He glanced over his shoulder, saw Shay still talking with her sister. If he came back to Southern California every month he could see her, too...but no, she was going to France. Fucking faraway France.
Looking back at his daughter, he noticed she was scowling. “What’s the matter now?”
“I don’t like the idea of you ‘checking’ on me.” Lifting her hands, she put the word in scare quotes. “I’m fifteen, remember?”
“Yes.” So old. This time when he reached out, he stroked her hair instead of tousling it. “How about we call it something else...something simple. Visiting?”
“But not just to make sure I’m keeping up with my homework or not dyeing my hair green. It needs to be more of a sharing thing. You tell me about your work, what you’re doing. I tell you about school, what I’m doing.”
“Okay.”
That sounded much like the conversations they’d been managing to have at the dining table here at Blue Arrow Lake, with Shay directing, or prodding, or initiating, whatever was needed. Those had been the most entertaining meals in his memory and he’d miss them when he was eating alone again, going over plans and running numbers for the latest phase of the latest project.
Back in the rat race.
Back on the hamster wheel.
For some reason he thought of the fantasy future Shay had concocted for him. Bowled over by love, you’ll rearrange your life to cease almost all the travel—except for jaunts you can do as a family.
He rubbed at his forehead, disturbed at how good that sounded. But he was incapable of loving like a family man should know how to do. Not only had his old man been a lousy example, but the early failure of Jace’s own marriage and the way he’d walked away from his daughter had also proved that.
“Jace,” London suddenly said.
Jace. He realized, with another pang, that she’d never called him Dad. Who could blame her? “Yeah?”
“I know it was you who sent the books.”
Going still, he stared at her. She was leaning against the railing, her gaze on the lake, where the reflection of the moon rippled on the water. “Books?” he asked, cautious.
“The ones that came every month. How...how did you pick them out?”
“You told me your mom—”
“I don’t know why I said that.” She shoved her hands in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. “I just wanted to...I don’t know.”
To hurt him, he thought with sudden insight, like she’d been hurt. “It’s all right,” he said. “I understand.”
She threw a quick glance at him. “When they came in the mail, Mom handed them over, or Opal. No one hid that they were from you.”
He was glad about that. It seemed like such a small thing to do—but had been important to him, too. His best memories of his little girl had been reading to her and because it was clear she’d loved books, he’d sent her a packet of them every month.
London looked over now. “I have a hard time picturing you browsing the children’s and teen section at a bookstore, though.”
“I did, actually.”
“No!”
“Yes. Some that I picked were my own favorites.”
“Willie Wonka? The BFG?”
He smiled. “And Harry Potter, of course.”
“But there were lots of...well, I guess I’d call them girl books.”
“I made a contact. A retired librarian. She’s helped me with recommendations over the years.”
“Mystery solved,” she said. “I’ve been wondering.”
And it seemed as if asking the question showed she trusted him a little. He couldn’t express how glad that made him feel. “Do you want to know another secret?”
Clearly intrigued, her brows rose. “Sure.”
“This has gotta be hush-hush. Seriously messes with my man cred.”
“Man cred?”
“Man credibility. None of the guys will ever invite me into a football pool again if this gets out.”
Her lips twitched. “Do I have to cross my heart?”
He held out his little finger. “Pinkie swear.”
When she hesitated, he explained what he meant. Pain knifed into his heart when she curled her much, much smaller digit around his. “Do I say anything?” she asked, looking up into his face.
“On pain of death,” he answered solemnly.
She giggled. “On pain of death.”
Then their hands unlinked, and he surprisingly, keenly, felt the loss. Jace leaned close to his daughter. Whispered, “I bought double sets.”
She frowned, then her face cleared. “Of the books?”
“Yep. I read them right along with you. I do a lot of traveling, I spend a lot of nights alone, so they came in handy. Even those ‘girl’ books.” He mimicked her scare quotes.
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “We...we sort of had a book club.”
“We sort of did.” He hesitated. “And we can again...would you like that?”
Her smile broadened, showing her pearly whites, then she bit it back. At fifteen, he knew, she wouldn’t want to show too much enthusiasm for anything. Particularly when it came to him.
But when she said, “I would like that,” it felt as if the heavens had opened and even though it was still night, that a brilliant beam of sun bathed the top of his head and the breadth of his shoulders.
Shay’s voice echoed in his head again. Jace, she’s special. You know that, right?
And he also knew that even though it was the best thing to do, it was going to be damn rough to walk away from his daughter again.
* * *
EVEN THOUGH THEIR time at Blue Arrow Lake was running out, London’s father hadn’t given up putting in hours at the Walker cabins. He said he liked the chance to work with tools instead of spreadsheets and blueprints. Shay went with him in the afternoons, which had left London free to hang out—usually with Amy. Sometimes with Amy and Colton.
Today she’d been roped into helping at the old ski resort herself, though, because Mason had called, begging to see her. Now he and Poppy had gone home and she was supposed to be meeting Amy and one of her friends in the local hideout in the Walker woods...the most remote and dilapidated cabin. Arrow High was out for the year now, and the girls were planning to get there via mountain bike.
London had kept quiet about the local kids using the old place. So far, the Walker family had been focused on the most easily accessible cabins in the clearing. When they started rehabbing the rest, the teens would figure it out, she was sure, and abandon their use of it.
Grabbing a water bottle from the cooler they’d brought with them, London waved to get Shay’s attention. She was on a ladder, cleaning gutters, while Jace was inside one of the other bungalows doing something that involved loud electric sawing noises.
“What’s up?” Shay asked, wiping her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist.
“I’m going for a hike, okay?”
“Do you have your phone?”
London patted the front pocket of her shorts.
“We don’t always have the best signal strength out here,” Shay warned. “A text will go through if a call won’t, though.”
“Got it.”
“No more than an hour, okay?”
London waved again and headed into the surrounding woods. It was cooler here than in the clearing, and it smelled like clean earth and warm leaves. She trailed her fingers over the barks of the trees as she wound around them, a sort of goodbye.
A squirrel zipped past and scampered up a pine and she watched his ascent, until he paused on a branch, looking down at her with bright eyes. He chattered, his tone scolding.
“I’m moving along, see?” she said, strolling past his tree. “And I’ll be gone altogether s
oon.”
The thought made her footsteps drag. She shuffled through the decaying leaves and dried pine needles and wondered what she’d be doing a month from now. Six months from now.
What someone else directed her to do, of course.
Sighing, she kicked at a pinecone and watched it fly. It reminded her of that boat ride she’d taken with Colton, when she’d felt the air rush past. That day she’d thought her life was about to begin.
Now she was back to being a fifteen-year-old freak, anticipating becoming the new girl at a new school.
A fifteen-year-old freak who had learned to drive the boat herself, though, she thought, brightening a little. And maybe not so much a freak, because she had better hair now and better clothes and best of all—a friend in Amy. Maybe Colton, too, though she’d hoped that might turn into something more.
That wasn’t going to come true, either, she supposed. Time had practically run out.
She was moving on to the next school, never kissed.
Up ahead was the cabin that the kids used as their hideout. She’d discovered it before and when Colton mentioned it knew instantly the one he meant. As she approached the bungalow, she frowned. No mountain bikes were parked outside. Instead, a dusty and battered lean motorcycle stood braced on its kickstand.
Hesitating, she slid her hand in her pocket and fingered her phone. “Ames?” she called out. “Amy?”
From around the corner of the cabin came Colton. “Oh,” she said, putting her hand over her heart.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, you didn’t.” How could he, looking all windblown and tall? She didn’t know if he’d worn braces like his sister, but his teeth were perfectly even, perfectly white.
He was so perfect.
“I was expecting Amy.”
“Yeah. Last-minute babysitting job.” He dangled a plastic grocery bag in his hand. “I told her I’d bring the books she wanted to give you.”
“Thanks.” Feeling oddly shy, London moved forward to grab them. When she was closer, she could smell a hint of that shampoo he used. It reminded her of the other times they’d met at the boathouse and she realized this was the first time they’d been alone since she’d been introduced to his sister.
Something fluttered to life in her belly.
“How’s it going?” Colton said. He crossed to a fallen log and dropped onto it, resting his elbows on his knees.
He wore a pair of jeans. Another white T-shirt. Instead of flip-flops he was wearing a pair of work boots.
She gestured to them. “I’ve never seen you in real shoes.” Then her face burned. What an idiotic thing to say!
But Colton didn’t seem to mind. Stretching out his legs, he tapped the toes together. “When I’m out on my motorcycle, it’s the rule.” His mouth quirked. “See, I don’t get everything I want, either.”
London nodded, unsure what to add.
“Am I getting the silent treatment again?” he asked, smiling. Then he patted a spot next to him on the log. “Sit. You’re giving me a crook in my neck.”
London did as directed, and set the bag of books by her feet. Amy was a big fan of the fantasy genre and was lending her the first three volumes of one of her favorite series.
“I’m glad we have this chance to talk alone.”
Her head turned toward him, belly fluttering again. “Oh?”
“I wanted to thank you for making sure my sister didn’t follow through with her harebrained schemes the other night.”
“You wouldn’t have let her.”
“Yeah, but she would have felt bad that way. It’s better that you nixed the idea.”
She felt her mouth curve. “I couldn’t see myself writing that Anne Frank–inspired book.”
He laughed, then shook his head. “I know. She’s supposed to be smart, but I don’t really see it myself.”
London shrugged a shoulder, still smiling. “She has good taste in new friends,” she said. “And big brothers.”
Oh, God, she thought, panicking a little. Where had that come from? And why had it come out sounding a little...flirty?
Colton was looking at her no differently than a moment before, however, so that was good.
Or was it?
She swallowed, trying to ease her suddenly dry throat. Here she was, alone with the boy of her dreams, for possibly the very last time.
And she’d never been kissed.
This might be her final opportunity to be kissed by Colton.
Wiping her damp palms on her denim shorts, she tried thinking how she could make that happen. What signals must she send to get him to take the hint?
First, she was too far away. Trying to be as smooth as possible, she wiggled her butt on the log and then feigned pain. “Ouch,” she said, jumping to her feet. She rubbed her back pockets and noted with a combination of nerves and satisfaction that Colton’s gaze was following the movement.
It jerked up to her face and he cleared his throat. “You’re hurt?”
“Just a knot or something.” She reseated herself, this time right next to him. “Better here.”
“Yeah. Good,” he muttered.
London did not know where to go with this next. She had zero experience, freak that she was. Perspiration prickled under her arms and she hoped her deodorant wouldn’t give out. Her mouth still felt minty fresh, though, thanks to the gum Mason had shared with her earlier.
The birds were the only ones interrupting the silence. London stared at her knees and prayed for inspiration. “So about that Seven Minutes in Heaven game,” she said, out of nowhere.
Her face burned again. Why had she brought that up? She was not only a freak, but also an idiot. And if she’d had a hoodie she would have crawled inside it like a sleeping bag, zipping herself inside.
“What about it?” Colton asked.
“You’ve played it a lot?”
“In seventh and eighth grade a few times. We were bored that night and Janice thought it would be funny to do it again.”
“Ah.”
“I wouldn’t have played it at the boathouse, though.”
She glanced over at him. “No?”
“I didn’t think you should have, either,” Colton said. “Especially with Sam.”
Was he jealous? And why did he say he wouldn’t have played? Did that mean he wouldn’t have played with her? “What’s wrong with Sam?”
“Nothing, except you don’t know him.”
“So...you only kiss people you know?” She looked at him from under her lashes.
He shrugged. “London...”
“How well do you think one should know the people one kisses?” She could feel the heat of his body all along the side of hers and all she could think about was what it would feel like against hers. What his lips would feel like when they touched hers.
Where had all the oxygen gone? Didn’t trees and plants make the stuff?
Gathering up her courage, she looked at Colton again. He was staring down at her, a question in his eyes.
But he’d not answered hers. “I said, how well do you think one should know the people one kisses?”
“I guess...I guess it depends,” he said slowly.
“How about me and you?” She was going to win a prize as the bravest girl in the universe. “Do you think we know each other well enough?”
He leaned away from her, a crease digging between his eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
And he called his sister harebrained! London clasped her hands together, trying to decide what hint to lay down next. But the free hour she had was running down, her time at Blue Arrow Lake was nearly gone, and if she spent one more day without a kiss from a boy she...would...die.
Taking a deep
breath, she put her hands on his shoulders, lifted up off the log a few crucial inches and...
Planted her mouth on his.
His lips were warm and a little chapped and she smelled his shampoo and grape soda. His muscles were rigid beneath her palms, his whole body seemed to be as still as a statue, and she hadn’t the slightest idea what to do next.
She knew about tongues and wet sloppies—which didn’t sound so icky when Colton was involved—but should she just poke it in there? And why wasn’t he doing anything, including kissing her back?
A wave of humiliation rolled up from her toes. She scrambled away from him, staring at him in sudden horror. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
He rose off the log, both palms up in the air. “No, it’s okay. I should have said something. I didn’t know...I didn’t think...”
Where were the predator drones when she could use one? Right now would be a good time for something to drop from the sky and annihilate her. A prick of tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she told herself she could not cry.
She began backing away. “I’ve got to go.”
“England, wait. Wait just a minute.”
Shaking her head, she kept her feet moving in the opposite direction. “I’ve got to go,” she repeated.
“I have a girlfriend,” Colton said.
London’s spine smacked into a tree, halting her movement.
“She’s taking a semester in South America. She’ll be back next week.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I made promises.”
“Of course you did,” London said. “I’m so, um, happy for you both.” Then she whirled and ran through the forest. A fifteen-year-old who had kissed, but who still had never been kissed.
A freak.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JACE MET UP with Shay at the cooler they’d filled with cold drinks and brought to the cabins. He lifted his arm to dry his sweaty face on the short sleeve of his T-shirt. “Hot today,” he said.
“Summer,” she replied as if her mind were a million miles away.
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