by Lauren Layne
Hell, perhaps because she’s hurting. It’s always been my job to fix that, and I don’t know how to at the moment.
“You know the weird part,” she whispers quietly, finally breaking her silence.
I shake my head slightly.
“I’m not even that surprised. I think I knew something was off, but I insisted on doing this anyway. And you know the worst part?”
Her fingers dig into my chest, little claws, and I feel a quick sense of foreboding.
“The worst part,” she rushes on, “is that I wasn’t even seeing him as it was happening. I was seeing you. And her. All over again. And it was like I was dying inside, all over again.”
I feel a stab of panic followed by anger as I pull her back roughly. “You kidding me with this, Luce? That guy cheats on you, and I take the blame for it?”
She lifts her chin. “You cheated on me once too.”
I let out an incredulous laugh and step back, running my hands over my hair in disbelief. And guilt. Not guilt over what she thinks I did, but guilt over how fucking…
Never mind.
I strike back, the guilt making me defensive.
“Damn it,” I mutter. “That’s what you’re turning this into. It’s not enough that I paid for my own actions back then, now I’m going to have to pay for his too?”
She swipes at her tears, and I register what kind of crying we’re dealing with here: angry crying.
Well bring it on. I’m angry too. At myself mostly, but a little bit at her too for being so…so…Lucy.
“Even now, you don’t deny it,” she cries. “Even now you stand there, look me right in the eye and tell me I’m overreacting!”
“It was six years ago, Lucy! We were kids.”
The wrong thing to say, clearly, because her green eyes go furious, and she steps forward to shove at my shoulders. Only the high heels and soft sand make her uneven, and she wobbles.
I reach out a hand to steady her and she rears back, as though stumbling into the Atlantic would be better than my touch.
“Well it sure felt very grown-up when you took my virginity,” she hisses.
I close my eyes, at the bittersweet memory. “I’m not going to talk to you about this now. Not when you’re upset over some other guy’s betrayal.”
She lets out a little laugh that’s more sad than anything else, and shakes her head. “I’ve heard that before. You’ve never wanted to talk about it, Reece. You’ve always acted like you didn’t have to. Like you never had to explain yourself to little Lucy Hawkins.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
I just didn’t know what to say. How to say it. I was nineteen, for Chrissake. Stupid. With her, with myself. But smart too. Because while the way we ended tore us to shreds, it was better then, that way, than later.
And there was always going to be a later. Lucy Hawkins was never going to stay. Not with a guy like me.
She shakes her head, her hand finding the sunglasses tangled in her hair, pulling them down to cover up puffy, angry eyes.
Without another word she turns away from me, but doesn’t move, and I realize her eyes are scanning the buildings on the beach.
“There,” she says, pointing to one of the huge hotels facing the water. “I’m staying there tonight. I’d say I’ve earned a little splurge.”
I follow her, because no way am I letting her out of my sight. Not when she’s so volatile.
I can’t afford the hotel, but I’ve been paying for my missteps with this girl for six years now.
Might as well put some of that guilt on my credit card.
Chapter 17
Lucy
Reece lets me wallow for a full twenty-four hours in Oscar’s betrayal, which, let’s face it, is longer than the asshole deserves.
Still, once the shock of seeing my and Reece’s history play out in front of my eyes wears off, I’m hit by the realization that Oscar’s betrayal hurt in its own right.
I mean, did I think I was going to marry the guy? Probably not. But I cared about him enough to find out if he was the one. Cared enough to make our relationship work, even with distance and the fact that our schedules had no overlap.
So yeah, I took a full day to mourn, and I’d picked a good place to do it. When I’d scanned the beach for hotels, I’d purposely picked one that looked like it had once been grand, but was now a little tired. One that would make my bank account cry only a little.
And a full day wrapped in a generic hotel robe with a partial ocean view, my journal, room service and really bad TV is exactly what the doctor ordered, because around four in the afternoon the day after Oscar’s betrayal, I’m starting to feel like maybe I can survive this.
Reece apparently agrees, because about three minutes after I step out of the shower, he pounds on my door.
I know it’s him by the angry impatience, but I look through the peephole anyway, mostly to annoy him.
Yep. He looks pissed. My mood lifts.
“What?” I ask.
“Let me in.”
I roll my eyes. “I just got out of the shower.”
His head snaps up at that, and I smirk.
“Well this is progress,” he says in a bland tone. “I’d half expected to find you ass down on the bed, melted cheese in your hair.”
My smirk turns into a real smile at that. Last night, just as I’d been trying to muster the energy to order food, room service had arrived with a bottle of California chardonnay and a chicken quesadilla that I hadn’t ordered.
If the chard hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the chicken quesadilla would have been. I pretty much lived on them all throughout high school. I don’t eat them as much now, since I pretend to be an adult and eat the occasional piece of fish or vegetable, but it’s still my ultimate comfort food.
Something Reece had apparently remembered.
“Thanks for that,” I say quietly.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t thank a man through the door, Hawkins. Open the hell up.”
I glance down at my towel, considering throwing some clothes on first, but then I shrug. It’s just Reece.
My inner skank rolls her eyes. There’s never been anything just Reece about what’s between us.
A fact I’m reminded of when I open the door and his gaze rakes over me.
At first, his look’s impulsive—instinctive guy checking out an almost naked girl from head to toe.
But when his gaze drags back up my body, it’s slower. More deliberate.
Not guy checking out girl so much as Reece checking out Lucy, and I feel it. I feel it everywhere, and I’m annoyed by the memory of how Reece used to make every part of me feel like an erogenous zone, not just the obvious ones.
Even my ankles are burning. Damn the man.
I try to strike back, give him the same slow perusal, but it’s not really the same when he’s fully dressed in…
My nose wrinkles in confusion. “You’re dressed up.”
Reece shoves past me and I jump back, because I don’t think either one of us can handle touching when there’s nothing but terry cloth covering my interesting bits.
“I’m wearing jeans,” he says dismissively.
True. But they’re nice jeans. Dark denim, not the faded whatever jeans he’s been wearing the past few days. And he’s wearing brown dress shoes instead of boots, a white button down instead of a T-shirt.
“You’re going out.”
His eyebrows lift, as he sets his bag next to the desk. “You’re the one who pointed out that we’re in Miami. And that I have a baker’s dozen women to sleep with.”
I roll my eyes to ward off the flash of jealousy. “How many did you check off last night?”
“You mean while you were stuffing your face with Real Housewives and sour cream, sobbing into your diary? Wouldn’t you like to know. Now get dressed. Do something with your face.”
I blink. “What’s wrong with my face?”
If I wa
s hoping for a compliment I’m disappointed, because he ignores the question and ambles toward the window with a whistle. “Nice view.”
“Yours isn’t the same?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Nope. I didn’t have the whole sad girl in a sexy outfit thing going on when I checked in, so no free upgrade. My room was on the poor person side, looking out at a dumpster.”
“Was?” I ask in confusion at the past tense. The plan has always been to stay two nights in Miami, and seeing as it’s already four P.M. and he wants to go out, there’s no way we’re driving anywhere else tonight.
With a grin, Reece turns and plops on the couch, patting the cushions with both palms, before draping his arms over the back of the sofa. “Fold-out bed, am I right?”
“Ah—” It probably is. I think I remember the guy at check-in say something about that, but I was in such a daze….
“You can’t stay here tonight,” I say.
“Sure I can,” he says, leaning forward and linking his fingers between his spread thighs. The confidence is damn sexy. Also, annoying. “I’m all for you celebrating the end of that shitty relationship, Luce, but I can’t afford another night here. For that matter, neither can you. We’ll split the cost of this room tonight.”
It’s a practical idea, but not a smart one. Reece and I in the same car is bad enough. In the same bedroom…
But the way his attention’s on his cellphone tells me I’m the only one whose thoughts are headed that direction. “Hurry up. We’re grabbing cocktails before dinner.”
I blink at him. “Cocktails. Who are you?”
The Reece I knew hated restaurants. Was more the type to make sandwiches and take you to a secluded pond somewhere to kiss you senseless rather than out for cocktails.
Then again, to be fair, we were teenagers.
Still, it’s a little jarring to realize that he can surprise me. For so long, I’ve thought I had him pinned, could anticipate every move.
Now I’m realizing that I knew the boy. I knew the boy better than he knew himself.
But the man? The man is new. The man is hot.
And even as I bite my lip and contemplate the wisdom of spending an evening in his company, I know that I’ll do it anyway.
Because suddenly I’m desperate. Desperate to know the man as well as I knew the boy.
For the first time I realize that maybe there’s hope for me and Reece to get back to what we were before. Friends. Good friends.
Just…minus the whole messy falling in love part this time.
Because that shit hurt.
Chapter 18
LUCY, SEVENTEEN, REECE, EIGHTEEN
Lucy sat at the big round table, her thumb clasping and unclasping the magnetic fastener of her pink lace clutch over and over, even as she tried to look relaxed.
Tried to look like she was sitting here all alone at prom because she wanted to be.
Next year, she told herself. Next year will be better.
At Jefferson High, both juniors and seniors could attend prom. She’d never really understood why you were allowed to go two years, but she did now.
It was in case you needed a do-over.
Kayley caught Lucy’s eye across the room and gave her a sympathetic wave over Mike Chevron’s beefy shoulder.
Lucy faked a smile and waved back. I’m fine.
A shadow appeared to her right, and she glanced up, fully braced for Craig to demand Luke’s whereabouts so he could beat the crap out of Lucy’s missing date.
It wasn’t her brother.
“Hi!” Lucy said in surprise.
Reece jerked his chin in greeting, using the foot of his rented dress shoes to pull out the flimsy folding chair beside her.
Lucy fixed him with a look the second he sat down. “Did my brother send you?”
Instead of answering, he studied her, his sharp eyes no doubt taking in the red nose and mussed eye makeup. “Where’s Dickson?”
Lucy sighed. Luke Dickson was one of the most popular boys in the junior class. Starting pitcher for the baseball team, ASB treasurer…
And entirely incapable of handling the tequila his idiot friend DJ had snuck into the limo on the way over.
“Puking his guts out in the dumpster, probably,” Lucy said. “Mrs. Gomez caught him and called his parents to come pick him up.”
“What about you?”
Lucy resumed her fiddling with her clutch. “I’ll call Mom or Dad in a few.”
Reece was silent for a moment more. Then he nodded and, apparently satisfied with her answer, stood just as the DJ announced the last song of the evening.
But instead of walking away as she expected, Reece held out his hand. Lucy blinked at the hand, then up at him.
He lifted an eyebrow. “This is the part where you say, ‘Yes, Reece, I will dance with you.’ ”
Lucy’s heart fluttered as she registered the heat of his hand against hers when he pulled her to her feet. “What about Abby? The DJ said this is the last dance of the evening.”
Reece shrugged. “I checked with her. She doesn’t mind. She doesn’t like to dance much. And she knows you’re practically my sister.”
Just like that, the happy butterflies making Lucy’s heart beat too fast had their wings ripped off.
Still, she swallowed her disappointment. Dancing with someone dismissing her as a sister was still better than not dancing with him at all.
Reece led her onto the dance floor as a sappy ballad trickled through the sound system, and as she stepped toward him to put her hands on his shoulders, she could have sworn she saw something a bit like panic flit across his face.
Lucy licked her lips nervously as his hands reluctantly found her waist. “You look nice.”
His big shoulders shrugged beneath her arms. “You can blame your mom. She dragged me and Craig to the rental store this afternoon.”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and his fingers tightened just the slightest bit on her waist before he cleared his throat. “You look nice too. Pretty.”
Lucy smiled against the rough fabric of his suit jacket, even though he couldn’t see her. She felt pretty. Her dress was light pink, with a fitted, beaded bodice, and a poofy skirt, which she hoped distracted from her small chest size.
They fell silent, and Lucy let herself register the pure joy of being in Reece Sullivan’s big arms.
Yes, she knew he was dating Abby Mancuso, and up until tonight, Lucy really had liked Luke Dickson.
But all that didn’t change the fact that nothing had ever felt quite so right as this moment.
Without thinking, Lucy rested her head on his shoulder, letting her eyes close. Letting herself pretend that this wasn’t just one dance with a guy who thought of her as a sister. Pretending that someday soon he’d show up on her doorstep and tell her that he couldn’t date Abby anymore because he was in love with his best friend’s little sister…
Her eyes flew open. Had Reece just pulled her a tiny bit closer?
Nah. Probably her imagination.
Then she felt the brush of his chin against the side of her head, the gesture lingering and fleeting, all at the same time. Almost as though he was trying to get close in the only way he could.
Lucy’s heart felt like it was cracking as the music slowed, knowing her perfect moment with the perfect guy was coming to an end.
Reece graduated in just a couple months, and then…
Then what?
The music faded away, and Lucy took a deep breath before fixing a bright smile on her face and taking a step back.
“Thanks, brother,” she said teasingly, putting emphasis on the latter word, hoping to put him at ease so he didn’t freak out about the way she’d rested her head on his shoulder like they were together.
Reece didn’t smile back. Instead he frowned, his face all confused guy before giving a quick shake of his head.
He stepped back, looking like he wanted to run away.
Had the dance been that ba
d?
“Call me if you can’t get ahold of your parents,” he grumbled, before brushing past her.
Lucy stared after him in confusion.
What had that been about?
Chapter 19
Reece
It’s taken a few drinks and every ounce of my admittedly crappy conversational abilities, but Lucy’s finally, finally lost that haunted look she’s had since walking in on Oscar kissing that girl.
Hell, for that matter, the drinks have taken the edge off my own anger at the way she turned the whole thing around on me. Fact is, I don’t want to be angry at her. Not last night when she’d looked so shattered, and not tonight when she looks so happy.
Tomorrow will be soon enough to remember all the damage we’ve done to each other.
We’re at our third stop of the evening, a nightclub with a patio. Not usually my scene, but it’s early enough on a weeknight that although the music is pounding and the drinks are flowing, it’s not so crowded that we can’t have a conversation at the table we’ve nabbed outside.
She rests her elbows on the table, chin propped up on her linked fingers, as she gives me a smile that’s so much like the old Lucy I nearly lose my breath at the memories rushing through me. “So when are you going to tell me what you did last night?” she asks.
I tilt my beer bottle to my lips. Wine hadn’t seemed right for tonight’s occasion, and I’m not at all sure I trust myself around Lucy and liquor.
“That’s really bugging you, hmm?” I say.
She shrugs and takes a sip of her rum and Diet as if it’s no biggie, but I know better. Lucy Hawkins is dying to know if I hooked up last night.
Too bad darlin’. I’ve spent days imagining you spending tonight in the arms of some other dude. Turnabout’s fair play.
“I just hate that I wasted a night in Miami holed up in my hotel room. Was hoping to live vicariously,” she says too casually.
I smile wider. “You always were a crappy liar.”
Lucy opens her mouth to retort, but then her eyes light up and I watch as her rum-buzzed brain dances away from the topic at hand. “I love this song.”
She turns back to me, eyes expectant, but I merely snort. “No way.”
