Exception

by Mariah Dietz

  I arch my back to his touch. “Apologize for what?”

  “You’re not going to get much sleep tonight.” Joey’s hand slides back up, stopping when he reaches the base of my neck. It’s driving me crazy to have him touching me, yet not feel him where I want to.

  He makes another pass over my body, and my eyes close, noting the heat radiating from his touch and the way his fingers press and constrict with each movement. Rather than going back up, he changes his path, running his hand under each of my breasts and quietly making a humming sound that has me arching my back farther.

  His tongue rolls across my neck, tracing a pattern that connects with every nerve ending in my body.

  “I don’t do this,” I tell him. “I mean, I don’t do random one-night hookups. I’m not . . . Are we making a mistake? I . . .” I hate that I asked him—loathe that it might make him stop.

  Joey kisses me, silencing my trail of words that likely would have led to a run-on sentence I would have regretted more than the last. He pulls back and lowers his head, running his tongue over my nipple. “I’m not random, and this isn’t a hookup.” He moves to the other side and runs his tongue over me there, too.

  Chapter 17

  Joey

  The storm wanes—the rain is now a fine drizzle, quiet and peaceful against the garage. Kennedy’s breathing is level and even as she lies beside me, fast asleep. Loose strands of her hair frame her face. I study a faint scar below her ear, realizing how much I want to learn about its origin.

  Truth be told, Kennedy has been on my mind since the second I saw her in Wallace Hardware. Something drew me to her then, and each time since it’s grown stronger. I find myself looking around, searching for her any time I leave Coen’s.

  I take a deep breath, and Kennedy shifts, her eyes fluttering open.

  “It’s early. Go back to sleep,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. And just as quickly as that storm hit last night, the reality of this situation smashes me. I like her, but more than that, I care about her. I think of her far too often and want to pry open every single secret that will make her laugh, discover what she’s afraid of, and what causes her tears so I can shield her from them—all of them. I want to know her past, and more than that, I want to be written into the Chapters of her future.

  For a while, she allows me to shield her from reality as she curls in closer to me, her head on my chest, her legs entwined with mine, until sleep finds me again.

  I wake to Kennedy trying to slip free from my bed.

  “Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  “Is everything okay?” I brush a hand over my face and sit up.

  She rakes some loose hairs back as she looks around the room at everything around me but never making eye contact. “Yeah. Of course. I was just going to get going. I don’t want them to worry.”

  “So you’re sneaking out?”

  “Not sneaking . . .”

  I stare at her, daring her to tell me otherwise.

  “Look. You’re going to be back in DC in a matter of days, maybe weeks, but it’s going to happen, and it’s going to feel like the blink of an eye. So there’s no need to create rules or expectations between us and whatever is happening.”

  “How long were you awake, preparing this pep talk?”

  She draws her head back, attempting to look insulted. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  I shake my head. “No rules or expectations? That won’t be a new story at all, right? Stories about friends with benefits have never happened.”

  “We aren’t friends with benefits.”

  I lift my eyebrows, again allowing her to convince me of otherwise.

  “For all I know, you could be leaving tomorrow or the next day.”

  “And what would that change?”

  “Look.” She stomps her foot, and it’s the most ridiculous and adorable thing I’ve ever seen, making my lips tilt into a smile that makes her scowl. “Stop laughing at me!” she demands.

  Training my lips into a straight line, I shake my head. “I’m not.”

  “You are!” Her hands ball into fists and stamp each of her hips.

  “Are you sure you don’t have a temper? Because you look really accustomed to that whole foot-stomping thing you just did.”

  “You’re so annoying!” She stomps again. “Look. If you had met me on the streets of DC—or wherever—you wouldn’t have even noticed me. The only reason you see me here is because there’s a population of fifty people.”

  “You were just telling me last night how much it’s grown.”

  Her eyes round and her lips purse.

  I press my lips together to conceal my laughter and stand so I can get closer to her. “You could have passed me in the busiest city, during the busiest hour, with sirens blaring in the middle of a hailstorm, and I would’ve noticed you.”

  Anger fades from her green eyes, but hesitancy swims with the calmness that’s slowly filling them, making her gaze falter between looking at me and past me.

  “Let me get dressed, and we’ll go see what the storm did, and I’ll take you home.”

  “It’s only a fifteen-minute walk, if that. You don’t have to worry about going with me.”

  “What if I want to?”

  Green eyes grow, clearly caught by surprise.

  I grab the shirt she wore for an hour last night and pull it on before taking a clean pair of jeans from my dresser. Kennedy watches me, her curiosity apparent. I ignore her, daring her to ask me.

  “With the power out, will the entire town be closed?” I ask when she moves to straighten my bedding.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I never make my bed.”

  “You should,” she tells me. “It helps your mind find focus.”

  I shake my head and open the door leading out to the garage. “You think the ice cream social will be canceled?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “It’s hard to say. I’m guessing the ice cream is at the diner because they have a generator. It’s probably the only place that will be open this morning. Most of the town will likely be there.”

  I use the flashlight to cast a path of light for us to safely descend the stairs, the garage still the color of pitch without any windows. I open the single door, and wait for Kennedy to pass me before following her out to the driveway.

  “It feels nice out,” Kennedy says. “The storm cooled it down.”

  “How are you going to show Violet the town if everything’s closed?”

  Kennedy grins. “My favorite parts of Haven Point don’t involve stores.” She peers over her shoulder as we trek out to the driveway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a garage where the stairs are on the inside.”

  “Me either. This one actually has a set inside and another around the back, but they need some work. I’m guessing they put these in so they didn’t have to worry about weather deteriorating them.”

  Conversation about the garage and stairs cease as we look around at the fallen branches, leaves, and pine needles covering everything, camouflaging much of the chaos. “It’s a mess.”

  Kennedy’s hand brushes down my arm. “It could be much worse.” She walks toward the house, hopping around large puddles that make up large sections of the driveway.

  Stray clouds dot the sky, holding the threat of more potential rain and making the day resemble dusk. I look around at the RV and then my truck—which amazingly went unharmed—then begin gathering the large pieces of debris, tossing them into a pile.

  Gravel crunches as Kennedy makes her way over. She tosses a bulky branch into the pile. “A tree took out part of the back fence.” Her nose wrinkles. “But we can get it fixed really easily. It didn’t hit any of the posts, so it won’t be too bad.”

  I drop a final branch and wipe my hands on my jeans before grazing her cheek with my thumb. She looks at me as I do, her gaze unwavering this time.

  “As long as everything’s okay at your house, I’m going to head to DC for the day and s
ee my family. We do lunch together every Sunday, and I missed last week, so they asked me to come up a day early and spend the weekend with them.” I rub the back of my neck, regretting to having agreed. “I can stay, though. I can help out around town.”

  Kennedy shakes her head. “You should go. See your family. Besides, it’s a good weekend to head back into civilization,” she jokes.

  There are questions in her eyes, but she still keeps her attention trained on me until she slowly closes her eyes when I lean forward to kiss her.

  She kisses me back, her fingers tangling in the hem of my shirt. There’s a level of comfort evident in the way she presses her body against mine. It makes me feel like I’m a hundred feet tall and more powerful than Zeus himself. I run my hand up her spine, enjoying the curve of her back and the memories that touching her bare skin brings forth.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I have every intention of ignoring it and further solidifying what is growing between us, assuring her and me both that this is going to continue past last night. But Kennedy kisses me firmly on my bottom lip and then on my chin before taking a step back.

  With one hand still pressed against her back, I fish my cell phone from my jeans and see Arianna’s picture. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. Are you still planning on coming up today?”

  “Yeah. There was a bad storm here last night, so I’m going to take a friend home, and will head that way in about an hour. Are you working today?”

  “A friend? It’s awfully early to have a friend visiting . . .” Arianna’s voice rises with suspicion.

  “Are you working today?” I ask again.

  “Don’t try and railroad me. If you’re taking said friend home, then ‘friend’ must be of the female variety. Is ‘friend’ standing beside you now?”

  “Don’t make me send Ma a picture of you from Halloween last year. You know your ass will be on a pew for the next year while she prays for you.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I’m pulling up the picture now.”

  “Oh, you really like her! She better be nice. If she’s not, I’ll kick her ass!” Arianna’s voice is raised with humor and goading.

  “I’ll call you in about an hour, okay?”

  “You better! I want to hear all about her! I’ll talk to you soon. Love you, Joe.”

  “Love you, too, sis.”

  Kennedy’s eyes are wide with alarm and hesitancy again as I slip my phone back into my pocket.

  “Did I mention we’re Italian and tend to take things a little over the top?”

  Her eyebrows rise. “I feel like everything just got fast-forwarded.”

  I shrug. “She’s a lot of hot air. It’s her way of compensating for being so short.”

  Kennedy scoffs. “She’s going to assume we slept together.”

  “Probably.”

  Emerald eyes round as her hand covers her forehead. “She’s going to think I’m a tramp.”

  I laugh, pulling her hand away from her face. “She won’t. Arianna hates slut-shaming.”

  “She threatened to beat me up.”

  My laughter grows. “Only if you’re mean. And it will be in the playground, behind the monkey bars,” I tease. With both hands, I grip her hips. “Nothing changed, except now you can’t pretend to hate me anymore.”

  “You thought I was pretending?” Her forehead creases, and her mouth curves into an O.

  “One day I bet you’ll even admit you hit my truck on purpose.”

  “Oh, don’t even go there.” She rolls her eyes, giving Arianna a run for her money. My abs constrict with humor.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, if you want to come by.”

  She gives me the side-eye, which is even more impressive than the eye roll she just gave me. “Are you trying to set up a booty call?”

  I raise both hands in the air, my palms facing her. “Did I say anything about sex?” I shake my head. “Your mind went in the gutter. I was simply inviting you over. We can talk. Play cards. Go swimming. Whatever.”

  “Violet goes to bed late.”

  “I probably go to bed later.”

  With narrowed eyes she looks at me and then turns toward the woods in the back of the house.

  “You don’t want to drive?”

  She shakes her head, continuing forward at a slow pace. “It’s finally comfortable out. Plus, this way we can see if there’s any damage around the pond.”

  “Or obstructing your path here.”

  “You’re pushing your luck, Joey DeLuca.”

  I know just by her tone that her lips are pursed with annoyance, and it makes me grin as I jog to catch up with her.

  “I’m not saying you will, but if you decide you want to come by, you should call or text me. I’ll come over and we can walk back together.”

  “You realize I grew up here, roaming these woods by myself, right? I’ll be okay.”

  “You say that like it’s going to change what I said.”

  “It should!” She stresses the words. “We’re in Haven Point, and besides, I’m not some fragile girl who needs protection.”

  “I’m not questioning your ability to take care of yourself, and I’m well aware you’re a woman.”

  She glares at me, hearing the silent but in my words.

  “If I give you mace, would you put it in your pocket?”

  “You’re carrying mace?” She inspects my pants.

  “And my gun.”

  “Did I mention we’re in Haven Point?” She looks around the woods as though she’s stating a point. “The scariest thing you’re going to encounter here is a black bear, and unless it’s early spring, you don’t even need to worry about them.”

  I draw out the bottle of mace I’ve been carrying through the woods on the off chance I encounter an animal and slide it into her front pocket. “Humor me,” I tell her.

  “What’s going to be our story?” Kennedy looks over her shoulder at me as we continue through the woods.

  “What do you mean, ‘our story’?”

  “What are we going to tell them?”

  “I’m not following.”

  “They’re going to wonder what we did all night.”

  Her words are a laceration to my ego. Wanting to make up an excuse and reason to have been with me has me realizing she’s serious about not getting attached. “It’s none of their business.”

  Her eyebrows lower, trying to interpret my sudden mood change with the harshness of my tone. “What are you going to tell your sister?”

  “That we slept together.”

  She stops, turning on her heel. With her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed, she purses her lips. “I am not some tramp!”

  “You’re the one labeling yourself.”

  Her chin draws forward. “I hate you.” She turns away, her strides wider and faster.

  “Kennedy.” Her name sounds like a growl as I reach out and grip her arm, pulling her back around to face me.

  “You’re like a twelve-year-old stuffed inside of an adult’s body. You know that, right?” she says.

  “I’m not going to tell Arianna anything.”

  She ignores my assurance. “You pull my hair. You call me names. You tease me—I don’t think you’re even twelve.”

  My retort vanishes as I realize the reality of what she’s saying. It’s all true. Every bit of it. And while I’ve been hearing my sisters complain for years about their husbands being giant children, it’s far more sobering to hear the comments about myself. “You’re right. I’ve definitely been an asshole on more than one occasion.”

  She scoffs.

  “I said more than one.”

  Kennedy nods.

  “I don’t want to be an asshole, especially not to you. Sometimes, it’s just an automatic reflex, especially when I feel something toward a person. You were right when you said it’s hard for me to trust people. Somedays it feels damn near impossible, and for some godforsaken reason, you just seem to bypass every si
ngle one of my barriers, and you’ve become my exception to literally everything—including wanting to tell my sister about you.” Kennedy blinks through a series of questions that go unspoken. “I’m not planning on telling her about last night—what we shared is between us. It was amazing and fantastic and . . . you can probably think of a dozen other synonyms for it that I can’t, but it was great, and I want to do it again and again and again. And I want to see you. I want to tell Arianna about how smart you are and how you might give meaner glares than her.”

  Her green eyes soften. “Okay, we’ll average it out. You’re seventeen.”

  Her insult leaves me laughing for a moment as I consider all the ways to remind her how well acquainted we were last night, proving I’m far more skilled than a seventeen-year-old.

  “If what you want is friends with benefits, we can start with that title, but I think there’s plenty of proof showing it never ends there.”

  Conflictions mar her face, ones I want to carefully unweave and understand.

  “Jelly Bean?”

  The second I hear Jackson’s voice, my playful retorts take a backseat to the concern and annoyance I feel at finding him yet again. “But he’s not stalking you, right?” My words are spoken quietly, dripping with sarcasm.

  “Hey!” she calls, ignoring me.

  “That was quite the storm, wasn’t it?” Jackson doesn’t look at me, stopping just mere feet from us.

  “I can’t believe how long it was,” she says.

  “That’s what she said,” I mutter.

  Kennedy nails me with a glare that informs me I’ve gone too far. Again.

  “Jackson, you want to ride with me through town? See if anyone needs some help? We can give Vi the grand tour.”

  My chest burns through objections I want to vocalize, but I know I’m not in the position to do so. I’ve passed back into asshole territory with a couple of poorly chosen words at an even worse time, and now she’s not even acknowledging me. She steps closer to Jackson, who instantly agrees, and she doesn’t look back.

  “Kennedy,” I call her name again, my voice gentle and pleading.

  She stops and turns only her head, confirming her anger.