Love Me Not
Автор
Vivienne Wren
Прочтений
334K
Глав
39
Sidra doesn’t move to Australia expecting her world to spin off its axis—but one reckless, breath-stealing moment with a maddeningly gorgeous local sets her on fire. Isaac is temptation in human form: brooding, beautiful, and determined to push her away, even as sparks fly between them. His touch hums with danger, his gaze smolders with want, yet shadows cling to him like smoke. Sidra knows there’s more to him than the walls he builds—and when she uncovers the secret he’s hiding, it collides with her own grief in ways she never saw coming. Desire this raw can heal or destroy. And when love is built on scars, it might burn hotter than either of them can survive.
Live a Little
SIDRA
“This is insane,” Brooke blurted, her hair whipping into her lip gloss as she strangled the bridge railing with both hands. “Maybe we should just go shopping instead.”
“You’re joking, right?” I shot her a look, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’ve been raving about this for days.”
The drop point the shuttle bus had left us at wasn’t much more than a narrow platform bolted to the side of a bridge. The view was, annoyingly, breathtaking—lush greenery and glittering blue water far, far below.
So very far below.
I edged closer to the railing, peeked down, and instantly regretted every decision that had led me to this moment. The swirling current at the bottom looked like it wanted to eat me alive.
My knees buckled, and I clutched the railing.
I plastered on a smile and glanced at Brooke and Avni, praying I wasn’t the only one second-guessing our life choices. Thankfully, their faces were equally stricken.
“On second thought, shopping sounds good,” I said, my voice pitching slightly higher than usual. I wasn’t even trying to hide my terror—part of me hoped they’d take pity on me and we would just go home.
“Wait, no, you were right. We’ve got to live a little,” Brooke said, trying way too hard to sound brave. “This is gonna be so fun.”
I latched onto Avni’s arm like she was a buoy. “What about you, Av?” I asked. “Still in?”
Avni grimaced and took a deliberate step back from the railing. “I guess,” she muttered.
That didn’t exactly inspire confidence.
Just then, a guy in a teal instructor shirt approached. Messy, sun-bleached curls framed his face, and his tan skin was proof of all the time he probably spent out here in the bright, Australian sun.
His smile stretched wide and genuine, and it was so damn infectious I found myself grinning back before I could stop it.
“Hi there, ladies,” he said, arms wide like he was waiting for a group hug. “You ready for the jump of a lifetime?”
“Honestly? Not so sure,” I replied, glancing over the edge once more. My stomach did a slow roll.
He laughed, bright and carefree. “Trust me, you won’t regret it. Nothing beats a several-second-long free fall.”
I swallowed thickly, questioning his sanity.
“My name’s Hamish,” he said, offering his hand. “Hamish Murphy.”
We each shook it, one after the other, and gave our names. His grip was warm and sure, and mine was slightly clammy.
Fantastic.
“Follow me,” he said, leading us toward the small crowd that had gathered near the shuttle.
Hamish brought us into a squat little building where we watched a safety video and got a full briefing. My pulse didn’t settle once the whole time.
After, a few more instructors joined the group to help everyone gear up. The one assisting us introduced himself as Jasper Nguyen—dark hair, easy grin, and already eyeing Brooke like she was dessert. Brooke, naturally, ate it up.
She always drew attention. With her wavy blonde hair and almost Barbie-like face, she practically came with her own spotlight.
And Brooke loved a spotlight.
Once we were all snugly strapped into our harnesses, Jasper led us over to the launch platform, where the last few people from the previous group were finishing their jumps. I noticed two of them were being strapped in together.
“Hey, Jasper?” I called out. “Can anyone jump tandem, or did they sign up for that ahead of time?”
He followed my gaze to the couple now getting hooked up to the swing. “It’s open to anyone,” he replied. “As long as you’re both willing.”
I immediately turned to Brooke and Avni. “Anyone wanna jump with me?” I asked hopefully.
“Me!” they both blurted at the same time.
Jasper let out a low chuckle, running a hand through his jet-black hair. “Well, good luck figuring that out,” he said. “Let me know when you’ve made up your minds—I’ll be over there.”
He strolled toward the railing, leaning his hip against it as if he wasn’t standing next to a crack in the earth so deep I swore I could see its molten core beneath the water.
I turned to the girls, weighing my options. “Well, crap,” I muttered, half-laughing. “You guys go together. I’ll see if there’s anyone else willing to jump tandem. Honestly, I just want someone to hold on to—I don’t really care who.”
“You sure?” Avni asked, concerned. “We could all just go solo. That way it’s fair.”
I shook my head. “Nah. It’s fine. Worst case, I jump alone. That was the plan until about two minutes ago anyway. Might as well ring in this solo adventure by literally throwing myself off a bridge.”
They didn’t protest much—probably a little relieved they got to jump together, which was fair, honestly.
I took a deep breath. Maybe this was indeed how it was supposed to be—maybe jumping alone would really kickstart the new life I was about to start here.
It still didn’t feel real—my own surf shop and café. In Australia.
Tide Coffee and Gear—“Tide” for short. I’d opened the first location back home two years ago, after a bad fall during a routine lift in practice ended my career in the blink of an eye.
One second, I was a rising star in a professional ballet company. The next, I was a cautionary tale.
Multiple doctors confirmed what I already knew: I’d never dance again. Just like that, everything I’d sacrificed, everything I’d bled and cried and pushed myself for—it was gone.
And in the wreckage of that grief, I clung to the only other thing that had ever made me feel free: surfing.
Well—surf gear, technically.
My brother had been surfing as long as I’d been dancing—so forever—and his wife always complained about the lack of good swimwear options for actual wave-riding. Bikinis never stayed in place, wetsuits were suffocating and ugly, and don’t even get her started on how unethical most surf brands were.
So I got to work.
I poured every drop of my obsessive, perfectionist energy into designing sustainable, flattering, high-performance gear. Gear that stayed put.
Gear made in good factories, by fairly paid workers. Gear that didn’t just do what it was supposed to—it looked damn good too.
And it just took off. My online store launched within months, and a few weeks later, I was scouting spaces for a physical shop.
Then Katherine, a family friend, convinced me to bring it here, to Australia. I’d help get the new location off the ground, and once it was running smoothly, she’d take over as manager. That was the plan.
And now…here I was, about to dive headfirst into the new adventure.
Literally.
We stood and watched as the rest of our group took their turns. One by one, people leapt from the edge, laughing or screaming, or both.
Eventually, it was just the three of us left.
“Well, ladies, last jumps of the day,” Jasper called out. “Any special requests? A kiss goodbye from an instructor, maybe?” he added with a wink at Brooke.
She giggled and tucked her hair behind her ear like she was shy. All part of her act—this girl didn’t have a shy bone in her body.
I edged toward the platform again, trying to act casual as I looked down. Huge mistake. My stomach flipped, and for a second, the world tilted dangerously.
I staggered back and tried to laugh it off. Maybe I could just…quietly back out once they jumped. No one would blame me. Probably.
I watched as Avni and Brooke got strapped together, arms looped tight around each other, cheeks pressed close. There was a flutter in my chest—a sting of something I didn’t quite expect.
Jealousy.
They looked brave. They looked like they belonged.
And I felt…alone.
“Good luck, guys!” I called out, trying to sound cheerful as Jasper and another instructor—Samuel, I think—secured their ropes.
I took a few steps back from the platform, turning toward the bridge.
Maybe this was a sign. Maybe I wasn’t ready.
“Changed your mind?” a low voice called behind me.
I paused. The words dragged across my skin like a physical touch.
When I glanced back, my breath hitched in my throat.
He stood a few feet away, tall and solid, with light brown hair, golden skin, and a presence that pulled me in like gravity.
His eyes met mine—and held.
“Eh…,” I stammered, cheeks heating. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
I tried to look away, but couldn’t.
My nerves twisted into something else entirely—something sparkly and fluttery.
Butterflies. God help me.
He smirked, his gaze trailing down my body and back up again, slow and sure, as if he were taking stock of me—and liked what he saw.
“Well,” he said, that same rough voice curling around me, “best make up your mind quickly. You’re up next.”
