Page 82 of Bend

That gets a helpless little laugh out of me. “Yeah.”

“And you,” she says, looking at me in that blunt way of hers, “make it hard for him to hide because the vibe between the two of you isn’t just real, it’s strong.”

“I make shit hard for him? Is that meant to be comforting?” I ask, cocking a brow.

“Maybe a little."

“It’s not.”

She smiles. “Oh, okay. Didn’t realise when you tracked me down you were planning to be such a Debbie Downer.”

I shake my head, still smiling despite myself. The wind moves over the beach, warm and salty, lifting strands of her hair where she’s still perched in my lap like she belongs there.

I look at her for a second too long. Then at the way her hands are resting loose against my shoulders.

Then back to her face.

“What?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “You’re easy to trust. You make things feel simple.” Her mouth softens. “Not shallow. Simple. And for somebody like Thorne, I think that’s worse.”

That sits heavy.

Because yeah.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe that’s exactly it.

I let out a long breath. “Bit tired of being the emotionally stable option, if I’m honest.”

Echo laughs, bright and warm. “Poor baby.”

I slide my hands a little higher on her hips, keeping her close. “Cruel.”

“Honest.”

Sunlight catches on her mouth. There’s a little sand stuck to one of her thighs. Her dark hair’s a bit windblown now, her eyes still fixed on mine with that same open look she gets when she decides not to hide behind a joke.

That gets me every time.

For someone who’s brought this much chaos into my life, she’s very good at making the world feel still for a minute.

My hand comes up under her chin, thumb brushing lightly along it as I tip her face toward mine. She doesn’t dodge it, she just looks at me, soft, steady and a little too easy to want.

So I kiss her. Slow this time.

Nothing desperate or messy it in. Just a warm, lingering kiss that says more than I feel like trying to explain out loud.

I’m here. I’m not angry and despite the chaos, I still want this.

She kisses me back the same way, easy and sweet, her fingers slipping into the hair at the back of my neck as she leans into it.

When I pull away, I stay close, forehead almost brushing hers.

“That better?” she asks softly.

“Yeah,” I say, voice lower than I mean it to be. “Little bit.”