Chapter Nineteen
A week after returning from Willow Creek, I found myself on the front doorstep of the palatial mansion where Christian now lived with his parents. I was greeted at the front door by a maid, who ushered me inside and led me to the sprawling living room, where I was instructed to wait for him to come to me.
Later this week, my parents would arrive from Baton Rouge to take me home for the rest of the summer. Of course, the concept of ‘home’ had changed since I’d graduated and struck out on my own. ‘Home’ was now either an apartment where my dad lived alone, or a small house my mother shared with another single woman. Despite the fact that so much had changed, I found myself looking forward to the visit. My mother and I seemed to have reached an understanding, and I was hopeful I’d have the support I needed moving forward with my plans.
Before I could leave, I needed to see Christian. I’d been trying to connect with him since the day after my return to Austin, but it seemed he was always too busy. Today, however, he’d made time for me.
Sitting on a large sofa, I gazed around the elegant living room and tried not to feel intimidated by the displays of wealth boxing me in. I’d been here before, but always for a party and never alone. It was easy to pretend I was just at a friend’s house when surrounded with people. Marble floors and furniture which cost more than my childhood home stood out more in an empty room devoid of conversation.
After a few minutes, Christian rounded the corner and entered the room, his face lighting up when he laid eyes on me.
“Kins!” he bellowed, trotting into the room and reaching out for me.
Standing, I went to meet him, and found myself crushed against his long, broad frame. I closed my eyes and savored the moment. Christian’s hugs were the best, and I’d missed moments like this—perhaps more than I’d missed anything else. Jenn and Chloe might be my best friends, but there had always been a special connection between Chris and me that couldn’t really be explained. Seeing him again made me feel as if I had finally arrived at home.
“I missed you,” I told him when we finally pulled apart.
“You too,” he replied. “Come on, let’s go sit outside. I want to talk to you without worrying about people listening in.”
Eyebrows raised, I followed him toward the double French doors opening out to a small terrace overlooking their sprawling property. I watched him walk ahead of me, noting that he didn’t limp anymore.
“You look great,” I remarked, closing the doors behind me and joining him at the white wicker couch facing other similar pieces of furniture. It was still early enough that the heat hadn’t become oppressive yet. “I can’t even detect a limp when you walk.”
Smiling, he slouched on the chair beside me, draping one of his long arms against the back of the sofa.
“I had a really good physical therapist. I have to wear a brace when I work out, and it hurts when the weather is bad, but I’m mostly back to my old self.”
Turning to face him, I studied him closely, noticing quite a difference. He was still his perfectly handsome self, yet something had changed. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Except you’re not,” I murmured.
Chris gave me a sheepish look. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “A little. I mean, I just went through some pretty big life changes myself, so maybe it’s easier for me to see on first glance. You’re going through something, and whatever it is, you aren’t ready to tell everyone. Maybe no one will really understand it. But I’m listening if you’re ready to talk about it.”
For a long time, he didn’t say a word. He simply stared off across the sprawling lawn, the sun causing his baby blue eyes to glitter beneath dark, black eyebrows.
“You ever dated a white guy before?” he asked.
I watched his face and ears turn crimson the second the question was out of his mouth, as if he’d been afraid to ask.
“No,” I replied. “Mainly because the option never really presented itself. I lived in a pretty regular suburban neighborhood, and my school was a nice mix of cultures. But none of the white boys ever asked me out … but I probably would have said yes if any of them did. I’ve dated mostly black guys, and one Indian my mom hooked me up with through a friend. I think there might have been some arranged marriage plans behind that one, so thank God it didn’t work out.”
Furrowing his brow, he turned to look at me. “You ever wonder why they didn’t ask you out? I mean … didn’t that ever bother you?”
I sat up straighter and turned until one of my legs was bent and propped up on the sofa. “Chris, where are these questions coming from? What’s going on?”
His ears went red again and he glanced down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. “I started volunteering to help coach this little league football team last semester. One of the kids I coached has a sister …”
I grinned. “And you like her.”
He nodded, a little smile curving his lips. “A lot.”
“Wow,” I exclaimed, reaching out to touch his forehead. “Are you sick? Is the world coming to an end? Christian Carver developed actual feelings for a girl?”
He laughed, giving my hand a playful slap. “I know, it’s surprising, but it really caught me off guard. Mainly because I wasn’t looking to start up a relationship or anything. I don’t know … one day I just started seeing her differently. Next thing you know, she’s all I can think about.”
“So, this girl is black, I gather.”
Nodding, he turned to look at me again. “Yeah.”
“Oh my God,” I gasped dramatically. “Someone call the crayon police; they’re mixing the colors again!”
Fanning myself with my hands, I really turned up the dramatics, pretending to faint against the back of the couch.
“Don’t be a smartass,” he griped, giving me a look from the corner of his eye. “I didn’t even think about the fact that she was black at first … I just liked her.”
Lifting my eyebrows, I gave him a confused look. “So, what’s the big deal?”
“People,” he muttered. “They say things … racist things. People I thought were my friends. My parents. I just … I didn’t expect it.”
Pressing my lips together, I avoided his gaze. Nothing about hearing his parents might have a problem with his black girlfriend surprised me, and I doubted it would surprise anyone else Christian was friends with. While the Carvers had never been anything but nice to me, I knew they wouldn’t have exactly liked the idea of Chris and I as a couple. It hadn’t been hard for me to figure out that Christian’s mother, in particular, had certain ideas about the type of woman her son should date and eventually marry.
“Am I naïve?” he continued. “I mean, this isn’t 1950. I didn’t expect it to be like this.”
I placed a hand over his. “Honey, the only thing that’s changed since 1950 are the laws. People are still people, and we all have prejudices whether we are conscious of them or not. If you care about this girl, none of it should matter.”
He nodded. “I know, and it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just … I’m scared, Kins. I’m scared that someone will say something to hurt her, or try to interfere because they don’t like the way we look together or … I don’t know. How the hell am I supposed to protect her from that?”
I gave him a smile and squeezed his hand. “A black girl in her twenties has likely experienced prejudice before, Chris. It’s nothing new. And I know you’re a protector. It’s part of who you are, and it’s part of why I love you so much. But in a relationship like this, you won’t be able to shield her from everything. What you can do is endure it with her.”
He smiled and pulled me against him, giving me a tight hug. “God, you’re the best. I’m glad you’re home, I was going nuts without someone to talk to about this.”
“You could have talked to Luke or Jenn.”
Rolling his eyes, he frowned. “Luke would just tell me to beat anyone’s ass who
talks crap about my girl, and Jenn would be all optimistic and perky—telling me everything will be okay as long as we have love. You’re more realistic, and I appreciate that about you.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “Please. You only asked because I’m half black.”
I laughed at my joke, but Christian didn’t, falling silent and studying me pensively.
“You do know that if you weren’t one of my best friends, I would totally make a move on you, right?” he asked. “I mean, of the three of you, I just … I would choose you.”
“Yeah, only that would practically be incest,” I said, trying not to let the fact that I was flattered show. I would have thought Chris would prefer Chloe. “I mean, just thinking of it makes me want to hurl.”
He winced, then pretended to gag. “Agreed. Let’s never speak of it again.”
Leaning back on the couch, we sat in silence for a moment, simply enjoying the pleasant weather and each other’s company. I had missed this aspect of hanging out with Chris.
“So, is that why you’ve been so out of the loop with everyone lately?” I asked suddenly. “You’ve got Jenn and Chloe all worried about you.”
“It’s more than that,” he admitted. “I’ve been feeling a bit unsure about where to go from here. I graduated, got offered a job, and realized I didn’t want it. I don’t know, I think maybe my dad was right all this time. Maybe being a coach isn’t enough. This girl … she makes me want to try harder, to be something greater than what I am. I wish you could have met her today, because you would really like her. She’s everything I’m not, and I feel like she’s already taught me so much about who I want to be. Problem is, I don’t know how to go about becoming who I want to be without upending my entire life.”
Apparently, this was far more serious than I’d thought. Christian had always respected women, despite being a bit of a rolling stone. He never made promises he couldn’t keep, and never offered more than he was willing to give. The way he spoke of this girl was unlike anything I’d ever heard from him. Christian had obviously fallen in love, whether he realized it yet or not.
“Listen,” I said. “If this girl is smart, she will see you for the amazing, sweet, kind person you are, and I doubt she’ll want you to change for her. If she does, then I don’t care how amazing she is, she’s not the one for you. As far as your future goes, only you can decide if you’re doing the right thing or not. I, for one, think you could make a huge difference in the lives of young men by coaching them. But, if you think there’s something else out there for you, then you owe it to yourself to explore the options.”
“You really think so?” he asked, his expression dubious.
I could understand why he was so baffled; before leaving Willow Creek, I wasn’t exactly an ‘explore the options’ kind of girl.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Besides, if you do decide to change paths, you won’t be alone. I’m starting over in the spring to study art.”
Christian blinked several times and shook his head, as if uncertain that he’d heard those words come from my mouth.
“Okay, now it’s my turn to freak out,” he joked. “You want to study art?”
Patting his knee, I stood. “It’s a long story, but the short version of it is that this is something I always wanted to do. Now, I finally get the chance. Starting over can be scary, but it’s also exciting.”
Joining me on his feet, Chris walked me back toward the French doors. “So, does this whole starting over thing involve Aaron?”
Pausing by the door, I turned to face him. “Aaron and I are over. For good this time.”
“Really?” he asked. “I gotta say, I didn’t see that one coming. I always thought that idiot would realize he’d made a mistake and come back to ride off with you into the sunset.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I leaned against the door and avoided his gaze. “Well, he tried, and I was going to let him.”
Chris leaned toward me, trying to catch my gaze. “But?”
I sighed. “I realized I didn’t want the things I thought I wanted, either.”
“Okay, what’s his name?”
“Ugh, how do you do that?” I groaned.
“I know you,” he chuckled. “Who is this guy you’ve been trying to avoid telling me about?”
“His name is Royce,” I replied, deciding there was no use trying to hide anything from him. “But he lives in Houston, and he’s a counselor at Willow Creek, and … it’s just not going to work.”
Grabbing my shoulders, he gave me a brilliant smile. “I’m a rich white guy, and I’m crazy about this black girl from the hood. You just told me to go for it, so you don’t get to tell me about how it wouldn’t work. Do you like this guy?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “So much, it scares me.”
“Then I’m about to tell you what you told me, because you have always been one of those super smart people who doesn’t know how to take their own advice. You owe it to yourself to see where things might lead. No one is saying you have to marry the guy, but damn, at least give it a chance.”
With a sigh, I let him lead me back into the house and toward the front door. “I hate you so much right now. I needed you to talk me out of doing something stupid, not talk me into it.”
Leaning against the doorframe, he grinned. “You don’t hate me. You love me, and you know I’m right. You’re usually the one talking people out of doing stupid crap … if you need an out, you’re not getting one from me.”
Giving him one last hug, I left him on the doorstep and walked back to my car. Once inside, I cranked it but didn’t move. I simply sat, staring through the front windshield for at least ten minutes, wrestling with myself. Was Christian right about me? Was I only capable of giving sound advice but not taking it? Maybe it was time for me to stop worrying about what could or couldn’t work. After all, that was one of the things that had landed me in rehab in the first place.
I closed my eyes, thinking of Royce and all the ways things could go perfectly right between us. By the time I opened my eyes and threw the car into drive, I had made my decision.
Grabbing my cell phone from my purse, I autodialed Jenn before pulling out of the Carvers’ circular driveway.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jenn,” I said, my gaze on the road as her voice came at me over the Bluetooth speakers. “You guys should probably not wait up for me tonight.”
I could hear the confusion in her voice when she replied. “Why not?”
Tightening my hands on the wheel, I smiled. “Because, I’m going to Houston.”
Chapter Twenty
Pacing back and forth in front of my car, I darted a glance at the glass double doors leading into Willow Creek about every thirty seconds. My hands shook at my side, and I couldn’t seem to reconcile myself with what I was about to do. I’d spent hours in the car preparing myself, even practicing what I would say once Royce walked through those doors at the end of his workday. But now that I was here, my tongue had turned into a useless piece of flesh, and I couldn’t stop pacing. The adrenaline making my blood rush had also given me a serious case of the jitters.
The sun would be setting soon, but the heat of the day persisted, causing a light sheen of sweat to break out along my brow. I’d neglected to get water during my one stop for gas, but I couldn’t leave now—not when Royce would appear through those doors any minute.
‘Any minute’ turned out to be almost half an hour. Yet, when the doors parted and he stepped through them—dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt, his long stride carrying him across the parking lot—it felt as if this was all happening too soon. Forcing myself into motion, I made a beeline toward him, telling myself that it was now or never. I had come all this way, and I couldn’t let fear rule me now.
Before I could call out to him, he turned his head in my direction, as if he’d sensed my determined gaze on him. Surprise showed on his face before it was quickly replaced with confusion, and something els
e I couldn’t exactly pinpoint. Was he happy to see me?
“Kinsley,” he said, coming to a stop as I caught up to him. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”
“N-no,” I stammered. “I mean, yes I’m okay, but … I needed to tell you …”
Every word I had practiced in the car fled my mind, and I couldn’t think past admiring the way the setting sun made his brown eyes come alive with honeyed prisms, and bathed his skin with an amber glow. The intensity of his stare as he met my gaze and held it unnerved me as much as it thrilled. I felt my chest heave as I struggled to draw breath into my lungs, and the trembling began again, wracking my entire body.
“I needed to tell you …” I tried again.
Royce slid his backpack off his shoulder and allowed it to fall to the pavement. Taking a step toward me, he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“Tell me what?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.
With a low groan, I threw myself at him. Our bodies collided first, meeting from chest to hip, the connection searing me to the bone on contact. Before I could consider whether or not it would be a good idea, I took his face in my hands and pulled his head down toward mine. Gripping my waist, Royce closed the remaining distance between us, slamming his lips over mine with an urgency that matched my own.
The kiss wasn’t gentle, but he seemed to have realized I didn’t want it to be. I’d spent months daydreaming about this moment, telling myself that imagining it was as close as I’d ever come to experiencing it. Now that it was actually happening, I found that my daydreams hardly lived up to the real thing.
Royce kissed me with a thoroughness that struck me as aligning with the way he did everything—with purpose and with passion, giving me everything he had, then giving me more. His hands became possessive at my waist, his fingers digging into my ribs as he skimmed them upward. One of his arms wrapped around me, anchoring me against him, while his opposite hand skimmed up between my shoulder blades, caressing up over my spine to the back of my neck before tangling in my hair. He threaded his fingers through the strands, holding me captive as he drank from my mouth as if starved for whatever he might find inside.
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