Out of Mind (Out of Line #3)(44)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

“Ginger. Fuck, I miss you so—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, her eyes spitting sharp blades of fire my way. “You don’t get to say that to me. Just leave me alone. I’m out here for some peace and quiet, not for a trip down memory lane. We’ve ‘caught up,’” she used her fingers to make quotations marks, “enough. Now go back to leaving me alone, like we agreed upon.”

I gripped my board tighter. “I can’t leave you.”

“You didn’t have that issue in D.C.” She glowered at me, her eyes still spitting fire. “I haven’t forgotten what you said, and I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what I said. Goodbye, Finn.”

She closed her eyes, obviously intending to ignore me until I left. I sat there quietly, not so much as making a splash, letting my heart break some more. Hell, I was used to it now. After a while, she cracked her eye open and looked at me. I inclined my head and looked her over, trying to act as if there was nothing strange about us being out here alone again. “Yeah, I’m still here.”

“I see that,” she said, frustration clear in her voice. “What are you trying to do, Finn? What do you want from me? Is there a point to this visit?”

“I wanted to see you again,” I said, my voice light. Just being near her, talking to her, felt like f**king heaven. I missed her so damn much. I tugged on my hair. “It’s the first time I felt strong enough to come up to you. I didn’t want to come back till I was better.”

Her gaze flew to mine. “And you’re better now?”

“I think so.” I swallowed hard. “How have you been, though?”

She turned her head away, hiding her pretty face from mine. “Ask Hernandez how I’m doing if you want to know.” She glowered toward where he sat on a bench by the beach. He looked like he was texting someone, or surfing the web instead of the ocean. “I’m sure he could tell you everything you want to know about me.”

“I’m not asking him anything. I’m asking you.” I hesitated. “I know I’m not supposed to say it, but I’ve missed you, Ginger. So damn much.”

“You really shouldn’t call me that anymore,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s not right. We’re not together, and that was what you called me when—” She broke off, rubbing her hand on her forehead. “It’s not right.”

“I’m sorry. So f**king sorry.” I swallowed hard, my throat aching with the pain I’d caused her. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and never let go again. To love her like I should have all those months ago. “I never wanted to do this to you. To us.”

She looked at me again. The pain in those baby blues hurt. “But you did it anyway.”

“I did.” I nodded once. “I wish I could take it all away, Carrie. I really do.”

“Well, you can’t. It’s over. When you told me—” She broke off, shaking her head. “You know what? I’m not saying it. Not fighting with you. Our days of fighting are over. We’re over. You saw to that.”

I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt. “I know. I’ll never stop regretting it, and I will never get over it. Over you.”

She made a small sound. “Don’t go there.”

“Why not?” I paddled closer to her. “Are you and Riley an item now?”

She stiffened and held her hand out, wanting me to stay away, I could only assume. “That’s not any of your business. You’re the one who broke up with me. That means you don’t get to ask about my personal life anymore.”

I narrowed my gaze on her. “I might not be your boyfriend anymore, but it doesn’t mean I’m f**king blind, deaf, or dumb.” I paddled closer, despite her upheld hand. “I saw you kissing him. You looked like you liked it.”

She turned to me, her eyes wide. “You were there?”

“Have you ever known Hernandez to knock over a f**king pot?” I asked, raising a brow. I stopped when I was three feet away from her. Close enough to touch, but not so close that I would. “I knocked it over when I backed away, not wanting to watch you ‘moving on.’ Not wanting to accept that you could be happy with someone besides me when I’m so f**king miserable without you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have looked,” she snapped, her cheeks flushed. “You don’t get to come here and swoop in, trying to make me fall into your arms again. It’s not going to happen.”

I gripped the surfboard. “Tell me about it.”

“And how dare you ask me about my love life? Because I’m so sure you’ve been perfectly celibate since you left me,” she said, her grip tight on the board. She might be acting as if she was making a point, but I could tell she was dying to know. “You haven’t touched a single girl since you left me, right?”

“I haven’t wanted another woman at all,” I said, dropping my voice low. “I haven’t been with anyone else since the first moment you kissed me on my curb. I swear it on my father’s grave.”

She stared at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted. For a second, just a second, her eyes softened. She didn’t look angry. But then she shook her head and glanced away. “It doesn’t matter.”

Pain sliced through me. It didn’t matter to her that I’d been faithful to her? She didn’t care anymore. “No, I guess not.”

Her back remained ramrod straight. “How long have you been watching me?”

“For a little while. I’ve been trying to stay away, though. Trying to let you move on.” I cleared my throat. “I saw you at the window, when you thought you saw me. It was the night I decided to fix myself.”

I didn’t mention the wanting-to-kill-myself part. It wasn’t necessary.

She frowned at me. “Did you drive away like you did this morning?”

“Ah.” I leaned back on my board, relaxing my stance. “You saw me, huh?”

“Of course I saw you,” she said, her eyes glaring at me. God, I loved it when she looked at me like that. All fiery and passionate and hot. “You were on your bike and you drove right past me. It was kind of hard to miss.”

“Riley saw me.” I cocked my head. “Did he tell you that he saw me, or did he hide that fact from you?”

She pressed her lips together. “Yeah, he told me it was you. He would never lie to me, unlike you.”