by Jamie Howard
“Shhh.” She presses her finger to her lips. “You’re not going to spill my secret are you?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Chapter 42
Kyle
I kick the empty soda can, and it ricochets through the blades of grass, the sinking sun reflecting off the aluminum surface. When it comes to a stop, I bend over to pick it up and then toss it in the nearest recycling bin.
“Hey, we’re here to have a good time. Not clean,” Brian says, ripping off a chunk of pink, fluffy cotton candy.
Right, a good time. Like I know what that is anymore.
“C’mon, man,” he whines. “Don’t make me regret passing on Scrabble night. You said you were going to try.”
“I am trying.”
I really am, though it probably doesn’t look like it—my shirt is wrinkled, my mouth can barely maintain a smile for more than a couple of seconds before wobbling and drooping back down. Why Brian thinks taking me to a fair is going to perk up my mood, I have no idea. Then again, after Stacy, he took me to a whole bunch of weird places to try and get me out of my funk. I guess I should thank him and try a little harder.
“Alright, so what’s the game plan?” I ask.
Brian shrugs and licks his pink-tinged thumb. “I dunno. Whatever you wanna do. Wanna go get your fortune read? Get something to eat? Head over to the stage and watch whatever lame-ass band is performing?”
I wish I cared.
“How about the band? I could listen to some crappy music.” I lift a hand to wipe off the sheen of perspiration that’s breaking out across my hairline. Even with my sunscreen I’m gonna end up with a decent tan. I glance down at my T-shirt. Correction: a decent farmer’s tan.
Weaving through the thick crowd of people, I take in a deep breath of some really amazing smells—hot pretzels, popcorn, cotton candy, funnel cake, and pie. If it wouldn’t make me horribly sick, I’d probably have a big plateful of each. I inhale the sweet scent of frying dough and I have to struggle not to drool. Screw it. Even with the almost definite possibility of a sugar coma and a likely date with my toilet, I’m going to do it anyway. Why not?
I nudge Brian. “I’m grabbing some funnel cake. You want anything?”
Plucking his shirt off his chest, he fans himself. “It’s hot as balls out. I could do a water. Or seven.” He grins at me.
“One hot coffee, coming right up.”
He cuffs me in the back of the head as I walk away. “Nice one, jackass.”
It happens effortlessly—the first genuine smile I’ve had since the morning I woke up with Haley in my bed, her I love you still bouncing happily around my brain. I don’t fight it. I just let it settle on my face. Maybe if I don’t acknowledge it I won’t scare it away.
After I secure my delicious treat and a giant-size bottle of water for Brian, we meander over to the performance stage and take a seat. The crowd is small and only the first few rows are full. The band onstage is some type of weird reggae, hip-hop mix. The lead singer swipes his dreadlocks over his shoulders, rap-singing the lyrics while a guitar and steel drum back him up. It’s odd, that’s for sure, but not entirely unpleasant to listen to.
Settling my plate on my knee, I unconsciously retrieve my phone from my pocket and give it a quick glance. The time projects back to me, but there aren’t any missed calls or texts. Not that I’m expecting any, just hoping.
“Would you cut that shit out?” Brian kicks my foot, disrupting my precarious balancing act with my plate. I grab for it and manage to keep it from falling to the ground, but not before powdered sugar spills all over my shorts.
“Thanks,” I say drily. I try to wipe up the mess but it just makes it worse. I wiggle the phone at him and stick it back in my pocket. “And relax, I was just checking the time.”
“Right. And Gina swung by my dorm every night because we both really like studying together.” He snorts. Frowning, he pulls out his own phone, types something, and then puts it back where it came from.
“What was that?”
He shrugs. “Just Teresa. I think she’s jealous we didn’t invite her.”
The conversation stutters out on that note, and I take the silence for an opportunity to shove some funnel cake in my mouth. Damn, that is so good. My eyes sweep down over myself, and, well, it looks like spilling all over my pants was the least of my worries. There’s now a light dusting of powdered sugar all over my fingers, down the front of my shirt, and more than likely on my face too.
“You still haven’t heard anything?” Brian cuts his eyes toward mine, lifting an eyebrow.
“What? You mean from Haley?” I finger the lump that is my phone in my pocket. “I thought we weren’t talking about that.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
I shake my head. “Not a word.”
“And you’re still texting her?”
“Fourteen days and counting.”
“Geez.” He takes a sip of water and slouches a little lower in his chair. “What’re you gonna do when you run out of embarrassing things to tell her?”
I roll my eyes at him and swallow down my mouthful of sugary, fried goodness. “If we ever get to that point, I’ll have to assume she’s changed her number since it’d probably take me a decade to get through everything.”
“Look, I know this was my idea and all, but I kind of expected you’d hear something from her by now.” He rubs a hand over his face. “How long are you planning to keep this up?”
“As long as it takes.”
Brian nods, his expression turning serious. “If she doesn’t come around on this, are you gonna be okay?”
I scuff my toe against the worn patch of grass under my sneaker. “Eventually, I guess.”
I’ve been purposefully not thinking about the future, because imagining it without Haley there makes me feel like someone’s scraping out my heart with a dull-edged knife. On the other hand, I’m not letting myself hope, either. The day I sent off that initial text, I spent hours staring at my phone, waiting for a response that never came. Half of me filled with relief that she didn’t tell me to go fuck myself, but the other half was much less optimistic. Each day that passes without a response is an exquisite form of torture laced with hope and fear.
From the depths of my back pocket, my phone gives out a buzz, and the vibration is a totally surprising and awkward feeling as it tickles my ass. I lean over to the side, making the wooden fold-up chair underneath me groan. What the hell does Mr. March want now?
I scan the message.
My heart flails and presses the panic button.
Brian watches me, quirking an eyebrow as he crowds into my space to read the message. “Who the fuck is Lois?”
Chapter 43
Haley
I glance around the trunk of the tree I’m hiding behind so I can see Kyle squinting down at his phone. Brian shifts toward him, his blond head dipping toward Kyle’s much darker one. I’m not quite close enough to see, but it looks like they’re talking.
I settle back against the tree, the rough bark digging between my shoulder blades. My heart feels like someone stuck a miniature jackhammer inside my chest, and my entire body is shaking from the effect.
Two hours ago I showed up on Kyle’s parents’ doorstep, ready to steal him away from his family dinner so that I could make things right between us. After my conversation with Sloane, I didn’t want to let another day pass without letting him know I forgive him. But instead of finding Kyle, I found not only Mrs. Lawson, but Mr. Lawson this time, and Teresa, too. After straightening out that confusion and fending off a barrage of questions, I hopped back in the Camry and came straight here.
Finding Kyle in this massive crowd of people was like trying to search out one missing period in a hundred-page presentation. I accidentally trampled on toes, stepped in melted ice cream, and got run down by a herd of toddlers because my eyes were paying too much attention to scoping out the area and not enough to my immediate surroundings.
Finally, when I was just about ready to give up, I got a text from Teresa. And thank God I did. Without it, I might still be wandering around aimlessly.
So, with her text pointing me in the right direction, I hurried over to the performance area and there they were. Brian chugged water from his bottle like he was two steps away from dehydration, but it was Kyle’s brief glance at his phone that really drew my attention. I’d planned on just walking up to him and blurting the first thing that came to mind, but it suddenly seemed like a terrible idea. He’d been waiting for a response from me for two weeks … and now he had one.
I brush a finger over the screen of my phone, rereading the text I sent Kyle a minute ago.
Me: Hey. Sorry I’ve been a little distant lately, I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff. Do you remember the guy I was dating? I found out a couple weeks ago that he’d been lying to me and the breakup was pretty horrific. I’m trying really hard to forgive him, but I’m having trouble getting over it. Past experiences have made me a little gun shy when it comes to trusting people. How do you decide when enough’s enough or if someone deserves a second chance?
I peek at him again, but his shoulders block my view.
My phone jumps in my hand.
Clark: I think it depends on what the person did. It sounds like the biggest issue here is trust, so I think what you need to ask yourself is: if you forgive him, would you ever be able to trust him again?
Well, if I had any doubts before, which I didn’t, I certainly wouldn’t have any now. The secret’s out of the bag, but he’s still playing the part, still toeing the line and not pushing me into any decisions. Even with his heart hanging in the balance.
Me: You know, when the truth first came out, I was devastated. On a scale of 1 to 10, if I had to rank how upset I was it would’ve been an 11. But the more I think about it, I realize he was in a really impossible situation, and though I think there might have been better answers, there was no right answer. He told me that he kept the truth from me because he was afraid of losing me, and how can I really blame him for that? As to your question—forgiveness is easy, trust is hard. But I think when you love someone, really love them, it makes everything that much easier.
I press Send and then peek back around the tree. Kyle paces up and down the aisle to the left of Brian, his hands fisted in his hair. Brian lifts the phone in the air, and Kyle leaps for it, snatching it out of his hand.
This time he’s facing me, so I can watch his face as he reads it. His eyes drop shut, and he takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Then his fingers start flying over the screen of his phone.
Clark: So do you? Love him?
I snort and shake my head.
Me: More than I ever thought possible. Not that long ago, I told him all the things I love about him, but I think there’s a few things I left out. I love how smart he is and the way he dominates at Scrabble. I love how his eyes light up when I look at him because he’s never trying to hide how he’s feeling. And I love that when I’m talking to him it’s like I’m the only person in the world. Even when he’s standing in the middle of a crowd completely covered in powdered sugar.
I watch him as my message zips through the airwaves, waiting for his reaction. He glances down at his shirt and then his head jerks up, whipping from side to side. Brian cocks his head, listening, and then glances over his shoulder. Slowly, Kyle starts to turn in a circle, his eyes sorting through all the people, looking for me.
I should probably be nervous or something, anxious at what’s going to happen next, but the only thing I can feel is excitement and relief. It washes over me, so that when I step out from behind the tree and lean up against it, my heart doesn’t even skip a beat.
When his gaze finally lands on me, his whole body stiffens. He puts one foot in front of the other like he’s afraid the ground is going to give way beneath him, but then starts to pick up speed. He pulls up when he gets to me, his breathing a little winded, and his eyes lock on to mine.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leaves a three-foot buffer between us. Even with what I just told him, he’s still not willing to make the leap that I’m ready to forgive him. He doesn’t assume, he doesn’t jump to conclusions, even if they’re right there for him to string together like connect-the-dots.
I smile up at him and link my hands behind my back. “Embarrassing Fact Number One: That night we spent at your mom’s? I had a dream about you, a very nonplatonic dream, and I was pretty disappointed when I woke up and you weren’t there.”
The corners of his eyes crinkle as I take a step forward.
“Embarrassing Fact Number Two: Before you, I’d never had sex anywhere other than a bed. I’d never had anyone drive me so crazy that my need for them ate me up inside.”
I watch as his eyes heat and flare, and his mouth spreads into a wide smile.
I take another step closer.
“Embarrassing Fact Number Three: I went back to Briscoll Bay this morning to try and sort out my thoughts and ended up running into Sloane. She was surprisingly almost nice, and helped me realize I was being dumb for not giving you another chance.”
Taking a deep breath in, I take one more step. The tips of my flip-flops brush the toes of his sneakers, and I have to tip my head back to maintain eye contact.
“You’re not dumb.” He shakes his head and stares off into the distance. “I really screwed up.”
“It wasn’t your finest moment, but what else could you have done? You were right when you said there was never a good time to tell me. There really wasn’t. Regardless of when you told me, it would have hurt, I would have been embarrassed, and it would have messed things up.” I sigh. “As weird as it sounds, I’m almost glad that I didn’t find out until I was already in love with you. At least by then I was too hooked to let you go.”
I reach up a hand and rest it on his chest and my entire body whispers, Finally. His hand covers mine, and the warmth of his touch soaks right into my skin. I’m not sure who moves first, but somehow his lips make their way to mine, and my fingers grab on to his shoulders, and I rock up onto my toes so I can get as close to him as I possibly can.
He breaks away first, his expression tightening. “I’m so sorry, I—”
I seal my thumb over his lips. I throw his own words back at him from our first fight. “I think we’re a little past that, right?”
His mouth twitches underneath my finger and I slowly lift it away.
“How about ‘I love you’? Are we past that too?”
“Never.” I bounce up one more time to kiss him. Just because I can.
About the Author
Jamie Howard spends her days as a legal and compliance specialist. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Art from Ramapo College. When she’s not tapping away at the keyboard, you can find her devouring books and perfecting her gaming skills. She lives with her husband, son, and three dogs in New Jersey, and is almost always awake early enough to see the sun rise, even on the weekends. You can sign up for email updates here.
Also by Jamie Howard
Until We Break
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Cha
pter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
About the Author
Also by Jamie Howard
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
UNTIL IT’S RIGHT. Copyright © 2016 by Jamie Howard. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover photograph © Kotin / Shutterstock
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
e-ISBN 978150085528
First Edition: March 2016
