October. I didn’t want to think about October. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for sleep to anesthetize me to my own heartache.
Aubree—October
I only stumbled a little as I climbed the stairs to Kennedy’s dorm. Maybe I was loopy from lack of sleep, or maybe it was the peppermint schnapps getting to me, but I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. I was finally going to do this. I was finally going to tell Kennedy how I felt about him.
I knocked on the door to his quad and propped myself up on the frame while I waited for someone to answer. It could have been a minute or an hour later that a scruffy-faced blond opened the door.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Oh, hey there.” I recognized Kennedy’s broad-shouldered roommate from pictures on Facebook. Tim? Tom? Some all-American three-letter name like that. He was part of Kennedy’s offensive line, but he looked like he had no idea who I was. “I’m Bree?” I giggled when it came out as a question. As if I was so drunk I wasn’t even sure of my own name.
“Oh, Bree. From Abbott Springs?”
“The one and only,” I sing-songed. I attempted a little curtsy but nearly fell over.
Tim/Tom steadied me with a big hand on my arm. “Easy there.”
Pushing to my tiptoes, I peeked over his head into the common space of the quad. “Is Kennedy around?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not sure where he is.” He pulled the door wide and gestured me inside. “You want me to give him a call?”
I waved away the suggestion as I sauntered into the tiny apartment. “I want to surprise him.” I giggled again. Damn. I wasn’t the giggling type. “I’ll just wait for him in his room,” I said, heading toward the first of the four doors branching off the living area.
“Um, that’s my room,” Tim/Tom said.
“Oopsie!” Another giggle slipped from my lips. Okay, so I’d probably overdone it on that peppermint schnapps I’d been sipping since I got off the plane.
“Not that you’re not welcome there. You absolutely are.” He winked at me. He was cute. Really cute. Not like Kennedy. No, Kennedy wasn’t even cute. He was panty-dropping sexy.
Kennedy. I grinned stupidly just thinking about what was about to happen. Finally.
“Which one is Kennedy’s?” I asked.
“Back right.”
“Awesome. Thanks.”
“Can I get you anything?” he asked as I headed for Kennedy’s door. Who knew walking in a straight line could be so much fun? Like the balance beam as a kid. Whee. “Maybe water or something to eat?”
So I could sober up and lose my nerve? Hardly. “I’m good, Tim/Tom,” I slurred. “Don’t need a thing.”
I pushed into Kennedy’s room and shut the door behind me. It smelled like him in here. That shouldn’t have taken me by surprise. His smell was just an amalgamation of his shampoo, aftershave, and laundry detergent, so it made sense that it would follow him to school. And yet it reminded me so much of his bedroom at home that it almost stole my courage.
I walked around the small space, running my fingers over the shirts hanging in his closet, peeking at the stack of textbooks on his desk and the graded term paper in the trash. An A-. He probably hated that minus. Such a smarty pants.
Kennedy was the guy who had rallied our tiny high school’s football team for the last quarter victory. He was the guy who’d received straight A’s while working part time for his father’s company and volunteering on weekends. He was preppy and reliable and he didn’t make mistakes. But me? Mistakes were my bag, and the only A I’d known in school was the A in “See me after class.”
Would he see my being here tonight as just another impulsive screw-up in a long line of Bree Baxter screw-ups? Or could he put his practical self aside for one night and give in to the sexual tension that had been simmering between us since we were teenagers?
The initial buzz of being in his space was wearing off, and I sank to the edge of his bed. I’d lost my job in New York City, and in true Kennedy problem-solving fashion, he’d spent half of last weekend on the phone with me trying to convince me to come back to Ohio for college.
“You could make it home to Abbott Springs more often,” he’d said. “It’ll be like old times. I miss your face, Bree.”
No. After five years of “just friends,” it was time. I wanted more from Kennedy. A lot more.
“All or nothing,” I murmured. Then I took off my clothes. Everything—my shirt, my jeans, my bra, and my panties. I threw them all into a rumpled pile in the corner and slid into his bed.
I imagined his reaction at finding me here. His shock. His disbelief. And finally his arousal. I imagined him pulling back the sheets and his eyes touring my nude form. I imagined the look on his face as he fought the need to touch me and then me extending my hand and inviting him to lose that fight once and for all.
In my mind, Kennedy was mine. He just didn’t know it yet.
I wished he would hurry and come home so we could get to the good part already. My peppermint schnapps buzz was taking me through that inevitable shift from tipsy to sleepy, and the scent of his aftershave on his pillow made me so relaxed that my eyes started to float closed.
I drifted in and out of sleep, my dreams a patchwork quilt of memories and fantasies.
Memory. Kennedy’s arms around me after a nightmare, my back pressed into his solid chest as he whispered soothing words into my ear and I floated back to sleep. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”
Fantasy. His fingers dipping past the waistband of my sleep pants. His reassuring whispers turning to hesitant requests. “Let me touch you, Bree. I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Memory. Kennedy’s hands on my ass as we competed in the unofficial Abbott Springs dirty dancing competition. His lips parted, his mouth grazing my neck, and his body moving in time with mine.
Fantasy. Him finding me in the bathroom after and pushing me against the wall until I felt the hard length of his erection pressing into my stomach. “Can we stop pretending?”
Memory wove into fantasy until sleep overtook me completely, and my dreams wove my fantasies into a vivid tapestry of comfort and eroticism. I dreamed I woke up with Kennedy’s arms around me and it was morning. Before I could move, his hand was between my legs and his mouth was on my neck, his whisper in my ear. “I’m going to die if I can’t be inside you soon, Bree.”
A flood of light jerked me from sleep. I wanted to draw up the covers and go back to the dream. I wanted to send away the noisy light-bearers, whoever they were, but then I heard Kennedy’s voice and sat up in bed before I even remembered where I was.
“Who are you?” I asked, my eyes heavy, my voice crackling with sleep. Was I in Kennedy’s house or—
It all came back to me. My impulsive flight to Ohio. The cab ride to Kennedy’s small college. His roommate showing me to his room.
But this wasn’t my plan, falling asleep, being disoriented. I’d never planned for the leggy blonde standing next to Kennedy, her eyes bugging out so much I feared they might pop out of her head.
I blinked at her. Trying to understand why she might be here. Then two things happened at once: I remembered I was naked, and the blonde turned to Kennedy and slapped him across the face.
“What the fuck, Bree?” Kennedy growled. The blonde was already storming out of his room, and from the anger on his face, I could only assume her exit didn’t exactly work with his plans for the evening.
His words hurt, but not as much as the aggravation on his face. I guess I’d thought he’d find me nude in his bed and say something like, “Finally,” before pressing his mouth to mine and pulling his clothes off as quickly as possible.
Instead, he said, “Jesus, are you drunk? Put some clothes on.” Then he stomped out of the room. Running after his girlfriend, I could only guess.
I scrambled out of bed and dressed with shaking hands, dying inside with bone-deep embarrassment. I wasn’t the kind of girl who threw herself at guys wh
o weren’t interested. I gave myself to losers and bad boys who might never hold down a steady job, but at least they wanted me. Not Kennedy. “Put some clothes on.” So much for smooth seduction.
Tim/Tom was on the couch when I cracked Kennedy’s door and peeked into the common area. “Is he out there?”
“He ran after Kelsey. What happened?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. “Thanks,” I managed before I ran through the common room and out the door.
I took a cab back to the Cincinnati airport, where I waited on standby for a flight back to New York. Five times my phone buzzed and Kennedy’s face came up on the display. Five times I sent his call to voicemail.
I was too crushed to hear his voice, too embarrassed to explain.
Kennedy
Mom woke me up with a knock on my door just like I was in high school again, and I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow until she went away. I hadn’t slept for shit last night. When Bree had tiptoed out of the room as soon as the sun peeked in through the curtains, I hadn’t followed her.
I could hear her downstairs, no doubt chatting with the fam over a cup of coffee and laughing with my little sisters over some stupid joke. I climbed out of bed and went straight to the bathroom, showering and dressing before I could muster the energy to pretend everything was okay.
Today was the opening ceremony for Winterfest, and my dad would expect all of us kids to stand by his side as he gave his officious little speech. I swear, you’d think he was fucking President of the United States the way he treated his job as mayor of Abbott Springs.
After pulling on jeans and a sweater, I headed down the stairs.
Aubree was in her pajamas. She’d pulled a hooded sweatshirt over her tee, but I had an excellent view of her ass in those tight little black pants she liked to sleep in. She had the sexiest bedhead of any girl I’d ever met. No matter how she was wearing her hair, she always climbed out of bed looking half wild and freshly fucked. I wanted to make her hair look like that. And I’d spent the better part of my night resisting the urge.
She was laughing about something and her smile faltered as she looked up from her coffee and spotted me. “Good morning, Kennedy,” she said softly.
“Kennedy!” Mom called. “Are you helping Cynthia set up for this afternoon’s treasure hunt?”
I strode past both women and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Yeah. I’m meeting her at Village Hall in an hour.”
“Do you need any help?” Mom asked. “Bree was just saying she doesn’t have anything planned for the day. I’m sure you two want to spend as much time together as possible before she leaves the country.”
Bree’s cheeks flushed such a pretty pink I wanted to touch them.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m sure Cynthia would really appreciate it.”
“And don’t forget lunch with the board tomorrow.” She looked at her watch and shook her head. “I’m supposed to be helping set up the craft fair in fifteen minutes, so I need to get out of here.” Then she scurried out of the kitchen, leaving Aubree and me alone with the awkward silence.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Paris,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”
My jaw ached from gritting my teeth and I tried to relax it. “Why are you moving?”
She shrugged. “Why not?”
I’m sure there were at least half a dozen good reasons, but the only one that would find its way to my tongue was me. “What cards were you holding last night?”
“What?”
“When you went all in. What cards did you have in your hand?”
She lifted her chin. “A seven and a two.”
The confession shouldn’t have surprised me, but it was still like a punch to the gut. “Suited?”
“No. Two of diamonds, seven of clubs.”
“There you go,” I muttered. “Paris in a nutshell.”
She gaped, the tiny little stone in her nose winking at me. “Are you trying to compare my life to a stupid game of poker? That’s real fucking nice.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t play at both like you were trying to lose.”
Her eyes flashed and she set her mug down on the counter with a clatter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on. When was the last time you could trust your mom to follow through on anything she promised you?” I was too angry to regret the words, even as hurt slashed across her delicate features. I wanted her to be hurt, damn it. I wanted her to wake up and think about what she was doing before she made a terrible mistake.
“I flew out to see her in LA in November. She took me to the set of her boyfriend’s movie—just like she promised.”
“Yeah, but that was about her. And when you moved to Seattle with the guy who wanted to live in that hippie commune? And then Chicago and then New York? It was always about them. You bend over backwards for people who only care about themselves and you’re leaving behind people who care about you.”
“Like who? Who’s here that I need to stick around for? Everyone has their own life, their own plans.”
“And what about me?” My voice cracked like a pre-pubescent boy when the words came out. “I’ll be here.”
She swallowed, some emotion I couldn’t identify filling her eyes as she stared at me. “Yeah, you’ll be here and be completely miserable while you live your life for someone else.”
I stepped back. She was right but she didn’t understand. How could she? “At least I’ll succeed at something.”
“Is it really success if you don’t even want it?”
“Stop turning this around on me,” I growled. Damn it, why couldn’t she see sense? And why did I want so badly to kiss away the hurt on her face? “We’re talking about you making another stupid, impulsive decision. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“You don’t get to turn me down flat and then guilt trip me for not sticking around.” She kept her voice quiet but her words were heavy with hurt.
“Turn you down?” I fought to keep from yelling. My family didn’t need to be part of this conversation. “You were drunk. I didn’t—”
“Kennedy!” Mom called from the front of the house. “Cynthia is here! She needs you to ride with her downtown so you can help her set up the snow fort station.”
I grabbed my thermos of coffee and headed for the door. “I have to go, but this conversation isn’t over.”
Kennedy
“Come on, son,” my father called. “It’s time for the opening ceremony.”
The clock on Village Hall read 11:57. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration. I had no desire to climb onto that stage with Mom and Dad and my little sisters, no desire to be the good son who nodded at my father’s droning on as if he were the wise lord of the land he liked to pretend to be.
Mom stepped up and squeezed my bicep. “We’ll just imagine the everyone in the crowd in their underwear,” she whispered with a wink.
I grinned. Mom played along with Dad’s pomp and self-importance, but she never took herself or our family too seriously. She was probably the only reason I hadn’t grown up to be a self-involved asshat.
We climbed the steps of Village Hall, first Dad with Grandma at his side, then my sisters, giggling and checking their hair, then Mom and me behind. Dad took his place behind the podium and adjusted the microphone. I pasted on a smile and looked out across the sea of winter hats as he began his usual speech. I’d listened to this all my life and if I had to step in, I could recite his usual speech verbatim. Thank you all for coming, proud moment, blah, blah, I’m the most awesomesauce mayor ever in the history of mayors. Maybe not that last part, but it was close.
“We even have a special treat,” my father added when the applause had died down a bit. “A couple of our very own hometown kids and their band, External Resurrection, will be playing tomorrow night!”
My heart skittered to a halt. No doubt, he was referring to Internal Insurrection, Everly’
s band. And no doubt that was what had brought Bree to town. She wasn’t here for us. She was here for her BFF and partner in punk crime. She rarely missed Everly’s shows.
I wanted to be annoyed that no one had told me about Everly’s band playing, but I hadn’t concerned myself with Winterfest planning much this year, and it was my own fault I didn’t know.
That same old awkward feeling I got every time I thought about Everly washed over me. Damn. I’d really screwed that up. She was just so sweet and…breakable behind her punk rocker façade. I was like the kid who knew he shouldn’t have played with mom’s precious china but couldn’t resist, and for all my attempts to pretend it hadn’t happened, we both knew I’d hurt her. I hadn’t meant to, but it was Winterfest and we’d been drinking and laughing and the next thing I knew we were caught up in the moment.
I’d totally screwed up, and if she was coming back to perform, I was going to have to face it.
Dad jabbered on about the great town, and I was only half paying attention when he turned to me and said something about passing on his legacy. The crowd cheered.
Fucking fantastic. Not only did he plan out my life without my input, now he had the town in on it.
He passed the mic off to Grandma, who hugged him before stepping behind the podium. Honestly, Grandma was as bad as Dad in her self-importance. He’d had to learn it from somewhere, I guessed. She gave the history of Hale Bridge, working her way to the story’s dark moment, when the Hale family had swept in to save the day.
“My late husband, Barnaby Hale, and I were honored to be of service to our community in the past, but this time the restoration of Hale Bridge is in your hands as well. The Hale Family Trust will match the collective contribution of this year’s Winterfest proceeds, but we’re going to need a significant amount of help funding this latest renovation. Especially so if the bridge is going to last to the end of our century and remain a standing monument in our town for our great-grandchildren and beyond.”
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