“But he’s got to be…what? Eight?”

“Yep. They homeschool him so they can all travel the world.” The corners of my mouth twitch. “They’re probably sampling bratwurst in Germany about now. Dylan, my brother, is probably whining for an American hot dog.”

“I think that’s lovely.” There’s a sigh in her voice.

From Ivy, I know their parents are divorced and have been for years. Sean Mackenzie spends most of his time in New York or Atlanta, and their mother lives in London.

“Do you miss your mom?” I ask.

She squints into the sun-dappled ocean. “Yeah, sometimes. I spent most of my summers with her, either in London or traveling. But it’s become forced over the years.” Her blond hair whips in the breeze, and she brushes it back with her free hand. “I don’t know…we’re just not very much alike. She’s focused, organized. I’m…”

Fi doesn’t finish.

I give her hand a squeeze, tug her against my side. “Creative. Full of life.”

“Sweet talker,” she scoffs, but her head rests against my shoulder.

We’re silent for a minute, just watching the ocean, my hand in hers. I run my thumb along her palm and find a callus. She notices and gives me wry smile. “Not very soft, I know.”

Taking my time, I follow a path of small, new scars and rough patches. Her hands are torn up. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

She moves to pull away but I hold fast, catch her gaze with mine.

“Nothing bad,” she says, giving up on the little tug of war we’ve got going. “I’ve been…” Her plump cheeks flush. “I’ve been making furniture. I wear gloves for some things, but you have to have a feel for the wood.”

“Furniture?” I find myself smiling. “That’s… Well, it’s fucking cool.”

Her color rises. “I haven’t really talked about it with anyone. It’s just something I do to relax. But I like it.”

“So those are hard-earned scars.” I hold up my own hand, knuckles swollen, nails cut to the quick so they won’t tear out during a scuffle.

She leans in closer to me. “Yeah. I guess they are.” Fi pauses. “I made Ivy and Gray’s kitchen table.”

I hadn’t been paying attention to the table then because Fi had been in the room, but I can recall it well enough. “That’s a substantial piece. Beautiful.” I look down at her, my chin resting near her cheek. “You should be proud.”

“Thanks.” Her voice is quiet, almost shy as she stares out at the sea.

She’s shared a confidence with me. One she obviously has trouble embracing. I don’t know if she did it to let me know I could trust her, or she simply found herself exposing a truth. Either way, it humbles me.

Fi’s soft, feminine warmth at my side is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And I know I need to tell her everything if I have any chance of making her mine. I take a breath, smell the sweet mix of sage, eucalyptus, salt, and sun. “Fi…”

But she cuts me off. “I’ve heard there’s a creamery around here that sells cheese.”

I frown, my eyes staying on the scene before us. People are easy for me to read. Fi is no exception. I get her on a bone-deep level. The problem is, she reads me easily as well. I’m not used to that. No one ever really bothered before.

All day I’ve been expecting her to demand an explanation. But never once has she made mention of my cut-and-run. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it. Now I’m thinking she’s purposely avoiding it because she knows I’m struggling.

She moves to go, but I tug her back. “I know I fucked up, leaving you this morning.” A cold sweat breaks out over my skin, and I swallow hard, run a hand through my hair, only to have my fingers snag because I have it all bound tight.

Cursing, I look out over the ocean. “I…”

“Hey.” She touches my arm, and I feel it at the base of my spine. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Yeah, I do.” I force myself to face her.

“Is it the virgin thing?”

My breath halts.

But she doesn’t notice and keeps talking. “Because I don’t mind that. At all.”

Fuck if my cheeks aren’t burning. “You’re right, Gray does gossip more than a flock of old ladies.” I squeeze the back of my neck. “Yeah, technically, I guess I am. It’s not like I’m going around hiding it. I just don’t really mention it either.”

“Well, why should you? Your sex life isn’t anyone’s business.”

I look down at her. “I’d like it to be your business.”

She blushes at that. Sweet Fi who, by all accounts, doesn’t fluster easily. I love that I can make her blush, can leave her tongue-tied.

“Look,” I say, “I didn’t want to make this a big deal, but I thought I should tell you because I know there are guys who freak out when a girl doesn’t have experience and they weren’t informed, and—”

Fi’s mouth shuts me up. Her kiss is firm, as if she’s trying to tell me it’s okay, yet it’s also tender, which makes my entire body clench with some weird, uncomfortable emotion.

She lowers from her tiptoes and looks up at me with solemn eyes. Her slim, warm hand takes mine again. “I meant what I said; you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I can see that it bothers you. So if you want to tell me, Ethan, I’ll listen.”