Loving You Was the Risk

I'm Not a Crazy Person

Amy POV

After promising Savannah I would go out with her this weekend and attempt to relax and feel like a semi-functional human being, I started driving back to Austin’s place.

My dark blue 2012 Ford Fusion hummed like it was doing me a personal favor by still running. The air conditioning was fighting for its life against the August heat, and the seats felt like they were actively trying to cook me. Too damn hot for Cocoa Beach.

I was wearing a cute blue crop top that didn’t show too much, which for me was a bold fashion choice, and a pair of flattering jean shorts that Savannah had once called “criminally underappreciated.” Flip-flops slapped against the floorboard every time I shifted my foot. I hadn’t tried to look good, exactly. I had just tried not to melt.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail because sweat was already making the back of my neck damp. When it gets this humid on top of being so hot, my brown and strawberry-red hair does this weird little wave thing anyway, like it can’t decide what it wants to be, and it was starting to get on my nerves.

This morning had almost knocked the breath out of me.

Between Savannah, Bennie being back, and the emotional hangover of dredging up half my childhood, I felt wrung out. Too shaken to do anything productive, all I wanted was to go home, finish my laundry, and mentally prepare myself for another stretch of three ten-hour shifts.

I missed the kids already.

Especially Hailey.

She had just arrived at the shelter a few days ago. Seven years old. Glasses. Bright red hair that stuck out in every direction no matter how much you tried to tame it. She had an attitude that could rival a grown adult’s and a mouth that never took a break. She reminded me so much of myself at that age it almost hurt.

She sassed every care worker.

Especially Cassandra.

For some reason, Hailey could not stand her. And honestly, I kind of understood why. I was drawn to Hailey immediately. She clearly needed a safe space. Cassandra didn’t seem to care much about what the kids needed emotionally. She did her job, sure, took care of them, followed the rules. But empathy was not really her thing.

Too many times Cassandra had put Hailey on restriction, and that just seemed to make everything worse. Sometimes a kid needs an ear to yell at, not another punishment. Cassandra was just too damn sensitive sometimes. She always made that face when the kids pushed her buttons, like she had just eaten something sour.

With her short, mousy brown hair and dark brown eyes, she just didn’t get it. She didn’t grow up like we did. Everything had always been handed to her. I knew because I went to school with her. She used to hang out with Tamera and Heather. Always in the background. Never the main culprit.

Because of that, I had decided to give her a chance at the shelter.

She had even apologized once for hanging around the Barbie twins so much back then. We had developed a sort of friendship. And to her credit, she always seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say about the kids and how to handle them better. She listened. She tried. Especially with Hailey.

Still, her calling in all the time and not always making the best decisions drove me insane.

Man, I knew Hailey had it rough. I had read her file the night before and had to take a break halfway through because my eyes kept burning. No kid should have to live through that much before they are old enough to tie their shoes properly.

Yeah. I was ready to go back to work.

Even if I was exhausted.

Even if Cassandra hadn’t been showing up again and we were short-staffed.

Even if I had homework.

Oh. s**t.

Homework.

Online classes had been my lifesaver, but that didn’t make them any less real. I had a paper due tonight about student collaboration and interaction in small group settings. Which meant I would be writing until my eyes crossed.

Great. Another sleepless night.

As I passed the tourist shops, I watched a family loading brand-new beach toys into a shiny Infiniti SUV. The kind that probably had cooled leather seats and a navigation system that spoke in a calm, judgment-free voice. They were laughing, arguing about sunscreen, and debating which kid got which boogie board like it was the biggest problem any of them had ever faced.

Just for one day at the beach.

The dad was holding three chairs like it was nothing. The mom was already complaining about sand in the car. One of the kids was swinging a neon bucket like a weapon while the other was dramatically accusing everyone of ruining the trip. Normal. Loud. Happy.

I felt that familiar, ugly twist in my chest.

A mix of envy and bitterness.

The kind that sneaks up on you when you’re not even trying to be sad. They had it all and probably didn’t even realize it.

Damn tourists.

They were everywhere. Summer. Winter. Didn’t matter. And the snowbirds were even worse. They came down in packs, drove ten miles under the speed limit, complained about the heat, and somehow still managed to take up all the best parking spots and all the good restaurants like they owned the place.

I turned down a short, run-down street marked by an old house still waiting for repairs from the last hurricane. It had become my favorite landmark, the easiest way to know I was in the right place. The bright blue door stood out against cream-colored walls that had seen better decades, and the roof was still covered by a blue tarp that flapped in the breeze like a tired flag of surrender.

The street led to a cluster of tiny, shabby condos. Two stories. Right by the beach, technically. But not in the way people imagine when they say beachfront. The kind of close where you could hear the ocean if you stood in the right spot and ignored the tourists next door in a high rise hotel nearby. They were close but not right next door. It was actually perfect here. Just run down a little bit.

The actual floorplan in all the condos were way too small for Cocoa Beach standards and not nearly nice enough for the rich snowbirds to touch with a ten-foot pole. But they were affordable. And they were quiet. And one was Austin’s.

It was my home for now too.

I pulled into one of the ten parking spots behind the building and shut off the engine.

As soon as I got out of the car, I froze.

Oh.

Holy.

Nope.

That was his truck.

It had to be.

I am not a crazy person (most days), and I had only stalked his i********: about once a year, but I remembered when he posted it. Bought it up in Minot. Always looked miserable there. Everything in his pictures looked cold and gray and lonely. Not that I paid much attention or anything. I mean, he was basically my bully.

And then, in high school, he just… stopped talking to me.

No warning. No explanation. One day he was there, teasing me like always, and then suddenly he wasn’t. He kept his distance. Acted like I didn’t exist.

Except for a couple of times.

When it really mattered.

Those moments were burned into my memory for reasons I still didn’t fully understand.

And then he disappeared again.

Which confused the hell out of me.

So, yeah. Seeing his truck here did not feel great for my mental stability.

Whatever.

My first instinct was to get back in my car and go literally anywhere else.

I can’t do this.

But before I could, the second-story balcony door creaked open.

“Ames!”

Austin. Thank God.

He leaned over the railing. “We’re about to head to the studio. Bennie and I are going to start making backdrops for fall and Christmas pictures. Want to come help?”

It was August. Which meant Austin was already planning three months ahead.

“Um. No. Sorry. I can’t today. I have homework and I need to get ready for work tomorrow.”

“You’re working again already?” he asked. “Isn’t it three days on, three days off?”

“Yeah. Supposed to be. But Cassandra hasn’t been showing up. I’m working with her tomorrow. I plan to have words. Like always.”

“Damn,” he said. “Okay. Hold on. We’re coming down. Wait just a second.”

Oh.

No.

Oh no.

Here they come.

Why am I sweating like a sinner in church? At least it’s hot and I can blame my face on the heat.

The front door opened and they started down the outside stairs.

And then…

He came into full view.

And I immediately decided I might need medical assistance.

Or spiritual guidance.

Or at least to say a Hail Mary because my thoughts were definitely sinning.

Benjamin Rojas was no longer the awkward, string-bean menace I remembered. He was tall. Like, should-have-to-register-as-a-weapon tall. Around six foot three. Dark brown hair cut short on the sides and messy on top like he had run his hands through it one too many times. Light blue eyes. A jaw with just enough stubble to make it illegal in at least twelve states.

The military had done things to him.

Good things.

Not bulky. Just… carved. Solid. The kind of solid that made you question your life choices and your standards.

He was wearing gray sweatpants and a fitted white t-shirt and my brain short-circuited.

I might need emotional support.

Or my vibrator.

Or both.

His eyes went straight to me.

I almost ran.

But instead, I stood there in the sandy, beat-up parking lot like my feet had been cemented to the ground.

“Hey, Ames. It’s been a while.” I heard his voice for the first time in six years, and I did not know whether to laugh, cry, or scream.

Austin walked up behind him.

“Yes, hi, hello,” I said too quickly. “I was just going to, um, finish my homework and quietly exist.”

Austin narrowed his eyes. He knew I was being weird, but thank God, he didn’t comment on it.

He gestured at Bennie. “Bennie just got into town. He’s staying with his parents until he finds a place.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “So you’re homeless. Nice. I thought you’d be further in life by now.”

Bennie snorted. “Nice to see you too, Darla Sherman.”

I gasped. “Do not resurrect that name. That was the braces-and-glasses girl from Finding Nemo, you absolute menace. I do not look like her.”

Austin lit up. “Oh my God. You were Darla.”

“Oh my God, I’m going to leave,” I warned.

Bennie grinned. “You’re still short.”

“And you’re still rude,” I shot back. “Some things never change.”

He looked me up and down slowly, deliberately.

“Wow. You’re still doing the whole ‘I live in my books’ thing, huh?”

“And you’re still doing the ‘I peak in sweatpants’ thing? I mean, aren’t you hot? I mean like hot-hot. Wait—s**t. I mean hot because of the sun?” My cheeks burned like I had never spoken to a human man before.

“These are tactical sweatpants,” he said with a smirk. “Very efficient. Cooler than you’d think.”

Austin was openly laughing now.

Bennie tilted his head. “You look tired.”

“And you look like you still don’t know when to shut up.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. Those bags under your eyes could qualify as carry-on luggage.”

I crossed my arms. “Careful. I’ll trip you with my emotional support backpack.”

Austin wiped his eyes. “I cannot believe you two are adults.”

Bennie looked back at me. “So. Still a nerd?”

“Still a caveman?”

“Still dramatic?”

“Still annoying?”

“Still tiny?”

“Still emotionally underdeveloped?”

Austin choked. “Jesus.”

Bennie laughed. “Wow. You really missed me.”

“I really didn’t.”

“So what are you doing now?” he asked. “Besides plotting my murder.”

“I work at the children’s shelter. And I’m finishing my degree.”

He paused. Actually paused.

“That sounds about right,” he said. “Suits you.” His voice was softer for just a second.

I narrowed my eyes. “Do not get sincere. It’s deeply uncomfortable.”

He smirked. “Noted.”

Austin checked his watch. “Okay, before one of you commits a felony, we’re going to the studio.”

“Great,” I said. “I’m going to go inside and emotionally recover.”

Bennie stepped backward toward the car. “Nice to see you again, kid. I’ll probably see you around.”

“This is literally my house, and I’m not a kid, Bennie,” I said, rolling my eyes. “So unless you’re planning to hover in the bushes, yes. I will see you.”

“Tempting,” he said.

“Try it and I call the cops.”

Austin shook his head. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

Bennie looked at me. “Nice seeing you, Darla Sherman.”

I flipped him off.

He laughed.

Austin didn’t follow him right away. Instead, he looked at me with that familiar, way-too-knowing grin.

“So,” he said. “Do I need to kick his ass already, or are we saving that for later?”

I snorted. “Oh my God, stop.”

“I’m serious,” he went on, but his eyes were laughing. “Because it really looked like he was messing with you. And I just got him back in town. I’d prefer not to break him immediately.”

“Relax,” I said. “It’s just how we talk. We’ve always been like that.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said. “That’s what you said right before you chased him with a textbook in eighth grade.”

“That was one time.”

“And it was glorious,” he said. “Still, I’m just saying. If he makes you cry, I’m legally obligated as your brother to ruin his life.”

I smiled despite myself. “Noted.”

He bumped his shoulder into mine. “Also, you owe me lunch.”

I blinked. “Excuse you?”

“For pretending I wouldn’t notice how flustered you are.”

“Oh please,” I said. “You owe me a hundred for emotional damages, remember?”

He laughed. “Fine. We’ll call it even. For now.”

He squeezed me into a quick side hug. “Seriously though. You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I am.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I like both of you. But I like you more.”

“Obviously.”

He finally turned and jogged toward the car.

They drove away.

I walked into the condo immediately and banged my head into the wall. I can’t decide if I want to smile or cry. Benjamin Rojas is already messing with me and it’s only been ten minutes of interaction. Damn, I’m going to die of confusion.