by Sarra Cannon
And what better target than a drop-dead gorgeous movie star?
My stomach turns and I grind my teeth together so hard my jaw aches.
Jenna rests her head on my arm. “That girl is so incredibly brave,” she says. “Can you imagine? Every piece of your past, every mistake you ever made, being paraded around as proof that you’re a liar just because you accused some rich boy of hurting you?”
Her words bring tears to my eyes. I want to hug her and tell her I love her for saying that. For taking Molly’s side despite the recent news. And I want to tell her that yes, I can imagine it. I have imagined it every day for the past year and a half. Instead, I just say, “I could never be that brave.”
“Me either,” she says.
I reach out and take her hand. Just knowing I might not be the only one too scared to face something so horrible makes me feel better.
“Hey.” She squints up as the name of the school flashes across the screen. “Isn’t that where you go to school?”
I swallow and try to look disinterested. “Yeah.”
“That’s so crazy. Did you know her?”
I shake my head. “Not really,” I say. The truth is I’ve never met Molly Johnson in person, but in some ways I think I probably know her better than most people. I know how something like this changes you. I know how brave she is, and how, despite what they’re saying, I know she’s telling the truth about Burke Redfield.
“What about him? Is he really that good looking in person?” she asks. “Did you ever see that one movie—” She snaps her fingers, trying to come up with the name.
“Indecision,” I say, knowing which movie she’s talking about. It’s the one everyone talks about when they talk about Burke.
“Yes,” she says. “That’s the one. He looked so hot in that. Shame he turned out to be such an asshole.”
“Don’t you two have tables waiting?” Maria barks. “You can watch TV on your own time.”
“Sorry,” we say in unison and head back to our work. For the rest of the night, I force myself to avoid the bar area and eventually, someone changes the channel.
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the weekend, my feet are killing me from hours of standing at work. I am in serious need of a new pair of shoes. My old sneakers are just not going to cut it.
Jenna says she knows the best place in town for work shoes and texts me to meet her downtown Saturday afternoon before our shift.
I drive in and park on the street in front of a place called Punk. Not exactly the kind of place I expected to shop for shoes, but I'm trusting her. I check my phone again out of habit before I get out of the car. I keep hoping to hear from Knox. We exchanged numbers after our swim, but that was a week ago now.
Preston, on the other hand, has texted me every day. He’s still trying to make sense of what happened between us the other night in his bedroom, and I don’t have any good answers for him.
Jenna’s waiting near the entrance and she waves as I get out and cross the street toward her.
“Hey. Thanks for taking me under your wing,” I say. “I’m clueless.”
“If you keep working in those worn out shoes, your feet are going to have blisters the size of watermelons.” She laughs and tugs on the door.
“Have you been waiting tables a long time?”
She leads us toward a wall of Doc Martens. “Ever since I was sixteen,” she says. “So, yeah, five years now I guess. How pathetic is that?”
I don’t think it’s pathetic at all. She’s so sure of herself. Independent and confident. “Not as pathetic as never having a job at all.”
“Are you kidding me? I wish I didn’t have to work,” she says. She picks up a pair of black boots that match the ones she’s wearing. “What size?”
“Seven.”
She bends over, pulls out a box of sevens and hands them over. I sit down on the bench and pull my old sneakers off. The shoes fit and I take the obligatory test walk through the store before declaring them perfect.
“It’s gonna take a few nights to break them in and they’re kind of pricey, but trust me, it’ll be so worth it.”
I go up to pay for them when the bell over the door rings. I don’t pay attention at first, but Jenna jabs her elbow into my side and I turn to see what she’s all worked up about.
I gasp and nearly drop my wallet. Preston is standing in front of me with a gorgeous bouquet of pink tulips. He looks out of place among all the leather and spikes.
“What are you doing here?”
He smiles and walks toward me, holding the flowers out. “I stopped by your house first and your mom told me you were heading here,” he says. “Sorry to interrupt you guys, but I can’t stop thinking about you, Leigh. I needed to see you.”
Great. He’s been by my house. That means my mother knows he brought me flowers. I’m sure it’s made her whole week.
I take the flowers and can’t resist inhaling the light scent of them. My favorites. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything.”
His words should make me swoon, but I know better. Preston has always been so good at the apology. It’s an art form with him, really. Every time he messed up and got too drunk to remember or ended up in some other girl’s arms, he always brought me flowers or bought me an expensive necklace or took me to some fancy dinner. One time he even cooked for me. Yes, he is very good at apologies.
And until Bailey, I was very good at accepting them.
“Can we talk about the other night?” he asks, then glances at Jenna. “In private?”
I want to laugh. If he wanted to talk to me in private, he shouldn’t have brought flowers to a clothing store.
I look to Jenna and she shrugs.
“I don’t mind,” she says. “I need to stop by a friend's first anyway. I’ll catch you at work?”
“Sure,” I say. “Thanks again for the help with the shoes.”
“Work?” Preston’s eyebrows are tight, confused, as if he can’t imagine why anyone would ever have to work.
I walk toward the front door, flowers and shoes in hand. “I’m waiting tables at Brantley’s.”
“Why?”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. “I was bored.”
He seems to get this as a reason. Anything is better than saying I need the money or just wanted to work to feel good about myself. He would never understand either of those things. But being bored is understandable. It makes me want to strangle someone.
Is this really the kind of person I used to be?
“I can think of other ways for you to pass your summer,” he says. He smiles with only half of his mouth. It’s his naughty smile. That smile used to kill me.
It isn’t working today, and he knows it.
“What’s wrong, Leigh? Did I do something to piss you off?”
We leave the store and walk down Main Street.
I search for a reason that will make sense to him. Something easier than the truth. “Penny told me about Bailey,” I say.
His shoulders slump and he goes into explanation mode. “I like Bailey. She’s a lot of fun and with you gone, she’s, I don’t know, someone to help me pass the time.” He steps in front of me so I’ll stop walking. He lifts my chin so he can make sure he has my absolute attention. “But you’re the one, Leigh. You’ve always been the one for me. I’ve missed you so much.”
There’s something genuine in his eyes I wasn’t expecting. Does he really mean that? I search his face, but I think this moment is real and it knocks the wind out of me. Why does it make me feel panicked?
“Didn’t you miss me?” he asks. “Didn’t you even think about me at all while you were gone?”
“Of course I thought about you.” And it’s the truth. Freshman year, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Then I met Aaron. And PJ. And John. After a few casual dates, I started to, not forget exactly, but to have distance.
“I thought maybe…” He releases my chin and looks away.
>
“What?”
“I guess when Penny told me you were home, I thought maybe you’d come back for me,” he says. A sad smile crosses his lips, then fades. “Then when you actually showed up to that party, it was like old times again, you know?”
“I know.”
We start to walk again and this time, his hand keeps bumping mine.
“So what happened?”
I wish I had an explanation for him.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess a part of me thought maybe we could pick up where we left off, but when you kissed me…” I shrug, unable to finish my sentence.
He grabs my hand and I don’t pull away. The truth is, I know Preston would be a great future for me. He’s good looking, he cares about me, and he’s rich. He’s exactly what everyone expects for me.
So why can’t I make myself want him?
“I’m sorry I got so angry,” he says. His thumb caresses my index finger. “Will you go out with me? Just give me one night.”
We reach the end of the street and pause on the curb. He faces me and runs his hand along my arm.
I’ve missed the tallness of him. His confidence is comfortable, like he could just wrap his arms around me and pull me back into the past where I was safe. Where I was still whole instead of these broken pieces of myself.
“What about Bailey?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t love her.”
I look up. Does that mean he still loves me? I’m not even sure what we had before was really love.
“I don’t know,” I say, pulling my hand away. “We’ll see how it plays out, okay?”
“What does that mean?”
I take a step back. “It means I’m not sure what I want. I’m in a very strange place right now.”
He steps forward and places both of his hands on my shoulders, pulling me closer. “One date,” he says. “Just give me a chance to show you how things could be with us. Let me remind you how things used to be.”
I close my eyes and remember. His warm, familiar lips kiss the top of my head. We’ve stood like this a thousand times and suddenly I’m sixteen again and life is much simpler.
But when I open my eyes, it’s still today. Now. And everything we had back then disappeared a long time ago.
The low sputter of a truck idling at the stop light causes me to jerk away. My heart twists into a knot as I turn, praying it’s not Knox. I don’t want him to see me standing here like this with Preston.
The truck next to us is red, not blue and relief floods through me. It’s not him.
But the fact that I care so much gives me the clarity I was searching for. Preston is my past, but if there’s even one small chance Knox is my future, I need to at least give him a real chance.
I can only hope it isn’t too late.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jenna pounces on me the second I walk through the back door at Brantley’s.
“What the shit?” Her eyes are wide. “Are you dating Preston Wright?”
I groan. She follows me around the corner to the small set of lockers. I put my purse and phone inside and pull out my apron.
“We dated for a few years back in high school.”
Her mouth drops open. “My mind is blown,” she says, then smacks my shoulder. “Preston Wright is the hottest guy in town. You’ve been holding out on me.”
I make a face and she won’t let it go.
“What?” She smiles. “Tell me.”
“I don’t think he’s the hottest guy in town,” I say, then bite my lip. I haven’t talked about Knox out loud to anyone. Until today, I haven’t really wanted to admit it as a thing. But it’s definitely a thing.
“Well, well, well. Aren’t you just full of interesting surprises tonight,” she says. She leans against the dingy cinder-block wall, then holds a hand out. “I’m waiting.”
I step closer to her and look around to make sure no one else is listening. “Do you know a guy named Knox Warner?”
She looks up, as if searching the ceiling for him. She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she says. “He lives here in Fairhope?”
“Yes, he moved here probably about the same time you did, but he doesn’t go to your school or anything,” I say. “He bartends over at Rob’s.”
“Oh, yeah, I know that place. I went there once to play pool with Colton after work.” Her mouth drops open again. “Hot bartender! I remember him.”
My insides get warm just thinking about him, but then dread fills me up. “I think I ruined it though.”
“What happened?”
I’m considering how to explain our midnight swim when Maria comes around the corner, her eyes all squinty.
“We’re going,” Jenna says, rolling her eyes. “Slave driver.”
Maria smacks her on the butt as she passes and Jenna giggles. Just before she heads out into the dining room, she turns to me and raises her eyebrows. “After work tonight,” she calls out. “You and me. Rob’s.”
I lean against the wall, enjoying the butterflies.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Country music escapes as the door to Rob’s opens. The guy leaving holds the door open and tips his hat to us. Jenna raises her hand to an imaginary brim and tips her hat back at him. He winks at her and keeps a keen eye on her ass as she walks in.
A fact, I think, not missed on Colton. He gives the guy a look and waits for him to keep moving until he follows us to an empty booth.
I haven’t spent much time with Colton, but he seems like a cool guy. He bartends for us at Brantley’s, and I’ve noticed Jenna lingering up there during her shifts lately. She hasn’t mentioned anything about dating him, but if it hasn’t started yet, it won’t be long.
I wasn’t expecting her to bring him tonight, but Jenna grabs my hand and insists my secret is safe.
“I’m very good at keeping secrets,” Colton says with a wink. “Comes with the job description. So, who are we here to stalk?”
“The bartender,” Jenna says. She props her leg under her butt so she can sit higher and searches the bar area. “I don’t see him.”
“I have no idea if he’s even working tonight,” I say. “I haven’t even talked to him in a week.”
“Wait, are we talking about Knox?” Colton asks.
The concern on his face worries me. I hope this isn’t going to be more of the Chicago rumor bullshit.
“Yes, why? Do you know him?” Jenna asks, leaning in.
Colton raises one eyebrow. “I’ve seen him around, but he’s kind of known for being notoriously hard to get.”
This is news to me, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“How so?”
Colton shrugs. “When he first moved down here a year or two ago, all the girls flocked to this place, checking out the new guy,” he says. “I used to hear a lot of chatter about him from the girls at Brantley’s.”
“And?” Jenna motions impatiently. “Spill it.”
“He never goes out with anyone,” he says. “He comes to work, he does his job, he keeps to himself. That’s the rumor anyway. For a while, I think some of the girls even had a running bet about who could get him into bed first.”
My mouth goes dry. I’m not sure I want to hear the rest of this.
“No one ever won as far as I know,” he says. “None of them could even get him to go out on a date. Then it got out that he got into some kind of trouble up in Chicago. Drugs or fights or something, who knows. The girls at work declared him an asshole and moved on, I guess.”
Asshole is not a word I would ever associate with Knox. To me, he’s been the sweetest guy in the universe. I can’t reconcile it in my head, which only makes me doubt myself. Lord knows I’ve made some bad choices.
Am I totally misreading him?
“Well, how do you know him, then?” Jenna asks, turning to me.
I hesitate. I haven’t even told anyone about my car accident or what happened at the party that night. I don’t even know w
here to start or how much to tell. “The night I came back into town, I almost hit a deer. Smashed my car up pretty bad,” I say, having to practically shout over the music. “He saw my car and stopped.”
I don’t mention the fact that he carried me from the wreckage or held me while I cried for thirty minutes, but thinking of it sends a warmth through my middle.
“He’s a hero in disguise,” Jenna says, nodding. “I like it.”
I glance toward the bar, hoping to catch sight of him. Instead, I recognize a girl from high school behind the bar. Joey Young. Well, Josephine, but everyone’s called her Joey since she was five. We used to be friends in first grade when we had to share a desk, but as we got older, our relationship turned sour. I still don’t understand what happened there. It was like with the flip of a switch, suddenly Joey hated me for no reason. No logical reason, anyway.
I watch her making drinks and am amazed at how fast she slings the bottles and gets the drinks on the bar. She’s wearing a black tank top that shows off her flat stomach and the tattoos on her arms. Those are all new since I left town.
Someone comes to stand next to her behind the bar and she looks up and smiles. I follow her gaze and my heart skips a beat. Knox is laughing and whispering something in her ear.
Jealousy washes over me until I put two and two together and remember that if his uncle owns this bar, then that means Joey is his cousin.
My shoulders relax. I would hate to be in competition with someone like her. The girl’s got attitude.
Of course, that didn’t bode well for my having a relationship with Knox, either. Not if they are really close. I twirl a strand of hair around my finger. Crap, what if that’s part of why he hasn’t called me?
Maybe she feels my eyes on them, but right at that moment, Joey looks up. Her eyes cut straight through the crowd at me. She turns, shouts something at Knox, then nods toward me. He glances my way, and I’m like a deer in headlights. I know I should look away, at least try to pretend I wasn’t staring, but I can’t. I’m frozen.
“Is that him?” Jenna asks. She stands up and follows my eyes toward the bar.