by Jill Shalvis
Eli, in spite of being BFFs with the meanest of the mean girls, had been nice to Brynn.
And on one memorable occasion, more than nice—because sometimes a girl needed someone to help her try new things. She’d been fourteen and dying to know what it felt like to kiss a boy. She wanted to make sure she knew what to do when the time came.
So she’d scrounged up enough courage to ask, and Eli had been more than willing to make a summer camp deal with her. A single kiss, no expectations.
She could still remember how nervous she’d been, but Eli had just stood there quietly against the cabin in the woods, letting her take the lead. She’d gone up on tiptoe to kiss him. His lips had been warm and soft, and he’d tasted like the chocolate chip cookies he’d had for snack that day, and smelled like sunshine and lake and cute boy. He’d closed his eyes, and his eyelashes had been longer than hers. She’d never even noticed that boys had eyelashes before.
It had been the only time she’d ever been happy at summer camp, and when she’d dropped down from her tiptoes and stared at him, he’d grinned.
She’d pulled a typical Brynn Turner and run like the wind.
They’d never spoken of it.
Just as well. He’d been tight with a group headed by Kinsey, the one who’d single-handedly ruined camp for Brynn for a lot of years. In her eyes, his affiliation with Kinsey had put him in the Mean Kids Club. But he was an adult now, and he’d treated her moms with a patient kindness that was hard to fake.
That went a long way with her.
As would having a neutral place to live. Not with a boyfriend, not with her moms.
But on her own for the first time in her life.
Well, relatively on her own anyway. At Eli’s, she’d have roommates. But no emotional ties, she reminded herself, and she felt like she needed that. She needed to find herself, needed to learn to trust herself and figure out who the hell she was.
It was a big decision, and she’d just made that deal with herself—no rash decisions. Think about it, he’d suggested. And that was exactly what she planned to do.
On the couch, she patted the cushions for her moms to sit as well, and took a deep breath.
“It’s okay,” Olive said. “Whatever it is, baby, it’s going to be okay.”
Raina nodded. The two of them were holding hands, watching Brynn with love and acceptance.
Which was a big part of what made this hard. On the outside, she was relieved to have them on her side, loving and nurturing her whenever she needed it. But on the inside, she still didn’t feel like she deserved it.
“And there are no wrong answers here,” Raina assured her. “We just want to know what we can do to help. You’re holding stuff in, and it’s not healthy. Plus, there’s no need. There’s no judgment here, you know that. Not ever.”
That was the thing. She deserved judgment on this.
“It’s just us here,” Olive said. “Tell us what happened, why you’re here, and what your plans are, and how we can help.”
“Also, we love you,” Raina said, giving Olive some side-eye.
Olive gave her a look right back. “That part was implied.”
“But sometimes people need the words,” Raina said.
Olive sighed. “I love you, Raina. And I love you, Brynn. There. Now can we get to what’s going on?”
“Okay, okay,” Brynn said, wanting to stop them before they could get traction on a fight. “I went to the school district office today and got a substitute teaching job. There’s a long-term sub needed at the elementary school for a kindergarten class.” She tried not to grimace at the “kindergarten” part. “It’s a year-round system, and I’ll be working there starting Monday.”
Both of her moms smiled in surprise. Raina was a high school English teacher. Olive was a professor at the city college. Teaching ran in their blood.
“That’s wonderful,” Olive said. “We’re so proud of you, but we could’ve put in a good word for you at the district and smoothed the way.”
“Thanks, and I know, but I wanted to do this on my own.” Needed to. “Also, there’s some not-great news too.” She took off her glasses, swiped them on the hem of her shirt, and put them back on. “You already know that Ashton and I broke up. But what you don’t know is that the apartment was in his name and he gave notice. Months ago.” She left off the part about how he’d not told her he’d done that. He’d emptied their bank account, run up her credit card, and vanished, also skipping out on the last two months of rent that he’d told her he’d paid. When she’d come home from work, she’d found herself locked out. She’d tried to talk to the landlord. He’d told her that Ashton had given three months’ advance notice, and then moved out earlier in the day.
While she’d been at work at her substitute teaching job.
The landlord had felt sorry for her, letting her know that there’d been some things Ashton hadn’t packed up, stuff that looked like it might all be hers, and he had it locked in the basement. He could get there the next day to let her in.
But Brynn hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of staying in town for one more minute, much less another day, so she’d left without her stuff. “And you guys were right, he’s an asshole.”
“Oh, Brynn,” Raina said softly. “We didn’t want to be right.”
“It’s okay. I was too trusting.”
“Baby, that’s nothing new,” Olive said. “You’re sweet and kind to everyone.”
“You make it sound like I’m perfect,” Brynn said.
Olive smiled. “I love you, Brynn, more than life itself, but perfect you are not. When someone finally does push your buttons too hard, you walk away and cut them out of your life.”
“That’s not true.”
“Middle school, CeeCee Stone,” Olive went on. “She stole your clothes from your locker in gym class when you were in the shower. She was suspended, and even though she lived right down the street, you never spoke to her again.”
Brynn sat up straighter, with a frown. “Does she still live down the street?”
“No, they moved away years ago.”
Good. And of course she’d never forgiven her. She’d ended up naked in front of the entire class because CeeCee had wanted to see if she “looked gay like her moms.”
Not that she’d ever tell them that part. Ever. They’d never forgive themselves. They’d been through enough.
“And then there was summer camp,” Olive said. “You had some problems with a girl there for years.”
True. And Kinsey hadn’t been like the other bullies she’d come across. Nothing with Kinsey had been personal, which almost made it worse. She’d discounted Brynn without any apparent reason, leaving her out, completely ignoring her, as if she hadn’t existed.
For a girl who’d felt invisible for most of her life, it had cut Brynn to the core. “What’s the point of this walk down Brynn’s Bad History?” she asked. “Are you saying I should make up with Ashton?”
“Absolutely not,” Olive said.
“But for people who don’t actually cause you real, long-lasting harm, maybe you can find room in your heart to forgive them,” Raina suggested softly. “Just a little. Just enough to let go of some of the anger and resentment you carry around.”
“I’m not full of anger and resentment,” Brynn said in automatic defense.
“Just think about it,” Raina said. Then they each kissed her and went into the kitchen to cook dinner.
Find room in your heart to forgive . . .
Okay, Brynn was self-aware enough to know that might actually be a thing she should try. And maybe she’d work on that. But first— She reached for her cellphone, bringing up the contact info Eli had given her at the hospital.
BRYNN: If the room’s still available, I’m in.
Chapter 5
From ten-year-old Brynn’s summer camp journal:
Dear Moms,
OMG, this camp does like only one veggie a year or something. This year it’s canned
green beans. I’m going to die and I’m NOT KIDDING. Don’t they know they can drive to the grocery store and buy fresh stuff?
Also, my glasses are missing. I think Kinsey hid them, because when I stubbed my toe, she laughed.
She’s still mean.
Eli said he’d help me find the glasses, but he’s good friends with Kinsey so I don’t trust him.
I’m not going to tell you any of this in my real letter to you, you’d be upset for me.
Love you,
Brynn
KINSEY WOKE UP the next morning wrapped around a huge, tattooed, badass body made of pure muscle, sinew, alluring heat, and strength. She lifted her head and found melting dark-chocolate eyes on her, making her breath catch. Funny that such a tough guy had a soft side. Even funnier that she was his soft side.
“Deck,” she murmured, closing her eyes again. “We talked about this. You can’t just break in and climb into my bed. You have to wait to be invited.”
He lifted a big hand and pushed her hair back from her eyes. “Am I unwanted?”
She realized he was flat on his back on one side of the bed, and that she’d curled herself up against him, a leg and arm thrown over his body, her head smooshed into the meat of his shoulder. Her body felt sated and boneless, and memories of the things he’d done to her in the middle of the night had her going damp for him again.
He was waiting for an answer, his eyes still warm, a slight smile curving his lips. She shook her head at him. “You know just how not unwanted you are. I proved that a time or two last night, I think.”
“Four. Four times.”
She snorted and pushed him.
He didn’t budge. One of the things she loved about him. He was as badass as they came, but he was also laid-back and easygoing. And best of all . . . he didn’t fuss over her like everyone else tended to, even though he was a head nurse at the dialysis center. He was pragmatic and never shied from reality. But he was also the best distraction from the hell of her life there ever was. “I’ve gotta get up,” she said. “I’ve got”—she squinted at the clock—“only thirty minutes to get ready.”
“Good thing, then, that you only need twenty.” Rolling her flat onto her back, he pressed her into the mattress, holding her there with his deliciously warm body.
“Yes, but that leaves you only ten minutes to do your thing,” she managed, already breathless. “And we both know you like to take your time.”
“I can make do with ten.”
God, his gravelly voice. It never failed to make her forget all her problems. He was the best “friends with benefits minus the friends part” that she’d ever had, and he knew it too. “What if I need more than ten?” she asked.
“You won’t.”
And then he went on to prove it.
Hours later, she was at her desk at the local school district office playing catch-up. She was a school psychologist for each of the schools in the district. Her job was what they called a three-quarter position, meaning she worked thirty flex hours a week but was allowed to pay in for benefits, like her insurance and a 401(k) plan.
It was a whole lot less generous than it sounded, but the freedom of setting her own hours was vital, since she spent four hours three times a week in dialysis, and a whole lot more hours feeling like she had the flu, when what she really had was transplant rejection.
Today had been a long day. As the district counselor, she had a lot of ground to cover each week. Today she’d been at the high school dealing with a situation where several teachers had thought a female student was being taken advantage of by some male athletes. After talking to the girl, it’d come out that she wasn’t being taken advantage of at all. She’d been running a homework ring for cash. She was doing the homework of ten different athletes and charging them big bucks for it too. Kinsey hated to be the one to squash such entrepreneurial brilliance in one so young; maybe it was the fact that her own job paid like shit, but she felt pride that the girl had figured a way around a cash shortage. If only Kinsey could find such a way, she’d be less stressed.
In any case, the day had been full and long even without the homework scandal. She’d seen her doctor to check on her immunosuppressive therapy, had gone to a district-wide board meeting that had lasted an hour and a half when it could’ve been a single email, and though she had a stack of files on her desk, all she wanted to do was go home and be alone. When she heard her phone buzzing with an incoming text, she dug it out of her purse.
ELI: How are you?
KINSEY: I feel like my body’s “check engine” light’s on but I’m still driving it anyway.
ELI: Did you take your meds? Drink water?
KINSEY: Yes, Mom.
ELI: New roommate coming in tonight.
Resisting the urge to thunk her head on her desk repeatedly, she shoved her phone back into the bag rather than respond.
A new roommate. Just what she didn’t want: another person in her life to look at her like she was broken or needed to be felt sorry for.
When she’d been little, she’d actually dreamed of living alone in a mansion. She’d dreamed of being a billionaire CEO of some really great corporation, wearing fancy designer duds and to-die-for shoes, and driving fast cars. She’d dreamed of being able to travel on a whim, and having wild, fun adventures. She’d dreamed of having tons of good people in her life. She’d dreamed of being beloved.
Instead, she was up to her eyeballs in medical debt, unable to travel to exotic lands because of her weakened immune system, and drove a POS. She did have great shoes because . . . well, a girl needed one vice, didn’t she? But she lived in her best friend’s house, which was admittedly huge, but not hers, and had . . . sigh . . . roommates. She didn’t have a ton of people in her life, and she was definitely not widely beloved.
And yeah, that last part was her own doing, because she didn’t like people all that much, but, hey, she couldn’t help it. People sucked.
And now she was going to have to go home and meet a new roommate, which would require smiling and playing nice. Hell, who was she kidding? She didn’t play nice. She’d just give the canned greeting Eli had taught her long ago—“Nice to meet you”—and then head to her own room and go to bed. She loved her room. Loved the whole house, actually. It was big and old, and had lots of character and quirks. It didn’t hurt that it was directly across the street from the beach. Eli had bought it as a dump five years ago when he’d gotten hired out of grad school straight into his dream job as a marine biologist. He’d been slowly fixing the place up with help from his brother, Max.
“Slowly” being the key word. Because six months after Eli had signed the deed, his grandma, the woman who’d raised him from the age of ten, had gotten pancreatic cancer. It’d been a brutal five-year fight, and Eli had taken on the bulk of her medical costs. Months after her death, he was still paying them off and would be for a very long time.
So he filled the house with roommates to offset some of the house expenses. Kinsey had been there since the beginning because of her perpetual money problems. Same for Max. Max wasn’t sick like Kinsey. He just put surfing above all else, including a decent paying job.
It was a good thing Eli liked to gather the losers he loved ridiculously and keep them close.
There were two additional bedrooms that Eli rented out as well. One was a long-term lease to a guy who worked six months out of the year in Paris, and that’s where he was now. The other room was currently open. The last roommate had been Max’s lover. Until she’d wanted more and he hadn’t. Mostly because Max wasn’t capable of loving anything as much as his surfboard.
Kinsey had known it’d be only a matter of time before Eli filled the room. She didn’t bother to speculate on who it might be. Whoever it was, they wouldn’t last long. Max would seduce them, then eventually piss them off, and onward they’d move.
So really, she had nothing to worry about.
She got home before anyone else and breathed a sigh of relief at the empty d
riveway. Perfect. She opened the door and immediately heard paws scrabbling on the wood floor, bracing herself as Mini came barreling around the corner.
There was nothing mini about Mini. She was a one-year-old, eighty-five-pound yellow lab puppy. Emphasis on eighty-five pounds and puppy, which meant that even though Kinsey braced to greet her, she still ended up on her ass being loved on by a whole lot of exuberant dog.
“Dammit, woman, control yourself.”
But Mini had no self-control at all. She whined excitedly and “woo wooed” while giving a ridiculously adorable grin, beyond thrilled to have one of her humans on the floor with her. She went on like she’d been alone for decades instead of a few hours, her entire hind end wriggling while she licked Kinsey from chin to forehead.
“You’re the only one I let do this,” she murmured, knowing it was a big, fancy lie. Just last night Deck had taken his tongue on a tour of every inch of her body. “Well, one of the only ones I let do this,” she corrected.
Managing to get to her feet, she walked through the creaky old beach house, heading up the stairs and down the hallway to her bedroom with Mini shadowing her. Stripping out of her clothes, she let out a sigh because her pants had been cutting into her waist all day.
Side effects of the meds she was on . . . bloating.
Her bra hit the floor next, and she sighed again. Bliss.
So was her bath, even if Mini sat there watching with her huge eyes, just waiting for an invite into the tub. “No,” Kinsey said firmly.
Mini huffed out a sigh and set her head on the edge of the tub. But Kinsey remained firm, because the last time she’d forgotten to set boundaries, Mini had jumped in with her. It’d taken all the towels in the house to clean up that disaster.
After her bath, she pulled on a soft T-shirt dress and her favorite, way-too-expensive new work sandals, before piling her hair on top of her head and heading down the stairs. She’d say hi to whoever was home, grab food, and vanish. Because that was all she had in her.
She was standing in the kitchen eating leftover Chinese out of the container when she heard the front door open. And then voices.
