Page 8 of Living with Fire
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Do you two compare notes before you gang up on me? Why do you both have such an interest in my sex life?”
Jordan looks at Liam and frowns. “Is he this grumpy at work too?”
“Getting worse by the day,” Liam confirms with pursed lips and a nod.
They both look at me again, and I glare back. I know Liam is teasing with his comment, but I’m becoming irritated by the two of them. They both know how hard it’s been the last few months. They know where my priorities lie. I won’t let Uncle Pete down. Or any of my staff. Closing down would mean jobs lost, and I won’t have that on my conscience.
Jordan smirks. “This is why we have an interest. You get kind of testy when you’re not getting any action.”
“Five finger action doesn’t count,” Liam adds with a snort.
“Besides, do you really want to go to Mom’s birthday next week without a story to tell all the aunts? I’m not the only one who worries about you,” Jordan says, swishing the tequila around in her glass. “They’re going to be all over you like vultures on a dead carcass if you don’t tell them you’re dating someone. Hell, without proof they’ll be all over you anyway.”
Christ. Our aunts.
We have a great family, but every one of my aunts—my mother included—is far too interested in when we’re planning on settling down with someone. They bug all the cousins, but so many have now gotten married, and had kids, that the spotlight is on those of us who are single. In their minds a person isn’t happy unless they’re married with a couple of kids, and a white picket fence. I know they mean well, but they can be a lot at times.
“I can handle them,” I tell her confidently. “I always do.” I point a finger between the two of them. “Now stay out of my damn sex life.”
CHAPTER 4
SAVANNA
Drinking my problems away sounded like a really good idea in the moment. This morning? Not so much. It’s been a rough one since I woke up; not even a shower helped. I went a little overboard last night after the day I’d had, hoping that all my problems would magically disappear. I was sorely disappointed when I found the box I’d packed at the office had followed me home.
“Savanna,” the barista calls out, placing a large cup of hot heaven on the counter.
Snagging the caramel macchiato goodness I splurged on, I head back into the blinding sunlight of the late August morning, tipping my sunglasses over my eyes. I’m headed to the one place where I’ve found sanctuary since the moment I set foot in Santa Rosé six months ago. The beach.
God, that feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago.
The weight of the world feels crushing at the moment, making me feel older than my twenty-nine years. Yet, as the beach comes into view, and the pier stands out in the distance, it feels like just yesterday when I drove into town, running for my life.
As I gaze at the pier, I remember the cool night at the end of February when I ended up in Santa Rosé. I had no idea where I would end up after leaving Denver, letting fate decide on the flip of a coin, between the west or east coast. When the coin landed on tails I headed west, my final destination being the coastline in whatever state was closest. I had never seen the ocean, let alone touched it. It was the only thing I knew I wanted in the new life I was going to carve out for myself.
It had taken me three days to get here as I hadn’t dared travel the major interstates, worried that my ex, Vincent, might be looking for me. There was only a slim chance he would contact law enforcement, but I was trying to be as safe as possible, so I zig-zagged my way across the country, taking in all the sights that I came across.
I was freer than I’d been in years, a feeling that I held onto as tightly as possible.
Like a moth to a flame, I stumbled upon Santa Rosé, the pier, and the ocean, falling in love immediately. I can still feel the tears that sprang to my eyes when I took in the ocean breeze for the first time, tasting the saltiness in the air.
It was the taste of freedom.
That night, a fisherman stood on the pier, with a line cast over the side, while a few people walked along the wooden boards. I heard laughter in the air, the hum of endless possibilities and new opportunities, and inhaled the smell of a fresh outlook on the ocean kissed wind. The pier was exactly as I had always imagined one to be, with a multitude of buildings selling souvenirs and trinkets, and restaurants over the water. I took my time as I walked along, gratefully absorbing it all, and incredulous that I had made it.
I had found my new home.
Something about this little city called to me. It wasn’t something I understood, but it wasn’t something I was going to question.
Walking across the sand until I’m closer to the water, but not close enough to get splashed by the waves, I sigh as I plop my butt down. Kicking my flip-flops off, I bury my feet in the sand, wrapping both hands around my coffee cup as I look out over the water.
There have been a lot of moments when I’ve felt homesick in the last six months. When I left, I cut off all communication so that no one would know where I was. I didn’t delete my social media, but I haven’t logged in since I left. There isn’t one person from back home that I’ve spoken to, and while I’ve felt the weight of that decision, today it feels extraordinarily heavy.
A familiar prickle behind my eyes forces me to take a deep breath, my heart aching within my chest.
I wish I could talk to my best friend, Maddie. I miss her so much. If she’d heard about what happened yesterday, I know she would have flown all the way here just to give Preston a piece of her mind. Then, knowing Maddie, she’d track down the hot guy from the elevator, with his fine bubble butt of an ass, and demand he take me on a date.
Laughing at the audacity of my made-up story quickly turns into my chin trembling as tears threaten to fall. I take a quick sip of my coffee to distract myself, whimpering as the hot liquid scalds first my mouth, then my throat.