More tears broke free. “What if it doesn’t matter what I do or how hard I try? How does anyone live with a broken heart?”
“Do you remember when we were little and slept in a tent in your parents’ backyard and we saw a shooting star?”
Jules nodded and grabbed tissues from the box on the counter to wipe her eyes.
“You cried because you thought it died,” Bellamy reminded her. “I had to get your mom because you were so upset.”
“I remember that. She said stars are like hearts,” Jules said, feeling better after finally getting all that hurt off her chest.
“She said they might get brighter or dimmer, but when they find their soul mate, they’ll do anything to be with them and that the star only looked like it fell from the sky. But it had really become part of something bigger that only those two stars could see.”
“What are you saying? That you think there’s hope for me and Grant?”
“There has to be, because Silver Island wouldn’t know what to do without our brightest star shining on the rest of us.”
“But by my mom’s logic, if I’m a star and I fall for Grant, you won’t be able to see either of us anymore.”
“Did you forget what Fitz told us the next day? Stars don’t really fall. Those streaks of light are tiny particles of dust and rocks falling into the Earth’s atmosphere and burning up because the stars were so right together, they heated up the whole sky, causing pieces of the atmosphere to fall, and from that moment on, those two stars burned brighter than ever.”
“I don’t remember him saying anything about stars being right for each other.”
“That’s because he didn’t. But I said it; therefore it’s true.”
Jules laughed softly and hugged her again. “Thanks for making me feel better. I love you.”
“We’re just getting started, so prepare to love me even more. Next we’ll drown our sorrows in ice cream, and later, after we close the shop for tonight, we’ll go for a walk on the beach and then we’ll watch Mamma Mia!”
“My all-time favorite movie. You really are the best bestie in the world.” She took Bellamy’s hand and twirled around, singing to the tune of Abba’s “Super Trouper.”
“Super Trouper lights are gonna shine on me! But I’ll see you, like I always do. ’Cause right there in the crowd, that’s you!”
Bellamy cracked up. “You’re hopeless.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
“You love me anyway,” Jules called after her.
“Darn right I do,” Bellamy said as she walked out.
Alone in the shop, Jules hummed the tune of “Mamma Mia” as she straightened shelves, but the silence pressed in on her, and her sadness poured out in a song. “Graaant, you left me brokenhearted. I’m even sadder than when we parted. Whyyy did you let me go? Grant Silver, I really want to know.”
She sank down to the stool, emotions clogging her throat. She breathed deeply, trying to find something to focus on, and remembered the group text she needed to send to set up Daphne’s bridal shower. She pulled her phone from her pocket and began to type the message, but she had the overwhelming urge to pour out her heart instead, to have her sisters rush home from New York and her friends gather her in their arms and reassure her that it was possible to get over the heartache she felt, because at that moment, the pain in her chest was suffocating.
But she didn’t pour her heart out. She sent the text about the bridal shower, knowing that even if everyone on the island reassured her, it wouldn’t be enough to make her believe she could ever get over Grant.
Chapter Eleven
“COME ON, SILVER, knock him on his ass,” Jock shouted from the side of the boxing ring in his parents’ garage Thursday evening.
It had been five days since Grant had spoken to Jules and four days since his argument with his father. He’d been spitting nails ever since. He’d wanted to go see Jules when he’d stormed out of his mother’s house Sunday afternoon, but he couldn’t dump that shit on her. He was a fucking mess. He’d been dodging his family’s calls and couldn’t concentrate at work. He couldn’t even paint his bad mood away, and working out was great for exhausting his muscles, but it did nothing to dull the longing to see Jules or the burn of knowing he’d hurt her. He wasn’t sleeping much because she was front and center in all of his dreams, and every morning he rushed outside like a kid looking for Santa’s sleigh tracks. But there were no more pixie gifts, no sweet handwritten notes, and it was his own damn fault.
What did he expect after telling her to stop?
She’d told Bellamy, after all, and his sister had marched over to his place and given him hell ten times over. That was nothing compared to the hell he was giving himself, which was why he’d finally called Archer and taken him up on his offer to join him in the boxing ring. Maybe Archer could beat the need to see his sister out of him. Jock had joined them and had sparred with Grant first. But the lack of sleep and anger eating away at him made Grant unstoppable, and he’d worn Jock out.
Grant’s leg slowed him down more than he’d imagined it would, but that just fueled his rage. He’d been sparring with Archer for forty minutes, and he was nowhere near done. Archer was a monster in the ring. They were both drenched in sweat. It dripped down Grant’s face, stinging his eyes as he dodged Archer’s punches and threw his own. One connected with Archer’s jaw, sending his head reeling back.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jock cheered.
Archer did little more than take a breath before coming at Grant twice as hard, nostrils flaring, throwing punches faster than Grant could block. Archer landed one to his flank and another to his jaw, knocking Grant off-balance. He careened into the ropes.
Goddamn leg.
Rage exploded inside him—at his leg, his parents, and his own damn self. He charged forward, throwing one strike after another at killer speed, clipping Archer’s jaw, driving one into his gut, and as Archer keeled forward, Grant threw an uppercut to his chin, sending Archer stumbling back.
“Holy shit.” Jock ran around the ring to where Archer was hanging on the ropes. “Archer, you okay?”
Archer pushed to his feet and rolled his shoulders back, eyes blazing. He bounced on his toes. He couldn’t talk with his mouth guard in, but he nodded, motioning for more with his gloves. Grant didn’t hesitate. He knew how much Archer could take, and he knew how much he needed to get the fury out of his system. He went at Archer full force, sweat flying from his hair, fists connecting with flesh as they fought for dominance, until they were huddled together, each punching the other’s side in a battle of wills.
Suddenly Archer pushed away and held his hands up.
Damn, that felt good.
They rid themselves of their equipment, and Grant guzzled a bottle of water. Adrenaline hit him anew, coursing through his veins as unrelenting as his desire for Jules. He knew he should shake the need to see her, but he didn’t fucking want to, and he was sick of trying.
“Great fight, dude, but that fake leg slows you down,” Archer said.
“Archer,” Jock said sharply.