by Ward, Susan
“Steady, solider,” Graham whispers. “Try not to run. Go talk to your dad first. Take your time. Play it cool. Don’t make it too easy for Bobby. He did break up with you, remember?”
Same advice my dad gave me.
If Graham says it, it’s got to be right.
I wonder if they coordinate via text my daily doses of male guidance.
I sigh heavily. “I won’t run. I’ll talk to my dad first. Happy? Jeez, you’re as big of a pain as my dad is sometimes.”
Graham’s laughter follows me as I move toward the car. I rummage through my bag for my phone and keys, then hand my carry tote to the driver.
I turn to Alan. “Bobby’s here.”
My dad frowns. He scans the airport. His face changes; he’s spotted Bobby.
“Well, can I go?”
Shit, Alan’s expression isn’t encouraging.
“Are you going to remember what I said?”
I nod.
“I want you back at the house no later than ten.”
Crap.
Ten?
The curfew nonsense just blew up in my face.
I didn’t mean it.
I’m eighteen.
This is stupid.
“Fine. Ten. Can I go?”
Waiting.
Waiting.
“Please?”
Come on, Alan, come through for me.
“You can go,” he says slowly, then winks and smiles.
Jeez.
“God, why do you have to be that way? You were going to let me go all along and dragged it out. Do you always have to be so—so—?”
Crap. I don’t know what to call it.
“Parental?” He lifts a brow. “Yes. I do. I love you.”
He climbs into the car.
“Ten p.m. Not one second later,” he orders before the door is shut.
I stay rooted in place, deciding to wait until they’re gone before I make my move. Once the black SUV disappears from view, I shift my gaze to Bobby.
We stare at each other for a moment. Even from this distance, I can see his eyes are lush with a smile for me. It happens. After four months. That flutter in the pit of my stomach when I see him.
He looks good. Fit. Tan. Relaxed. There are more golden sun-streaks in his hair. He’s been surfing a lot. Crap, he even looks happy, and after everything that went down, even I’m not conceited enough to assume it’s only because he’s seeing me.
He just sits there.
Staring at me.
Why doesn’t he move?
I start walking toward him, my heart jumping, and it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs. I’m moving, but I’m unaware of anything but him. Everything inside me comes alive all at once, clicks into place in a way that makes it a shock how much of me has felt detached and subdued since I left California.
Incomplete.
I stop just short of stepping into the space made by the V of his legs as he leans against the car.
“Hi,” I whisper. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here. Or do you pick up all your ex-girlfriends at the airport?”
I mentally kick myself because not being obvious just went out the door with what I let slip into my voice, and after four months I should have had ready something more neutral, less bitchy than that to say to him.
He closes his eyes and I wait. Oh no. There is no way I can bear to have him tell me again we’re over…
When his eyes shoot open, everything in them is different. The color is darker, intense, and full of emotion and need. It’s like looking at my own reflection. “No. I don’t pick up my ex-girlfriends at airports or anywhere else. I’m here because you’re here. Where else would I be, Kaley?”
He stares into my eyes and I don’t know what to say.
“Do you want to go somewhere to talk?” he asks.
Talk?
Neither of us move.
He waits, and I swallow hard and nod.
Bobby pushes off the car, moves to the passenger door, and opens it. It doesn’t escape me that he hasn’t touched me.
I sink down onto the passenger seat, and in a few seconds we’re going down a street and I don’t even know where to.
He merges into the lane for the Sepulveda Tunnel. We’re heading toward the coast. Maybe his house?
Once we’re out of the underground section of road, I tilt my face back toward the sun and close my eyes. “So how’s it been in the ’Sades?”
I hear him shift gears. “Quiet since graduation. Before graduation not so quiet.”
Nope, no need to ask him to explain that one.
I’m sure I was the fast moving gossip at PP Academy.
Make a public spectacle of yourself on YouTube.
Then drop out of high school before graduation.
Become an Internet sensation.
Get dumped by the hottest guy on campus.
What’s not to talk about?
“So how was being on tour with Alan?”
Make-do conversation. Impersonal. Safe.
I hate it.
There’s so much in my head and heart screaming to get out. I shrug. “Interesting. Good actually. Learned a lot about my dad I didn’t know before. We got sort of close. Or maybe I should say we made a good start at getting close.”
Bobby’s eyes are serious. “I’m glad something good came out of this.”
This?
Which this?
Fuck, I hope he doesn’t mean us breaking up.
“My dad seems happy. My parents seem like they’re in a good place together.”
“How about you?”
I’m miserable, Bobby. I miss you. “I’m OK.”
“Did you meet anyone? Hang out with anyone?”
A jolt shoots through my body even though Bobby’s voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. I turn my head to face him and open my eyes. “No. Have you?”
“No. Haven’t really been hanging out with anyone since graduation. Not even our old crowd. I’ve just been keeping to myself.”
He turns onto Highway 1.
His jaw flexes.
“Who was that at the airport?”
Bobby’s eyes fix on me then shift back to the road. Jealousy. He’s not even trying to hide it. My mood soars.
“Graham Carson.”
I purposely don’t explain; I wait for him to ask, but he doesn’t.
Crap, that was lame.
A Zoe kind of ploy.
Beneath me.
We never play these kind of games with each other.
I manage a small smile. “Graham was my bodyguard. Went everywhere with me. My dad thought I needed security on tour. Stupid, huh?”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at me. “Not stupid. Not with where you were traveling and definitely not with how recognizable your face became after that video and all the press. Thank God all that bullshit is finally dying down. Maybe things will start getting back to normal again here for you.”
There is something in his voice; I don’t know what to make of it.
He flicks the signal and turns down a short road that dead-ends at the shoreline in Manhattan Beach. He hits a button. A ground-level garage door opens on a narrow three-story glass and concrete house.
We pull in, park, and Bobby comes around to open my door. He gestures me forward through a heavy fire door leading to a flight of stairs.
At the top step I pause. The house is small, California casual and trendy, and it looks over the ocean. I cross to the far side and stare out the glass of the patio doors.
Right on the water.
A handful of steps from the ocean.
Maybe he’s been training—competitive surf competitions? Is that what he’s planning instead of college?
Four months without contact; I don’t have a clue what’s going on in Bobby’s mind and life anymore, and before I left I knew everything…at least I thought I knew everything.
This place surprises me.
I turn to fin
d him standing across the room from me, watching. “Whose house is this?”
He shrugs. “It’s just a rental. After graduation I needed a change. Someplace to be alone for a while. The lease is up next month.”
My brows shoot up. “What are you going to do then? Move back home?”
He sinks down on a chair. “No. Not that.” Shit. A feeling of dread contracts my stomach. I don’t like the sound of that. “I can’t. I would have moved out when I turned eighteen if Linda hadn’t asked me to stay through graduation.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
His expression only feeds my worst fear.
Bobby lets out a huge breath. “Listen, Kaley—”
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
I can hear him speaking, but the words, their meanings, are lost in my fast rising panic. He’s going to say goodbye to me again…
I rush across the room, sinking down on my knees in the space between his legs, stopping his words with the press of my hands. “Please, stop. Don’t say whatever you think you have to tell me yet. Not yet. Let me say what I need to say first. My dad told me I shouldn’t rush after you. Hang back, see how it goes. Even Graham told me I should play it cool. Not be obvious. But I don’t care. I am obvious with you. I always have been. I love you, Bobby. And I can’t take another moment not knowing if you still love me.”
His eyes go wide. “Still? I never stopped loving you, Kaley. You’re all I think about. I love you. That’s never going to change.”
My breathing quickens as everything starts to hit me—being home, being with Bobby, the words he was about to say, the words in my head I haven’t yet said, and the feelings in my heart—and my body is screaming fuck the smart move.
I don’t have to play it safe.
I don’t have to hold back.
Not with Bobby.
I can’t wait a second longer to touch him. I lean in, kissing him with everything in me. My mouth moves, urgent and demanding, against his, and I can feel his pulse going faster and faster. He’s matching my kiss, moving with me.
Why doesn’t he take me in his arms?
If he doesn’t touch me soon…
I break the kiss and stare up at him.
He cups my face with his palms. “I love you, Kaley. But we need to talk first.”
His voice is breathy. Ragged. Intense.
His words make me feel like crying. He’s such a good guy. Never unfair. But I don’t want what comes next for us, not if it’s not good. Oh no, not yet.
Tears sting my eyes.
Damn.
I don’t want him to see them. I wrap my arms around his neck and tuck my face against his shoulder.
“I’ll listen to everything you want to tell to me. Later. Just not now.”
“Kaley—” He groans and it sounds like he’s in physical pain. “Don’t think I don’t want to, but —”
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Even if we’re over after we talk, even if all I get of him is this—him making love to me one last time—I want it.
I start kissing his neck, nipping and touching my tongue to all the spots I know get him crazy. My hand moves to his nape, dragging him back to my mouth, as my other hand slides down his torso to cover the glorious hardness in his jeans.
“It doesn’t matter what happens after we talk,” I whisper. “I won’t make it through today without being with you. Make love to me, Bobby.”
I can feel he’s struggling against me, but he starts touching and kissing me back. “We should talk first.”
“I don’t want to.”
I ease back so he can see my face and his eyes start to shimmer in response. In a flash I’m scooped up from the floor, and we start moving down a hallway, his lips trailing across my face as I’m lowered to the bed.
He covers me with his body and we are kissing and touching in the way two people who love and haven’t been together in too long do—as if we can’t feel or taste or get close enough to each other.
We pull off our clothes in a hurry and it still doesn’t feel fast enough. Not by a long shot.
I mold my body into him, feeding the starvation of my pulsing sex, brushing against his erection as I struggle to match the heated thrust of his tongue and the force of his kisses.
I hear the rip of a foil square and my eyes open to see him sheathing himself. I feel him searching at my entrance with his cock and fingers, and, without delay, he plunges into me.
A hoarse moan—need and relief—escapes with my rapid breaths as my body tightens around him. He needs to be in me. I need to have him in me. After four months our hearts and bodies are in sync without effort, the need to feel complete by being together beyond any other need in both of us.
My body races to match his thrusts. He is moving in me as if he can’t get deep enough. I arch my back as I lift my pelvis into him. I tense, everything heating and coursing through me at once.
I love him.
He still loves me.
Whatever there is left for us to get through, everything is going to be OK.
I can feel it.
For the first time in too long, I am complete.
CHAPTER 32
I lie with my cheek on Bobby’s chest, passion-damp and physically drained, my limbs pressed closed to his, savoring the feel of his fingers lightly brushing my flesh.
The hours have passed like it was our first time together in Santa Cruz. Intense, fiery sex. Total emotional and physical connection. Glorious climaxes. Complete contentment. Breathe. Breathe. Then it all starts back up again, as if we’re so hungry for each other, no matter how often we’re together, it’s never enough.
Us.
From the first touch.
Even still today.
I open my eyes and stare out at the balcony beyond the bedroom. It’s dark. I’m not sure what time it is. I don’t care.
The way we’re clinging to each other makes me anxious about what comes next and I can tell that Bobby is holding back the things he wants to tell me as if he’s not ready to go there either yet.
Maybe he’s debating if he should.
Or still wants to.
I’m not sure which.
I lift my chin and study his face. It doesn’t matter either way. There isn’t a chance I’m letting him go ever again.
I meet his gaze squarely. “You want to talk. Let’s talk.”
His arms tighten around me.
His lips touch my hair.
He lies back, eyes closed, and for a few seconds I’m in agony as I wait. “I love you, Kaley.” There is an edge to his voice—regret?—as if his feelings for me are warring with something he’s not sure he still wants.
“I love you, too.”
He lifts his lids and his pupils are dilated, filled with tenderness, want, and—yep—uncertainty.
“I only stayed in Southern California after graduation because of you. I couldn’t leave without talking to you first. Without seeing what was still possible between us.”
“Everything is still possible between us.”
“When the lease is up on this place, I’m leaving. I don’t know for how long or where I’m going or even if I’ll ever come back.”
My insides go cold as my heart thumps against my breasts so rapidly it’s painful. “Leaving? You can’t go. Not now. We’re together. Stay—”
The look in Bobby’s eyes kills my words.
His smile is a touch sad. “I can’t, Kaley. I need to do this now or I will never do it. I’m going to head out on the road. No destination. Travel from city to city. See things. Experience things. Try to figure out if anything out there feels right to me.”
No, no, no.
He can’t leave.
I roll off him and sit up. “I don’t know how you can think that’s more important than us.”
He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly. “I don’t know who I am, Kaley. Not really. I want to take off and see if something out there connects wi
th me. Feels the way it should. Like a part of me that’s been missing that I haven’t known yet.”
He pauses for a moment as if he can see I need to catch up with what he’s saying. “I need to figure out who I am. You’ve only just started working through who you are. You still don’t know what having the truth about your dad means to you. And what it’s going to mean to your life.”
I brush at my tears. “I can’t believe you’re ending us again.”
His eyes widen as his gaze bores into me. “Ending us? That’s not what I’m saying. I stayed for you because I want you to come with me. I want us to figure all this out together. You and me. Like it’s been this year. The best year of my life. Like it should be always for the rest of our lives.”
With him?
Like that?
Just leave Pacific Palisades, our friends, our families, everything we know and everything familiar?
“You want me to come with you?” My mind is spinning. “How would we live? What would we do?”
He pulls me tightly against his chest. His arms are quivering and everything rushing inside him pulses beneath me.
He buries his lips in my hair. “It’s not like we’re broke, Kaley. I have money and so do you. We’ll live how we want. Do what we want. Stop where we want. You can film your documentaries. I bet there are hundreds of interesting films out there waiting for you. You can blog about whatever you want. And I can try to see if something out there connects with me.”
Connects with me?
Instant comprehension.
We are so alike.
Mismatched pieces.
In some ways perfectly matched.
In the important ways perfectly matched.
He leans in, brushing my lower lip with his before he kisses me. “Come with me, Kaley. You’re the only part of my life I can’t leave behind. The only piece of me that feels right. Take off with me. Be with me. Us. Loving each other, through anything.”
I want to say yes. It’s crazy how quickly the impulse in me to say yes screams from my core.
His mouth closes over mine, and we are kissing hot and hungry and needy again despite having spent all afternoon making love.
By the time he pulls back, I know what I’m going to do.
I press my cheek against his chest.
His arms tighten around me.