“I never thanked you,” Jace says suddenly.

“For what?” I twist to try to see his expression, but all I can see is the sharp line of his jaw.

“For the car,” he explains. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know I didn’t,” I reply, turning my gaze back toward the water. “I wanted to. So you can finally beat Chris Morgan.”

Jace laughs once. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I remember. I was worried you’d think it was some sort of bribe…or worse. Because of the timing.” It’s easier to admit it without looking at his face.

“I’d be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind,” Jace admits. “But I never really believed it. Plus…I saw afterwards, that he was the one who leaked everything. Philip.”

“Yeah.” I sigh.

I expended a lot of energy toward resenting Philip when I first returned home. Hating him for taking me away from Jace, for revealing my father’s illness, for making my inevitable future all the closer. Now, I simply accept it. All of those things would have happened eventually.

“I told you he was jealous,” Jace states.

“Thomas thought the same. I’m not sure…he never admitted to anything.”

Jace is silent, which I know is his way of disagreeing with me without upsetting me.

“Katie visited. Right before the trip to South Carolina. She thought—thought that you had something to do with why the stories about us never came out when I left. Is that true?”

Jace doesn’t answer right away. Finally, he does. “I thought it might make things more difficult for you if they did.”

“Thank you,” I reply softly.

I’m tempted to apologize again for the actions that made it a wasted effort, but I don’t. I’m not sure I would still mean them. Do I wish the media never found out about me and Jace? Of course. But them finding out and forcing us to reunite is the only reason I’m leaning against him right now. Why I got to hear him say he loves me. I can’t think of anything not worth enduring for this stolen time together, and that’s terrifying.

The lapping of salty water against the wooden hull is the only sound between us for a while.

“I was supposed to go on a date with Miss South Carolina,” Jace suddenly says. “The day after the game where you…” His voice trails off. “The Sharks’ publicity team, they want me to be more visible…” He stops speaking again. “It got rescheduled for a week after I return. Just in case you happen to see anything about it. I want you to know it was—is—planned. Happening.”

“Oh,” is the only response I can come up with. Not a quip about girls who compete in beauty pageants, not a joke about how Jace isn’t going to wait even one week to move on from this, not a question about what exactly being “more visible” means.

The realization Jace is going to move on from this respite from reality where we get to flirt and kiss and touch is expected.