“She gave it to me this week. I can’t wait to be in England with you.” A knot of panic twists in my stomach. I shift to look up at his regal face. “What if I don’t get in?”
“You will,” he assures me, kissing the tip of my nose. “Nothing’s keeping you from me.”
I lean up and kiss Kaden’s jaw, which is rough with a day’s worth of dark blond stubble, and then move to his mouth while running a hand through his beach-blond hair, streaked with strands of white from the summer sun.
“Tell me about us.” I lace my fingers with his and kiss the back of his hand.
He chuckles, familiar with the request. Kaden caresses my arm, a featherlight touch that entrances me as his smooth voice coos in my ear.
“Let’s see … after I graduate, I’ll start a graduate program while you finish university. We’ll live in a small apartment above a bakery, so our place will always smell delectable. And I’ll always be hungry. But you don’t mind if I put on some weight because you love me, no matter how round my paunch.”
I giggle, sneaking my hand under his T-shirt to trace the grooves of his taut stomach. “You’ll just have to run more.”
“You mean, you only want me for my body?” He mocks offense.
I squeeze his side, making him jump. “You’ve figured me out.”
He shifts so we’re facing each other, my head supported by his arm. His mouth a breath away and his eyes focused sincerely on mine. Kaden’s eyes are a hazel blue-grey. I’ve spent so many hours lost in the hues of blue, yet I could look at them for a lifetime and still be mesmerized.
“I will love you for the rest of my life. You know that, right?”
I nod. He kisses me gently but with such tenderness, I can feel it in my toes. Then he rolls onto his back again and continues describing our future together.
Kaden also recounts what he did during the week on the island. From the sounds of it, Maggie joined him and Eli for some of it, causing a scene in the flamboyant way she does. But he noted he didn’t really see much of her. She always had somewhere else to be or someone to meet. I’m not surprised. She lives for the summer and the influx of tourists to amuse her.
“There’s a party Saturday night on the other side of the island that Maggie insists we’re going to,” Kaden tells me. I run a finger along the arm that’s draped across my hip, eliciting a shiver of goose bumps. “But it’s not a high school party. They’re a bit older … college and early twenties from the sounds of it. We don’t have to go if that makes you uncomfortable. I know the parties on the island can get pretty bonkers. I had my share this week before Eli left. I’ll do whatever you prefer.”
“We’ll go,” I tell him, knowing the parties can be exuberant, but there’s also a laid-back beach vibe to them as well. It’s easy enough to stand in a corner or on the beach to watch everyone make fools of themselves.
I prop up on my elbow, leaning over the top of him to press a lingering kiss on his soft lips. Kaden rolls over, pressing into me, kissing me so passionately, I can’t breathe. Or think. Only want.
“Downstairs?” he asks breathlessly.
I scramble to get up. He grabs me around the waist to plop me back on the bed, so he can get a head start. Laughing, I chase after him.
We can’t get downstairs fast enough. Kaden ripping his shirt off along the way. Kicking his shoes and leaving them where they land. He turns toward me when we enter his room. All he has to do is pull a tie, and I’m bare to him. His breath hitches at the sight of me.
The urgency that possessed us earlier eases into tenderness and patient exploration. Love is whispered into every kiss, within each brush of a hand or euphoric caress. I would wait an eternity to share this with him. He instills a belief in me that I have a place in this world, that I can be a part of something more than the life that depletes me every day in Sherling. I just have to hold on to this light of hope for one more year …
The door creaks open, and I instinctively grab for the covers. Kaden shoots up to shield me.
“Whoa, mate!” Kaden exclaims. “Some privacy here?”
“Shit. Sorry, man.” The guy at the bedroom door chuckles. But I’m unable to discern if it’s embarrassment or amusement.
The door closes, but the latch doesn’t quite catch.
“I knew it!” he calls from the other side of the door.
“Damon, give us a minute,” Kaden projects calmly but with a severe undertone. The muscles along his back are corded, the limits of his constraint being tested.
“Meet you downstairs,” Damon calls back.
I finally take a breath when I hear his footfalls on the steps.
Kaden reaches for his shorts, pulling them on quickly as he moves to shut the door and secure it. “Was not expecting him,” he says, appearing frazzled. His face is flushed and jaw set. “Are you okay?”
I nod, searching for the wrap dress. Kaden picks it up from the floor, offering it to me with an apologetic expression.
“Who was that?”
“Damon Thorne. He went to college with Niall. A couple years behind him. You didn’t know he was staying?”
I shake my head, not recalling hearing his name. But my sole focus has been seeing Kaden. I may have missed the mention of him.
“He’s been staying in the pool house,” Kaden explains. “We’ve hung out most nights, so he probably didn’t think twice about coming in like he has all week. I never think to lock the door.”
“Oh,” I say, securing the dress in a tight bow.
Kaden walks over to me, resting his hands on my hips. “Are you sure you’re alright? We were covered. He didn’t see anything.”
“I know,” I say quietly, realizing just how close he was to witnessing more than us lying in a sedated embrace, my body draped over Kaden’s, the sheet slung low on my hips. But it’s the moment that I miss, lost in our bliss. I’ll never get it back, and that’s what burns more than anything.
Kaden kisses me affectionately. With my hand firmly grasped in his, we walk downstairs into the open living space. Damon is leaning against the counter, a tumbler of something dark in his hand. If he were polite, he would offer to come back another time. But the mischievous gleam in his eyes lets me know that he’s the type who believes he’s above manners. The world is meant to cater to his whims, not the other way around. There are many of his sort on the island; I’m all too familiar with the type.
“You lied.” Damon smirks, his eyes shining with mirth.
“Damon, this is Faye,” Kaden explains before the rude man can say another word.
The arrogance shifts, and Damon’s features become softer. “Well, don’t I feel like an ass? I should’ve knocked.” His dark eyes appraise me as if taking in a piece of art, and his smirk molds into a genuine smile. “And now I understand what you were going on about. I’m sorry for barging in.” He dips his head in apology.
I shift my eyes away from his gaze. He’s strikingly handsome in a mysterious sort of way. The severe angles of his cheekbones accented by a thin nose and arching brows. When I first saw him in the doorway, the shadows dancing along his face made him appear sinister. The menacing smirk didn’t help either. But now, as I steal glances of him from beneath my lashes, my cheeks emblazoned with embarrassment, I recognize that he isn’t as he first appeared. He presents more playful and captivating.
Kaden keeps ahold of me, tightening his grip as Damon peruses appreciatively.
“Do you need more time alone?” Damon offers. “We can catch up tomorrow.”
“If you don’t mind,” Kaden says. “As you know, it’s been a couple months since we’ve seen each other.”
“That’s a lot to make up for,” he says, winking. I fight the urge to pucker my mouth in distaste. “Sorry. You’re sweet. And I’m obnoxious, with too much bourbon in my system. I better leave before you despise me completely.” He nods to us and disappears out the front door.
“I should probably get going soon anyway,” I tell Kaden. “Parker gets up
early.”
“He weirded you out, didn’t he?” Kaden peers into my eyes, reading me so easily. “He’s not a bad bloke. Pompous and unfiltered. But I think he was born that way; he doesn’t know any better.”
I smile, recognizing the teasing tone that’s trying to put me at ease. When my shoulders remain tight with my arms crossed over my chest, he knows I’m not staying.
“I’ll walk you back to the house,” Kaden says, kissing my forehead.
Kaden leaves me with a long kiss and an even longer embrace that makes me regret not spending more time with him tonight. We only have this weekend, which isn’t nearly enough to hold me over until he’s back in December.
I’m in a love-induced haze when I saunter around the house to the backyard to enter through the sliding door—the quietest entrance.
“Did I kill the mood?” he asks much too loudly.
I’m startled by the silhouetted figure lounging on a lawn chair by the pool house, although there’s not a pool to accompany it just yet. A tumbler dangles between his fingers.
I stride over to Damon quickly, hushing him. “They’ll hear you.”
“What? Is it past your curfew?” Damon asks with a wicked grin. “Or are you not meant to be out at all?”
I cross my arms defiantly, not answering.
I’m turning to leave when he says, “Forgive me. I’ve had a hard time believing he’s been faithful. I thought you were—”
I whip around and glare at him.
He presses his lips together, his eyes widening in apology. “Don’t be angry with me. I don’t have a filter, apparently.” He drains the rest of the glass and displays it as evidence, as if the liquor is to blame for his unsettling candor. “And it’s not his fault. It’s in our nature to stray. Or so I’ve been told.”
“You don’t know him,” I bite back. “He loves me and would never …”
Damon shrugs dismissively. “Not saying he doesn’t. And love has nothing to do with it. It’s just the truth of it. Being apart for months at a time … it’s impossible for a guy not to be tempted. Because the women who tempt us usually don’t care who we belong to. They want what they think they can’t have. That is the nature of women. Always wanting to be the one chosen.”
I gawk at him, slack-jawed.
“I did it again,” he sighs sadly. “I’ve upset you. I really didn’t mean to. I was just sharing what I know. Forgive him if he strays. Like my wife does for me.”
I blink rapidly. “You’re married? Why would you … How could you …” At a loss for words, I can only huff in disgust.
“It’s not love that brought us together, Faye,” he attempts to explain. “It was at my father’s urging. ‘Claim responsibility,’ he told me. But it was really about a business acquisition. She knew what it was when she said yes. Sadly, I did not.”
I stare at him a moment, his eyes blinking lazily, a stray blond curl resting on his forehead. How could anyone not marry for love? I couldn’t imagine.
No wonder he has such a jaded view of those who actually are in love. It’s hard to convince yourself it exists if you’ve yet to experience it for yourself.
Damon’s eyes droop closed. I gently remove the glass from his hand before it shatters on the stone patio. I’m tempted to shake him awake and send him to bed, but in the starlight, his face softens and appears peaceful, almost … angelic. Instead, I remove a blanket from an outdoor chest and carefully drape it across him.
Every time I saw Damon over the next two days, his words would stir an ache inside my heart. No matter how jovial he was—he’s much more palatable sober than when under the influence of liquor—I found myself searching for the truth. Who was Damon Thorne—the tortured soul or the charming man? The contradiction couldn’t possibly live within the same person. Eventually his true character would be forced to reveal itself.
My friendship with Maggie Andersen was that of opposites. But it suited us, allowing room for balance. My patience soothed her ferocity. Her exuberance stoked my uncertainty. It was a friendship set upon a teetering ledge. Ever-changing to be the other’s opposing force.
Faye, I’m hungry,” the small voice says directly into my ear, forcing me to wake with a start—much earlier than I was prepared to. Probably because I’ve only been asleep a few hours, having snuck in at nearly dawn from Kaden’s cottage.
I fell asleep there, wrapped in his arms, after returning from the Saturday night party Maggie had insisted we attend. Thankfully, I woke before the sun rose.
A finger pokes my forehead. “Faaaaye, are you awake?”
“Yup,” I say, squinting my eyes open. “I’m awake.”
I roll onto my back and stretch my body long from head to toe. Parker crawls up on the bed and begins jumping around me, giggling.
I sit up and scoop him in my arms, tickling him. He squeals and wiggles.
“What do you want for breakfast?” I ask, setting him on the floor.
“Waffles.”
I breathe in the cool, salty air that rustles the sheer white curtains. The edge of the lawn and the ocean fill my window, the sun a sphere of golden warmth hovering above the cresting ocean. I love this island and can’t believe this is the last full day we’ll be here this year. I dread the thought of returning to school in Sherling.
Just one more year, I repeat in my head—it may be my mantra for the next nine months until I return to Nantucket.
Even if I don’t return as Niall and Olivia’s nanny, Kaden promised last night that I could spend next summer at the cottage with him.
I crawl out from under the blankets and grab Kaden’s sweatshirt that I stole from him last night before I snuck into the main house. “Let’s go make some waffles.” I pull the length of my hair off my back, securing a messy knot low on my head with a scrunchie.
Parker jumps and skips, spinning the entire way down the stairs to the open and airy foyer. My heart warms every time I step into this space. It always feels like the sun is shining regardless of what it’s doing outside.
Helen teases that I dream of a life that isn’t mine. But she’s wrong. If anything doesn’t feel real, it’s the world I’m returning to tomorrow in Sherling, where no one has any dreams at all.
“Remember to keep your voice quiet, so you don’t wake anyone up,” I tell Parker, lifting him onto his booster seat at the kitchen table, where a line of cars and trucks wait for him to play while I make breakfast.
Even walking around the space, pulling bowls out and setting up the waffle iron, feels familiar … like I’ve done it my entire life.
“Will Isaac like waffles too?” Parker asks as I pull out the ingredients for the batter.
“I think so,” I say. “You’ll have to ask him when he wakes up.”
“I’m gonna wake him up now.” Parker squirms his way out of the booster, dropping below the table. He crawls out and takes off, running toward the stairs.
I don’t bother going after him. If I’m forced to be awake, it won’t hurt Isaac to be as well.
I open the refrigerator to remove the eggs and milk. I have to shuffle the contents around. The shelves are filled with food, in preparation for the elaborate family picnic we’re planning this afternoon. When I close the refrigerator door, someone is leaning against the counter. I jump, nearly dropping the carton of eggs.
“Good morning, Peach,” Damon greets me with a wink.
“Good morning, Damon,” I reply politely, moving past him.
Before I’m clear of him, he wraps an arm around my waist, twirling me until I’m flush against his chest. I freeze.
He takes the eggs and milk from my hands, setting them on the counter. He spins me around in a clumsy dance. Alcohol fumes roll off his skin. I hold up my hands, not sure where to place them. My body remains stiff as he sways and twirls us. I laugh uncomfortably at his drunken playfulness, hoping to extricate myself without offending him.
“Did you have fun at the party last night?” he asks, nuzzling his face into my neck, h
is stubble scratching my skin.
I immediately push away, my back colliding with the hard edge of the island.
“Hey, sorry. Was just being friendly.” He chuckles, flashing me the seductive grin that had a coed sitting on his lap all night. Perhaps more than one. When I last saw him, he was sucking on someone’s neck with a hand in a place that makes me blush, just thinking about it.
“It was okay.” I try to appear unaffected and focus intently on measuring and pouring the ingredients into a bowl.
Damon leans back against the counter, his hands stuffed in his front pockets. He tilts his head sheepishly. “Really, I’m sorry if I crossed a line, Faye. I think I’m still drunk.”
He offers a small smile and blinks those dark, soulful eyes as a means of a white flag. And it’s frustratingly endearing.
Even after spending time with Damon on and off since meeting him Thursday night, I still have no idea what to make of him. He’s charming and sweet one minute and despicable and arrogant the next. The latter usually comes out to play after he’s been drinking. He runs a hand through his sandy hair, combing it back, the gel having given way long ago, so now it hangs in a wave to the side, sweeping across his handsome face.
“Truce?” he offers, pulling a hand out of a pocket for me to shake.
A ping reverberates off the tile. I turn toward it just as Maggie enters the kitchen, her short brown hair spiking around her head like she just crawled through a pile of blankets.
“Drop something?” she notes with a sweet, girlish bat of her lashes. She bends to pick up the ring that’s spinning in an endless circle at her feet. She rolls it in her fingers. “You don’t want to lose this.”
I’ve stopped mixing the batter, watching her approach him. He eyes her like a predator, licking his teeth, his charm warring with cunning. Maggie places the gold band in his palm, their skin touching a beat too long. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Thank you,” he says, grinning like he knows a secret and wants her to get a little closer to whisper it in her ear—before sinking his teeth into her neck.
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 38