Page 116 of Between the Lines

“About Caden?”

I frown, busying myself with the sheets. “No. I mean, yes . . . I was just thinking that it was nice of him to fix a few extra things.”

A heaviness presses on my chest as the words escape my lips, because two things can be true at once.

It was nice of him and he hurt me.

46

Caden

It doesn’t matter that I put on a new linen shirt, or my cleanest leather tennis shoes, I’m still arriving to Matt’s party with a fading black eye and healing broken nose. I dab my best cologne on my neck, like that will somehow make me look better.

The funny thing is, I look better than I feel.

“There he is!” Matt jumps off the bench as I scale the steps of the back deck on his parents’ beach house. The party is hopping, with music playing from speakers and people, faces both new and familiar, walking around with smiles.

Matt claps me on the back and takes the celebratory bottle of bourbon I brought him.

“Told you I’d be here. Sorry I’m late,” I reply, keeping my sunglasses on as I force a grin that’s more of a grimace.

The last place I want to be this evening is at a party with dozens of Matt’s and Morgan’s friends and family, celebrating an engagement, after I just blew up my own chance at love. But Matt is probably my last remaining friend, and I couldn’t miss it. Broken face and all.

“Congratulations again, man,” I say to Matt. Over his shoulder, I see Morgan is standing in a circle of women, all admiring her ring. A cotton-candy sky hangs behind the party, the air smells of the ocean and a charcoal grill, and my best friend hasn’t stopped beaming.

“Thank you, thank you.” He shoves a beer from the nearby cooler into my empty hand. “I’m just so happy everyone could make it. It means so much to us to be able to celebrate with everyone.”

I twist the cap off the imported beer and take a sip.

“Where’s Fia?” he asks, and I do my best to keep my expression neutral.

“It’s just me tonight.” I don’t offer any further explanation. My best friend is celebrating, and the last thing I’m going to tell him is that I fucked things up with Fia.

Luckily Matt’s parents catch my eye and come rushing over to say hi. Of course, his mom asks about my bruised nose, but I’ve gotten good at brushing questions like this off with humor.

“A careless surf injury!” I tell her, and she laughs, patting my shoulder in the way a caring mom does.

Through the next hour, I pick at some grilled seafood and nurse half a beer, then find myself walking out to the edge of the steps, right before the sand dunes lead you to the beach.

The music and chatter fade in the background, and my own thoughts become the dominant noise.

Muscle memory takes over, and next thing I know, I’m checking the only message thread I care about.

Caden: Parties suck without you. I need you to make small talk for me.

I hit send even though she hasn’t read the one from last night where I tried to joke: I found the strawberry Pop-Tarts you left . . . did you poison them? Because I ate the whole box last night.

“Fucking stupid,” I mutter, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

What the hell was I thinking?

She deserves better than a string of pointless, desperate text messages. We can’t avoid each other forever. I’m her boss, for fuck’s sake.

But she has all the control. She always has.

“Can everyone come around for a moment!” Matt’s voice booms loud over the partygoers, and I turn to see everyone gathering around him.

He’s standing on a bench, his arm draped around Morgan, squinting against the sun, and I can’t do anything but smile.