by Jana Aston
Copyright © 2016 by Jana Aston
ISBN: 978-0-692-66828-3 (e-book)
ISBN: 978-1-5306-7135-9 (paperback)
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Design by JA Huss
Cover Model Robert Reider
Photographer Omar Sorbellini
Formatting: Erik Gevers
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Other Work by Jana Aston
Notes
About the author
Dedication
To every single one of you
that read WRONG,
thank you.
I wrote it thinking
no one would read it,
but you did.
I hope I don’t let you down with
RIGHT.
One
I slide into the passenger seat of the low-slung car as the door thuds shut behind me and busy myself with the seatbelt, using the opportunity to watch him as he crosses the front of the car. His strides are confident, unhurried. The fingers of his left hand skim the hood before he rounds the headlight and reaches the driver’s side door.
I suddenly feel uneasy, and I never feel uneasy.
This car is too small for the both of us. I’m annoyed at the idea of being cooped up inside the same ten square feet as him all the way to Philadelphia. I just met him twenty minutes ago. Why is he having this effect on me?
The door handle clicks and he’s behind the wheel, the engine purring a second later. I watch him buckle himself in from the corner of my eye, but keep my head straight, my focus on my hands folded in my lap, until the silence goes on too long. He’s staring at me, the car idling, apparently content to wait until he has my attention. I turn my head and meet his eyes. They’re brown, another check mark completing tall, dark and handsome. They light up with amusement as he speaks, which unsettles me. Why?
“How can you possibly think Finn Camden is the right man for you?”
That’s why.
Two
Sixteen Years Ago
I clutch my brand-new Strawberry Shortcake backpack in my lap and check the window again. We’re getting close, and it’s my job to make sure I get off the bus at the right stop. I’m in first grade this year, not a kindergartener baby, and I get to take the bus home from school. My brother Eric is meeting me at the bus stop. He’s a teenager and that’s his job. To pick me up. I know he won’t forget, because he loves me. Also, ’cause Mom said he’d be grounded for a week if he forgot.
The bus turns onto Norrans Drive. This is my stop. I grip my backpack tighter and eye the distance to the door.
“Everly!” Timmy Stuart pops his head over the seat in front of me. He’s missing a tooth and his hair is a disaster. It’s a disaster because he let me cut it. Mom says I need a lot of supervision. I don’t think his hair would have turned out any better if she’d been watching me though, so I don’t think that’s true.
“I saved one of my new pencils for you,” he says, holding it up.
I grin back at him. The kid has had a crush on me since Pre-K. I should really stop messing with his hair. “Thanks, Timmy,” I tell him, and slip the pencil into a side pocket on my bag. “You want one of my erasers?” I offer, holding up a pink strawberry-shaped eraser, which he takes.
The bus stops and I rush to the front. I see Eric waiting as the doors swoosh open. I slide my backpack straps over my shoulders and hop down the bus steps onto the sidewalk. I bet I can get Eric to let me have some of the candy he’s got stashed in his room instead of the yogurt I’m supposed to have for my after-school snack.
But a second later I stop short, candy forgotten. There’s a boy with Eric. I’ve never seen him before. He must be a new high-school friend—it’s Eric’s first year of high school. His friend is cute. Really cute.
“This your little sister, Eric?” The boy smiles at me.
“Yup, this is Bever—”
“Everly,” I interrupt. “My name is Everly.”
“Not according to Mom and Dad it isn’t.”
I stop gazing at the boy long enough to glare at Eric. The boy laughs. “Why don’t I just call you Shortcake?” he asks, and he extends his hand like I’m an adult, not a kid. “My name is Finn.”
I shake his hand and it’s settled, in my six-year-old heart. I’m going to marry Finn.
Then he leans over and ruffles my hair.
Humph. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.
Three
Present Day
I break his gaze and turn back to the windshield, crossing my legs and tossing my hair over my right shoulder. His eyes annoy me. They’re too inquisitive. I’ve never been this fascinating to anyone, ever. And I’m not interested in being the object of this man’s fascination. “Finn and I are perfect together,” I snap. “Just take me home,” I say, waving dismissively at the stationary car.
“Finn and you aren’t together,” he replies and pulls the car onto Ridgebury heading towards Salem.
I shrug and slip my phone out of my pocket and tap the screen to life.
“What are you doing?”
What does it look like I’m doing? “Checking my messages,” I reply. “Can we be done talking now?”
He makes a noise that sounds a bit like a grunt and then pushes a button on the steering wheel before saying, “Call Sandra.”
Huh. He’s gonna grunt at me for checking messages and then call his girlfriend on speakerphone? Whatever. The ringing ends as a woman answers, “Yes, sir?”
Yes, sir? I pause mid-tap and dart my eyes across the center divide. Yup. Sex freak. Bet he makes her ask permission to come. Hell to the no. I shake my head and return my attention where it belongs, on my phone. I can’t believe he’s going to make me listen while he orders his submissive to strip and wait for him next to the front door. He’s probably gonna make her kneel too. What an asshole.
“Sandra, I need
one of the IT guys to send me the feeds for all of Everly Jensen’s social media accounts.”
Wait. What?
“She’s a senior at Penn. Grew up in Ridgefield, Connecticut. You should be able to locate her easily enough.”
“What are you doing?” I interrupt, confused and annoyed.
“Facebook, Twitter, Instagram,” he rattles off. “And whatever other sites college girls are currently using to post selfies on the internet. That will be all, Sandra.” He ends the call with a tap to a control on the steering wheel.
“Hello, I’m sitting right here. Did you want me to friend-request you or something?” I wave the phone in my hand as I talk. “Because that”—I point in the direction of the speakers in the dashboard—“was a little melodramatic.”
“You were more interested in your phone than talking. So I’m curious about what’s online that you find so fascinating.”
We’re on Titcus Road, headed towards I-684, traffic is light, people still enjoying the long Thanksgiving holiday weekend. And I’m still annoyed. This is not the drive back to school I had planned.
“That’s called stalking, not curiosity,” I say, my interest in what my friends are up to forgotten.
He laughs. The fucker actually laughs at me. “So it’s okay for you to stalk Finn, but it’s not okay for me to stalk you? You’re priceless, Everly. I think I’m really going to enjoy you.”
“Enjoy me? You don’t have me.”
“I will.”
Four
Ten Years Ago
“Chloe, he’s here,” I whisper.
“One second,” she replies before I hear her yelling to her mom, “I’m going to Everly’s!” There’s a muffled reply from her mom and then she confirms she’s on her way.
“Attic,” I whisper again.
“Gotcha.” And the line goes dead.
Four minutes later the screen door slams as Chloe arrives. The stairs creak as she jogs up and then she appears in view as she walks through our second-floor game room.
“She’s in her room,” Eric calls out to Chloe as she walks past and heads towards my closed door down the hall.
“I know, thanks!”
She disappears out of sight but my door cracks open and then closed as she makes her way into my room. A second later she’s boosting herself through the open attic entrance inside my walk-in closet via the dresser I’ve placed below it for this very reason.
“Hey,” she whispers as she tiptoes across the floor joists until she reaches the platform I’ve set up next to the vent leading into the game room. She lies down on the sleeping bag I’ve laid out. “What are they doing?”
“Playing video games.” We’re whispering, but luckily the games they like to play are pretty loud, so we don’t have to be very quiet. “He looks good in that Eagles jersey, doesn’t he?”
Chloe nods. “So cute.”
“I love baseball.”
“The Eagles play football, Everly.”
“Oh.” I pause. “Well, I’ve got plenty of time to learn about football. I’m only twelve. He’s not going to take me seriously until I’m at least sixteen.”
“Probably not,” Chloe agrees.
I flip open my notebook. It’s pink and says Dreams & Schemes on the front cover in gold cursive. It’s where I keep all of my Finn Camden notes. I draw pictures in it too. I’m getting pretty good. I add a note to remind myself to learn about the Eagles before flipping to the back. That’s where I practice writing Everly Camden. Mrs. Camden. Mrs. Finn Camden. I’m already really good at it, but practicing never hurt anybody.
We’re quiet then, watching Finn and Eric through the vent until Chloe speaks.
“My dad cancelled.”
“What? Why?” She was supposed to go to New York next week to visit him. Her parents divorced three years ago and she hardly ever sees her dad anymore.
“He said he had a business trip.” She shrugs, but I see the tears welling up in her eyes.
He’s so stupid.
“Well, he’s dumb and I have an even better idea,” I say, throwing an arm around her.
“What?” She wipes her eyes and composes herself. She doesn’t allow herself to get upset very often.
“I bet you can come with us to Hershey Park! I’m gonna ask my parents tonight. I know they’ll say yes.” They will too. Because my parents are the best. “We’ll go on all the rollercoasters. And then we’ll go on the fun slide even though we’re too old. And we’ll spend an entire day at the water park. Plus, I have forty dollars saved up and we will buy all the candy, Chloe. All of it.”
“Maybe,” she says, but she smiles. “What are you going to do this fall when Eric and Finn leave for college?” Chloe asks, done talking about her dad.
I sigh sadly. “Well, I’ve got my notebook,” I say, tapping it with my pen. “So I can study.” I stop speaking as the game silences in the room below us. Chloe and I crowd over the vent to watch as Eric and Finn toss the remotes on the ottoman and take off down the stairs. “Wait,” I say, holding up a finger. We listen until the fridge slams shut. “They’re getting a snack, let’s go.”
I drop through the attic entrance into my closet and immediately head to my vanity table to check my appearance. I’m not allowed to have makeup yet, so applying Bonne Bell lip smacker in strawberry and combing my hair will have to do.
Chloe and I stroll into the kitchen a minute later to find the guys loading pizza rolls into the oven.
“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were using the oven. We were gonna make cookies,” I announce. I even manage to look surprised to see them in the kitchen. Hey, I’m twelve, not six.
“No worries, Shortcake. We’ll be done with the oven in ten minutes.” Finn grins at me and I lose my focus for a second. He needs a haircut. His sandy brown hair is floppier than normal.
“What kind of cookies do you guys like?” I ask, directing the question at Finn as I head to the pantry. “We’ll bring some up to you when they’re done.” I add a smile but Finn is peering into the oven at the pizza rolls and misses it.
“You know I like chocolate chip,” Eric responds and I panic. I want to know what Finn likes.
“Uh, yeah, but your friend is over,” I say, waving at Finn. “It’s polite to ask what your guests want.” I smile. There. That was smooth, right?
Eric looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I ignore him and focus on Finn. “Finn, what kind of cookies do you like?”
“Huh?” He pauses from chugging a Coke to look at me. “Um, chocolate-chip cookies are fine with me.”
“Yep, who doesn’t love chocolate-chip cookies and football, right?” Wait. Did that even make sense? I sound like an idiot. Flirting is hard.
“Football?” Finn questions.
“Your jersey,” I say, nodding towards him as I set the ingredients on the counter. Chloe is already there with the mixing bowl and wooden spoon. “Go Eagles!” I say and do a little fist bump and immediately want to die. That was so stupid.
“Oh.” Finn glances down at his jersey. “My brother gave this to me.”
“I love football!” I gush and Eric stops and looks at me strangely. Okay. Too far.
“I’m so glad you’ve learned to like football, Everly,” Eric says slowly.
Oh, no. He’s gonna call me out on this. I went too far. I should never have read those teen dating columns on the internet. I am clearly not ready for teenage-level flirting. I duck my head and pray.
“Dad is going to be so happy.”
What? I peek a look at Eric. He’s rubbing his chin and waiting for me to pay attention.
“Dad’s gonna be so happy he has someone to watch football with every weekend,” he says with a smirk.
Crud.
Five
Present Day
“Why does he call you Shortcake, anyway?” he asks, glancing at me. His left arm is casually bent against the door frame, fingers resting on the steering wheel. His right hand rests on his thigh. He fills out the pants h
e’s wearing nicely. I can see the outline of muscle on his leg. My gaze lingers, wondering if I can see the outline of something else as well.
No! I mentally chastise myself. He’s not the one I’m interested in.
“I always assumed you were a freckle-faced little redhead,” he continues, “or that you possibly looked like a Cabbage Patch doll.”
“Hey!”
His lips twist in amusement at my ire. We’re stopped dead in traffic on the I-684. He slides an arm over my headrest and turns his full attention in my direction. He leans towards me, his head inches from mine, and while he’s not touching me, it feels like he’s all over me. It feels… intimate. “But you’re beautiful.”
Oh.
Oh, no.
His eyes run across my face and I wonder what he sees there. Denial? Sheer panic? Attraction? I swallow and it sounds loud in this small space. He smells good. Why does he have to smell good? I’m so annoyed. He’s got a hint of stubble across his jaw and I find myself wondering what that would feel like pressed against my neck. Stop thinking. I need to stop thinking. Or start thinking about something else. Like orphaned kangaroos.
He takes my silence as license to continue speaking. “Stunning, actually. Your hair, Jesus.” Traffic picks up and he settles back into his seat as the car moves forward. “It’s not red.”
“No.”
“I can’t wait to run my hands through it,” he says and I suck in a breath. “Or wrap it around my fist to pull you closer, or yank your head back while I’ve got you bent over—”
“Stop it!” It comes out a little breathless, even to my own ears.
He laughs, but continues in a less sexual tone. “It’s… the color of a goddamned melted Hershey bar is what it is. I can’t imagine you were a redheaded child, so Shortcake doesn’t make sense, and Finn’s a pretty logical guy.”
“I was carrying a Strawberry Shortcake backpack when we met,” I finally mumble.
“Excuse me?” He looks genuinely thrown for a minute, glancing at me as the car moves through traffic.
“I was carrying a Strawberry Shortcake backpack when we met.”
He moves the hand from his thigh to his mouth. I’m not sure why, because he’s laughing too hard to cover it up.