Suffice to say, my pity party stopped abruptly when his words, devoid of emotion, but only because I knew he was blocking it, caused my heart to crack. The truth of it was there, and he was right. Poor or rich didn’t matter. Everyone had problems. Rich people are just better at covering theirs up. I just wanted him to see that it didn’t matter to me. Who he was and how I felt about him had nothing to do with where he lived or whether or not he could afford to buy me presents, but I knew it was going to take time for him to see that.
We spent the rest of that day together and I kept the gift I’d bought him put away, knowing it would only make him feel worse, and we found different things to talk about. The scowl was gone from his brow, and my favorite soft smile was back on his face. I felt hopeful that we would get past this rift between us. I was determined not to let him feel it. I told myself right then that I wouldn’t ask to go out to movies, or dinner dates. I wouldn’t make a big deal of holidays or events. I was perfectly fine if the only thing we ever did was this right here. I didn’t care what we were doing or where we were, I just wanted to be with him.
But I was seventeen, and so hopeful and naïve that I didn’t realize just how badly life had beaten Kellen down, or how deeply ingrained the lessons he’d been taught were, or the role my mother would play in reinforcing those notions.
Lying in his arms, I was happy, and I believed that we could get through anything.
I was still in his arms when my mother returned home from the spa. It wasn’t the first, or even the second or third time she’d come home to find Kellen in our house, or been here when I brought him over. I did my best to keep them apart and hold off her rants until he was gone, but for whatever reason when she came home that night, she was on a tear.
The kitchen door off of the garage opened and slammed shut, and I ignored it, expecting her to just go to her room, or pour herself one of many glasses of wine and retire to the living room. His car was in our drive and there was no way she’d missed it, so when she hollered my name instead, I knew what it would be about.
“Shaeleigh!” her shrill voice called up the stairs.
I pried myself out of Kellen’s arms and told him I would be right back.
I found her in the kitchen, and my first thought was that she’d wasted her money on three days at the spa because it’d done nothing to help her relax. She looked pissed, not refreshed. She started in right away about how I was spending too much time with that boy, wouldn’t even use his name. She’d tolerated it long enough, let me have my little rebellion with the bad boy, but she’d grown tired of it. She and Jeremy’s mother were on the board of several community foundations together. Kellen was nothing but a delinquent, not even juvenile because he was eighteen, and she had an opinion about that too and the fact that the mayor had seen me kissing Kellen last week outside of Brook’s, Derek’s family’s restaurant, when I was visiting him on his break.
His father was a criminal, his brother was a criminal and she was sure that criminal genes must run in that family. He had no future. He would hold me back and drag me down. Already she didn’t like the changes she was seeing in me. I’d developed an attitude problem and was defiant and argumentative and my priorities were grossly skewed.
Of course she wouldn’t like that for the first time since our family broke, I was standing up for myself, expressing my own opinions and not cow towing to please her, or pretending to be the perfect daughter or perfect anything else. She just couldn’t accept that this was the real me, and wanted to blame Kellen.
I reminded her that she hadn’t bothered to try to be a parent for the last nine years and it didn’t suit her now. I left her in the kitchen and went back upstairs to Kellen, not knowing that he’d stood at the foot of the staircase and listened to the entire argument and every awful thing she’d said about him, or that it wasn’t the last time her words would cause irreparable damage.
I did have my eyes open though, and I knew whatever was ahead of us, wouldn’t be easy, which is why I stared at his text message now, without replying. Was I ready for tomorrow? For Christmas break to be over and to go back to school where it wouldn’t just be my mother trying to come between us? Was I ready to listen to everyone tell us how we didn’t belong together? No. I was not, but I couldn’t tell him that.
I took too long to text him back and the text message on my screen was replaced by an incoming call with a picture of the two of us I’d taken yesterday out in the hot tub. I was smiling at the camera, my back to his chest. His head was bent in the crook of my neck, kissing my shoulder.
“Hey,” I answered softly.
“Are you worried about going back to school?” he cut right to it, correctly guessing where my head was at.
“I just don’t want things to be different once we’re back around everyone else.”
A heavy breath came over the line. “It won’t.”
“I’m afraid it will.”
“But it won’t. I know I’m still figuring this out, and the Christmas thing sucked, and I’m sorry I messed that up.”
“You didn’t mess it up. We’re both still figuring out how this works, how we work.”
“And we will, at least that’s what I want. I want us to figure this out together.”
“I want that too.”
“Then what are you scared of? We don’t know what’s going to happen, we can’t control everything, but I know how I feel about you.”
“And I know how I feel about you,” I echoed back to him.
“Okay, then everything else is just stuff, and we’ll deal with it as it comes up.”
It sounded so easy when he said it, and I think he actually believed it and that confidence bled into me. The next morning came and we walked into the school hand in hand, and it wasn’t the big deal I’d built it up to be in my head. Some people talked, and rumors made their rounds again, but most didn’t care. They were so wrapped up in their own drama. I got looks from the girls, but they kept their opinions to themselves and the ones who couldn’t, well they weren’t my problem.
Jeremy kept his distance, and when we did run into each other he was civil. We were a long way from friends, but he gave up the vendetta with Kellen. He and Daisy were dating now, and I found it didn’t bother me. Kellen and I settled into our version of normal and it was good.
He’d tease me when we walked down the hall and I was in my cheer uniform and he was in his ripped jeans and worn boots, but he kept my hand firmly in his and even showed up to the last few basketball games of the season.
I bullied him into studying and doing homework, which saw a spike in his GPA. He was so damn smart, but never saw the point of putting in the effort when work was his primary focus. I found creative ways to make it worth it for him, some of which involved slightly less clothing than others.
January faded to February, and February to March, and there were still people who hated our relationship, namely my mother, and some of the girls who were used to Kellen being a readily available hookup. I didn’t care. I was less than three months away from my eighteenth birthday and a couple weeks after that was graduation. Our futures were coming at us fast, and I knew that whatever came next, I wanted Kellen with me.
He pushed and challenged me and believed in me in a way that made me believe in myself. Not even Didi, with all of her support and encouragement over the years, had been able to give me what Kellen did. I tried to do the same for him, make him see what I saw, the talent and intelligence, but he was never as open to talking about his future and his plans. It would have worried me except that I saw in his eyes a reflection of everything I felt, and I knew we’d figure it out.
I never once doubted that what he felt was any less than I felt. I hadn’t said the words yet, but I think he knew. I showed him in every way I could, and he gave it all back to me. We didn’t need the words. Sometimes I wished he’d say them, but with everything I knew, every part of him he let me see, including finally letting me into his house and his past, they wou
ld never come easy to him. I also knew if I was the one to use them first, before he was ready to hear them, he’d think it was one more thing he couldn’t give me. He wanted me to have all that I wished for. His dreams for me were far bigger than for himself. He wanted to give me everything I wanted.
His mistake was thinking that I wanted the world, when all I wanted was him.
Twenty-Eight
Shae
May 9
Present …
Primer splattered and I felt it speckle my face as I ran the roller up the wall. I wiped my forearm across my forehead, probably smearing it, and kept rolling. I was on the last section, almost all of the ocean blue paint that adorned the walls was covered and ready for a makeover. Liz and Cici were at the paint store picking up several buckets of pineapple cream, a soft beige color like white sand, and Turkish coffee for the trim and accents. It was a real deep, dark, rich taupe. We’d played with color samples, mixing and matching, before settling on the two. They were both warm, neutral colors that would work well with the relaxed, cozy, beachy atmosphere we were hoping to create.
The painting was just the first step, but already the vision in my head was coming to life. The construction and plumbing guys were here this morning, expanding our counter space, putting in sinks and outfitting us for an espresso set-up. Tomorrow our mission was furniture and décor, while hopefully they finished fitting the espresso bar. Wednesday, if all went as planned and the work was done, we could begin setting up our equipment, which was scheduled to be delivered then, and that would put us right on track with our health inspection on Friday.
Our biggest concern now was the book shipment. After countless phone calls, emails and rushed paperwork, we’d set up accounts with two different book distributors, and both were doing everything they could to rush us our first order, so our shelves would be stocked in time for Books ‘N’ Brew to officially open its doors on schedule. Of course if we didn’t have the books to go with our brew, it would be a flop and we’d have to postpone.
It was madness and so much still had to come together to make it happen in just under three weeks. We were all scrambling, but even as I did the mind-numbing job of rolling the brush up and down the walls, my thoughts weren’t on the millions of things still to be done. It kept straying to last night.
I pushed harder on the roller, milking every last drop of paint from the brush and working out some of my frustrations. When it ran dry, I smacked it down in the paint tray, sending a spray up over the sides and onto the drop cloth. I rolled it through the paint and then slapped it on the wall again, rolling fast and hard as I played over the scene on the porch. My arms and back ached with the unnecessary force I was putting behind the roller.
When the last strip of blue disappeared beneath the white primer, my shoulders sagged and I lowered the roller, once again wiping at, and probably further smearing, the paint on my face. The door chimed and I turned, expecting to see Cici and Liz, arms laden with buckets of paint, and instead came face to face with the source of my frustration.
Hands tucked into his pockets, he stood there, a grey tee stretched across his chest and shoulders, exposing those strong, inked arms. A black beanie was pulled low on his forehead, despite the sun that was shining down outside. A look of uncertainty shadowed his features.
“I thought I asked for time.” I’d meant more than a day. I wasn’t sure that a month would be enough for me to be ready to face him again.
“I know.” His boots sounded on the tile as he crossed the room toward me. “But I also know you, and the more time I give you, the more you’re going to work yourself up and then we’ll be right back where we were two weeks ago with you hating the sight of me.”
I straightened my shoulders defensively as he came to stand directly in front of me. “You don’t know me anymore.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you haven’t spent the last fourteen hours letting yourself get hot under the collar.” His brow arched and he cocked his head challengingly.
“How do you expect me to feel?” I bit out, setting the roller aside and folding my arms over my chest.
His lips twitched. “You know, you were always cute when you were pissed at me,” he reached for the damp rag sitting on the counter, “but the paint all over your face is even cuter.”
I snatched it out of his hands and scrubbed at my cheeks and forehead.
He gave his head a soft shake, and an airy chuckle fell from his lips. “Here, let me.” He took the rag from my hands.
I scowled. “I can do it.”
He ignored me, coming even closer, too close, and gently wiped at a few spots on my face. I made the mistake of breathing in through my nose, catching faint traces of something slightly spicy with an underlying, woodsy fragrance and a tinge of something sweet, maybe citrus. I fought the desire to close my eyes and breathe it in deeper. It was the kind of smell you wanted to wrap yourself in, light and masculine, not too strong or overpowering. It was a scent laundry detergent manufacturers had yet to market, but if they ever did, there wasn’t a female in the country who wouldn’t want to wash her bedding in it. I’d never get out of bed.
His thumb replaced the rag, brushing just below my bottom lip and it was enough to make me forget about how good he smelled and jerk myself away. His hand pulled back and he returned the rag to the counter. “I can see it in your eyes again,” he murmured, almost defeated.
“What?” I asked guardedly.
“All the walls are back up and you’re hiding the light again. You started to let them down on the beach and then last night on your front porch, you were letting me in.”
“The light’s been gone for a long time, and the walls, those are back up because you reminded me that I can’t trust you,” I bristled.
“I don’t get it, Shae. I thought telling you the truth would make it easier for you to understand. I thought it would take away some of the hurt.”
“You let me believe a lie for seven years, all because back then you weren’t man enough to just admit to my face that you didn’t want us.” I hated that my voice wavered and shook.
“How can you say that?”
“Because, you let me go! You didn’t fight for us!” My whole body was trembling now, humiliation compounding the anger, rising hot to the surface.
“I let you go because it was the right thing to do! Making you believe the lie was the only way I knew you would, because you deserved more. I was only ever going to hold you back.”
“No, you were a coward and you took the easy way out!” I shouted, igniting his anger and causing his temper to flare.
“Easy way out? Not one damn second of that was easy! It was fucking torture. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. After you left, I woke up every single fucking day feeling like there was a chunk of me missing, this huge, gaping hole in my chest, and I thought it would get better. I thought it would go away, and I even believed it did, but then there you were, two weeks ago, your ass on the sidewalk, your eyes looking up at me with so much hate and it ripped me wide open again.”
“I don’t believe you!” I cried through the brimming tears. “You don’t lie to someone you love. You don’t manipulate them! You don’t hurt them the way you hurt me!”
“I had nothing to offer you back then. Not one damn thing.”
“But you! All I fucking wanted was you, but you were too stupid to see that, and you let it come between us. You decided what was best for me. You decided what was best for both of us, and you decided it was for us to not be together, and you decided it without me! If you had felt what I felt, you never could have done that, because I would have done anything, any-fucking-thing to keep you, to stay with you. But that’s not what you did. You let me talk about a future you knew we’d never have. You let me make plans for us. You let me believe that I was going to have everything I’d always wanted,” my voice broke and the first tear spilled over, taking with it the last bit of strength I was holding onto. “And then you to
ok away the one thing I needed most, the one thing I never wanted to lose, that I wasn’t willing to give up, but you took it anyway, and when you did, you took away that light, and without it I was hollow.” I drew in a ragged breath.
“I didn’t know,” he rasped. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I just wanted you to have something better.”
“Well look at me!” I threw my arms out. “Does it look like that plan of yours worked out? Does it look like I found it? Seven years I haven’t been able to move on. Seven years I’ve been aching for something I thought I had, but slipped through my fingers because I’d been grasping at smoke. I wanted it to be real so bad. You convinced me it was.”
“It was real, and in case you hadn’t noticed, it still is. Seven years I’ve been aching for the same thing, trying to forget, because that would be better than this gnawing emptiness that never goes away. If I had known it was going to be like this, that missing you wouldn’t ever stop, I wouldn’t have done it. God, I wouldn’t have done it. At seventeen you knew, but I was afraid, Shae. I was afraid eventually I wouldn’t be enough for you, and the only thing I knew for certain back then was when that day came, and you left, like my mom left and my dad left and even Tucker checked out, it would have killed me. I didn’t know letting you go was gonna do the same thing anyway.”
I shook my head furiously. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters now, so why are you even doing this?”
“Because it does still matter, and that tattoo on your back proves it. Last night showed me, you’re still in there. When you got to town you were so angry and spiteful, I was sure the girl I used to know was gone, and I was prepared to deal with that, but last night I saw her. I’m ready to do what I didn’t do seven years ago. I’ll fight, Shae, because I know what I’m fighting for now.”
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