Unbroken

honestly have no idea how long I’ll be gone, so I email my professors and study groups to tell them a family emergency is sending me out of town: I’ll check in every day to keep up, and be back at school for sure by finals. By the time I hit the road around midday, I have a backseat packed with my laptop, all my textbooks and notebooks, and enough clothes and toiletries to last a month.
    Not that I even know I’ll be staying that long. Hell, for all I know, Emerson and me will take exactly five minutes to realize the past is the past, and there’s no getting back to what we used to have. He hurt me so bad, I don’t even know if I could trust him again. If I’m crazy to even consider it.
    But something in me is certain now: I have to try. I have to sit down, and talk to him, and find out if these feelings overwhelming me are just temporary desire and old memories, or built of something more solid.
    Is he even the same guy I fell in love with back then?
    The thought rattles around my brain all the drive back to the coast, mingling with music on the radio and the sound of the wind whipping through my open windows as I try to get my emotions straight. Because hell, I know I won’t have the time or self-control to figure this stuff out when I’m drowning in those dark blue eyes.
    Or running my tongue along his muscled torso, hungry for the salty taste of him.
    Think clearly! I order myself, before I can get lost in the fantasy of his body hard and slick against mine. You can’t just go hurtling in there without a plan.
    A plan. Right. That’s what I need. Because four years is a long time. We’re not kids anymore: I’m on the edge of my future here, and I need to know where this is going. If there even is a this to go somewhere. Will it be any different this time around? I know I’m a different girl to the one he knew back then, and even from the few short conversations we had this week, I can tell, he’s a different man too. Harder. More demanding. It thrilled me, but part of it scared me too. I pride myself on being careful and cautious now, and aside from the crazy stupid things I’ve done in the last few days, I know that isn’t just going to melt away the instant I see him again. So what makes me think I could even risk my heart again, if I had the choice?
    The miles slip by, and still, I don’t get any closer to the answers. But as I drive headlong towards all this confusion and uncertainty, I realize that I don’t feel stressed, or worried anymore. I’m breathing easy, a flutter of excitement in my stomach. The closer I get to Cedar Cove and Emerson, the more right I feel, like I’ve been charged with a magnetic force, and everything’s pulling me to my North Pole. Arguments and questions and all these thoughts rattling around in my mind—they fade away the nearer I get to him, drowned out by the vision of his eyes, and lips, and the sweet, hot anticipation of finally being in his arms again.
    By the time I cross the bridge, and head through town, I feel like every cell in my body is alive—calling out to him in a deafening chorus of desire. I planned to head back to the beach house and pull myself together before calling him, but as I pass Jimmy’s Tavern, my body has other plans. As if my hands are possessed, I suddenly yank the wheel around and pull a screeching U-turn into the parking lot.
    I stop the Camaro with a jolt, breathless. Now I’m here, so close, all my nerves come flooding back. Just because he called and wanted to talk, it doesn’t mean he’s not mad at me, or wants to work things out. He could still be furious about Daniel, or—
    Enough delay, get your ass in there!
    I scramble out of the car before I can change my mind, not even stopping to check my reflection in the rear-view mirror. I slam the door behind me and cross the parking lot in quick strides, my nerves doing a crazy dance in my stomach.
    I push open the Tavern doors and step inside. It’s early afternoon, so the place is pretty empty: just some guys in the corner playing pool, and a few people eating at booths along the wall. I sweep my gaze around the room, eagerly searching for any sign of him. I don’t even know if he’s working today, I just know I can’t wait a single more minute to see him: I’m so pent up with nervous anticipation, it feels like I’m going to shatter into a thousand pieces.
    I walk deeper into the room, still looking around. And then I see him.
    His back is turned to me, and