Maybe I should say—Especially Duke.
Sparks are already flying, and we haven’t even reached the table yet. The two of them in such close contact seem like a disaster waiting to happen. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind if we move.”
Everly presses her lips together as determination settles over her face. She looks ready to do battle and I won’t lie, it’s a little frightening. “Nope, it’s all good.”
Sure, she says that now, but I’m worried about what will happen in ten minutes. The table could explode into a war zone.
“Clearly you two have a problem and I don’t want to make it worse.”
“It’s a little late for that,” she huffs.
I glance at Duke, unsure what to make of the bizarre situation. There’s always been a remoteness to his demeanor, as if there were an invisible shield separating him from everyone else at Hawthorne Prep. Everly, however, snaps him right out of his indifference. He gets this look in his eyes when she’s around. A strange mixture of anger and irritation.
Maybe even lust.
Then again, I could be reading into things that aren’t necessarily there.
“Is it possible for you guys to sit down and clear the air?”
“If clearing the air involves Duke Carmichael kissing my ass, then sure,” she mutters as we weave our way toward the table, “I’m all for it.”
Her snappy retort has the corners of my lips twitching.
As we reach the long stretch of polished wood, Everly takes the seat as far from Duke as she can possibly get and still remain in the same zip code. His lips curl into a feral smile, as if he understands her motivations for strategically positioning herself where she has. It’s like they’re playing an intense game of chess.
A few minutes later, Kingsley settles next to me with his tray. The way his muscular thigh brushes against mine sends a thousand little tingles cascading down my spine. Without realizing it, my body has become highly attuned to his. I used to wonder if anyone else could make me feel this way. Deep down, I already know the answer.
When Everly pulls out the sandwich from her brown paper bag, I do the same, nibbling at the PB and J Mrs. Fieber packed this morning. On the way out the door, she handed over a homemade protein bar, fresh squeezed orange juice in a travel mug, along with my lunch.
After a couple of minutes, Kingsley grumbles in my ear, “You need to eat.”
“I don’t have much of an appetite.” There is too much ricocheting around in my brain. Too many decisions that need to be made. Too much that hangs precariously in the balance. And all of it weighs heavily on me.
When I don’t immediately dig into my meal, he picks up a fry from his plate and holds it to my lips. Embarrassed by the attention, I keep them pressed stubbornly together. Instead of withdrawing, he arches a brow and stares me down. Since we both know that I won’t win in a battle of wills, I open my mouth a fraction. It’s carefully that he presses the thin cut of potato between my lips.
All too easily, I become trapped in his mahogany-colored gaze. And just like that, everyone around us fades into nothingness.
After the fry disappears, his fingers brush against my lips.
As I chew and swallow, Kingsley closes the distance between us so that only I am privy to his whispered words. “Good girl.”
The low sound of his voice scrapes something deep inside me, sparking arousal in my core. I can only liken it to the strike of a matchstick that ignites an inferno in my panties.
For the next ten minutes, he patiently feeds me until I finally say, “Enough.” It only makes me realize how little I’ve been consuming for my belly to fill so easily.
“Damn girl, that was smoking hot,” Everly murmurs in my ear, knocking me out of the sexual haze that had slyly wrapped its way around me. This boy is completely dangerous.
“Hi, Kingsley.”
My belly sinks at the sound of Sloane’s flirty voice. One flick of my eyes tells me that the blond girl has sidled up to the table with her minions in tow. His gaze stays fastened on me as he grunts out an unintelligible response.
When Kingsley says nothing more, she glances at the other boys crowded onto the benches. “Hey.”
There’s a chorus of greetings and a few chin lifts in return. The corners of my lips twitch as Everly rolls her eyes with abandon.
“Just in case you haven’t heard, Aubrey’s parents are out of town for the weekend and she’s having people over Saturday night.” Sloane flips her long blond hair over her shoulder before cocking a hip. “I hope you’ll be there.”
She glances at everyone before her attention settles on Kingsley. It’s painfully obvious that Sloane has feelings for him. It’s also equally apparent that he doesn’t return them. And if there’s anyone that she blames for that, it’s me.
“Nah, probably not,” he says offhandedly, “but thanks for the invite.”
Before she can convince him otherwise, one of the football players pipes up. “Hey, what about me? Am I invited?”
“Doubtful.” She smirks at the guy, giving him a coy look from beneath the thick fringe of her lashes. “But maybe I’ll let you convince me otherwise.” Her gaze flickers between the now grinning guy and the boy sitting next to me.
“Go for it, Axel,” Kingsley interjects. “She needs to find someone else to obsess over.”
A punch of color stains Sloane’s cheeks.
“Kingsley,” I mutter with an elbow to his ribs. He grumbles in response but says nothing more.
“Hey, I got an idea, we can tag team her,” an obnoxious voice shouts from somewhere down the table. “I heard you’re into that, Carmichael!”
Everly’s eyes widen at that bit of news.
I’m surprised when Duke rises from the bench and glares at the guys who are joking around at Sloane’s expense. “Shut the fuck up and leave her alone, dickhead.”
Most girls would be in tears, but not Sloane. Instead, a wicked smile curves her lips. “Maybe I am, but you sure as hell won’t be finding out.”
Um, wow.
With a flounce, the blonde swings away from the table as her cronies fall in line behind her. As the guys go back to their conversations, I give Duke a considering look. Why would he stick up for Sloane? I didn’t realize they were friends. I’ve never seen them speak two words to each other. Everly’s brows pinch together as if she’s trying to figure out the same thing.
“Carmichael,” another guy cracks, “you don’t mind if I bone your cousin, do you? She’s one hot piece of ass.”
Duke jerks his broad shoulders as he resettles on the bench. “I don’t give a fuck what you do. Although my advice is to be careful. That girl is like a praying mantis. She’ll fuck you and then bite your head right off.”
Cousin?
Well, I certainly didn’t see that one coming. I never realized they shared the same surname.
It’s almost a relief when the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of a five-minute passing period before the start of fifth hour. I dump my uneaten food into the garbage can before falling in line with Everly. Kingsley stays behind to talk with a couple of the guys.
“Do you have any plans after school?” Everly asks as we head out of the spacious dining hall and into the corridor. “If you’re not busy, we could get started on the AP psych project.”
“Sure, that sounds good.” Maybe we can work at my house. It might be a nice distraction for Mom.
Every day that passes by, Mom seems more and more like her old self. She’s still adjusting to our new normal, but each morning she gets out of bed and dressed, putters around the house, and takes care of the bills that were piling up.
As we turn into the hallway where our lockers are located, someone rams me between the shoulder blades. With a yelp, I stumble. My arms pinwheel in an attempt to regain my balance in the sea of students who surround us. The force is enough to send me pitching forward.
“Summer!”
Everly gasps, reaching out to grab hold of me, but it’s too late. There’s nowhere to go but down.
I trip over my feet as the floor rises to meet me. Or maybe it’s the other way around. A hand flattens against the top of my shoulder, pressing me down instead of assisting me up. My hands and knees take the brunt of the fall as I slam into the unforgiving marble before rolling to my side with a grunt.
Everly drops down as a pointy shoe connects with my abdomen. A scream tears from my lips as I curl into a tight ball, attempting to protect myself from the attack. The one thought that fills my brain is the tiny embryo growing in my belly.
My harsh breath fills my ears as my arms wrap around my head. People surround me, pressing in. Panic floods through me at being trapped on the floor. The moment seems to stretch forever until firm hands wrap around my body, scooping me off the cold tile as Kingsley gathers me into his arms.
“Are you all right?” His concerned gaze searches me for obvious signs of injury. “What happened?”
Tears prick my eyes as I blink them back, unwilling to let them fall in front of everyone who now crowds around us. “I don’t know.” It takes effort to keep the wobble from my voice. “I was shoved from behind and tripped.”
He growls, searching the crowd of blue blazers with suspicion. I do the same, looking for one in particular, but don’t see her gloating face in the vicinity. Still...I know who’s responsible, and there’s no way it was an accident.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I twist onto my side as a lightning strike of pain shoots through my lower abdomen, jolting me from a sound sleep. A moan slips free as a vicious cramp grips me.
“Summer?” Kingsley’s groggy voice penetrates the cloud of agony that surrounds me as he lays a hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
It’s only when I try to pry my eyelids open that I realize they’re screwed tightly shut. It takes a moment to find my bearings and separate my dreams from the reality unfolding around me. The bedroom is swathed in darkness. Through the unadorned window, I’m able to make out splashes of pink and purple color as the sun peaks over the horizon.
“I’m not sure,” I whisper as another spasm twists my insides. “My stomach hurts.”
Those words have him jackknifing in the bed. Almost tentatively, his hand settles on my belly. “Do you think something is wrong with the baby?”
Fear slices through me, right down to the marrow in my bones. “I don’t know.” Barely can I force out the response. Releasing it into the eerie silence of the room is frightening.
My belly seizes again, and I fold in on myself as pain ricochets through my womb. This feels like the cramps I get with my period. What I don’t know is if this normal or something to be concerned about.
“Where’s the number for the doctor?” Kingsley throws off the sheets before exploding into motion.
“There’s a card in my purse.” I point to the dresser, a grimace twisting my expression as a moan falls from my lips.
Kingsley clicks on the lamp next to the bed before shooting across the room. He rifles through the contents of my leather bag before pulling out an appointment card. His brows pinch together as he grabs his cell phone and punches in the number. With the fullness of his lower lip tucked between his teeth, he waits for someone on the other end to answer.
When I pull myself to a seated position, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, he barks, “What are you doing?”
“I need to use the bathroom.” My fingers shake as they curl into the sheets.
He blows out a steady breath, his nostrils flaring as he tempers his tone. “Stay put until I talk to the doctor and we figure out what’s going on.”
“I need to go.” When he remains silent, I add, “It can’t wait.”
From the way his lips thin, it’s obvious he wants to argue. As I slip from the mattress and rise unsteadily to my feet, a sticky warmth fills my panties. Kingsley’s eyes widen as he stares at my bare thighs before the phone drops from his fingers, clattering to the floor. Before I can register what’s going on, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Fear threads its way through his snapped out words.
An answering sob gathers in my lungs as I burrow against the strength of his chest. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.”
He sets me carefully on the bed before rushing to the dresser and yanking open a drawer, grabbing the first thing his fingers come in contact with. A purple Northwestern hoodie and a pair of leggings. I stare sightlessly at the ceiling as my mind cartwheels. Even as I lie on the bed, blood seeps from between my thighs. The hot stickiness of it makes me queasy.
I draw in a shaky breath before gradually expelling it from my lungs, trying to calm myself from the inside out. Any moment, I’ll spin out of control. When Kingsley returns, there’s a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulls the hoodie over my head and assists me into the black stretchy pants.
I focus on his face and it grounds me in the here and now. When I attempt to sit up, he slips his arms around my body and lifts me against him. I press my face into his chest as he strides from the bedroom. Beneath his T-shirt, his heart jackhammers a steady beat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Kingsley stalks through the second-floor gallery before descending the curving staircase. His grip tightens, pressing me closer. Once at the bottom, an inaudible hum of words is exchanged before we’re out the door. He hits the locks of the Mustang before gently setting me inside and reclining the seat so I’m able to lie flat. Barely do I blink and he’s sliding in beside me, revving the engine and shooting from the driveway.
As we turn out of the subdivision, Kingsley glances at me, concern brimming in his dark depths. Our gazes lock and hold as he reaches over, entwining our fingers before giving them a comforting squeeze. “Everything will be okay.”
His words reverberate throughout my head as the scenery whizzes by the passenger side window.
How can he be so sure?
In this moment, as pain spirals through me, nothing feels like it will ever be all right again.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Soft morning light filters into the room as I curl onto my side and stare sightlessly at the wall of windows. The tears refuse to stop. It’s as if a faucet has been turned on as they leak insistently from the corners of my eyes.
By the time we arrived at the hospital, it was too late, and I had miscarried. The little being filling my belly is no longer a possibility.
A decision that has yet to be made.
And I have no idea how to feel about that. Barely can I admit there is relief in the knowledge that the choice has been taken out of my hands. As soon as that thought creeps into my brain, guilt rushes in, nearly swallowing me whole.
How can I be relieved about losing my baby?
Kingsley’s baby.
A pervasive feeling of sorrow blankets everything, eclipsing all other emotions that try to take root. Even though I was confused, I’m brokenhearted that my body rejected the pregnancy.
The emergency room physician was very matter of fact about the situation. Miscarriages are not uncommon. They can happen before a woman even suspects she’s pregnant. In a way, I suppose it makes sense. If I hadn’t gone to the doctor and taken a test, I might not have realized it either. I would have chalked up the cramping to a bad period that was late. The doctor reassured me that this doesn’t mean it'll happen again or that I’ll have a difficult time getting pregnant in the future.
At eighteen, that’s not something I had ever considered.
Until now...
Now the possibility is there, circling in the back of my mind like a hungry shark.
The entire time we were in the emergency room, Kingsley was at my side, holding my hand, asking questions, making sure I was being properly cared for. We weren’t there for long. In the end, th
ere was nothing that could be done. I was given a pelvic exam and an ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage. Then I was discharged and sent on my way. The ride home was made in deafening silence, neither of us attempting to fill it. There didn’t seem to be any words that could do justice to the moment.
Kingsley has remained subdued in the twenty-four hours since. His dark eyes have become inscrutable, his thoughts a mystery. All I know is that from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, he wanted me to keep it. He tried to take care of me. I’m the one who was filled with doubts. With uncertainty regarding whether I could bring a baby into this world at such a young age and into a future marriage based on nearly eighty years of bad blood between our families.
Once we pulled into the circular drive, Kingsley helped me into the house before carrying me up the sweeping staircase. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him, craving the closeness. After that, he tucked me into bed, told me to rest, and disappeared from sight. I haven’t seen him since. Every couple of hours, Mrs. Fieber knocks on the door, setting a tray of food on the nightstand.
7-Up and buttered toast.
As if I have a flu that will pass in a day or so. She’s remained stoic but her expression is less severe as if she’s been apprised of the circumstances. That only makes the tears fall harder.
Gingerly, as if my entire body is riddled with pain, I unfurl from my huddled position before rolling onto my back and sitting up. There is a hollowed-out hole that fills my chest cavity and a heaviness that weighs me down. I can’t imagine not carrying this pain with me for the rest of my life.
As I glance around, a gasp slides from my lips when I find Kingsley sitting in a wingback chair situated across the room, silently watching me.
When he says nothing, I clear my throat. It feels scratchy and raw, as if I haven’t used it in years. “What are you doing here?”
He jerks his shoulders as his face remains expressionless. “Watching you sleep.”
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