You Were Mine (Rosemary Beach #9)(22)

I didn’t have a response for that. Bethy turned and walked into her hut. I didn’t move. I stood there for what seemed like forever, staring at the spot she’d been standing in.

She had loved Jace. I’d seen it in her eyes when she looked at him. He had made her happy. Every time he told her he loved her and she melted into his arms, my soul had shattered a little more.

But was she telling me that I still had a piece of her heart?

Bethy

When I left for the bridesmaids’ breakfast and spa treatments on the main island the next morning, Tripp’s walls were still down on his hut. I figured he was still sleeping. I had expected him to show up at my door last night after what I’d said. But he hadn’t. He wasn’t going to push me. He had always wanted to protect me. Even from himself. That was one of the things I’d loved about him when I was a young girl.

No one had really ever wanted to protect me besides Aunt Darla, and sometimes she didn’t do a very good job. But Tripp had been my hero back then. He had cared about me, and he’d made sure I knew it. His actions were all I needed. He was doing that still.

I felt another crack in my wall. Damn, my wall was weakening fast. What would I do when it finally crumbled? How would I deal? Maybe we needed closure. Then we could move on. Find a life where we could start over fresh. Where old memories didn’t haunt us.

“Bethy!” Blaire called out my name, and I turned to see her hurrying toward me. She was wearing a designer sundress and a pair of heels. Both of which cost more than my entire wardrobe. Seeing her all dolled up made me smile. I remembered the girl in jeans and tank tops.

“Good morning,” I said as she caught up with me. “You look like you’re ready to walk down a runway. Per usual.”

Blaire grimaced. “I know. Rush makes me spend money on clothes. It’s part of his taking-care-of-me thing. I do it for him.”

“Don’t make excuses. Own your sexy self,” I teased.

Blaire frowned and took my hand in hers, getting serious on me fast. I didn’t want to hash this out with her, but knowing Blaire, it had bothered her all night. I needed to let her talk so she could feel better. “I’m sorry about last night.”

I nodded. “Me, too. I was having a bad moment.”

Blaire took a deep breath. “I don’t want to make you tell me something you don’t want to. But I’m here when you’re ready to talk about . . . things. Tripp.”

Last night, we’d been too obvious. At least to Blaire. Slowly, our friends were starting to question our past. But talking about it would mean we’d have to tell them everything.

I wasn’t ready.

“Thank you. And when I can deal with it, I will come to you first. But before that, Tripp and I have to deal with things. Things from the past. We haven’t done that. I just haven’t been ready. Part of me expected him to leave and give up. But deep down, the part of me who knows him knew he wouldn’t leave.”

Blaire pressed her lips together tightly, as if trying to hold back a million questions. She finally nodded and pulled me into a hug. “I love you. I’m here. OK?”

Tears pricked my eyes. “Love you, too,” I croaked out.

When she pulled back, she sniffed and blinked away her own tears, then smiled. “Let’s go celebrate with Della.”

“Yeah. I’m starving. I hope this island breakfast is damn good.”

Blaire laughed as she hooked her arm through mine. “Nate will be here tonight. He’ll be thrilled to see his ‘An Betty,’ ” she said as she patted my arm.

His Aunt Bethy was ready to see him, too.

Tripp

Eight years ago

Bethy hadn’t been to my condo yet. We had spent most of our time together an hour out of town so no one could spot us. But tonight Bethy’s dad was out of town, and I wasn’t letting her stay alone. I had to hope like hell Woods and his friends didn’t show up.

The idea of having Bethy in my bed, sleeping beside me, made any risk I took worth it. I had her overnight bag on my arm as I opened my condo and motioned her inside. She walked in slowly and looked around. It wasn’t that big, but it was nicer than where she lived. I knew that.

“You hungry?” I asked, slipping my hand to her lower back just because I needed to touch her.

She shook her head. “Not really. Can you see the Gulf from there?” she asked, pointing to the French doors leading outside to the balcony.

“Yep,” I replied, setting her bag down on a bar stool and leading her to the doors so she could see for herself.

“This is really nice, Tripp,” she said, glancing back at me in awe.

“Yeah, my grandfather is generous,” I agreed. “My parents hate him for this, though,” I added with a smile.

She stepped outside. “This is a fantastic view.”

Her long dark hair was caught up in the breeze, and the moonlight illuminated her features. She was right. The view was amazing. I walked over and stretched out on the lounger and held my hand up to her. “Come sit with me.”

She came to me without pause. Since the night on the beach, she’d lost some of her nervous reserve with me. I hadn’t done more than kiss and touch her the past week, but that was only because I wasn’t sure I could stop things if I let them get that far again.

I wrapped my arms around her and settled her between my legs so she could lie back against me. Just having her in my arms was enough. Most of the time. Other times I needed to touch her and watch her face as I made her feel good. She was so expressive. I craved that. Although I left most nights in serious pain. I had to get my own release. I couldn’t ask her to do that.