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“Because he’s my best friend. That’s it. I don’t have any feelings like that for him. At all.” I lower my voice as a couple passes by us. “Orana,” we both say at the same time. Once they pass, we bust out laughing. We hate that word. “Anyway, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. But now I’m worried. He always shows up.” When her lips quirk up, I roll my eyes. “I can be concerned and not in love with him,” I say sarcastically.
I slide into the golf cart, heading for the next drop off. I let off an audible groan. The last thing I want to do is think about being with another man. My heart still mourns the last one. I force myself to keep moving rather than go hide in my house.
As I’m leaving the last hotel, Mama Doe waves me down from her cart down the walkway. “Aspen, girl, come talk to me.”
My shoulders drop. The last thing I want to do is talk. I watch her turn and walk to her first hut. With her back to me, I’m tempted to put the vehicle in drive and act like I didn’t hear her. Shaking my head, I exit, knowing she would not be happy and that never ends well.
Following behind her, I glance down the walkway that ends at Ryker’s hut. I freeze as pain twists in my chests. I’ve resisted the temptation to row past his deck, let the memories fill my vision until I can feel him again. I squeeze my eyes shut. Stop, Aspen. He’s not there and no matter how bad you want to feel him, it’s only a memory. It’s not real.
“Mama Doe, I’m really not in the mood to talk,” I murmur, stepping into the bungalow. She’s already started cleaning the living room.
“I got something for you,” she says, eyeing me with trepidation. “But I don’t know if I want to give it to you.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you tell me you have something for me to not give it to me?”
“Because I can see the pain in your heart, child.”
I smile at the older woman because I know she cares for me and I have always appreciated it. “I’m doing better. I really am.”
Her eyes drop to my clothing and sympathy fills her expression. I look down. Okay, so maybe I didn’t put much thought into my outfit today. Throwing on the first thing I saw probably wasn't a good idea. I look like Dante, today. Floral tank top with plaid shorts.
She goes to her cart and pulls out an envelope from the middle. Her fingers play with the edges. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to give it to me, but she finally relents and holds out the letter to me.
I take it. A quick thought flickers that maybe my mom wrote me. It’s addressed to Mama Doe, though. When my eyes move to the return address area, I gasp and glance back up.
“Why did it come to you?”
“Open it.”
I flip the envelope over and see that it’s already been opened. Inside is another sealed envelope with writing on the outside, one sentence.
Please give to Aspen.
~Ryker
Chapter Fourteen
Aspen
You only live once.
The last line of Ryker’s letter repeats in my head. What is he thinking? I can’t pack up and take off for two weeks.
Can I?
I run my thumb over my printed name on the plane ticket as if I’m testing to see if it’ll rub off. This would be the cruelest joke ever. The ache in my heart has slowly subsided since he left. Would I be cracking it open if I took him up on his offer? Two more weeks with Ryker is a double-edged sword. I just don’t know which side will cut the worst.
He says he misses me like no other woman. His words already making the ache build again. With men in the past, I’m the one left with the broken heart while they go about their lives like I never happened. But he wants me. Enough to send me a plane ticket.
Now, given the opportunity to escape this place, I can’t breathe. Who will run my business? Who will take care of my dad? I pull in a deep breath. There’s a simple answer.
Don’t go.
Lying back in my bed, I drop my hand holding the note and ticket, staring up at the exposed wood-beam ceiling. I’m so confused about his expectations. What will two weeks do? Satisfy his craving? And then I get to return to my prison? What would I get out of this trip other than heartbreak? Again.
My bedroom door swings open, and I shove the papers under the quilt. Scooting off the bed, I stare at my dad, leaning against the door, studying me.
“Hi,” I say, stunned.
