Page 13 of Sweet Redemption

Always on the edge of snapping.

“Serena . . .”

It was just my name. So why, when he said it, did my heart skip a funny little beat?

Right . . . because this is the very first time we’d both been single at the same time since we started high school. Something my cousins reminded me of all weekend long.

I looked back up, and there he was, standing barefoot in the sand. His beautiful arms loosely folded over his chest. Sunlight catching the lines of the muscle carved along his shoulders. His thick quads testing the restraint of his board shorts. Muscles earned through years of freezing rinks, early morning skate times, endless bruises, and relentless discipline.

His baby-blue eyes found mine. Steady and impossible to hide from.

“What?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound lighter than my racing heart felt.

His mouth curved into a soft grin, so different from the cocky one everyone else saw. Somehow quieter . . . warmer . . . Mine.

This is all we’d ever given in to.

Years spent dancing around each other.

Spent as friends.

How could we ever be more?

Neither of us was willing to put anything before our goals, and those goals came at a cost.

So we settled for this . . . for the moments that looked like they didn’t matter, when in reality, those were the moments that stayed seared on my soul.

It’s funny, looking back now because I’m not sure how I didn’t see it then.

How I missed just what this man would come to mean to me . . .

“You stayed,” he mused. Two words that held so much meaning, they stole the air from my lungs. Because he knew I would, even if he thought I wouldn’t.

“I always do,” I finally answered, loving the way his smile lingered.

“Me too.”

The waves crashed, and the winds shifted. Somewhere behind us, a screen door slammed shut, probably behind one of my cousins.

Neither of us moved.

Life kept going.

It always did.

Even if just for a few minutes, I wished we could freeze time. That for one suspended heartbeat, the world could disappear, and it would just be the two of us in the fading sunlight, pretending we weren’t both about to start the next step in achieving our dreams on opposite ends of the coast.

“Golden hour?” he asked, knowing my answer after years of being in each other’s orbit.

“Someone has to appreciate the best part of the day.”

He looked out over the ocean. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Of course he did.

Because we’ve known each other for a lifetime.

Since before soccer consumed my life or hockey his.