“Jet.”
I step off his deck and freeze at my name. Jet sounds like a foreign name to me now, but when Soren says it, it feels like three years ago. I close my eyes, trying to hold on to it.
“You’re not running away again, are you? I thought we were getting somewhere.”
Staring at him over my shoulder, I force a smile. “Not running. Super tired.”
I try to stay strong in case he’s thinking the same thing as me.
We’re both hurting. We’re both trying to move on from bad breakups. It makes sense to seek comfort in each other.
But I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Not with Soren.
The night I met him, there was a spark I haven’t experienced since. There was potential for more and that fluttery feeling of us possibly having epic love. Reality crushed that. An ex-boyfriend, a music tour, and conflicting schedules don’t mix.
Then when he turned up at my show in Tampa, I thought … stupidly thought it meant something.
I went into the music industry with fewer expectations than the ones I put on Soren that night. I’m not usually a naïve kid, but when it comes to him, I’m ridiculously and hopelessly idealistic.
The last thing I want is for him to see me that way.
“Try to get some actual sleep tonight,” Soren says with genuine care in his voice.
Caleb Sorensen caring about me is the last thing I need right now because the stupid kid with love hearts in his eyes is fighting to make an appearance again.
Chapter Nine
Soren
Fiji is officially the land of the best dreams ever. What’s even better is not being woken by someone interrupting the wicked things Jet was doing to me in my sleep.
I don’t know if I sleep until lunchtime because I needed to catch up from the previous night or if I didn’t want to leave the dream, but when I do finally climb out of bed, shower, and head out, I can’t find anyone anywhere.
You’d think that would be statistically impossible.
The pool’s empty, the beach is deserted, and unless they all went for a walk to the top of the headland, I’m thinking there was an alien invasion and the only ones left are the people who slept through it. It’s the only logical explanation.
That is, until I find Ema in the main house.
“Hungry?” she asks. “You slept through breakfast.”
“Starving. Thank you. Where is everyone?”
“Joni took the other hockey player, his partner, and the musician to the mainland to do some sightseeing. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Huntington should be on the private beach outside their suite. The football players are resting up and preparing for tonight, and the other two … I don’t know where they are.”
I smile.
“Sorry. I’m terrible with names. Great with faces. Names, not so much.” She gestures for me to sit on a stool at the kitchen counter and slides a cup of coffee in front of me.
“No problem. Why are the football players preparing for tonight?”
The door to the front entrance opens, and Damon steps through.
“You’re all going to Rua Daulomani Island,” Ema says.
“We are? What’s that?”
Damon claps my shoulder and joins me. “It’s a gay island.”
“The whole island is gay?” I quip.
Ema gives Damon a cup of coffee too. “Homosexuality is still frowned upon in Fiji. There are no gay bars, no same-sex marriage, and not many rights at all. Rua Daulomani is owned by friends of ours. They wanted to create that safe space for those who need it.”
“Oh, wow. I knew it wasn’t exactly liberal here, but I didn’t know it was still that bad.”
“Our boy is gay, but he recently moved to Australia with his partner so they could get married and have kids.”
There’s an ugly truth no one really thinks about anymore. Some people still need to move countries to be with the person they love.
“It’s why we advertise as gay-friendly accommodation. We don’t care who people love.”
“That’s very cool of you,” I say.
“Here is nothing like Rua Daulomani though. This is more a vacation spot where you can relax and sunbake. The island is more … uh … like a party? That’s probably the tame way of saying it.”
“Is everyone going?” I ask Damon and hope I’m not being obvious.
He nods. “After dinner.”
“Wait, why’re Talon and Miller getting ready now?”
Damon laughs. “Miller’s trying to convince himself to get on another boat. I think Talon’s helping.”
Sure. Helping.
I wish I had someone to help when I needed it.
“While I’ve got you,” Damon says, “Carly called.”
His assistant. The person doing his job while he’s away.
I swallow hard. “And?”
“They finally caved on the no-trade clause.”
“Yes!”
“Calm down. It’s only a one-year contract.”
Fuck.
“There’s still the three-year deal without the no-trade clause on the table.”
“Option for an extension on the one-year?”
“Yes. Want me to counter for two with no trade? They’ll probably lowball you for it, though.”