Kevin feigned interest, but he didn’t want to hear it. Why agonize over something he wouldn’t bother regretting if there wasn’t any danger of getting caught? It was something stupid they did at a high school party. So what? “I’m listening.”
“I don’t remember enjoying the sex. It was brutal and degrading—to her and to us.”
“You can thank Stephen for getting us into that one,” Derek piped up. “As I recall, it was his idea.”
Stephen slammed down his glass. “Don’t you dare blame me!”
“It was your idea,” Tom said sullenly.
He slid off his stool, too. “Cody’s the one who wanted her, but she wouldn’t let him touch her.”
“So you told him to rape her,” Tom said. “Told him she deserved it. Said she’d been leading him on all night.”
“Shut up!” Kevin didn’t like where this was going. “I don’t want to discuss it anymore.”
There were a few seconds of strained silence. They were all laboring under a certain amount of fear. But they had no choice; they had to control it.
Finally, Derek picked up his keys. “Why the hell didn’t she tell anyone back when it happened?”
“Because she doesn’t want anyone to know, either,” Kevin said. “See what I’m saying? We lie low and everything will be okay.”
“Sometimes I wish I’d been crushed in that mine instead of Cody,” Tom said.
Shocked by the vehemence behind those words, Kevin seized his arm. “Look, you have to forgive yourself and put it behind you.”
“You have a daughter,” Tom responded. “Don’t you ever think about what you’d do if something like that happened to her?”
“No.”
“Because...”
Kevin refused to even entertain the possibility. “Because my daughter won’t turn out to be a stuck-up bitch, okay?”
* * *
Noah wasn’t sure why he eventually made his way to Milly’s. He had plenty of friends to turn to—except they were Baxter’s friends, too, and he didn’t feel he could go to any of them. Whether Baxter decided to come out of the closet was up to Baxter. Noah couldn’t out him; a guy deserved more from a lifelong friendship. Besides, he didn’t want anyone to know what had happened at the cabin. He was humiliated by it—and yet he felt the need to talk to someone. He sure as hell didn’t want to be alone right now.
Fag...
He’d never been called that before in his life. He shuddered to think what Baxter would endure if he openly admitted that he was sexually attracted to other men. Imagining the repercussions made Noah angry—angry with those who’d feel superior enough to put him down and, perhaps illogically, angry with Baxter for being vulnerable in the first place. And how was it that Baxter had fallen in love with him?
He certainly hadn’t done anything to solicit that type of interest.
Taking another pull on his bottle, he stared at Adelaide’s house. She didn’t want anything to do with him. So...why had he come here?
Because he was just drunk enough to ignore his better judgment. He’d sobered up so he could make the drive from the cabin, but as soon as he arrived home, and started thinking about Baxter kissing him like a lover, he’d decided he couldn’t handle being clearheaded quite yet. He’d gone directly to the liquor store down the street and had been walking around town ever since, trying to ease the upset that had both his mind and his stomach churning.
When he swayed and almost fell, he knew he needed to go home and call it a night. It was twelve-thirty, too late to pay Addy a visit. He’d scare her by banging on her door in the middle of the night.
But home was beginning to feel like a very lonely place. He already dreaded morning. No matter how much he drank, the reality of what Baxter had done, what he’d revealed, would hit him hard.
“Shit.” He walked away. He only lived a few blocks down. But when he reached the corner, he pivoted and headed back. He might as well knock. Addy had her own door. She didn’t have to open up if she didn’t want to.
He tripped as he climbed the porch steps, grabbed for the railing and dropped his bottle. Fortunately, it fell into the bushes and didn’t break, but he cursed as he caught himself.
The noise must have awakened her because the light went on.
“It’s just me,” he said when he saw her peeking out the window.
The door opened, which gave him hope, but she stood in the narrow opening, watching him with uncertainty. “What are you doing here, Noah?”
The porch seemed to be spinning. He put a hand on the door frame to steady himself. “I...” He searched for something he could say to make this moment seem natural, but couldn’t come up with a single reason he should be on her porch.
He’d dragged her out of bed for no apparent reason. They didn’t even know each other that well.
Somehow this had seemed like a much smarter idea a few seconds ago. “I don’t know. Coming here was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
He started to go, but she came out after him.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“Yes.”
She gave him a funny look that he would admit it so readily. “Do you get wasted very often?”
He couldn’t remember the last time. “Hardly ever.” He loved biking too much to even be tempted. “But tonight—” he whistled “—tonight there just didn’t seem to be a better answer.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “For what?”
Instinctively, he wiped his mouth as if he could erase the memory of Baxter’s kiss. But it was no use. There would be no forgetting. “I—I can’t talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Loyalty, I guess.” He probably wouldn’t have told her, anyway. He felt too exposed—a lot like he’d felt standing on that podium last night. There was the same telltale tightness in his chest and throat. If his Homecoming debacle had taught him anything, it was that he wanted to avoid so much emotion.
“To whom?” she prompted.
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.” She seemed truly concerned.
“Nothing.” He’d screwed up the whole night, first by taking Baxter out with those girls and then by coming here inebriated, making Addy think he had a problem with booze.
Intent on getting as far from her as possible, he turned away. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to cope on his own. But when she jogged after him and grabbed his hand, he wanted to stay much more than he wanted to leave.
“Hey.” She tugged him to a stop. “Are you okay?”
The sharp edge of panic cut deep when he felt his eyes begin to water—so he purposely avoided the shrewd perception he saw in her face and dropped his gaze. “I like your pajamas.”
“I’m wearing a shirt and some sweats.”
“Okay, so they’re not very revealing. But, because of the other night, I know what I can find under them.” He hoped the sexual nature of that comment would divert her, suggest a reason he’d knocked on her door, since he didn’t really have one. It was easier to come on to her than it was to tell her he’d just lost his best friend.
He thought that would put a decisive end to his visit, but she didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him he was a shallow jerk, like he deserved. She caught his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. “Why did you really come?”
Part of him wanted to level with her. To tell her he was confused, torn, even angry. But he couldn’t think of how to say it without including Baxter, and when tears of frustration came more readily than words, he did what he had to in order to distract her before she could realize he was standing on an emotional precipice.
“Because I want you,” he whispered, and he knew she’d have to believe it because, in spite of everything else, that was most definitely true.
* * *
Addy couldn’t figure out what was going on with Noah, but this wasn’t about sex. At least, not entirely. If she had her guess, alcohol hadn’t worked t
o numb the pain of whatever was bothering him—could it be Cody’s death, after all these years?—so he was trying something else.
She told herself to back away. She couldn’t get involved. But he seemed so vulnerable. And she’d dreamed of kissing him so many times over the years—in high school and even since she’d been back—that she couldn’t bring herself to move an inch. When he lowered his head, she stood in the chill autumn air, her bare feet seemingly frozen to the concrete. Then their lips touched and she experienced such a visceral reaction she could only lean in.
This was the boy she’d always wanted. And he kissed even better than she’d imagined....
“I’m happier already,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her and bringing her up against his chest.
Since he’d lifted his head to speak it was the perfect moment to break off the embrace. Instead, Addy clenched her hands in his hair and brought his lips back to hers, kissing him with all the passion she’d held at bay for a decade and a half. Soon they were both gasping for air and pressing into each other as if they were tempted to climb inside each other’s clothes.
“Wow,” he said. “See? You do like me. I don’t know why you had to make me feel like you didn’t. That wasn’t very nice.”
She almost smiled at his petulance. Liking him had never been the problem. Right now, surrounded by darkness and quiet, with all of Whiskey Creek asleep and unaware, it was easy to forget there was a problem. All that had come before, and all that might come after, didn’t seem important. Especially since she knew this brief interlude wouldn’t change anything—except maybe for the better. If she wanted Noah to forget about her all she had to do was give him what he wanted, become another of the many women who passed through his life. Once he conquered the challenge she’d stupidly provided, he’d move on. Tom had told her as much.
“It’s cold out here,” he said. “Let’s go to my house so I can get you warm.”
She was shivering, but cold had nothing to do with it. On the contrary, she was burning up inside, feeling more desire than she’d ever thought possible for someone who’d gone through what she had. How could it be that she still wanted Noah? That what she’d felt in high school had never really changed?
Her therapist would say she was a testament to the power of the human spirit to overcome and disassociate. Dr. Rosenbaum had said it before, but the fact that she could feel so normal, so much like she imagined other women felt when they encountered such a desirable man, surprised Addy.
“Gran can’t wake up to find me gone,” she said, struggling to hold on to the reality of her situation. “Not after—”
“Don’t think about what happened the other night,” he broke in. “I’ll get you back before she wakes up.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t...I can’t sleep with you.”
His breath fanned her skin as he kissed her neck. “Why not? I can tell you want to.”
He was right. He’d caught her at a weak moment. All these years she’d denied herself the kind of abandon she was experiencing now. She desperately wanted to forget, to let go at last. But she couldn’t have a relationship with him even if he decided he was interested.
“Why?” he asked when she didn’t answer.
That old attraction had come out of hibernation stronger than ever, making her ask herself: What about one night?
It wouldn’t mean anything to him, so she didn’t have to worry that he might be misled or get hurt. And she already understood their limitations.
There was just one problem.
“You’re drunk,” she said.
His tongue outlined the rim of her ear. “I’m not so drunk that I can’t make love.”
Oh, boy... Scarcely able to breathe, she dropped her head back as his hands moved up, under her T-shirt. “I mean, you’re not capable of giving consent.”
At this, he lifted his head. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t have to protect me.”
She stiffened. “Because...”
“I’m a guy. We want sex whether we’re drunk or not. And we don’t complain about getting it afterward.”
She could tell he was partly joking, but she wanted to be sure he knew what he was doing. “You should have a clear head when you’re making that choice.”
“Trust me.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I know what I’m asking for. And I’d choose you no matter what.”
He meant he’d choose having sex as opposed to not having sex. Tonight she just happened to be his potential partner. She had to keep the details straight, but it wasn’t easy, considering that his palms were lightly passing over the tips of her breasts.
Catching his wrists, she stopped him long enough to make him pull his hands out from under her shirt. “Sleeping with me won’t solve whatever has you so upset, Noah.”
He grinned as he gazed down at the response he’d drawn from her body, which was obvious despite her T-shirt. “But it’ll sure as hell make for a better night than not sleeping with you.” His smile faded as he looked up again. “I can deal with the rest in the morning. I’ll have to, anyway.”
“The rest of what?” she asked. What was wrong with him? Was this about last night? Or about something else?
“Don’t ask. It’ll just ruin...this.” He kissed her again, soft and lingering and wet enough to make her think she’d lose her mind if she continued to resist.
She thought of Gran. She thought of Cody, Kevin, Derek, Tom and Stephen. And she thought of the therapist who’d helped her recover. Dr. Rosenbaum would, no doubt, warn her against this. She’d come so far since the attack, didn’t want to backslide.
But couldn’t this be called progress? She felt so alive, so eager to be physical. With the men who’d come before him, she’d just wanted to pull away.
“Don’t start thinking,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to say no.”
She chuckled at how straightforward he was. “Let me get some shoes. I’ll walk you home, make sure you don’t fall in a ditch or stumble into the road.”
He gave her a searching look. “You won’t stay the night?”
“I can’t,” she replied.
But once they reached his house, he seemed so disappointed by the idea of being rejected, she couldn’t maintain her refusal.
“I don’t have a breathalyzer,” he said as he urged her inside, “so what am I going to have to do? Walk a straight line? Recite the alphabet backward?”
It didn’t say much for her resolve that he didn’t have to do either of those things. All he had to do was kiss her and keep kissing her until they were in his bedroom.
15
Adelaide knew this wasn’t the way to come out of the nose dive that had been her first week in Whiskey Creek. She was supposed to be keeping her distance from Noah, not cutting anchor and sailing straight into the storm.
But she couldn’t imagine this would be the start of anything long-term. He’d never had a serious girlfriend, so there was that consolation. By morning, he’d say he wasn’t looking for a committed relationship but he hoped they could remain friends. And she’d say she understood completely and hoped the same thing. Then they’d go their separate ways, and if she was lucky, he’d feel so self-conscious about not calling her afterward, he wouldn’t even come into Just Like Mom’s.
Having him step out of her life would be so much easier than trying to force him out. Then she wouldn’t have to battle her natural inclinations. She could mind her own business, like she’d planned from the beginning, and try to forget this potent high school crush that kept reasserting itself, despite that nightmare of a graduation party and the passage of fifteen years.
“You’re thinking again....”
She couldn’t help it. She was looking for pitfalls. She didn’t want to regret this later. But she was pretty sure she’d regret stopping even more. It wasn’t as if she’d feel this way about just an
y guy. Not counting the rape, she’d slept with two men, including Clyde, who’d become her husband, but there’d been very few fireworks involved.
One big hurrah and then...Noah would exit stage left.
Refusing to be hampered by any more doubt, she tugged on his shirt, and he lifted his arms so she could peel it off. “You look...” She didn’t want to reveal how much she admired what she saw—since she knew she felt more than she should. “Just like I thought you would,” she finished.
“Let’s see if I can say the same.” He fingered the hem of her T-shirt to indicate that he wanted to take it off.
Despite a nervous flutter in her stomach, she raised her arms.
“Beautiful.” He tossed her shirt away but he certainly wasn’t looking in that direction when he said this. He seemed mesmerized by the sight of her, and Addy could honestly say she’d never felt anything more exciting.
When he didn’t make any move to touch her, however, she covered herself with her arms. She wasn’t bold enough to continue standing there with her shirt off and the lights on. “I’ve always been kind of skinny.”
Sometimes she still felt like that awkward girl he’d so casually ignored.
“Don’t be nervous.” He removed her hands. “You might’ve been skinny before but you’re perfect now.”
“So—” she swallowed hard “—why are you just...staring at me?”
He pinned her arms at her sides as he kissed one breast. “The anticipation is half the fun.”
That sent another ripple of pleasure through her. Obviously, he was better at this than she was. But she’d expected to be a novice in comparison. “Okay, maybe...” She cleared her throat. “Maybe we could turn off the lights.”
He chuckled. “Are you still that shy?”
“No.” She shook her head, adamant. “Not anymore.” She’d worked so hard to overcome that. “It’s just...I haven’t been with very many men. I’m not as used to this as you are.”
He stepped closer, until his bare chest brushed against hers. “You were married.”
It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep track of the conversation. “For a few months. And I’m pretty sure he slept with one of the waitresses at the restaurant more than he slept with me.” She laughed as if she’d been making a joke, but she’d always feared that Clyde had preferred the waitress because she wasn’t any fun in bed.
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