Stormy Paradise: A Second-Chance Romance Beach Read (Sweet, Sexy Shorts Book 14)

by Kaylee Spring

  Jessie.

  Chapter 4

  Jessie

  That slap took the edge off of my whisky buzz, but it was the walk away from Holly, back to my side of the fence that sobered me up.

  It’s only now that I realize how royally I’ve fucked things up between us.

  Back when I broke things up and moved in with a friend to sleep on their couch until I could head up to NYC, I was so overwhelmed with the opportunity that I was facing that I saw the end of my relationship from only two vantage points. The first was that if she wasn't going to support me, the earlier we broke things off the better. I didn’t need dead weight holding me back, and when she told me that she wasn’t going to join me on my move, that’s exactly how she felt. Like an anchor keeping me at the docks just as the trade winds blew their strongest and the call of the ocean waves was most irresistible.

  Of course, that was a selfish point of view, so I then tried to put myself in Holly’s shoes. And the way I convinced myself further that I was doing the right thing was by telling myself that she was better off without me anyway. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a selfish asshole at times.

  But Holly was a wonderful girlfriend. The best I ever had. After all, she moved to South Carolina with me from California. I initially thought we were equally excited about that move, and then she threw it in my face that she had given up her whole life back home to follow me—like it wasn’t some sort of joint decision. That leaves me here, and if anything, I was more of a selfish prick than I previously realized. Which means breaking up with her should have been the nicest thing I could do. In the long run, at least.

  But this is the long run. It’s been six months, and from the way her eyes quivered with sheer hatred while I held her back from slapping me again, it became clear that time does not heal all wounds.

  So I’m faced with a conundrum. Not only am I a bigger asshole than even I realized, but Holly still hasn’t gotten over me. That’s not to say that she’s still romantically interested in me. On the contrary, I’d say that given the choice between setting me on fire or hitting me over the head with a large rock, she would opt for a third option: both.

  With another half glass of whiskey in hand, I pace about the airy living room. The salt breezes blowing in from the tide do nothing to relax the turbulent waters of my soul. And within a minute my restless feet lead me outside and onto the sand. I have no destination in mind. No plans to turn back at a certain point. There’s actually only a small, unconscious part of me that even realizes I’m walking along the beach.

  I’m considering all of my options, such as following what Holly requested and actually staying away, but I know I’m not going to be able to keep to that. Especially not with her living right behind me. The selfish part of me sees this as my last chance. And the businessman inside me recognizes that I have nothing further to lose in pursuing her. One more rejection will change nothing.

  The beach I now find myself walking along is, for the most part, empty. There are a few locals, but they are either in the water, surfing among the more manageable waves that do no thrash quite so hard, or they’re sunbathing further up the sand. And with the two fingers of whiskey I just downed on top of the half a bottle already sloshing around inside me from earlier, I’m tipsy enough that I don’t notice the person in my path until I literally run into them. The moment their knees hit the ground two things happen: I recognize that it’s not just anybody. It’s Holly. And a wave rushes up the shore with more fervor than its peers, knocking her back and soaking her through and through.

  She’s spitting out salt water and pulling wet strands of hair from her face as she looks up.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  When I reach down to help her stand, she shoves my hand away. And when she pushes past me, I don’t try and stop her. But I do answer her.

  “I don’t know.”

  She’s five steps away when I say this. She stops but doesn’t turn to face me even as she asks, “You don’t know what?”

  “What’s wrong with me.”

  Without being either too modest or too proud, I know that I’m not bad looking. I take care of myself and shamelessly look for opportunities to get my shirt off when I’m with a girl. But despite my body, it’s my way with words that have gotten me to where I am today. I’m cautious with what I say and how I say it. I pause before answering, consider all sides before making a promise, and deliver all my canned responses with a vagueness that doesn’t lock me into anything.

  But here on this beach, in front of the one that got away, whiskey tumbling through my veins, what I say next is completely unfiltered.

  “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but it started with you.”

  This has Holly turning around, but the moment I stop to consider how my words came out, its no surprise that her expression is contorted with scornful rage.

  “So you’re blaming me?”

  “Yes.” I swipe at my forehead. “I mean, no. Just—I know I’m not making sense, but what I’m trying to say is that I’m like this because of you. I’m in Hawaii because of you. Alone, by the way. And I’m not saying it’s your fault. Not in a negative way, at least.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  Up until this precise moment, I couldn’t have answered this even for myself. But here under the Hawaiian sunset, Holly painted in gorgeous oranges and rubies, her face contorted not only in anger but in pain, I finally know what to say.

  “What I’m saying is that….” I pause because even though the words are there, I have no idea where the rest of this sentence is going to lead. I only know its journey will be permanent. “What I’m trying to say is that I still love you, Holly.”

  Chapter 5

  Holly

  Jessie’s confession hangs in the perfect air between us. Waves lapping at our ankles fill the silence, and the wind blowing through my clothes, wet and sticking to my skin, chill me but don’t distract from what just fell out of Jessie’s mouth.

  “You still love me?”

  Even when repeated with my own lips, the words feel unnatural. Like antique machinery found in the corner of an attic whose purpose is alien and indiscernible. Once upon a time, I might have known what to do with Jessie saying this, but here and now, I’m stuck.

  “I made a mistake leaving you,” Jessie says and as he speaks, he steps towards me. But when he reaches for my hand, I pull away.

  “No,” is all that I can vocalize. All that I can think. About him. About this. About everything. “No.”

  “I don’t understand how,” he says. “But fate has brought both of us to Hawaii. Exactly like you always used to talk about. And it’s because of you.”

  “You followed me here,” I accuse him. “You followed me because you planned this. I don’t know why, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  He takes another step towards me, but I hold my hand up. He relents and takes a deep breath before saying, “I’m telling you the absolute truth. I just finished a huge deal back in New York. Huge enough that when I said I was taking a few weeks off, no one questioned me. I just earned the company a massive amount of money. I could have gone anywhere. Absolutely anywhere. With anyone. And I chose to come to one of the most romantic places on earth. Alone. And I’m not even staying in a five-star hotel. I’m here on the back of the island, where I have to drive ten minutes just to reach a local grocery store that doesn't even carry decent whiskey.”

  This time when he steps forward, I don’t retreat. And when he reaches for my hand, I don’t yank my fingers away.

  “I didn’t come here for me,” he says, his voice softer now, his eye contact unwavering. “I came here for you. Or at least for that piece of you still inside me. To keep it alive a little longer.”

  Without a doubt, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. If it’s true. Likewise, if he really did come here just to try and relive some of our relationship, it’s goddamn heart melting. Bu
t despite the swelling part of my heart urging me to throw myself into his arms at this moment, to simply release myself to emotion, my brain stops me; I’ve trusted him before.

  And it just about killed me.

  I look down at my hand in his. Connected to my first real love once more. A man I once moved across the country for. A man I now can’t bring myself to take a single step towards.

  “Too little,” I say and pull my hand away. “Too late.”

  Even though I’ve said these words and broken the connection, I don’t turn my back on him. I would love to convince myself that walking away from him is undeniably right. I can remind myself that he has burned me so many times before. Left me in a new town because he had to chase after his dreams, not caring about mine. Even though I know he’s bad for me and that I’ll end up regretting leaving this tiny weak spot on my armor that he might wriggle back into my heart through, I can’t help myself.

  “Come on,” I say and start walking back towards our rental houses.

  “Where are we going?” he asks, but I don’t answer. I don’t slow down. If he can’t even follow me like this, there’s no way I can give him a second chance.

  My heart flutters just the tiniest bit when he dashes to catch up. To walk beside me. To keep his mouth shut and try not to take control of the situation like he always used to. Because in the past, not having a plan would have killed him. He always had to know what we were going to do. And in knowing, he would take charge. But he can’t have that anymore. Because I have no idea what’s about to happen either. All I know is that he’s going to have to prove himself. Time and time again, before I can even entertain the idea of us again.

  And even though it wasn’t meant to be a test, he passed the first one. He’s here. Following me for a change. My stomach rumbles and I decide to toss him a lifeline, as short as it may be.

  “I’m starving.”

  He nods at this, cautious like a dog obeying his master’s command to ‘stay’ while also focusing solely on the snack held out within chomping distance. “What would you like?” he asks cautiously.

  All I’ve wanted was to stay away from the touristy areas, but part of that is because I could never afford to stay in a luxury hotel. Nor could I imagine spending the near $100 on a luau feast. And it’s not that I see Jessie as a wallet, but we’re both starving and if my first meal in Hawaii is going to be with him, I’m going to need some entertainment to distract me from the warring factions in my head.

  “Something big.”

  That’s all I give him. When we get back to his little patch of the beach, he rushes inside to grab his car keys, but I stop him. He’s been drinking. Plus, I have another reason in mind. Something devious that I may not act on, but that prompts me to take my car anyway.

  “I’m driving,” I tell him. “Just give me a second to change.”

  And obedient as a lap dog, he sits down beside me in the Mustang ten minutes later. And when the car starts, he smiles at the corny music pouring out from the stereo, but he keeps any smart quips to himself. Though I can see he’s literally biting his lips with the effort.

  “What?” I ask. “Don’t like my taste in music?”

  Apparently not trusting his own voice, he just shakes his head.

  “Then let’s go,” I say and set out for the exact direction I just came from. Towards the city and the promise of food, and possibly a little taste of revenge for dessert.

  Chapter 6

  Jessie

  The luau is incredible.

  Even I can admit that, and I’ve been living in New York City, where world-class entertainment is available at all hours of the day or night. I’ve been to Broadway, high-class strip clubs where even twenty-dollar bills are frowned upon by the girls, and underground speak-easies where you need a password to get in and the singers are dressed like something from the roaring 20s.

  But it’s not the shirtless guys spinning fire and girls gyrating their hips under palm leaves that hold my attention. Nor is it the smorgasbord of kalua pork, poi, poke, grilled squid, and dozens of other barbecued meats, rice dishes, and all sorts of vegetables and fruits.

  No, the reason this luau tops everything I’ve seen back in the city is because this time, instead of sitting across from executives and stock traders who talk only about their portfolios, I’m opposite Holly.

  It almost feels like a dream. And the longer I watch her, cheering at the entertainment on the stage, I wonder why I ever left her behind.

  Pride. That’s why.

  Pride and money and an A-type personality that just had to chase that next success. I’ve never been happy where I was. I always dreamed of reaching the next level.

  Until now.

  What makes Holly so special? That’s easy. She’s the best friend I never had growing up. A best friend who actually took an interest in what I was doing. Trusted me enough to move across the country together. To share everything. Plus, she was great in bed.

  And maybe that’s why I gave her up. It’s easy to take someone for granted when you’re so comfortable around them that everything always runs smoothly. It’s like you get into this false sense of security that nothing could ever go wrong. I saw all the hardships she went through when we moved to the East Coast. We popped a bottle of champagne when she finally landed a job after months and months of searching. So why did I think she would so easily give it up and do it all over again when New York called out to me?

  Easy. I thought she would always be there.

  Then she wasn’t.

  And now that she’s in front of me again, I’m determined not to screw things up this time.

  While we eat, I initiate small talk, dodging any topics that could possibly ignite any rightful fury over me having left. This means no discussing her job, her current housing situation, or whether or not she still plays that childish farming game on her phone every night. After eliminating every topic that may lead down a path of hail and brimstone, I’m left only with our current circumstances. And even with these I must tread softly, as Hawaii was a topic she used to being up at least once a month in wistful tones.

  “Are you interested in getting luau dancing lessons?” I ask with a gesture towards the girls on stage.

  Holly gives a non-committal shrug, barely even bothering to look over at me. In the past, this sort of thing might push my patience, but I’m the one in the wrong. I know that. All I’m looking for is a fair second chance, but since I didn’t give her a fair first one, I guess karma is leveling out my transgressions.

  I try again with a half dozen meaningless questions, all of them either ignored or answered in monosyllabic grunts. It’s not until both our forks have been resting on empty plates for a good ten minutes, and the show concludes with a classic playing of that Hawaiian version of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’, that Holly finally responds to one of my questions:

  “Would you like to take a walk on the beach before heading back?”

  I don’t expect her to say ‘yes’. After all, there’s a perfectly nice beach where we’re staying as well, but then Holly shocks me with both her answer and the number of words she uses to deliver it.

  “That sounds like a lovely idea. Can you just wait here for a few minutes? I need to head inside and find a bathroom first.”

  She even gives me a cute smile before turning away and heading inside the restaurant. My heart thrums along a little faster, daring to dream. Of what this simple walk could lead to. Of how the life I lost can somehow be found once more. My best friend is finally coming back to me.

  Except, she isn't.

  Five or ten minutes is a reasonable amount of time to wait for another person to return from a visit to the bathroom. Even after fifteen or twenty minutes, you wouldn’t ask the other person upon their eventual return what had kept them. Wouldn’t want to unnecessarily embarrass the other party. But after a solid half hour of waiting, I’m the only one left outside as the busboys tidy up and prepare for the next luau due to start in fift
een minutes.

  Finally, I walk inside the restaurant where I ask a passing waitress to check the ladies room for me. Empty, she says. When I go to ask the hostess if she saw Holly, she hands me a note.

  “Sorry,” is all the hostess says before helping a couple who’ve just arrived for the next show.

  The note is written on the back of a napkin. It’s definitely Holly’s handwriting. She’s the only person I know who still writes in the characteristic cursive we learned back in school. It reads:

  Now you know how it feels.

  Well, shit.

  When I go to look outside to check if her car is still here—which I’m certain it’s not—my server stops me.

  “The bill,” is all she says. I pay, leaving the recommended tip in a hurry to get out the doors. Only to find that my fears were right. Her car isn’t here. She’s left me, just as I left her. It’s going to take a lot more than one fancy dinner on the beach to sway her heart back in my direction.

  I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. And a long way back to my rental house.

  Chapter 7

  Holly

  The excited energy that tickled at my skin as I drove back to the rental house with the top down is all but gone. What was a thrill at getting back at Jessie has now fallen to concern. Because it’s been three hours and he still hasn’t returned.

  This shouldn’t bother me. It really shouldn't. So why do I keep checking out the window each time a car drives past, hoping it turns down our little street? Why am I second-guessing myself? Did I go too far?

  No. Absolutely not. Jessie deserves to be stranded and so much more. After all I did for him, he left me for a job. A job! And that’s after I had already moved across the country for another one of his jobs. If he has to walk all the way back from that luau, then so be it.