Page 16 of Break Out

“Sugar?” I ask, wrinkling my nose even though he can’t see me.

“You don’t like it?” He chuckles, reaching up to adjust the bill of his Storm hat.

“Not particularly.”

“Okay, darlin,” he drawls, with a fake Southern accent.

“That’s not any better.” I groan, shaking my head. “And where did that accent come from?”

“You don’t like nicknames?” he asks, glancing at me again.

“Not the cheesy ones.”

“They’re not cheesy.” He laughs. “They’re terms of endearment. We’re in a relationship, so you need a nickname.”

“Nope.” I cross my arms. “I do not need a nickname.”

“Whatever you say, pumpkin,” he teases.

“Brody, that’s the worst one yet.”

I haven’t seen this playful side of Brody in a long time. Heck, I thought he’d forgotten how to be anything but serious.

“Well, I’m going to keep trying until we find one you like, sweets.” He shakes his head. “Nope, definitely not that one. That’s what Hunter calls Madison.”

I laugh, reaching over and turning the radio up. We cruise down the highway, making good time since there’s not a lot of traffic even though it’s midmorning on a Saturday. An hour later, we’re pulling into the parking lot at Sunset Park in Daytona.

“Hey, guys.” Hunter greets us as we climb out of the SUV, Madison trailing behind him.

“Hey, Aubs.” Madison smiles, pulling me into a hug.

“Hi, Mads.” I’ve met them once, at the party, but Madison and I bonded instantly. Have you ever met someone and felt like you’ve known them forever? That’s how I felt when I met Madison.

“Wes, Holt, Kitty, and Hadley are here already. They’ve got a spot on the beach. Cole said they’re on their way. Haven’t heard from Caleb,” Hunter says when we’re done greeting each other.

“Hadley? Kitty?” Brody asks.

“Hadley is Holt’s little sister. She’s here visiting him. And Kitty, well, she’s . . . ” Hunter glances at Madison, who shrugs her shoulders. He blows out a breath and says, “I think she’s Holt’s girlfriend. Or ex-girlfriend turned hook up.”

“Oh. That’s . . . interesting,” I say, glancing over at Brody who is shaking his head as he moves around to the back of the SUV and starts to take out our stuff. I grab my bag and the cooler I packed.

“Hadley seems nice,” Madison says. “Holt said she’s a photographer. Kitty is, well . . . You’ll see,” she says, blowing out a breath and shrugging before following Hunter back to his truck to get their stuff.

I help Brody unload our chairs and the umbrella I insisted we bring.

“Ready, sweet cheeks?” Brody asks, turning to me, his arms full of beach chairs.

I heft the cooler over one arm and grab the beach umbrella. “Yep. Let’s do the thing.”

“No comment on the nickname?”

“Brody!” I grumble.

“Fine. Fine. Not that one. After you, my dear.”

With a smile, I stroll toward the beach, inhaling the saltwater and fresh air. The waves crashing and the murmur of people enjoying a sunny day is the perfect greeting as I walk down the boardwalk.

“They’re over there. To your right,” Brody says from behind me as I pause to take off my flip flops. It doesn’t take us long to get to where the rest of the group has set up chairs and umbrellas.