by Kim Karr
Ringing the doorbell, I waited patiently and didn’t pound on door the way I had envisioned myself doing.
The sun was shining in the direction of the door, and it was hard to see, but I could make out the shape of a woman as she came into view through the mesh. She had a large book in her hands and her face was down as if in deep concentration.
Everything started to change the closer she got to me. First there was the unmistakable smell of lavender, a scent that made my nostrils flare in excitement, and then I saw the familiar shape of her eyes, her lips, her nose, and even the slender curve of her shoulders.
What happened next was like one of those slow motion movies.
I stumbled back with a jolt, and thought…no way.
The woman with blond hair that hung straight at least halfway down her back struggled to open the door, and only when she did, did she raise her gaze. “Can I help—?”
Out of nowhere, pure adrenaline raced through my veins. A thrill. An excitement I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I opened my mouth to speak, but shut it.
She didn’t finish her sentence either. Instead, she set the book down on the table beside the door. The haphazard way she released it caused it to fall and land on the floor with a clang. The spine read, “Web Design.”
That was not what I was paying any attention to, though. Rather, I found myself staring at the unusual pale blue color of her eyes. The color of a hot summer’s day and cool spring night. A color I’d only ever seen once before. But no, it couldn’t be—could it?
The silence drew out. I was dimly aware of her wiping one of her hands on her jeans, but nothing else. There was a reason I was there. A wrong to right. But unable to look away from her wide, startled eyes and her half-open mouth, I couldn’t seem to recall what exactly it was.
I took off my sunglasses to get a closer look. From the angle she was standing at I could see the curve of her ass, the shape of her tits, the plain of her stomach, and I knew, I knew for certain that this was her.
This was Hannah.
H. Crestfall was Hannah Michaels.
The first girl I ever loved… and the one who broke me even more than I already had been before I met her.
“Hannah,” I said at the same time she said, “Jace.”
I nodded.
She nodded.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a voice that trembled.
Right.
I was there for a reason, and it wasn’t to go down fucking memory lane, and it certainly wasn’t to relive the pain she caused me.
Still trying to brush off the shock, I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Do you have a son named Jonah?” I asked, my voice slightly uneven.
She nodded, and pushed her silky blond hair behind her ear. It was a nervous twitch I knew so well.
“Does he attend The Preston School?” I asked to be one hundred percent certain.
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, he does. Why are you asking?”
There was no invite inside, and it was for the best. I’d regained my balance by then and went for the jugular. “He’s in my daughter’s class, and today he said something to her that made her cry.” This time I kept my voice even, calm.
Her narrowed gaze raked over me in an accessing manner that told me she didn’t appreciate me being at her front door. “What is it you think he said to her?”
I ignored the sarcasm that dripped from her voice, and remained calm. “He told her that her hair looked like she’d plugged herself into a light socket, or something along those lines. I thought you might want to know that he was bullying someone.”
“Jonah has the sweetest disposition, and I doubt he would ever say anything like that.”
“Are you calling my daughter a liar?” I asked.
The physical trembling was hard to ignore, but the step she took closer to me was even harder not to notice. “Are you calling my son a bully?”
That wasn’t my intention, but she was pushing my buttons. Without realizing it, I puffed my chest out. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”
Her eyes, those blue eyes, blazed, and she put her hands on her hips. “Still the same old big shot, huh, Jace. Think the world revolves around you.”
A white-hot fury rose up from somewhere deep within me from a place I had buried it long ago. Once it did, I couldn’t stop it, or my reaction to her words. “Screw you, Hannah,” I bit out, and turned to stomp down the stairs.
“Jace,” she yelled.
Every hurt I ever felt from that day so long ago came back to me, and I had to ignore her. Unable to fight my emotion, I tuned out whatever else she was trying to say to me. I didn’t want to hear it. I knew I had come here about our kids. I also knew this wasn’t about us. But as soon as she called me a big shot—that’s what it became.
I tried to take a deep breath as I stormed toward my car with my words echoing in my head.
Screw you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kim Karr is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author.
She grew up in Rochester, New York, and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level, but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and recently decided to embrace one of her biggest passions—writing.
Kim wears a lot of hats: writer, book-lover, wife, soccer mom, taxi driver, and the all-around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read. One of her favorite family outings when her kids were little was taking them to the bookstore or the library. Today, Kim’s oldest child is twenty-one and no longer goes with her on these now rare and infrequent outings. She finds that she doesn’t need to go on them anymore because she has the greatest device ever invented—an ereader.
Kim likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and happily-ever-afters. She loves to drink champagne and listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.
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