Oceans of Us: An Age Gap Forbidden Romance

“Come on, Reign, is that all you got?” I chuckle, holding up my boxing pads as my best friend delivers jab after jab after jab. Each hit more aggressive at my every shout of encouragement.

I had a rare opening in my schedule and was able to fit Alaric in, seeing as he got off work at the hospital and wanted to train a little before he rested up. Being a doctor keeps him busy, and it’s difficult for him to catch a moment for himself, let alone consistent workouts, which is why me being his best friend is a win-win.

We’ve been out here in his backward training for a good forty-five minutes now. The hot California sun shines down on us, tingling my bare chest, arms, and back.

“How long do we have to go?” Alaric says as I alternate between moving the boxing pads higher and lower, heightening the intensity.

“Give me thirty seconds of hardcore punching and we’ll call it a day.”

“Thank fucking God, because I only have thirty-one seconds left in me.”

“What happened to, ‘I can do this all day, man. All dayyy’!”

“It fucked off, just like my ego.”

“True!” I throw my head back in laughter. “You said it, not me.”

Alaric rolls his eyes with a smug smirk. “You sly, fit motherfucker.”

And just like that, Alaric gives me another thirty seconds of his best punches as the familiar adrenaline courses through my veins, the same ones I used to get every time I stepped in the boxing ring. Grit. Determination. Sacrifice. That’s how you grasp sweet victory.

With ten seconds to go, I catch someone in my peripheral vision and inhale a deep breath at the sight of Paisley. She’s here, standing by the opened sliding doors that lead into the backyard where her father and I are. Leaning against the steel doorframe, Paisley crosses her arms over her chest and her eyes find mine.

I gulp down and continue staring, as much as I know I shouldn’t. But there’s something about her, this magnetic allurement pulls me back to her, like she’s my fucking gravity. Paisley chews on her bottom lip, a slight grin rising on her lips as she waves at me.

I throw my best friend’s daughter a smile and turn back to her father before I’m caught. He has his back to her and hasn’t seen her yet.

“Okay, I quit, I can’t do any more,” Alaric groans, stepping back and dramatically lying down on the grass. I pull the boxing gloves off my best friend as he just lies there, gasping for air. At one point, he turns his head and smiles when he sees his daughter. “Hey, you’re back!”

“Yeah, it’s been a busy day studying for finals. How was work, Dad?”

“Good, good, daydreaming about Nevada whenever I was in the doctor’s lounge as always…”

A sweet chuckle escapes her. “I bet you were. It seems so stunning there!”

“It is.” I nod. “I had several boxing matches there during my time and it’s so beautiful, especially the sunsets and sunrises over the desert.”

“So beautiful. You just made me so jealous.” Those honey-brown eyes flicker to mine and her smug smile grows as she nods toward the boxing gloves I’m holding. “And I didn’t realize you were taking house calls?”

I smirk. “I usually don’t, but your father threatened my life if I didn’t train him here.”

“Bullshit.” Alaric laughs, still on the grass. “It’s just more convenient here at my house, seeing as I can’t daydream about Nevada in the fitness studio like I can here. Don’t even need to drive back home, can just roll into bed and sleep for a thousand years after my long shift and dream about Nevada… about Vegas… about the weather… Nevada, Nevada, Nevada.”

“All right, man, we get it you love Nevada. You said it like five times in the past thirty seconds alone.”

Gesturing toward me, my best friend turns to Paisley. “You see what I’ve had to put up with, sweetheart? You see this sarcasm? That’s what I get for having a friendship with this guy for the past three years. Saint’s trouble.”

“Oh, don’t tell me about that.” She laughs. “I knew Saint was trouble from the moment he stepped on my lilies.”

“Wowww, thanks, guys, for having my back. I see what this is. The Reigns are ganging up on me. Nice, nice,” I playfully tease. “I should go. I think I’ve just outstayed my welcome.”

“You have. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”

My eyes fall to Paisley at her smug comment, and I love just how brightly she’s grinning. I feel my eyes darken as the smirk carved on my lips deepens. “It never does.”

“Sometimes luck runs out.”

“Sometimes,” I say, my voice soft. “But today is definitely not that day. Isn’t it, Pais?”

A scarlet flush graces Paisley’s cheeks as we continue staring at each other with a playfully raised brow for what seems like hours. In reality, it can’t be more than a few seconds as I cross my arms over my broad chest and Alaric rises to his feet.

I tear my gaze from her and turn back to my best friend. “All jokes aside, I need to get back to the studio.”

“Cool, thanks for the workout, man. I’m sure I’ll feel it tomorrow morning the second I step out of bed.”

“You’re forty, man, not eighty.”

“Yeah, okay, Mr. I’m-an-athlete-and-feel-no-pain.” Alaric laughs and flips me off in front of Paisley. “I’ll see you later, man. We still on for going downtown for drinks tomorrow tonight?”

“Yeah, still on. I’ll be here around nine.”

“Perfect.” He turns to Paisley next and smiles. “I’m going to have a quick shower now but was wondering if we should head out to dinner tonight? We have no groceries and all we do have in the fridge is leftover stir-fry and I’m kind of sick of that crap.”

She shrugs. “Sure, anything works for me, Dad. I just have to do a little studying for my finals, but that shouldn’t take me too long.”

“Perfect!”

And then Alaric’s jogging back in the house, kicking off his runners as he makes his way upstairs. The second he’s gone, I feel Paisley’s hot gaze on mine and turn to her, finding I was right. She smiles, brushing a hand through her gorgeous wavy dark hair before that same hand pats down her tight-fitting jeans. She looks so good in them.

“I didn’t know you had a charity,” Paisley suddenly says.

My heart clenches. Fuck.

How the hell does she know about that?

I gulp down thickly and Paisley groans at my reaction, shutting her eyes as if she regrets her words. “Oh shit… I… I really shouldn’t have said that.”

“You looked me up…” I say, but it’s neither a question nor a statement. It’s something in between the two because I already know the answer.

Of course she did. She wouldn’t be asking me if she didn’t.

Paisley nods softly, guilt in her eyes. “I did. I’m sorry. I know you told me not to, but I… I wanted to know.”

Despite all the carnage in my mind, my eyes drop to her lips. She’s no longer Alaric’s little girl. She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman who last time I saw her told me I was her reason. I can’t shake the memories out of my head, like those at the beach when Paisley told me she can’t stop thinking about me. It isn’t right. I shouldn’t cross her mind. And as much as she’s trying to play it cool in front of me, I see the sparkle in her eyes, her changing complexion, the way she’s still blushing whenever our eyes lock.

It’s so wrong… wrong that I like it. Wrong that there’s a side of me that’s so tempted to rub my thumb over her lips. They’re so pink and seem so soft to touch, to suck, to kiss…

Fuck.

I shake my head, more pissed off that I’m seeing my best friend’s daughter in this way than I am that Paisley broke our promise of not searching anything about me.

Taking my eyes off Paisley, I turn my back to her and drop the boxing gloves and pads into my leather duffle bag on the ground.

“Saint, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to probe. I’m just… curious, that’s all.”

“Curious about what?”

“Curious about you. About who you really are.”

I sigh, my back still to her. “Paisley, I’ve told you this before. You should stop thinking about me.”

“And I’ve told you I can’t.”

All of a sudden, her soft hands are on my bare lower back, caressing the glistening skin there before her fingertips spread out and trace my back tattoo ever so slowly. The action is so sensual, so bold for Paisley. There’s this intimacy to her touch, one that feels like she’s opening me up and all my hurt is at the tip of my tongue, ready to confide in her.

I shut my eyes and tip my head back, a soft groan escaping my lips when her fingers pave their way up and across my broad shoulders, where the inked angel’s wings expand out.

“It’s beautiful,” Paisley murmurs and I squeeze my eyes tighter, refusing to give into how good the sensation of her hands on my body feels. I’ve never let anybody touch the tribute tattoo, not in the way she is—so damn sensually. I’m not proud of Paisley being the exception, or the fact my hardening cock just twitched in my workout shorts, but I’m too far gone to change it. “I’m sure Lea was a lucky woman. Did you love her?”

My jaw remains tense as Paisley’s words drill into my mind.

Did you love her?

Did you love her?

Did you love her?

Lea’s voice circulates through my mind, the first time in years. It may have been thirteen years, but the last words she ever said to me will be forever be engraved in me.

This is all your fault. I hate you, Santo. I’ll hate you forever. Remember that.

Our love story didn’t start that way. It was genuine. Raw. The purest thing I’ve ever seen… until everything changed.

I’m so trapped in my own mind that at first, I don’t even notice Paisley’s in front of me. Yet the second she reaches out for my right hand and her fingers inch to caress the scar, I roughly grip her wrist with my left hand to stop her.

“Don’t,” I growl, my heart beating crazy wild. “Don’t touch it.”

My raged eyes soften at the shock in hers. My grip is tight, so tight that I swear I can feel her every pulse. Fuck.

Calm down, Lisconti.

I let go of Paisley’s hand and she’s quick to mumble an apology and I feel worse for it—as much as I shouldn’t—I do.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I sigh, rubbing my face. “I didn’t mean to… didn’t mean to do that, I…”

My words fall blank because truthfully, I don’t know how to express exactly what I’m feeling. Luckily, Paisley’s good enough to accept it and goes on to bring some light into the conversation because after moments of silence, a smile lifts up her lips and it soon transforms into a smirk as she says, “So… Stanford, huh?”

It feels like a weight lifting off me as laughter rumbles through my body. The tension between us of only moments eases and is comfortable again as Paisley joins in, giggling.

“You didn’t expect that, did you?” I chuckle.

“Definitely not…” And then her voice drops lower, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard as she looks up at me through her lashes and murmurs, “Who the hell are you, Saint Lisconti?”

I simply smile because that’s all I can manage. I maintain my expression, all while I nod her goodbye, grab my duffle bag, and shoulder out of the house with the distant running of the upstairs shower taunting my mind.

The second I shut the front door behind me and my sneakers slap against the wooden porch, my smile crumbles into a pit of nothingness. With my fist balling around the duffle strap, a frown takes over my lips; one with unbreakable strings of guilt and an agonizing knot at the back of my throat.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t feel.

I can’t be.

Who the hell are you, Saint Lisconti?

Who the hell am I?

Well, that’s exactly what I’d like to know too…