Jason wasn't at the pool bar as I expected, or even at the pool for that matter. In fact, it took me a little way down the shoreline until I found him sitting on the sand, staring out at the ocean.

I followed his gaze and realized he wasn't so much looking at the ocean, but rather at what was beyond it.

The sky was dark and growing darker. There was a stronger wind along the water, but it was picking up speed as the cloud cover rolled in. If the weather reports were correct, it would be over us by tomorrow night, which meant we had about twenty-four hours before we got bombarded by this tropical storm.

Whether or not he heard me, he didn't look up as I kicked off my own shoes and sat next to him. He held a beer in his hands, his wrists resting on his knees as he buried his toes in the cool sand beneath us. The tattoo I thought I saw on his arm earlier was visible now—it was the Celtic tree of life, but with sharper corners, almost tribal in design. A symbol supposedly meant to represent the continuous cycle of life and death, but there seemed almost something dark behind the design on Jason's arm...

"Did it hurt?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"Of course, it did." He didn't look at me as he responded. "Thousands of pricks with a sharp needle through layers of my skin to imbed foreign, unnatural ink beneath its surface..."

"Some people say it doesn't hurt." I shrugged.

"Those people are lying."

"Maybe I'll get one while we're here," I said, ignoring his answer and paying more attention scanning the bare skin of my legs than to the incredulous look I knew he was giving me.

"First, no you won't. You'll feel the first needle prick and cry yourself off the table."

"Well, that's not true at all." I finally looked up to him, and for the first time since the airport, he allowed me to hold his stare.

"Second," he continued, "I know for a fact that the health code regulations at home are most likely not held in the same regard around here, especially when they're trying to trap unsuspecting tourists into thinking they're getting the better deal."

"You mean like when we were 16, and we went to Montreal on that band trip and I wanted my ears pierced so badly I did it at that mall kiosk all because I could?"

"And when you got home, your parents were so pissed at you and paranoid about what happened, your mom called your doctor and made you get a tetanus shot like it was a punishment. Talk about a souvenir."

"That bitch hurt more than the piercings."

"The gift that keeps on giving..."

The laugh that escaped me felt too natural, too familiar, too comfortable. Maybe Jason noticed too because an unexpected smile spread across his face, but disappeared almost as soon as I saw it.

He looked back out toward the ocean, and I thought we were going to return to our drinks in silence before his voice hummed over the sound of the waves.

"What are you trying to do, Sam?"

Not harsh. Not accusatory. Almost genuinely curious.

What was I trying to do?

As I was trying to figure out the answer myself, I vocally inquired, "Figuratively or literally?"

"Lady's choice."

Now it was my turn to distract myself by the tropical landscape sprawling before us while I found my words. Our hotel was situated on a section of privately owned shoreline in the Caribbean where the unnaturally clear and blue lapped against the crystalline white sands. The beach ran out to my left as far as the eye could see, each neighboring resort claiming their own piece of the landscape.

To my right, however, was a much different terrain. The beach ended, broken by rocky breakers that must have been at least one hundred feet above sea level. The waves crashed violently against jagged rocks surging up from the ocean floor. There was a path that ran up the side of the cliff, and I could see tourists making their way up to the top. If not for the impending fear of falling to my death, I'm sure it would be a great scenic outlook.

"Samantha."

I almost forgot Jason was waiting for an answer. Without saying a word, because I still didn't have one, I looked back to him, clicked my drink against the beer bottle in his hand, and took a sip.

He watched me, glaring slightly. "Some things don't change."

"Or maybe they've changed so much, you're too worried about what used to be instead of focusing on how things are now."

"They teach you that in law school?"

I once again ignored the mocking intonation. "It's called growing up, Jason."

"I guess not all of us have had the luxury."

"Now's as good a time to start."

"This isn't some reality TV show, Sam," he said, sighing. "We're not going to be stuck on this tropical island while we hash through the past, only to win by coming out on the other side better than we were when we went in."

"You know, you're really making this harder than it needs to be." Though I knew he had every right to feel how he felt, within reason at least. I had more or less abandoned him for the last five years, without even an attempt to reach out or make amends.

No, this wasn't some alternate reality where we could pretend the past didn't happen. But it still didn't mean we couldn't try to fix whatever it was we broke.

"So, full disclosure, Chelsea said we can't go back to the room unless we can stomach being in the same vicinity of one another."

"I'm dealing with you now, aren't I?"

"Tolerating me, perhaps."

He closed his eyes and shook his head, almost looking defeated. "I just wish you could begin to understand what these last five years were like for me..."

I turned in the sand to face him, tucking my legs under me. "Then tell me, Jason. Or at least start to tell me. Give me a little sliver so I can at least attempt to fix things."

"Fix things?" Now he turned to face me, and our bodies, our faces were much closer to one another than I think either of us intended. His knee brushed against mine, but neither of us was willing to move, each more stubborn than the next. "Sam, you left when things were so shattered that I don't even know how to pick up the pieces."

"So let me help," I pleaded and even grew so bold as to take his free hand in mine. "Let me help pick up the pieces. But you have to let me. We have a week on neutral ground, Jay... let's take advantage of it."

He let out a low chuckle that made my skin prickle and it had nothing to do with the sea breeze or the shifting cold front moving in. "We have a week where Chelsea can play referee."

"She'd love it."

I snorted, the most unattractive thing I could possibly do at the moment, but this was Jason... regardless of the past he was still someone I knew, and knew well, and had known well for a very long time. Despite everything that may or may not have happened between us, I still felt a sense of comfort with him, and I was happy to know it hadn't dissipated over the years.

"Can we at least make a truce?" I offered. "That we at least make an effort to remain civil this week, if not for our sakes, than to keep Chelsea from murdering us in our sleep?"

He blinked and swallowed. "That's an incredibly interesting choice of words."

I shrugged. "You're right, she's more apt to poison our drinks."

He let out a breath and shook his head, but finally allowed that smile to play along his lips. "Maybe I'll be able to ply you with enough liquor that you'll finally tell me what you're really thinking."

"Maybe if you're lucky, you won't need the alcohol."

"Maybe..."

We held each other's gaze a moment longer. If it was anyone else, it would have been like a scene out of a Harlequin romance novel. I still held Jason's hand in my own, our bodies closer, our knees touching, and the ocean breeze was cool against my heated face. With the sun setting, Jason's features were shadowed just enough to make his appearance more alluring than it already was.

Not that I didn't want to talk to him about the last five years.

I just didn't know where to begin.

And now I felt like we only had a week to make up for lost time.

"C'mon," I breathed, snapping myself out of my reverie. "If we don't make it back to the room, Chelsea will claim our beds for her suitcases and we'll be stuck on the balcony."

Keeping my hand in his, he stood and helped me to my feet. "I'd say that wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the rain coming."

His words reminded me of those dark clouds looming in the distance, their foreboding presence a reminder of the onslaught we were going to endure in a day's time. But being there on the beach with Jason, for better or for worse, at the moment I had completely forgotten about the storm.