“What about Hurlee?” I ask. “It means the sea tide.”
Silence. My answer is greeted with silence.
“Or, you know, we can go with another—” I try to backtrack, but Bash puts his hand against my mouth, shutting me up.
“I love it,” he says. “That’s his name.”
I try to respond, but it comes out muffled by the palm that is still pressed to my mouth. I run my tongue, slowly, up the calloused hand.
“Is that supposed to make me want to remove my hand?” Bash raises an eyebrow. Despite the cocky brow lift, I see the emotion behind his eyes.
Since I can’t speak coherently, I nod my head, his hand following the motions.
Hurlee watches us before he tries to bite Bash’s wrist. I grin as his hand falls away. The dog is on my side. Things around here are definitely about to get more interesting.
Hurlee starts barking, trying to get attention from either of us, even though I’m still holding him. Bash pats the bed in front of him and the pup jumps out of my arms and darts off, putting his oversized paws over Bash’s hand.
Hurlee tries to nip one of his fingers and Bash wiggles it in his face while laughing.
“Welcome home, Hurlee,” Bash says with a huge grin on his face.
Today has been the happiest I’ve seen Bash since meeting him. In over a month his smiles have become less sad; the out of practice awkwardness has faded away.
He still has rough days, where he doesn’t want to do anything or be around anyone, and no doubt will continue to have them. But his laughs aren’t broken, his smiles are brighter, and his life is fresher.
Like me, Bash is starting over. Finding his footing on a new path full of awaiting adventures.
But for right now, for today, he’s found his point zero. He’s found his base.
“Welcome home, Bash,” I whisper to him.
Two Months Later
“I’M SORRY, WHAT?” I SAY into my phone.
“Dez is driving up to see me,” Brit says and I have to check the connection. Because being in Hawaii has to have something to do with what I’m hearing.
“You and him are giving me whiplash.” Seriously, I can’t keep up.
She loves him, she doesn’t. He loves her, it’s a joke. They’re casual, they’re dating. They’re not talking, he’s driving up to see her. It’s all very confusing.
“I know,” she sighs. “But things are going to change after this.”
“Brit?” I don’t like the tone of her voice. She sounds detached and monotone.
“Don’t worry, Em,” she tries to reassure me, but the words fall flat like her tone.
“Brit—”
“Hey, I gotta go, bye!” She hangs up as I hear a knock on her dorm room door.
I sit on the edge of the hotel bed as Bash comes out of the bathroom. He’s only wearing baggy athletic shorts while rubbing a towel over his hair, which is shaggier than it was when we first met. Little droplets of water run down his neck and onto his bare sculpted chest.
Hello.
I’ll never tell him this because magazines do enough to feed his ego, but Bash is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Sometimes when he walks into the room, my breath will catch and my heart will race. The feeling takes me by surprise every time and it’s one that I hope will never go away.
Bash makes my life better, makes me laugh harder. He also banters with me better than anyone else I know. I’ll spar against him any day of the week.
Being on this trip has been fun, but I miss Hurlee. He’s Bash’s dog, but he secretly likes me better. The five-month-old pit-mix is staying at Dez’s. He almost went to my parents’, but I’ve been around Dez a lot these past two months, have seen him with his niece and nephew, and know that despite his flaws, he truly is responsible. But if one hair is out of place on that dog’s body, there will be words—
Wait. Brit’s dorm isn’t dog friendly.
“Hey,” I say. Bash looks at me, towel still in hand as droplets race down his chest. My tongue pokes out of the corner of my mouth. He raises a brow, a smirk growing on his face, and I blink. Right. Focus, Emery. “Dez isn’t watching Hurlee. He’s on his way to see Brit.”
Bash doesn’t look shocked. Doesn’t even blink or looked phased.
“You knew!” I jump to my feet and march over to him. A finger presses between his pecs. “And you didn’t tell me?”
My neck stretches out like a turtle’s as I try to get in Bash’s face. His lips twitch as he tries to keep from laughing.
“Calm down, Firecracker.” He grabs both my wrists and brings them over my head, backing me up until I hit the wall. “He’s with your parents.”
“That’s a better option for him anyway,” I grumble as my body stretches up on the tips of my toes. “He doesn’t need all of Dez’s partying in his life. He’s very impressionable in these early months.” When we dropped him off at Dez’s, I told him that we better not come back to the pup doing keg stands.
Dez made no promises.
“Be nice,” he whispers, his voice much closer than before as he presses his body into mine.
“You don’t want me nice,” I remind him as he pulls at my earlobe with his teeth.
Since January, between my decision to get back on the circuit, Bash firing his mom, and having a new puppy to take care of, our lives have been crazy.
Things haven’t settled, a lot of details are still swirling in the air around us, but for right now we’re where we want to be. We’re focusing on the now instead of what’s going to happen in the tomorrow.
My dad has been helping both of us in the water, with assistance from Jason and Mick. All three of them even became Bash’s replacement for his mom. Managing and training, basically helping my man outside of the water as much as in.
For me? It’s my mom. Despite her insane hours at the lab, she’s working her ass off with me.
I think she’s using Dad to help, going to him for tips, but as upset as he was when I told him I didn’t want his help, this is the least I can do.
I still don’t trust the water and I never will. But I love it with all my heart. It’s where my discomfort and comfort meet in the middle and despite never knowing what’s swimming with me, I feel at home.
I feel at home in the ever-changing scenery of the sea.
It’s on land that I’d rather not be.
Bash pulls away and I chase after him, my body a magnet to his.
“Hey, Em?” His voice gives me pause.
The rushing heat that consumes my body freezes. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Three simple words, I and love and you, strung together to mean something so much grander than the basic function of the individual words.
My heart stops and my breathing slows, my pulse rate drops dramatically as the words crash over me again and again and again.
I love you
I love you
I love you
“I love you too,” I say, or I think I do. Maybe I thought it. Everything feels discombobulated. Feeling as if I’m observing things from the outside, I taste the words as they leave my lips. I’ve always thought they would taste like ash.
Yet, they don’t. They taste natural, sweet and sugary. Like chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Or maybe that’s because I’m hungry.
I love yous have always scared me. I’ve spent almost twenty years avoiding saying the words to anyone who isn’t family. And then this Hawaiian-born Californian crashes into my life and throws that entire belief out the window.
Bash chases my words with his mouth as he kisses me with a new kind of hunger. One I’ve never felt from him. One I’ve never felt myself.
Soon my clothes are gone and his shorts are at his ankles.
I’m trying to branch out with my clothes, wearing more shorts on the occasion, shorts that are now on the floor next to his, but blogs and online articles haven’t been kind to me, saying shit that has made me want to hide behind the deni
m and cotton and neoprene. Even the girl with the thickest skin as her armor can crumble with the right hit.
Bash is always there though. He gives me strength when it’s too hard to stand on my own.
And it’s because I love him and he loves me that I know whatever we face we’ll have each other for the highs and lows. Plus, we’ll have Hurlee, and that makes everything better.
He pushes me against the wall, rolling his hips into mine.
My head falls back against the wall as I arch against him.
Bash slips on a condom and slides into me. My nails dig into his back as he slams my back into the wall, thrusting up. He grabs my chin, bringing my mouth to his. His lips, his tongue, are as frantic as his thrusts. Dirty, sloppy, hungry.
A hunger building toward satisfaction as he moves us to the bed, covering my body with his. Sweat and sex fill the air around us and he bites my neck, my shoulder, growling for me to let go.
And I do; I let go and scream his name. His moans follow, muffled by his face buried in my neck.
Heavy breathing and pounding hearts fill my ears as I hold onto him.
After a while, Bash pulls back, licking my neck as he does. He gets up to dispose of the condom before climbing back into bed and pulling me on top of his chest.
I smile down at him, tired and sleepy, as his fingers drum over the scars.
“I hope you know that you’re stuck with me now.”
His hands still. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
I pinch his nipple as my lip fishhooks into a snarl. His hissing in pain quickly turns into a laugh as he slaps my ass. “Kidding, Firecracker. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Woooo!” I cheer with the crowd around me as Bash comes in from his set. Cameras are flashing, catching my every reaction. Some lenses have been trained on me the entire day.
I’m wearing a slouchy tank and midi shorts. The shirt covers my scars, but the shorts don’t. The denim cuts off as the raised fleshed carries down my leg and to the top of my knee. My cross-body bag, thankfully, has a long strap and is wide enough that, from certain angles, they can’t be seen.
Or, what I truly fear, having them on camera. I can see the taglines now for online news articles if they do get a shot of them. Using my story for clickbait ratings.
A part of me wanted to wear jeans. It is the safer option, but I’m in Hawaii, on a beach, at a surf competition. Having legs that are clad in denim would’ve made me stand out more.
So here I am, standing in a crowd of people with a huge smile on my face as Bash walks my way. He just killed it out there, some announcers even commenting on how that’s the best he’s surfed in years.
Feeling proud and giddy, my feet start to move in place. Waiting with a bundle of excitement. As Bash comes closer, I’m unable to stop them from racing to him and jumping into his arms.
He’s still holding his board, but catches me around the waist with his free arm. With my arms around his neck and my feet off the ground, bent at the knee, I hear cameras clicking and capturing this moment. And despite my reservations, I’m glad. I want him to remember this moment. I want us to remember the feeling of triumph while surrounded by chaos.
“You did it,” I whisper in his ear. “You’re back.”
Bash doesn’t say anything. He only squeezes my waist until I look at him and his mouth claims mine. The kiss is hard and drawn out. The kind of kiss that takes over the senses, that blocks the world out.
We kiss as they announce the scores, missing the numbers entirely. But it doesn’t matter because Bash did it. He’s made his comeback.
And in two months I’ll be making mine.
Want more Bash and Emery? They’re coming, but first Brit and Dez have their story to tell.
Coming soon!
To Mom and Dad, you never let me give up on my dreams. You never told me I couldn’t do what I loved. You only asked me when I was going to do it. You have always supported me, even if you didn’t know what the outcome would be, you’d be there to either catch me if I fall or watch me soar. There are no words to describe how much you both mean to me, how much I love you, and how much I look up to you both.
To Matt, Zach, and Josh. You didn’t ask for a fabulous older sister, but you got one anyway. And I never asked for three people who brighten up my days like y’all do. From the laughs to the pranks to ganging up on the parents, I have so many memories with you three that I cherish daily (aside from Z brainwashing my cat to love him more). We bicker and fight as siblings do, but you three are always my number ones. I love you, you crazy fools.
To my grandparents, two of you are here to see this moment and the other two are watching from above, but I hope that I’ve made you proud. So many of my favorite memories and stories to tell are about you. I know everyone probably says this about their grandparents, but I have the best. Thank you for never letting me go a day without your love.
To my Aunt Jenny and cousin Nikki, for all the tireless hours of editing and proofing, helping me whip this book into shape. No words can express how thankful I am for all the time you’ve put in. And to the rest of my fam, some of you might not get my obsession with books but you’ve supported me anyways.
To Grandma Dee, who stepped up when everything became too much, assured me of this story when I was feeling lost and helped me polish off the document after I made changes after changes. You might not be family by blood, but the fam and I love you dearly.
To Allison Riddles, thank you for being you. For being the best creative writing teacher I’ve ever had. Spring 2014, in your class, was the first time I ever shared my writing with other people. Thank you for seeing potential in my writing and helping me grow. The three semesters I spent with you taught me so much, expanded my writing, and gave me more confidence than I can ever thank you for. So, I’ll just thank you for all the time you’ve put in to help your students, to help me, be a better writer then I was yesterday.
To my BFF Jessica, my lemon Morelia, and my book-twin Lacey. For being the first readers of Break Line, for seeing the potential and loving the story from the very beginning. You put up with my questions, my freak-outs, my hang-ups without complaining, even as I blew up your phones. You put so much time, did so many read throughs, that I think you know the story better than I do at this point. I’ll forever be grateful for the book community, for many reasons, but the biggest three are y’all. Three of my best friends who know me better than anyone and are always willing to fangirl (and fight) over our book boyfriends.
To my forever friend, Julia, from writing self-insert fanfiction in your dad’s computer room to workshopping in Riddles’ class together. You’ve been with me since day one, the girl who I share all my best memories with growing up. From the cumquat fights to baseball games to just riding in the car together and having every song that played be your favorite (we won’t talk about the van you swear you didn’t see). You’re the sister I’ve never had, but the one I’ve never let go of. Thank you for reading and helping get BL to this point. For always being honest, not just with this book, but in life. You’re the day to my night and the loud to my sarcasm. Thanks for always being weird with me.
To R. Scarlett, my dear sweet friend! I am so thankful you came into my life. Not only did I get Tensley, but I got you too. One of my closest friends whom I badger on a daily basis, bless you for putting up with me! I have so many things to thank you for. From all our convos (you’re my long lost cousin!), your endless encouragement, all our word sprints, and all the guidance you provided for me along this journey—I honestly don’t think I would’ve gotten this far without you. But most of all, thank you for your friendship. I’d be a mess without ya!
To my squad, Breezy, Dani, Alicia, and Aidan. For all the times we’ve sung musical numbers, to our beach days, our food dates, trivia nights and all of our random adventures, my life would be dull without y’all. You four are my backbone when I need someone to lean on, when my days are hard and I just need someone to talk
to. When I said I was writing a book, that I finished said book, and wanted to publish it, y’all rallied behind me, keeping my head up when I felt discouraged and always being an ear to vent to.
To Alex, for calling me an author at the start of our friendship, long before Break Line was ever finished. For always asking me about my book, asking when it’s getting published. For all your excitement, even when doped up in the hospital you’d ask me about BL, what the book cover was going to look like, and asking to see who the cover artist was going to be. I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but your questions, your genuine interest gave me the push to get this book published. So, thank you for helping get to this point. Thanks for all the laughs and ridiculous looks you’ve given me, for showing me how frat boys shotgun beer under three seconds in my shower before screaming like a girl when you turned the shower head on. I think I still have that video somewhere. For all the FSU and football talk, I’m still amazed you didn’t know bae’s mascot—I’ve failed you. But most of all, thank you for our friendship. You’ll always be my favorite frat boy.
To the friends I’ve met through blogging, especially my HWTB ‘18 girls! My days aren’t the same without group chats or y’all laughing at me for whatever random shit I decide to freak out about that day. You girls are always there for me and your enthusiasm and support for this book have truly blown me away! (And a special thanks to all those who helped me polish BL off!)
To Bex Harper for being a godsend, swooping in at the last minute, and helping me when I felt like I was falling apart. Your time and dedication to help make this book as perfect as possible, on top of your enthusiasm for this book and the characters have been a ray of light I’ve needed! You rock my fuzzy socks ;)
To Autumn Grey, for messaging me on Facebook that one day and offering me so much advice and wisdom, and always being there to answer my questions. You are one of the sweetest people I know. Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to answer my questions and help me find solutions, and I’m so glad to have you in my life.
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