”
“Then what the hell is it for? I know some people keep a diary but this
is not that. It’s like some twisted treasure hunt. Not even just the shit about
me, but all the insider information about Black Diamond.”
He takes a step toward me and I rear back, chucking the book as hard as
I can at his chest. It makes contact, and he grunts as the book falls to the
floor with a thwack.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I had it all planned out. Tonight
during dinner I was going to explain it all.” He’s pleading with me to
understand, but I don’t get anything.
“Explain what?” I grit out through clenched teeth. I’m clouded with
anger, and my head is literally spinning with all the bullshit he’s dropping
into my lap.
Tears begin to fall down his cheeks, but I want none of that. He’s
hurting? Good! “Aus—”
“Fucking tell me!” I scream. So over his vague responses, I’ve had
people walking all over me my whole life and I really thought he was
different.
“I’m an undercover reporter.”
My world spins and the room goes dark for a second and I stumble
back, nearly missing the bed when my knees give out from underneath me.
A reporter. He’s a fucking reporter. A sharp cry leaves my lips as tears
immediately flood my eyes. Oh my God. I’m so stupid. The stupidest
human alive.
I trusted him. With everything.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
My throat feels tight and between the sobs, my inability to catch my
breath, and the pain I’m feeling, I really think I’m going to pass out.
“Austin.” I hear his voice and feel the glide of his hands on my arms as
he tries to calm me down. “Austin. Please, I need you to calm down. You
need to breathe. Please, breathe.”
I’m trying. I’m trying, I think over and over.
Then I feel his fingers dance under the material of my shirt, settling on
the skin of my back as he counts, trying to get me to breathe with him.
What he’s doing is right, but everything about it feels wrong now. Tainted.
Jumping up, I push him off of me, stumbling out of his room and into
the hall. I have to get out of here. Right. Now. He’s calling my name, but I
tune him out. I need to get outside.
One foot in front of the other, you can do this Austin. It’s going to be
okay. You just need some fresh air.
When I reach the front door, I push it open and trip down the three steps
in my attempt to get out of there quickly. I fall to the ground but get up fast,
stumbling my way down the pier. I’m halfway back to my bungalow when I
finally stop, bracing my hands on my thighs as I suck in lungfuls of fresh
air. It’s then I hear the creaking of the dock as he comes up behind me and I
shut my eyes, willing the tears to go away, but it’s pointless.
I’m fucking devastated.
“Baby, please.” The words are the final nail in the coffin. It’s like
everything that I was feeling, everything that I thought we were, has
dissolved into nothing. I’m not a violent person, I never fight, but the rage
and other emotions storming inside me right now is like nothing I’ve ever
experienced. I felt betrayal over the actions of my brother and father, but
this. This feels so much worse.
I whip around, jabbing my finger into his chest so hard that he winces.
“Don’t you fucking dare. I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything!”
He physically jerks back, and I watch as my words hit home with
finality. He has to know this is over. There’s no coming back from this.
 “Austin—” he tries, but I’m not hearing him. It’s way too late for that
now.
“NO!” I scream, not caring if the entire island can hear me. Fuck this
place and everyone on it. “You don’t get to say my name. You don’t get to
talk to me. We’re done. I don’t want to hear your excuses or any more of
your lies. I want you to turn around and walk out of my life just as quickly
as you walked into it. Do you understand?”
“Please,” he begs. Those eyes that used to hold so much meaning and
plans with one single look are now tainted and filled with lies and broken
promises.
I turn to walk away and I hear his feet as he tries to follow and I whirl
around again, leveling him with a glare. “Do not follow me. I don’t want to
talk about this anymore. What we had is done. It was over the moment I
realized what you really are. Now, can you please do me this one thing and
let me walk away with what little of my dignity I have left?”
His eyes search mine, and I guess he realizes I’m not kidding because
he doesn’t fight me. In fact, I watch as a calm settles over him. Acceptance
maybe?
Good riddance. Shaking my head, I turn away from him and walk down
the pier. His quiet cries follow me all the way back to my bungalow.
CHAPTER TWENTY
 BECKETT

S omehow, I found myself back in my bungalow without knowing how I

got there. I also don’t remember packing my things or preparing to
leave. I didn’t care about the flight. Almost wishing the plane would
fall from the sky and put me out of my misery.
Walking back through the terminal at LAX is surreal. Like I’ve been
gone years instead of weeks. I don’t feel like myself. I feel lost, devastated.
And I feel utterly destroyed.
The cab ride back to my place passes in a blur and soon enough I’m
standing in my apartment, surrounded by four suffocating walls. I pull out
my phone, booting it up for the first time in weeks. I'm surprised it even
still turns on, considering I haven't charged it in a while. My screen
instantly is flooded with notifications. I skip them all, going to the call icon.
I spot Darren’s name first and click it, then bring the phone to my ear with
shaking fingers.
It only rings twice before his cheery voice rings through the line.
“Fucker! Are you back? Why didn’t you send out the bat signal? I’d have
met you at the airport or something.” I want to smile over the Batman tease
because the asshole knows how much I love Superman, but when my lips
try to produce a smile, a stuttered sob hiccups out instead. “Beck?” I hear
the change in his tone immediately and open my mouth to tell him it’s fine,
but another sob leaves me instead. “Cole!” he yells.
Then I hear them talking back and forth and some rustling before Cole’s
voice comes over the line. “Hey, man. Are you home?”
I nod even though he can’t see before a broken ‘yes’ passes my lips.
 “Good. That’s really good, Beck,” he soothes. In a normal situation, I’d
hate that he was talking to me like a child, but there isn’t anything normal
about how I’m feeling. I fall to the floor as my knees finally give out from
underneath me.
“Beck?” This time it’s Darren again. “You okay? What was that?”
“I-I… fell,” I manage to get out. “Don’t fe-feel so g-good.”
“We’re on the way. So close. I promise not even five minutes, okay? I
just need you to talk to me.” Cole’s tone is soothing, and it calms me a little.
“Okay,” I whisper, pressing the speaker button, and putting the phone
down on the floor. Then I lie down next to it, rolling onto my back and
staring up at the popcorn ceiling.
I can hear their voices but it’s all kind of distant now. Like my head has
been dunked underwater. I reach up, pressing my fingers against the pulse
point of my neck, expecting my heart to be racing, but it’s not. It’s calm. I
drop my hand, feeling woozy. I don't think I’ve eaten anything today. Wait,
when was the last time I ate something? The time change is fucking with
me.
S’mores. It was s’mores the night of the storm. The night I made love to
Austin. The night when everything was perfect. The night before everything
got ripped apart and broken to pieces because of my lies. I roll over, dry
heaving and expelling bile on the carpet.
“Beck?” The shouting sounds closer now and I look down at my phone
in confusion before two sets of hands touch my back. They’re here.
I spin around, coming face to face with the only people in the world
besides Austin that mean anything to me and I lose it completely. Big chest
heaving sobs rush me. I’m instantly wrapped in their embrace. And I
unleash all the pent up frustration from the last day and a half. Releasing
screaming sobs until my voice is hoarse and my throat raw from all the
tears. They never once let me go. They whisper words of encouragement.
Rock me. Caress me. Just being my rocks for now, even though they have
no idea what's going on.
They don’t push me to talk, or try to force words I’m not ready to say.
They just support me. Sit and breathe with me as I try to calm down.
Eventually, we’re all lying on the floor in my apartment. Heads together
as we stare up at the ceiling. At some point, Darren cleaned up my puke and
I’m really thankful for that, because otherwise, it would probably smell
really bad right now.
 “I fucked up.” My gravely tone is shocking to my ears and I clear my
throat, feeling a lone tear glide from my eye and into my hairline. “I got to
Black Diamond ready to get the best story I could. Even though I knew it’d
be hard, I really thought I could come up with something.” I bite down on
my lip, staring at the same spot on the ceiling for so long, my surroundings
start to blur. “Then I met Austin….” I trail off and I feel the shift in
Darren’s body as he rolls over onto his stomach to look at me. “At first, it
was just an accidental meeting. Then we became somewhat friends. He
was… nothing like I expected him to be, and it reeled me in. It was like I
needed to know more, to learn everything about him,” I say, stopping when
my voice cracks on the last word. I have to calm myself back down before I
lose it again.
“Did you fall in love with Austin?” Cole asks, mirroring Darren’s
position beside me. I can feel the weight of both of their stares and I inhale
deeply, nodding my head.
“He was everything I didn’t know I was trying to find. The connection
alone was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And so quickly. He had me
hooked from the start. I tried to push away the feelings, but it didn’t work.
He just dug so deeply under my skin that by the time I realized it was
happening, it was too late.” I bring my palms to my eyes, rubbing them so
hard stars burst behind my lids.
“Does he feel that way, too?”
I drop my hands, looking at Darren and shaking my head. “He did. He
did… Until yesterday.” My voice cracks again, and I bite down on my lip to
stop the sob. Fuck, get it together. You need to stop crying.
“What happened yesterday?”
I sigh, sitting up, and drawing my knees up to my chest. “I had kept a
journal of all the things on the island. What I saw, what was happening
there. The activities.” I sigh, hating myself more. “But I was also keeping
entries about him. Just for me.” I tap my chest. “Not for work, or to
eventually write a story. For me.” I pause, trying to prepare myself for what
comes next, but knowing there's not enough time in the world for that. “He
found my notes. I never told him who I was—couldn’t because of my cover.
I told him about it then. That I was a reporter, and he lost his shit, as
expected. I didn’t get a chance to explain properly. Not like it’d matter.
He’ll never forgive me, anyway.”
 I can’t stop the fresh set of tears from sliding down my cheeks. I feel
numb. Not at all sure what to say or do now. I just wish I could go back in
time and fix this somehow.
“Beck… I’m sorry.” Darren reaches over, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
Cole does the same, ruffling my hair a bit. “Me too. What can we do to
help?”
I shrug, because it’s the only thing I can do. “I don’t think there’s
anything that can help. Pretty sure I’m just going to have to ride it out.”
“And your Black Diamond story?” Darren questions, nudging me with
his elbow.
“I think we all know there is no story.”
Cole groans, but it’s not out of anger. It’s more out of worry for me.
“Marshal won’t be happy. I think he pulled every possible sting he had in
his arsenal to make that trip happen.”
I nod, not sure what else there is to say.
“Oh man, when you go all in, you really do the damn thing, huh?”
Darren locks his arm around my neck playfully, and ruffles my hair with his
knuckles.
“Yeah, and it fucking sucks. Why didn’t anyone warn me?” I grumble,
not meaning those words whatsoever. As badly as I’m feeling right now, to
not have known Austin so intimately is way worse.
I’d live through a thousand broken hearts if it meant I got to have him at
all.
”Okay. So we’re going to DoorDash us some pizza and beer, kick back,
watch the game and relax. It’s our guy's first heartbreak and we need to do
what we can to make it better.”
I smile, feeling way better than I deserve. “Thanks guys.” But the smile
soon vanishes when I think about Austin, wondering where he is right now
and how broken he must be feeling.
Because of me.
Because I broke him.

“GIVE me one good reason I shouldn’t fire you right now,” Marshal spits
out through clenched teeth, hands fisted on the desk in front of him.
 I’m sitting in his office the day after I got back, with nothing to show
for my weeks away. “If we’re being honest, you should fire me. Hell, if I
were you, I’d fire me.” And I would. I had a job to do and didn’t deliver.
That’s how it should be with any employer.
He stares at me, thinking over my words, before a long sigh escapes
him. “Well, what the hell do I say to that? I wasn't expecting you to agree.
That’s shit… You just stole my entire scare tactic,” he admits, falling back
into the chair. What now? I cock my head to the side in confusion, waiting
for him to scold me, to kick me out of his office and tell me to never come
back, but he doesn’t. “You know, in all my years, I’ve only run into a
situation like this once before and that played out a lot different than this
one.”
I wince, sure it’s something wild, like most of his stories are. “Do I want
to know?”
He snorts, shaking his head and opening his laptop. “Probably not.”
What the hell is happening right now? Why am I not being fired?
He begins typing, looking at me occasionally over the edge of his
laptop. I’m confused and nervous, and my damn leg won’t stop bouncing as
I wait to hear what he says next. With one last clack, he shuts the computer,
plucking off his glasses and leveling me with a blank stare.
It’s some weird standoff, and I have no idea what to expect.
He steeples his fingers under his chin, looking at me with an expression
I can’t quite read. This anticipation is going to kill me. I can’t handle much
right now. I’m already destroyed as is.
“I just submitted your transfer paperwork. You leave in two weeks, as
planned.”
My heart nearly leaps in my throat. I was expecting to walk out of here
jobless, and he’s telling me he’s still giving me my promotion. What?!
“With all due respect, I have to ask why.”
“Well, you really are more ballsy than I ever gave you credit for.” He
slides his glasses back on, grabbing a notebook. “Because I know you,
Beckett Taylor. You’ve never once turned down a story. You’re calculated,
driven, quick on your feet, and almost never get caught up in anything you
can’t get out of… So the fact that you’re here right now telling me you
can’t deliver means something important happened to you while you were
there. Important enough for you to say fuck it to a career you worked your
ass off for. And to me, that shows way more about your character than any
story you could ever tell.”
I’m floored. Everything he said was right on the money, but I never
expected him to understand. Marshal is a hard-ass through and through. Or
at least I thought he was. Now I’m not so sure.
“Thank you, sir,” I manage to say after several moments, once the shock
wears off.
He nods, grabbing his notebook. “Now, with that being said. There is
one thing I want from you,” he pauses. I don’t know if it’s for dramatics or
what, but it’s got me on edge, that’s for sure. “I want one last epic story
before your last day. That’s not optional.”
I practically sigh with relief. That’s all? I think it over, a few
possibilities are already coming to me. “Anything I choose?”
“Anything you choose.”
I contemplate it for a moment, already having an idea of what I could
do. It’ll take a lot of work, but I’m willing to put in all the effort to fix us. “I
can make something happen.”
Marshal’s smile is wide, as if he’s read my mind and he knows I’m
planning something big.
Big is an understatement. This assignment will be all heart… I just hope
it’ll be enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
 AUSTIN

I t’s funny how you lose all sense of time once you’ve been broken. It’s
like walking around in a daze while the rest of the world spins around
you.
That’s where I am.
Lost.
According to my calendar, it’s been a week since I’ve gotten home, but
a part of me still feels like I’m on the island. I guess that’s half true,
considering I left my heart and soul there. I turn to the window on my right,
staring out into the bleak morning day, watching the rain as it glides down
the pane. It’s been gloomy all week, and the weatherman has called for
severe thunderstorms. How fitting for the mood I’m trapped in.
Anger, resentment, desolation, and emptiness are warring with me as I
try to get a grasp back on reality. But the problem is my reality sucks and I
don’t want to be here.
I turn, taking in my father and brother where they sip their scotch on the
couch in my father’s office, oblivious to the turmoil I’m going through. Or
maybe they just don’t care. That’s the more likely option of the two. Have
they ever really cared? For a long time I thought my brother did, but now
I’m wondering how much of it was all smoke and mirrors. Did they ever
really love me? Or have I simply been a nuisance?
As if the way my brother set me up wasn’t enough of an indication of
how much he hates me, he keeps throwing nasty glares my way. We haven’t
talked about it, and I suppose we never will. Weeks ago, I’d have wanted to
know why. I’d have begged and pleaded to understand, but I no longer have
it in me to care.
 Guess that’s what happens when your emotions are on the fritz after
being destroyed. They’re talking about work, people—specifically, the best
way to make a dollar from them—and something inside me snaps. It’s like
everything I’ve been feeling and wanting since the moment I left six weeks
ago comes flooding forward and the reality of just how done with everyone
I am crashes into me.
“I quit,” I blurt out, causing both of their heads to snap in my direction.
My brother’s face breaks into a slimy smile and my dad looks
completely taken aback.
“You what?” my father questions, setting his glass down on the side
table as he stands from his chair.
I straighten my shoulders. My timid side who used to pray for his
father’s approval is long gone and I realize then I never needed his approval
at all. The only approval I ever needed was my own.
Wow, hitting rock bottom sure seems to bring on a lot of clarity.
“I said I quit. I’m done. I don’t want to be in the business anymore.
Give it to Aaron.” I gesture to my brother, not really caring if dad goes for
that or not. He could sell his company to the highest bidder and it still
wouldn't matter to me. I’m over it all.
A laugh tears from my father’s lips and he does a slow clap like I’ve
been given the award for best actor. “Very funny.” He sighs, sitting back
down. “Come over here and make a drink. We have some matters to
discuss.”
Now this pisses me off. He’s never once taken me seriously, so I
shouldn’t expect this to be any different, but the fact he’s finding humor in
any of this only fuels me on more.
“Dad, I wasn’t joking,” I bite out, hoping like hell he’ll get the message
this time. “I am done.”
His face drops again, and he looks to Aaron for some guidance, but my
brother is too busy looking at me.
“This is absurd,” he says, eyes filled with bewilderment. “You can’t just
quit. It’s our family legacy. You’re set to take over, and that’s final. We will
not be having this conversation again.” He waves a dismissive hand in my
direction. Turning back to Aaron as if I didn’t say anything of importance.
There was a time in my life where I would have broken down here.
Folded under my father’s demands, and crawled back to him with my tail
between my legs. That’s not the case now, though.
 I’m tired of being someone I’m not. Tired of putting myself and my life
on hold to do what others expect of me.
Mind made up, I head to the door, snagging my coat and tugging it on
as I walk out of his office. The workplace is buzzing with employees, and
the phones are ringing constantly. It’s satisfying to know I’ll never have to
come back here again.
“Austin!” My father’s voice booms out, causing everyone in the vicinity
to stop what they’re doing and stare. In the past, I’d hate this unwanted
attention, but I’m turning over a new leaf. Old Austin has left the building.
I spin around, standing tall as he charges down the corridor toward me.
He can’t hurt me anymore. I’m already destroyed.
“Get back in my office this instant. We are not through with our
discussion.” His face is flushed red and the vein jutting from his forehead
looks seconds away from busting.
“I already said what I needed to say, so I think our discussion is in fact,
over.” I hear surprised gasps from our audience and almost smirk.
My father, as if only now realizing all eyes are on us, tries a different
tactic. Plastering on a smile and he reaches out to grip my shoulder. You’d
think he was comforting a son, but the way his heavy hand is digging into
me tells me exactly what this is. A warning. “Let’s go talk about this,” he
mutters, dropping his voice so only I can hear.
Shaking my head, I knock his hand off, taking a step back. “You’ve had
years to talk to me. Now, it’s too late. I’m done. This is not the life I want
anymore.” I turn to leave, noting the multiple sets of wide eyes and dropped
jaws. They obviously heard my words.
Good! I hope they tell everyone.
I’m only three steps when my father’s harsh tone meets my ears. “You
leave and you will never be welcome back. I’ll take it all. Your car, your
apartment, your money. Every bit of it will be gone.”
I freeze, letting his words soak in. What he’s threatening would be
detrimental. It could be the end for Austin O’Kane…
And that thought has never been more freeing. Turning back to my dad,
I note his triumphant look. He thinks he’s won. Oh, I’m really going to
enjoy this. I walk to him, pulling out my wallet in the process. His brow
lifts as he watches me, clearly confused at what I’m doing.
“Dad.” I sigh, stopping a foot away. “I never wanted your money.” Then
I take out my credit cards and grab his hand, planting them in his palm.
“You can have it.” I fold his fingers around the cards, give him a little pat
and leave, tuning out the round of cheers from the employees and my dad’s
screams as I get further away.
Freedom is within reach now, and I plan on grabbing it with both hands.

I THROW the last bag into the back of the used Jeep Cherokee I just
bought and sigh, looking up at the highrise that’s no longer my home. It’s
funny how having nothing feels more like living than when I had
everything.
After telling my dad to basically fuck off, I got to work setting myself
up. Selling everything that was mine and stacking as much money as I
could. I gave him back his car and apartment before going to buy my Jeep.
Now I’m sitting on what little bit of money I have left, and I’m ready to go
figure out who the hell Austin O’Kane is.
My heart aches for Beck and I miss him so much. A part of me wishes
he was here with me and we were doing this together, but sadly, that wasn’t
in the cards for us. We haven’t talked since that day on the dock, though
I’ve wanted to reach out a dozen times but haven’t. I can’t find it in myself
to take that step. It hurts. Hurts worse than anything ever has, but I can’t
stay locked up in the past and in the pain. I need to heal. Need to do
something for me for once in my damn life. So even though it’s not what I
want, I still have to do it.
Who knows, maybe one day our paths will cross again.
With one last look around, I hop into the Jeep and head to the gas
station to fill up. I’m going to hop on Route 66 and go. No destinations in
mind. I’ll figure it out. Maybe even start my own TikTok to document my
travels.
I head inside after fueling up and grab some snacks. I need to go to the
grocery store at my next stop and stock up on some dry goods to save some
money, but for now, this will have to do.
The cashier is ringing me up when the cover of GossipTalk catches my
attention. I don’t know why I grab it. An impulse buy is not like me, but
nothing lately is like me, so why not start here? “I’ll take this too,” I tell the
cashier, adding it to the pile and paying for all my items.
 Tossing the bag on my passenger seat, I strap on my seatbelt and jump
on the highway, starting the first leg of my trip.

HOURS LATER, it’s getting dark and my brain is tired from being so
focused on the road. I pull into a motel, ready to shower and catch some
sleep. I pay for a room, grab my bag, and the trash rag, because why the
hell not? Then head up the set of stairs to my room.
I’ve never stayed in a motel and I was skeptical at first, but this one’s
not bad. It’s clean, and that’s the important part. I shower quickly, ready to
lie down and sleep. It’s been a lot getting ready for this trip and sleep has
been something I’ve put on the back burner. Not to mention when I sleep, I
dream about Beck and I’d rather not think about all I’ve lost with him.
Sighing, I push the thought away, pull on my sleep shorts, and crawl
into bed. When my eye catches on the trash rag sitting on the nightstand, I
snag it. “A little reading before bed won’t hurt anyone.” Especially since I
no longer have my Kindle—I swear that little monkey has a secret stash on
the island somewhere. Collecting valuables from the rich and famous,
creating a nest egg. Well, Bob, I hope you enjoy my reading material. I
recommend Cali Boy by Charli Meadows or Whit by Cora Rose. They’re
very good.
I snort at my train of thought, shaking my head and opening the
magazine. I barely get a few pages in when I’m laughing at how ridiculous
some of this shit is. These paparazzi need to get a damn life. I’m flipping
aimlessly through the pages, not really seeing anything, and am really close
to calling it quits when a column catches my attention.
No, not the column. The small picture of Beck in the corner of the page.
I sit up, all tiredness suddenly vanishing as I stare at the face of the guy I’m
so in love with. The man who broke my heart.
I gulp, eyes sliding to the headline.
The Playboy’s Guide to Falling in Love.
I inhale deeply, trying to prepare myself for whatever this is going to
say, but realize quickly there’s no way that’s going to happen.
Once upon a time…
 Just kidding, this isn’t that kind of story. This one is gritty, and I’m
probably going to completely embarrass myself. But hey, the things we do
for love, right?
Love.
The thing that most people want. Musicians have been writing songs
about it since the beginning of time. We see it in movies, all over social
media. It’s one of the most sought out things in the world. Partnership.
Commitment. Finding that one person to spend forever with.
I have to admit, I was not one of those guys. I prided myself on being a
perpetual bachelor. The fun guy you partied with, but not the one you took
home to meet Mom and Dad. Then I met someone that completely changed
my way of thinking. He literally stumbled into my life, giving me things I
never knew I wanted. It was terrifying and equally the most exhilarating
experience I’ve ever had.
My name’s Beckett Taylor and I’m about to tell you how I royally
screwed up and lost the love of my life.
By day I’m an undercover reporter for GossipTalk and by night I’m the
guy you go to if you want to have a good time. Or at least I was two months
ago.
Going into my last assignment, I knew it would be challenging, but I
take my job very seriously and knew that I would do everything in my power
to come up with the perfect story. I found out very quickly that the story I
was chasing wouldn’t be my epic tell-all. No. It was only the stepping stone
to get me there.
My throat feels dry and my heart’s beating like a snare drum as I read
the words. Beck’s words. Beck’s words about me!
Have you ever gotten so engrossed in a show that when it gets to the
finale, your chest feels heavy and you’re left a little dissatisfied? It’s not
because the show wasn’t good, but because it was so good and it captivated
you so deeply that you're disappointed there won't be anymore episodes for
you to watch. You go through that period of obsession where you hop on the
internet and google everything you can about it. Watching YouTube videos
of conspiracy theories and fan made edits of your favorite characters just
so you feel connected to that world you came to love so much.
That was me. Only my obsession came in the form of a 5’9, one-hundred
and sixty pound man. I got addicted to a person who surprised me at every
turn. He was nothing like I expected and nothing like anyone I ever met. He
hooked and reeled me in. Then what started out as an over the top crush,
quickly turned into something deeper.
It was explosive. The truest connection I’ve ever felt with another
person, and it happened so fast.
I’ve heard the expression ‘love at first sight’ so many times in my life.
Working in the area I do, I probably see it plastered on a different magazine
cover every week with the words ‘breaking news.’ So I won’t lie, I’ve always
been apprehensive. I mean, how can you meet someone and immediately
feel this instantaneous connection?
I thought it was all bull. Until I met Austin O’Kane. Then everything
I’ve heard about love finally made sense. The only thing people forget to
mention is how damn terrifying it is. Especially for a guy like me, who
never gave the idea of love a second thought.
So, there I was. Falling so deeply for this amazing human, scared out of
my mind but still welcomed it somehow… because hello, it’s love.
That wasn’t the only scary thing I was fighting. It was the lies I was
harboring. See, we met under false pretenses. He had no idea I was an
undercover reporter and, unfortunately, he found out before I could tell him.
As you can imagine, it didn’t go well. He was angry, hurt, and who can
blame him? I certainly don’t. What I did was awful. I should have told him
the second I realized things were becoming serious… but I want him to
know that was the only lie. Everything I said to him, everything we were
feeling. It was all real. And if given the opportunity, I would do anything in
my power to prove to him how sorry I am and how much he means to me.
And if you’re reading this, Austin. I want you to know I love you, and
I’ll be waiting if you decide you want to give us another chance.
Beck
I shut the tabloid, not really sure where to go from here. My heart’s
pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears. The last line of Beck’s letter is
playing over and over in my head. I swipe the tears from my face, only to
have more fall in their place.
The broken bits of my heart feel raw and I want nothing more than to
soothe the pain and go to him. God, it would be so easy. We’d be happy;
everything could fall back into place so seamlessly. At least at first, but for
how long? Nothing’s changed. I’d still be a mess of a person trying to cover
my past wounds with a Beck Band-aid, and that’s just as bad as him lying to
me.
 I love Beck. I loved the time we had together. And yes, I have to admit
if Beck wasn’t a reporter, we would have left the island together in happy
bliss. I have no doubt I’d be happy with that. But things are different now.
I’m different now.
Being with Beck taught me so much about myself, but the fallout from
Beck taught me even more. I can’t allow other people to control my
happiness. Or for someone else to be the center of my universe and let
myself fall to the wayside. I’ve spent so much of my life prioritizing what
others want and need, giving to everyone and taking nothing for myself,
and I can’t do that anymore. For once in my life, I have to be selfish. I have
to put myself first.
Biting down on my lip, I flip the magazine open, going to the article
once more. I stare at his picture, running my finger over it, wishing I was
touching him for real. I bring the mag to my mouth, kissing it. Trying to
suppress the sob that wants to escape.
It’s not our time right now, Beck. But maybe one day, we can try again. I
hope you’ll wait, but I understand if you don’t.
With a heavy heart and a clear head, I shut the tabloid, tossing it on my
nightstand.
I have to let him go for now. It may not be what I want, but I know it’s
what I have to do. Because if I’m ever going to be able to love Beck the
way he deserves, I need to learn how to love myself first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BECKETT
Eight Months Later

I unpack another box, breaking down the cardboard and stacking it on top
of the others. It’s been months since I moved to New York and I’m
finally finishing unpacking the rest of my things. It’s been a long time
coming. I think I just wasn’t ready to move on from California. My old life.
Austin. It’s funny how that happened. The change I so desperately wanted
now has me feeling empty. I didn’t realize I was searching for something
until Austin fell into my lap and now that he’s gone, it’s like all the oxygen
has been sucked from the room. I feel like I’m suffocating.
Sucking in a lungful of air, I give my head a shake, trying to push the
thoughts away and numb the pain engulfing me. Pretending this isn’t
happening is the only reason I’m still surviving at all. Avoid and ignore the
problem at all costs. I’ve been working tirelessly for weeks. Barely
sleeping, eating. That’s what I do—don't give myself the opportunity to
think, because thinking only makes shit worse. I know when I stop, the pain
I’ve been suppressing is going to come bursting through and it’ll destroy
me. Like I destroyed Austin?
My mind is a dangerous place. One that is constantly trying to pull me
down to where the depression lies. I’m so mad at myself for letting this turn
out the way it did, that I’m going out of my way to punish myself.
Feel the hurt. You need to feel it! The nagging voice screams at me.
“You can fuck off,” I mutter back. No way am I strong enough for that.
Sighing, I snag the remote, flipping through channels coming to a dead
stop when I stumble across the Friends holiday episode. I press the off
button so fast and chuck the remote across the room for good measure. It
hits the wall, clattering to the ground and busting open like a pinata. I reach
up, fisting my hair, and stare at the popcorn covered ceiling, begging for a
sign. For anything to make this torment stop.
I need to go for a walk and clear my head because this apartment is too
suffocating right now. I grab my keys off the counter, stuffing them in my
pocket before exiting and going down the hall to the elevator.
Has it really been months since I’ve seen him? Some days it feels like
it’s been mere hours and some like years. Either way, I miss him. I miss him
so much. Some days I wonder if I’ll ever get over what we had. And how
six weeks of my life could be the end all for me. He was not what I
expected, but he was everything I wanted; so to lose that is almost like
severing a limb. I feel like a huge piece of myself is gone, and the worst
thing is never knowing if I’ll ever get it back.
The sun is shining when I get outside, and I try to shift my thoughts
away from Austin and focus on my surroundings. I haven’t done much
exploring over the last few months. Really, I haven’t been doing anything
but surviving. Slogging through life, day by day. Hoping for the best, but
being always disappointed in the end. Better. I just want to feel better… but
that seems so far out of reach.
After a thirty-minute walk, I’ve somehow only talked myself into
feeling worse. So I circle back around to my building. I step onto the
elevator, pressing the button for my floor, and lean back against the wall as
it goes up. My stomach growls and I sigh, knowing the only thing in my
fridge right now is baking soda and moldy cheese. I need to go grocery
shopping. Maybe I can do it on Saturday.
The elevator doors open and I step into my hall, gaze glued to the floor
as I think about what’s in my cabinets. Ramen I think? Maybe a can of
green beans. That’ll go together, right? Maybe I can make some kind of stir
fry. Decision made, I pull my keys from my pocket, and finally look up and
freeze. Oh, God. Oh. My. God.
I give my head a shake, closing my eyes and opening them again,
expecting the mirage to be gone. This wouldn’t be the first time I dreamed
him into existence, after all. But when I open my eyes again, he’s still
standing there. And my heart feels like it beats in my chest for the first time
in months.
My eyes track up his body, taking in his flip-flops, denim shorts, and
plain black T-shirt before sliding up his neck, birthmark and taking in his
beautiful face. He looks different. Confident. So much like the guy I once
knew and yet so different at the same time.
He smiles widely as one hand comes up to give me a little wave, and I
almost weep from how adorable he is. “Hey, Beck,” he whispers, and those
words are the best ones I’ve ever heard in a long time.
“Hey,” I mutter, trying like hell to wrap my brain around the fact that
he’s here. In New York. Outside of my apartment.
“I was hoping to see you. Maybe we could talk? If that’s okay?” He
looks hopeful, maybe even a little worried, but he doesn't need to be; I’d
never turn him down.
 “Of course. I’d love to.” He smiles again and I can’t do anything but
stare, drinking him in. I’ve missed him so much. It’s taking every bit of
restraint I have inside of me to not rush him and wrap him in my arms. “Did
you want to go somewhere else? We don’t have to talk here.”
“Here is fine. If you want. I’m fine with what you want.”
I want you.
“Here is good,” I tell him, taking the last few steps down the hall and
unlocking my door. He smells good when I pass and I fight myself again,
fisting my hands to avoid reaching out to touch him. I would do almost
anything right now to feel the warmth of his skin against mine.
Pushing open the door, I head inside, looking behind me the whole time
to make sure he follows. I’m terrified he’s going to disappear on me. Like
my mind really did conjure him up.
He steps in, eyes roaming over the broken down boxes and half put
together living space. It’s really embarrassing how unprepared I am for
guests.
Setting my keys on the counter, I gesture toward the fridge. “Do you
want something to drink? I have water… Well, that’s pretty much all.”
Damn, I really should go grocery shopping sooner.
He chuckles, kicking off his shoes at the door, and shaking his head.
“I’m good, thank you.”
We stand there for a minute, neither one of us saying anything, just
taking each other in. He’s looking me over and I wonder what he sees. My
hair is longer now, and my beard is a bit untamed. I have on a pair of very
worn jeans, and my shirt has seen better days—I’m nothing like the Beck
he remembers.
Does he like that? Am I enough for him? He comes from a world filled
with money and everything he could want in hand’s reach and I’m an
orphan who makes a decent salary to live comfortably, but nothing
extraordinary.
“Beck,” he starts, shaking his hands out nervously. “Can I sit?”
“Sorry, yeah. My mind’s a little scrambled right now,” I tell him
honestly. No point in lying. He’s always been able to read me.
Nodding, he walks to my couch, moving a box and sitting down. “I get
it. I had a whole speech prepared for when I walked in here and now I can’t
remember a single word of it.”
 I head to where he is and sit down on the edge of the armchair across
from him. I feel edgy, not really sure what to expect, and I’m half terrified
he’s only here for closure. Letting him walk away from me was the hardest
thing I’ve ever done and I don’t know if I have the strength to let him do it
again.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask after a few moments of tense
silence. The air is charged with so many emotions passing between us, but
neither one of us is voicing them.
“I read your article.”
My article. I always wondered if he saw it. If it managed to get back to
him somehow. It went viral after publishing, and got plastered all over
social media. It was suffocating for a while, but eventually it died off like
everything does. The only thing that didn’t happen was my seeing Austin
again.
“Did you like it?”
He nods, giving me a small smile. “It was a good article.”
I don’t know what to make of his words. I’m not mad or anything, but I
want to clarify it with him. It wasn’t just something I threw together for my
job. I put my whole heart on the line when I wrote that. I wanted him to
know how much he changed my whole life.
“I meant every word.” My voice cracks with emotion. He has to know
how much he means to me.
“I know you did.” He taps his chest above his heart. “I felt it here.”
The action almost makes me cry. Does that mean he still cares? Fuck, I
want him to care. “I’m glad… Are you doing okay?” I can’t help but ask.
He looks good, but that doesn't mean anything.
“Probably the best I’ve ever been in my life,” he says, and all hope I had
for us vanishes. He came here for closure. He’s going to leave me again.
My hands shake in my lap and I let my head fall forward, not wanting him
to see my face. My eyes water and I know I’m close to crying.
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do. I’ve spent most of the time since Black Diamond
living out of my car, having no idea where I’m going to go or what I’m
going to do next.” My gaze flies up to his again. He’s been homeless? What
happened to his dad? What happened to his home? “I met a lot of really
cool people, did so many new things. Let me just tell you, Beck… Camping
is not what you had me thinking it was.”
 My heart warms at that, despite knowing I wasn’t there for his first real
camping experience. “Did you have fun?”
He nods, standing from his seat. “I’ve had so much fun. Do you know
how many people live in their campers and travel the country, just enjoying
their life?” He pauses, waiting for me to say something, but I can't. I'm too
lost in his words. “A lot.”
He takes a step toward me, and my heart kicks up at how close he is. If I
could touch him one more time, I think I’d be satisfied. Maybe It’d be
enough to let him go again. “Austin—” I try, but he doesn’t let me finish.
“I did a lot of soul searching. Met a shaman, tried ayahuasca and let me
tell you, Beck, that was a hell of an experience,” he trails off, stopping
inches away from me. He’s so close, I can see his shirt rustling as his chest
rises and falls with each inhale. “But even after all that searching and
finding who I was, there was one thing I was missing. Something I’m
hoping you’ll give me.”
“What’s that?” I swallow, lungs not wanting to work as I wait for what
he says next.
Falling to his knees, he rests his palms on my thighs, giving them a
squeeze, and my whole body shudders at the contact. “You, Beck. I want
you. I need you. Do you think it’s possible for us to have a real chance?”
His blue eyes are shining with vulnerability, but so much strength, too.
I’ve never been so proud of him. Reaching up, I take hold of his cheeks in
my hands, and almost sigh at how good it feels to touch him. “I think
anything is possible with you.” Then I lean in and slant my lips over his.
I feel his lips tremble against mine, letting me know that this moment,
this kiss, this reconnection means just as much to him as it does to me. I
kiss him, pouring every ounce of love I can into it. Needing him to know
how loved he is. How loved he has been since the moment we separated.
He pulls back, gasping for air, resting his forehead against mine as we
catch our breath. I slide my hands down to his waist, pulling him up and
onto my lap, needing to be closer to him. His legs are splayed over mine,
hands wrapped around my neck as he clings to me. “I love you, Beck,” he
whispers, and my heart soars at the words I’ve been dying to hear for
months.
I press one more kiss to his lips, wrapping my arms around his back,
pulling him in for a tight hug. “I love you, Austin, so damn much.”
 He lets out a sigh, hands running along my back and I close my eyes,
letting this peace wash over me.
My world finally feels whole again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BECKETT
Four Months Later

T he snow falls in thick flakes, covering the ground like a heavy

blanket, and I bounce a little with excitement. It’s the first real snow
of the season and I’m ready to get out there and play in it. Austin’s
taking forever to get dressed in our bedroom and I’m close to jumping out
of my skin.
“Hurry up!” I yell, turning around and running to the door.
“I’m coming. I’m coming. Relax,” he calls back, shuffling down the
hall looking deliciously sleep rumpled and adorable. It’s three AM, so I
know he’s tired, but I couldn’t not wake him up. He’s cute as hell, looking
at me with that grumpy look, wrapped up in multiple layers. “Don’t smile at
me like that. Having me awake right now is pure evil.” He grabs his shoes,
pulling them on, releasing little grunts of annoyance.
My sweet yet grumpy baby. I’ll have to make it up to him later.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, reaching out to help adjust his scarf and
zip his coat for him.
“I’m ready to cream you with a snowball,” he mutters, pulling open the
door handle.
“I love when you’re feisty. It’s hot,” I tell him, knowing it’ll only rile
him up more. It’s my favorite pastime.
He gives me a little shove, turning quickly to hide his smile, before
heading down the hall to the elevator. Pulling the door shut behind me, I
pick up my pace to catch up to him, throwing my arm around his shoulders
and pulling him against me. I wish his hair wasn’t covered by this hat so I
could bury my nose in the strands and smell him. He’s been using my
bodywash and shampoo for months now, and I still love the fact that he
always smells like me.
It’s like I’m showing my ownership. He’s mine, I’ve claimed him. I
smile to myself, tightening my hold on him as we wait for the elevators to
arrive.
“Why are you grinning like The Joker?”
My brow lifts and my smile falls at his Marvel character reference. “Did
you do that on purpose?” He releases a sigh, just as the elevator dings and
the doors open. Stepping inside, ignoring me. “You’re messing with me.”
 His face breaks, and he laughs, head lolling against the side of the
elevator. “You’re too easy.”
“And you’re a brat” I mutter, going to grab him, but the elevator doors
open again and he rushes out into the lobby.
The security guard working offers me a knowing smile when I pass,
clearly predicting what’s going to happen when I get my hands on my guy.
“Good Evening, Mr. Taylor.”
“Hey, Miles. Busy night?” I question, eyeing the book laid out on his
desk.
“Pretty peaceful, actually,” he says. I’m about to respond when a plop
sounds out and I turn to see a splattering of snow against the glass door. I
spot Austin just behind it, beckoning me to him with a finger.
“Sorry, I have someone who apparently needs me.” I rap my knuckles
on the counter, before walking outside, the sound of Miles’ chuckle ringing
out behind me.
As soon as the door closes behind me, I’m nailed with a snowball to the
face. “Fuck,” I grit out, swiping my face and bending down to scoop up
snow to make my own ball. Austin’s laughter is so carefree that it’s
impossible for me to not smile despite my irritation at the residual coldness
on my cheek. “You’re going to pay for that.”
He tosses his next snowball up in the air, giving me the cockiest
expression I’ve ever seen on him. “Bring it on.” Then he flings the snow at
me.
And it’s on. I chase after him, hitting him in the back with my snowball,
and he cries out, scooping up more snow and throwing it at me. I try to be
mindful of people sleeping, as it’s still early, but I’m sure our laughter can
be heard all along our street.
I tackle him, wrestling him to the snow-covered sidewalk and pinning
his arms above his head. “You’re not playing very fair,” I whisper against
his lips, loving the way his breath hitches.
“I could say the same thing about you,” he teases, rocking his hips up
just a bit to let me feel his hardening cock.
I roll back slightly before planting another kiss on his lips and leaning
up. “Be good.” He pouts, and that bottom lip has me ready to drag him back
upstairs and have my way with him. Nope, not yet. I roll over onto the
ground beside him and begin moving my arms and legs.
 “I bet I can make a better snow angel than you,” he teases, moving his
arms and legs now, too. I’m sure we’d look silly to a passerby. Two grown
men playing in the snow, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to make every
memory with Austin that I can. But, luckily for us, this early hour means
the street is empty and the new snow is still pristine on the sidewalk.
“I don’t know… I’m pretty good at making these,” I say cockily. Even
though I’m not; I’ve never made one before, but that doesn’t matter.
“We’ll see about that,” he huffs, tossing me a grin, before getting back
to the task at hand. I stop moving, though. Taking a moment to look at the
love of my life. He’s beautiful, so carefree now, and I love how comfortable
he feels in his own skin. Don’t get me wrong, he still has his days, everyone
does, but he’s come incredibly far and I am so proud of him.
“I love you.”
He smiles, his whole face lighting up at my words. “I love you, too.”
I don’t know what I did to deserve such an amazing man like Austin
O’Kane, but I will spend the rest of life being grateful he chose me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
 AUSTIN

M y leg is bouncing up and down as I wait for Beckett to open his gift.
I’m so nervous he’s not going to like it. It’s our first Christmas
together, and it took me forever to figure out what to get him.
He takes a sip of his coffee, looking adorably sleep rumbled in his
Christmas PJs that match mine. Yeah, it’s official, we’re that couple.
“Which one should I open first?” he questions, rubbing his hands
together in excitement. Our tree is huge, taking up a quarter of the living
room. We have it decked out with ornaments, lights, and I even bought
tinsel and bows. There are a ton of presents too, stacked around the bottom.
I may have gone a little overboard with the gifts, but I couldn’t help
myself. I’ve never celebrated with anyone like this before—with someone I
truly care about—so this was a big deal to me.
I should probably wait and have him open the sentimental gift last, but
my nerves won’t allow that. I’ll be stressed out the whole morning if I do
that. Sliding forward, I grab the present wrapped in Santa paper, and hand it
to Beck. Then draw my knees up to my chest to still my legs as I wait.
With a big smile, he gives the box a little shake before tearing open the
paper. He freezes, eyes widening as he takes in the gift, and I’m about to
crawl out of my skin as I wait for his reaction. He looks up at me, eyes
misting slightly. “How did you find this?”
“With help from Cole and Darren. It took some searching, but we
finally found one that looked similar to yours, according to them. Is it
close?”
“Baby,” he whispers, tearing off the remaining paper and holding up the
Superman action figure. “It looks just like the one I had.”
 I spent weeks trying to find the perfect one. It turns out there are a lot of
different models when it comes to Superman. Thankfully, Cole and Darren
remembered what it looked like enough to help me find a replica. I tried to
get it here in time for his birthday a few days ago, but since that didn't pan
out, I'm so glad I could put it under the tree.
“Do you like it?”
His eyes widen, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re joking,
right? I love it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten… Well, since the first time
I got it, anyway.”
My heart kicks up and relief washes over me. “I’m so glad.”
He stares at it for several minutes, fingers dragging over the box, and I
can tell he’s thinking about his parents. I slide forward, giving his thigh a
squeeze. “You okay?”
Nodding, he sets it to the side, moving to where he can wrap his arms
around me. “I’m really good. Thank you so much. That’s honestly the most
thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips, giving
my nose a little nuzzle before he pulls back. “My gifts pale compared to
this. Nothing can top what you’ve done.”
“Oh, please. I don’t care about that.”
He tightens his hold on me, kissing me once more. “I know. It’s one of
the many reasons I fell in love with you.”
I feel the rush of warmth run through me and I lean into him, soaking up
the moment. So thankful, not for the first time, that we found our way back
to each other.
“I love you, too.” And I do. With every single piece of me.

The End

“Sometimes you need a second chance, because you weren’t quite ready for
the first one.”–Unknown

Curious about the bartender, Holden?

Check out his book here: Exception
Want to know more about the mysterious Jett?
Grab his book here: Shattered
 NEED MORE?

There are thirteen stories in this collection from thirteen authors. If you
would like to spend more time at Black Diamond, you can find the rest of
the series on Amazon here.

Or make sure you’ve downloaded them all:

Broken by Andi Jaxon

Wounded by Ashley James
Unfortunate by Nicole Dykes
Damaged by Hayden Hall
Exception by Cora Rose
Volatile by J.R. Gray
Consumed by Bailey Nicole
Abysmal by Marie Ann
Splintered by Isabel Lucero
Scandal by T. Ashleigh
Exiled by Jessie Walker
Reckless by Becca Steele
Shattered by Charli Meadows
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

T. Ashleigh reader’s group-

T. Ashleigh Reader's Group | Facebook

Instagram-
T. Ashleigh (@t.ashleighauthor) • Instagram photos and videos

Goodreads-
T. Ashleigh (Author of The Redemption of Roman) | Goodreads

Amazon-
Amazon.com: T. Ashleigh: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Pinterest-
www.pinterest.com/tashmmbookluv
ALSO BY T. ASHLEIGH

Series
Lionheart Academy:
Book One: Betting You
Book Two: Omitting You
Book Three: Regretting You

Standalones
The Redemption of Roman
Tequila Kisses
Anything For Christmas