His eyebrows dipped and he started working it through out loud, watching her reactions carefully.
“I think you're really good at making sure the world sees what you want it to see. You're transparent just enough to keep people from looking deeper. But there's a real fear inside of you someone will be able to get to know you and not like you for who you are. So, you only show what you're already comfortable with being rejected. Because you tell yourself they're not actually rejecting you, because they don't even know you.”
Her lips parted and she blinked rapidly, dropping her gaze to his throat.
“Who was it?” he asked, done with sidestepping the issue and ready to make his claim on her heart. Two days ago, he was fighting against all of this. Telling himself she could never be his, and now he was making a different call.
“What do you mean?”
“Who was the guy that taught you to be scared of who you are?”
Her eyes flashed. “I'm not scared of who I am. You missed the mark, Samson.” She angled her body away from his and took a drink of her coffee, signaling the end of their conversation. Except he wasn't done.
“Lo.”
She sighed and crossed one leg over the other.
“Lo.”
“Can't you let me have my huff?” she asked finally.
Brady grinned and hooked his elbow around her neck, pulling her into his side. She pretended to resist, but gave in quickly, melting against him. As if she knew his space was her space and vice versa. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.
“You can huff all you want. But you're not allowed to lock me out.”
“Why not?” she asked quietly.
“Partners, remember? We have each other's backs.”
“So I'm not allowed to huff?”
“Not alone.”
She kicked her leg nervously as she thought about his words, and not just the more immediate ones. The ones he'd said that caused the tiff in the first place. The ones that hit their mark so accurately, she was completely thrown off. He shifted his arm so that it fit snugly across her front, letting her know the only way he could, she was okay. She wasn't over exposed and she wasn't being taken advantage of. He was her friend and he cared for her. He had no intention of throwing the truth at her like a weapon with no way to protect herself.
He would protect her.
***
Lo
After Miami came London. After London came Dublin. From Dublin they flew into Donegal, where they rented a car.
The entire twenty-two hour trip, Lo made the best of it. Which meant she was mostly on upbeat autopilot while her brain obsessed over what Brady had said. Except she wouldn't actually think about it. It was there—the words, the meaning, the implications—but she couldn't look at it objectively. It was impossible for her to get passed the denial part. The loud she-dragon in her head that burned all of it to the ground before anything could take root.
And yet it was all she could think about.
His words rang clear and true over and over again. Then die a fiery death, leaving a charred imprint on her heart of what he'd actually said. An impression, but not the whole thing. Because the whole thing hurt like crazy.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
She frowned at the tone of Brady's voice and tried to pull herself back into the present.
“What?” she asked, looking around the nearly empty parking lot of rental cars.
“This.” He gestured at the red Ford Ka he was glaring at.
She looked. She still didn't get it.
He turned his glare on her when she hadn't backed him up in time. “Like all of this”—he waved a hand down his body like a game show host's lovely assistant—“is going to fit inside that.”
Lo couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. When she'd recovered, she found Brady grinning at her but with arched eyebrows.
“You think I'm kidding, that's cute. I won't be able to fit behind the steering wheel.”
“I can drive,” she offered with a shrug.
He narrowed his eyes like he didn't believe her. Or maybe he thought she was a bad driver.
“Unless you think I'll get us lost or something.”
“Will you? Is that something you do? Are you a loser?”
“You're a shit,” she muttered, still laughing as she took the keys out of his hand and opened the hatchback. They tossed their bags inside.
“Buckle up, Blondie,” she instructed, pulling the car out of the lot and pointing it south.
He did as she said, and they drove along quietly for several minutes. She was just getting ready to delve back into her obsessive loop of fiery burning words when Brady spoke up.
“You're kind of freaking me out right now.”
“Why?” She glanced over to him quickly and back to the road. He did, in fact, look cramped over there in the passenger seat. This had been a bad choice for a vehicle and Lo had to wonder if Shane did it on purpose to mess with his friend.
“Do you even know where we're going?” he asked. “Because you're acting like you know where we're going.”
She shot him a wink. “I used to live here.”
“But you said you were from Hawaii.”
“No,” she corrected. “I said my parents were hippies who lived on a beach in Hawaii.”
She could feel Brady staring at her so she took a deep breath and plunged ahead.
“I've lived a lot of different places, it's really not a big deal. Mostly coastal towns. We traveled a lot when I was young.” She shrugged, feeling the heat creep up her neck. She really didn't want to talk about it. Her home life had been unconventional at best and disruptive at worst.
“You've never had roots?” he asked, doing that stupid thing he did where he saw more of her than anyone else and making her feel exposed.
“I always felt like I was part fish anyway,” she replied lightly.
“Where else have you lived?” he asked, letting her save face. Again. For which she was immensely grateful.
“Here, California, Hawaii, Virginia, Paris for a year, and New Zealand for a stint.”
“Where did you learn to surf?”
“Here, actually. My parents didn't live here with me at the time. I lived with my grandmother.” She took a deep breath, still missing the woman even ten years later. “But then she passed and I had to go be with my parents.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Most kids would want to be with their folks, I would think.”
Lo nodded, the inside of her nose tingling. “Well, that's good for them.”
He wasn't getting any more out of her. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was fishing for more. But she didn't even talk about her family with Spencer and Tessa and they were her closest thing to family. She knew there had been a night that involved a lot of Sangria and she remembered spilling all of it, every ugly childishly clouded detail. But they'd had the sensitivity to never bring it up when she was sober. It didn't need to get talked about. If someday she wanted to talk about it, she would find an overrated therapist and pay him or her an obscene amount of money to hear her talk about her issues. But until then, she would be bearing that burden alone.
***
Brady
They arrived at their destination and Brady was only marginally surprised to find it was another Surf Lodge. Not as high end as the NSR Beach House, but still bigger than they probably needed. A two bedroom apartment with full kitchen and living room—where a brand new bundle of equipment was waiting for them.
Lo tore into it instantly, going through the contents before she even looked at the rest of the apartment.
It was starting to become obvious the both of them had been awake for too many hours in a row, and she started to slow down and grow quiet.
He left his bag in his room and returned to the kitchen where he took inventory of the food on hand. It was fully stocked, except for a few essential ingredients. He'd never been to Ir
eland, maybe they didn't have those ingredients.
“What's the frown for?”
He turned in time to see Lo ease onto a stool and blink heavily.
“We don't have the proper toppings for tacos.”
Her tired smile was really the only reward he needed. “You plan on making me tacos every day for the rest of my life, Brady?”
She'd dropped the Samson again. It was good, he preferred the way she said his first name. The last name only put a distance between them he didn't care for.
“I would like to, yes,” he answered her question as he came around the breakfast bar. He slid a hand under her heavy fall of hair and curled it around her neck. “You need sleep.”
“So do you,” she retorted with a snort.
Smiling against his better judgment, he tugged her from the stool and ushered her down the hall. “How about we both take a short nap and try to beat the jet lag. Then we'll get up and you can help me make Irish tacos.”
She didn't turn to go into her own room, instead she kept forward and headed for his. “Isn't your name Bradach? That name is sooo Irish,” she said, tugging her hoodie off and kicking her socks off. She nearly tripped as she climbed onto the bed in her jeans and white tank top. She braced on her knees and Brady thought he was going to pass out when she did the magical thing girls do. She unhooked her bra and took it off without removing her shirt, dropping it on the floor by her hoodie.
Brady closed his eyes.
“Yes, my given name is Bradach,” he answered her. He opened his eyes and crossed over to the window where he closed the blinds, blocking out as much daylight as he could. “But I prefer Brady.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, still trying to decide if he should sleep on the floor or the couch or if it would even matter. They'd both been awake for thirty some hours and were travel weary. A nap was needed.
His head hit the pillow and Lo's arm wrapped around his middle as she snuggled closer. He adjusted his arm to make more room for her against his side.
“Mmm,” she sighed against his chest. “This is nice.”
“Yeah, it is,” he agreed.
“And you'll make me tacos later?”
“Absolutely.”
“And tell me I'm awesome.”
“You are awesome.”
“Okay, shh, I'm sleeping now.”
Brady grinned and gave her a squeeze. The only reason he was letting her nap with him was because of their mutual exhaustion. And the part earlier in the car when he'd touched a nerve and couldn't get the shattered look in her eyes out of his mind.
At least while she was sleeping in his arms, he would know she was safe.
And that's all he could offer her at the moment.
12
Lo
14...15...16
She turned and paddled like hell with the growing wave below her. She popped up and dropped in, crouching into the curl and felt the cold water trying to bite her through the wetsuit. But it didn't. She let go of the outside rail as she pivoted the board, daring the water to stop her. Then she spun back again. The water ripped the board out from under her and the wide smile on her face couldn't be stopped as she plunged into the chilly, rough waves.
She swam towards the surface and broke free, her board popping up beside her.
It had been a long time for a homecoming and she felt welcomed. Missed.
Brady stood on the shore, shaking his head at her, but she saw the grin he was trying to fight.
It hadn't taken too much coaxing to get him out of the bed and into the cold water. She'd promised it was the best cure for jet lag and she hadn't been wrong. A couple of hours in the mid-50's water and they were both feeling a lot better.
Her inner peace had nothing to do with sleeping soundly snuggled up against the warm, capable, solid, perfect, sculpted, divine... Where was she again?
***
Brady
Brady threw his head back and laughed.
“I'm not joking,” Lo exclaimed as she bit into another taco. “So good!”
He shook his head at her and leaned both elbows on the table. They'd decided to go on a small excursion for food instead of trying to cook after their long day. The pub they'd found themselves in offered authentic Irish tacos, which Lo jumped at immediately. Brady decided to play it safe and order something more American.
The atmosphere was exactly what he'd expected. Happy music, people dancing, loud conversation... people living and celebrating life.
“You're missing out, big man,” she said, coleslaw sauce running down her chin.
“You're a mess,” he said, taking a swallow of his beer, but not bothering to hand her a napkin.
She grinned despite her mouthful of corned beef, cabbage, and tortilla. When she'd spotted the damn things on the menu, Brady had rolled his eyes. No way was that any good. Who puts yogurt in a taco? That's going to ruin it for sure.
But leave it to Lo to make something unappealing look like the best idea in the world.
“One bite,” she declared after wiping off her face.
His lips twitched at her suggestion but he shook his head once. “No. I'll pass.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned as far across the table as she could, fork held at the ready. “One. Bite.”
“Are you threatening me?” he asked, amused by her serious tone.
“Maybe. Would that scare you?”
Brady chuckled deeply. “Nope.”
“Then try a bite, you won't regret it.”
He held her hopeful eyes and leaned forward with his mouth open. She slid the fork inside, her cheeky grin growing into smug confidence. She wasn't wrong. It was a damn fine taco. But he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of a win.
He chewed thoughtfully, rolling the textures around in his mouth for a bit before washing it down with a long drink of beer.
“Well?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I've had better.”
When she chucked the rest of her soda bread at him in annoyance, he couldn't help but laugh. Again, he eyed the people dancing towards the back of the pub.
“Do you wanna dance?” He jerked his chin toward the dance floor.
She glanced over her shoulder and back to him with a suspicious glare. “Seriously?”
He stood. “Yeah. It looks fun.” He held out a hand and waited for her to take it.
The green in her eyes grew more vibrant as she attempted to ascertain his motives.
“It's only dancing,” he said with a sideways smile.
She caught her bottom lip between her straight white teeth as she thought about it. Warmth shot up his arm when she took his hand.
He pulled her towards the music, feeling his soul anchor itself to hers. Maybe they were too similar, too free to be anything more than two souls similarly searching and finding, for one small second, a reprieve from the mundane and common. Maybe all they had was now.
He really liked everything happening right now.
***
“I don't understand why you left town two weeks ago and this is the first time I've gotten a call.”
Brady blinked at Bo's belligerent tone and unaffected expression.
“Yeah, you look really broken up.”
Bo adjusted the computer on his lap (big surprise, he was on the couch again). “Ireland, huh? What's that like?”
“Cold,” Brady said honestly.
The door to the apartment opened, he lifted his eyes at Lo's entrance. They had been in Ireland for four days. It had taken all four of those days for Brady to convince her to show him her old stomping grounds. He was checking in with Bo while she had been running a couple errands.
She spotted him behind her mirrored aviators and made a silly face as she hurried into the bathroom, taking all of her beauty with her. She was in distressed and loose jeans, and a gray long sleeve tee thin enough to let him know she was wearing a green bra. Emerald to be exact.
Obnoxious laughter interrupted his thoughts.
/>
Brady glanced back down at his brother. Bo was wiping tears from under his eyes and Brady was glad he'd opted for headphones during the call.
“What?”
“You are so screwed, dude,” Bo said, his deep laughter not abating.
Brady rolled his eyes. “It's not—there's nothing—”
“For shit's sake, Brady,” Bo stopped him. “You're wearing headphones and you still managed to ignore me when she walked into the room. Little cartoon hearts may as well have been floating around your head. Does she know how in love with her you are?”
Brady sighed a long suffering sigh. “For the record, I usually ignore you.”
“Liar.”
“And we're just friends. We get along. She's really fun.”
“I bet she is.” Bo waggled his eyebrows knowingly. “Is that why you're not complaining about the cold? Do you have your own special way of warming up?”
“You're thirteen, you know that, right?” Brady rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
Bo only laughed harder.
“How are things there? I see Spencer hasn't killed you yet.”
At the mention of Spencer's name, Bo sobered and looked away.
Interesting.
“I avoid her if I can.” Bo ran a hand through his hair. Still shaggy and wild. Brady was glad he'd taken to keeping his own short. Over the last year or two they'd finally stopped looking like twins and more like individuals.
“And everything is going well at the shop?”
Bo wagged his head back and forth. “It seems to be. Kip has been working more. Steve, too. I think they're gonna get a promotion.”
“Good.” It was about time. Kip and Steve had been working their asses off.
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