Hers to Kiss: A Sweet Romance (Sisters of Springfield Book 1)

by Eliza Ellis

  Kat’s eyes narrowed at her from across the table. “Uh-huh, and we sold out early, thanks to you.”

  Keke offered a toothy grin in apology.

  “Have either of you heard from your sister, Kornelia?”

  Keke shook her head.

  Kat said, “Yeah. She’s away on a trip. Said it’s been really tough. Wouldn’t give me any details.”

  Mary frowned. “I would love to have all of you here. Maybe for Thanksgiving? Keke, do you think you’ll be able to come back?”

  Keke squirmed in her seat. “I don’t know. If I get the part…” She took a huge bite of the fried chicken Kat had bought from a local restaurant. When was the last time she had fried chicken this good? Ugh, she’d have to work out twice a day just to burn it off, but it would be worth it. She figured while in L.A., she wouldn’t eat a thing to stay ready for auditions and parts. At least, she had planned on really sticking to a strict keto diet and maybe living off chicken broth right before the shoots.

  Mary clapped her hands together. “I still can’t believe all my daughters are doing so well. You don’t know how hard I’ve prayed that each of you would be successful. I only wish your father could be here to witness it.”

  That was it.

  Keke slammed her chicken leg down. She had to wipe the grease off her fingers before she could continue in a dignified manner. “Why? Why do you wish that man back? After what he did to us?”

  “Keke…” Kat said in a low tone.

  Keke held up her hand. “No, Kat. I’m going to say what I want.”

  Mary folded in on herself, much like she had whenever Mr. Kaye yelled at her. It gave Keke pause, but she pushed through the discomfort. “He never wanted us to succeed. I don’t think he’d be happy for us at all. Remember what he said when I told him I wanted to be a dancer?”

  Mary averted her gaze. Kat’s eyes welled.

  Keke wouldn’t repeat the words. Her father claimed she—out of all her sisters—would be more willing to use her body to get what she wanted. Being a dancer and showing off her form seemed to fit.

  “He said if I went to college for dance, not to bother coming home.” She choked on the last two words. The emotion surprised her. She couldn’t wait to leave for college. Why would she ever want to return home?

  “Your father…” Her mother paused. She composed herself and started again. “Your father didn’t know how to express himself well.”

  Keke snorted. “He sure expressed how fat and ugly you’ve become.” Keke gestured to her mother’s body, which looked noticeably thinner since the last time Keke saw her in person four years ago. “He didn’t mind telling us that we weren’t smart enough for college. That the only jobs we’d ever get would be minimum wage, and he didn’t work hard all his life to raise stupid daughters.”

  Kat put her hand over her mouth and turned away. That struck a nerve. Good. Keke wanted them to remember the pain they seemed so willing to forget.

  Not her.

  She didn’t get a chance to truly express herself to her father when he was alive—except the one time when she boldly told him she was going to be a dancer and he could go do what he liked.

  Now, she was going to make sure her mother and sister knew how much his criticism had hurt, and even more that Mom didn’t do anything to stop it.

  Tears soaked Mary’s cheeks. That only spurred Keke on. “Why, Mom? Why didn’t you protect us from him? The years of emotional abuse… Do you know I saw a therapist the whole time I was in college?”

  “A therapist?” Kat said from her end of the table. “You never told me that.”

  “Yeah,” Keke said with an exaggerated head bob. “The whole time. I was messed up. Still probably am, a little. But do you know how hard it is for me to trust anyone?”

  Mary nodded. “I know your father is to blame for all of it—”

  “Oh no, Mom. I blame you, too.”

  Chapter 16

  I t was no use.

  He wasn’t going to be able to extricate her from his thoughts. That kiss left him without feeling everywhere except his lips and where they touched. He couldn’t think straight for a full minute. All his senses had been heightened like he’d been bitten by a radioactive spider.

  He could’ve sworn he felt her pounding heart.

  His ribs had hurt for an hour after their kiss. Was it just a natural physical reaction? Was every kiss this way? Or was it because he was kissing her?

  Did it matter?

  No, it didn’t.

  Pete slammed the bag of trash into the giant dumpster. He picked up the one Keke had given him before sprinting away with some excuse about kids and tossed that in as well.

  Keke was, and forever would be, out of his league. She couldn’t even look at him after the kiss. She was probably lying when she said he was good at it. Clearly she didn’t like it. Kissing Bertie’s baby brother? Pete guessed she was still grossed out.

  He was supposed to be thinking about Lea. She was the one he was doing all this “training” for. It was her lips he was going to kiss. Not Keke’s.

  At least, not ever again.

  No sense in listing the reasons why they couldn’t be together. Only one mattered. He wasn’t good enough for her. His father drilled his worthlessness in him for years. His saving grace would be his game app, but by the time he sold it, Keke would be out of his life for good.

  From the moment he first laid eyes on Keighly Kaye, Peter Headley’s heart beat a little bit faster. He didn’t know what it was at the time—still didn’t know—but the only other time he felt as passionate about something was when he was developing his applications.

  And he loved developing apps.

  She never looked at him with anything more than playful disdain. And although a part of him marveled at her long legs and graceful movements, he too held a natural dislike for the best friend of his stupid sister, simply because she liked Bertie. She couldn’t possible have a brain if she liked his sister.

  Bertie wasn’t at all stupid. At least only until Pete hit puberty and realized Bertie was an actual person and not a demon seed meant to torment him until she went away to college.

  College…

  Cornell loomed large in his mind. His father said the university’s name every time he saw him, like he was attempting to hypnotize Pete into accepting his fate.

  Each mention increased the temperature of Pete’s blood. If he heard Cornell one more time, he’d call the dean personally to tell him he wasn’t coming.

  That would set his father on edge.

  Probably give him a brain aneurysm.

  At this point, Pete didn’t care. He was nineteen. Grown. He had a great app he could sell and about a dozen more designs with a few already in pre-production. He could actually do what he wanted…

  If he were given half a chance.

  He would even be willing to use the money he earned to keep Headley Campground in business.

  Pete finished his rounds and ended back at the office. His father was likely in his bunk by now. Keke’s car wasn’t out front, and he figured she’d gone to see her family.

  Family…

  Both of them had issues with family. It was one of the reasons Keke and Bertie grew so tight in middle school. Pete was happy for Keke; she made it out of Springfield.

  Now it was his turn.

  “There you are. I was wondering when you were going to get back.” Bertie walked through the back door, still in her work outfit. She plopped down in a chair behind the desk. She had her serious face on. This would probably take a while. Pete also sat down.

  “What’s up?”

  Bertie looked at him for a long time without saying anything. He cocked a brow at her. His sister had been acting strange lately. More flighty than usual; forgetting things on occasion. She seemed all over the place and nowhere at all—simultaneously. He meant to ask her about it, but he’d been too busy with camp, running away from their dad, his app for Warp Entertainment…

  “I
want to talk to you about expectations.”

  Expectations?

  Pete leaned back in the reclining chair and folded his arms. By her hardened expression, he clearly wasn’t meeting some.

  “Look…” Bertie sighed. Her eyes held contrition. “I know you have your heart set on making…apps, or whatever. I don’t want you to stop.”

  “Good.” Because he wasn’t.

  “I just want you to think…think about college.”

  Pete closed his eyes. “Not you too.”

  “No, not me too. This is my own opinion.”

  His eyes snapped open. “You sure it’s not someone else’s we know? Someone who might’ve told you to persuade me to go to school?”

  Bertie cocked her head to one side, her expression annoyed. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I don’t know, Roberta. What I do know is what I’m hearing from you. I thought it was us against them. Wasn’t it? Now you’ve switched sides.”

  “There are no sides! This is about what’s best for your future. A degree would really put you ahead of the competition when you’re ready to go into the workforce, to have a career. Don’t you want that advantage?”

  “My advantage”—Pete pointed to his head—“is right here. I know what I’m doing, probably better than a lot of people. I can produce with very little overhead, and my designs are unique. That’ll be worth more than a degree.”

  “No one’s telling you to stop doing all of that. Haven’t you thought about doing both?”

  He hadn’t. Not if he were honest. He saw Cornell as his father’s choice, and no part of it was appealing. He purposefully screwed up portions of his application, until his father had snuck into his room, stole them, and confronted him about his sloppy work ethic. It had angered Pete because he was the opposite of sloppy. His bed was always made, he hated dust on anything, and he regularly cleaned his archived folders on all his devices.

  He was the most organized person in their home.

  “But what I’ve got coming up—”

  “Whatever it is, Peter…whatever company it’s with, tell them about Cornell. They might even pay for it, if they have an educational reimbursement program. It would be a win-win.”

  Bertie made a lot of sense. It was both a blessing and a curse that she was as smart as him. “Then what’s your excuse?”

  The pointed question made Bertie’s head snap back.

  “Yeah, you,” Pete pressed. “You want me to go to school, but you dropped out. Can’t tell me it was because of grades, because you never got lower than a B on any paper, test, or quiz. You opted to work a couple of part-time jobs. For what? Dad’s not too happy about that. Is that your idea of a career?”

  Bertie laughed derisively. “If you’ve noticed, Dad doesn’t seem to care what I do. You’re his pride and joy.”

  Pete was stunned into silence. He was their father’s pride and joy? Since when? All Pete ever got from their father was how much of an idiot the man thought he was. Pete couldn’t do anything right or fast enough. He certainly couldn’t think with the decision about Cornell being so completely obvious.

  And was Bertie jealous? Of him? He had always believed she was the confident, self-assured one.

  “That’s not true, Bertie.”

  “Why do you think he’s pushing so hard on Cornell?”

  “I know why. He’s living vicariously through me.”

  “Pride takes many forms.”

  “And I don’t want any of it.” Pete stood and stretched. He wanted his bed and more than five hours of sleep tonight. He’d walk into the bunk and shut down all conversation.

  “Too bad, because you’re going to get it.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Pete mumbled.

  Bertie intercepted his path toward the door. She put her hands on his arms. “Please, Peter. Just think about attending Cornell and doing both! You can get an education and put your apps out into the world. Many people are doing both. Working and hustling on the side. Or doing school and their side project. It doesn’t have to be either or.”

  Her pleading words made sense. The only thing holding him back was his father had expected him to go to Cornell. Just the thought that he would validate his father’s goals for his life made Pete’s insides squirm. Why couldn’t anyone trust him with decisions for his own life?

  “Even Mom thinks it’s a good idea,” Bertie added. She dropped her arms, probably sensing he wasn’t going to run anywhere and maybe he was reconsidering.

  Which he was.

  Mom was Bertie’s ace.

  “She put you up to this?”

  Bertie shook her head. “No. But I know she’d want both for you.”

  His brows came together, and he looked around the office as though he wasn’t aware that they were the only two there. “Where is Mom? I haven’t seen her. When was the last time I saw her?”

  “Um…” Bertie bit her lip.

  Guess she didn’t know either. “Last time I saw her was in the cafeteria this morning. She can’t still be in there cleaning. The lights were out when I did my rounds.”

  “Maybe she went to bed already. She’s got her own group this time.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “I think she was with that day trip group earlier. She’s probably been running around ever since.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  Bertie reached up to lay a kiss on her brother’s cheek—which Pete thought was odd. Their relationship improved when he was in high school. Maybe she sympathized with his plight as the lonely, nerdy kid who’d be tormented for four years.

  Either way, she wasn’t mean to him anymore, and they got along better than ever. But not worth hugs and kisses.

  “Goodnight, little brother. Sleep tight.”

  Her smile haunted Pete all the way back to his bunk. His sister had been right about considering doing both. Pete had never really wanted to go to college, but he understood the pride of a parent to have your kid accepted to a prestigious school, let alone attend and graduate. Cornell wasn’t the only Ivy League that accepted and offered a scholarship, although its program was the most appealing and the scholarship offered more than the others.

  Pete yelled at the kids to stop screaming—boys. He never had this much energy growing up. Maybe if he wasn’t hypnotized by his computer, he’d be running ragged as well. He might’ve become a jock.

  Nah. He was too smart for that.

  Voices dulled to a murmur, which satisfied Pete. He crashed into his bunk and stared at the bottom of the bed above him.

  Cornell or his dream.

  Or both.

  Chapter 17

  K eke had stopped by her sister’s bakery to snatch some cupcakes before heading back to the campground. The sun still wasn’t up, and Keke couldn’t stop yawning, although her mind was alert. Kat’s parting words nagged her.

  “You’re wrong to judge Mom. You don’t know what she’s going through. Freedom hasn’t been easy for her.”

  “Not easy? She looked fabulous, or aren’t we seeing the same mother?”

  “Yes, she looks better, but her marriage took a toll on her health.”

  Keke had immediately thought about Mrs. Headley. She, too, had had a difficult time with Titus, but compared to Keke’s mother, she thought Mrs. Headley handled her husband better.

  “What do you mean? What about her health?”

  “She’s on a lot of medication for anxiety and stress. It’s like post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  Keke had rolled her eyes. She’d heard enough. The woman chose that life and did nothing to change it during Keke’s entire life. Now she was on medication?

  Keke grabbed a few mini cupcakes—much to her sister’s chagrin—and marched out, declaring she was done with her mother and she’d be done with Kat, too, if she didn’t stop placating their mother.

  Now Keke wondered about the medication. How much? And did a doctor officially diagnose her mother with PTSD? It sounded too weird, and Keke
didn’t have time to find out. She had a few more days of camp, and then she was out of here.

  Maybe she would return to see Kat. Well, of course she would—unless she could convince Kat to move out of state. California would be the perfect place for her sister. She could meet new people, get a date—for once—and open a bakery there. Why was she still just a baker in someone else’s shop?

  She’d ask Kat that later after she settled in L.A.

  Keke pulled into the parking lot. The campground was still quiet, but the office lights were on. Keke hoped it wasn’t Titus. She rounded the building to avoid him and heard her name called.

  Bertie.

  With a relieved sigh, Keke jogged back to the office and followed Bertie inside. “No offense, but I thought your dad was up, so I was going to avoid him.”

  “None taken,” Bertie clipped.

  “Something wrong?” Keke took a seat. “It’s too early to be mad at the world. Have you had any coffee?”

  Bertie faced her, red splotches on her cheeks and neck. She was more than mad. She was livid.

  “Yeah. You’re what’s wrong.”

  Keke took a step back. “Whoa… I said no offense. And I got back on time.”

  Bertie made a clicking noise with her tongue. “I’m not talking about that. You know what I mean.”

  Keke slowly shook her head. “You gave me permission to leave last night—”

  “About Peter,” Bertie hissed. “I saw the two of you.”

  A hand went to Keke’s stomach, and she laughed awkwardly. “Oh, that. I was just teaching him—”

  “Oh, please, Keighly!”

  Bertie only called Keke by her full name when she was mad. She had Keke’s full attention. Keke bristled, ready to defend herself when Bertie launched at her.

  “I know what I saw. You promised!”

  She did. Keke bit her lip and rounded her shoulders.

  “There wasn’t any teaching going on. Pete looked perfectly capable of kissing, and you were all over him!”

  “I was not!”

  “Don’t even try to defend yourself. The way you two looked into each other’s eyes after it was over? You’re not going to stand here and tell me you don’t have feelings for my younger brother. He’s nineteen! You’re—”