by Jill Shalvis
“The kiss? Yes. It was nice.”
He choked. “Nice?”
“Well, it was a long time ago,” she said demurely.
“Hmm. Let me refresh your memory.” He slid his fingers into her hair and she moaned softly. “Is that a yes, Brynn?”
For a single beat, she tried to remember the deal she’d made with herself. To avoid screwups and mistakes and hurting the people she cared about, she wasn’t going to make any decisions. No interfering in anyone’s life; she was going to let them continue down their own path.
But it’s just a kiss, a little voice deep inside her head said.
Eli was waiting for her answer; he was steady, quiet, but also giving off enough testosterone and pheromones to make her light-headed. As did the way he was looking at her like her answer mattered to him. She mattered. “Yes,” she whispered, overriding her own good sense, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt.
His hands were making slow, sensual passes up and down her back. “You’re sure?”
In answer, she tugged his head down and planted one on him. No slouch, his arms tightened around her and he deepened the kiss, making her instantly forget everything but this, him. With the cool fridge at her back and a very hot man at her front, she lost herself in the hungry kiss, in the way his mouth on hers felt both rough and tender. She heard a moan and was startled to realize it was her. “Okay, so still pretty nice,” she managed when he lifted his head.
He gave a rough laugh of agreement.
She looked down, surprised to find that their clothes were still on, that they hadn’t gone up in smoke, and that only a few moments had gone by. She had a hand cupping his butt and another stroking the curve of his jaw, his stubble scraping against the pads of her fingers. She pulled her hands back and swallowed hard. “You’ve got some new moves.”
“Better than ‘nice.’”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Just a little bit.”
“I don’t know how you do this to me.” He rested his forehead on hers while they both steadied their breath. “Make me forget everything but you.”
“I thought it was you doing that to me,” she said.
She felt his warm exhale on her temple as he pressed a kiss to her brow. “I’m sending you to work now,” he said.
“Because you don’t know what to do with me?”
“Trust me,” he said, eyes hot. “I know exactly what I want to do with you.” His mouth made its way up her jaw to her ear. “It’s just that unless you’re willing to call in sick, we don’t have nearly enough time. Because I’ve got plans for you, Brynn, and I’m going to need hours.”
Her knees got a little wobbly at that. No one had ever spent hours on her pleasure. She herself only needed about twelve minutes . . . “I’m not sure we should go there.”
“Because you’re off men.”
She took a deep breath. “It’s more that every time I’m . . . with someone I like, my life ends up imploding.”
“So . . . you like me.”
She laughed. “Listen to what I’m saying. You should be running from the inevitable implosion that this would cause you.”
“Define ‘this.’”
She shook her head. “You just want me to say the words.”
“Yes. Use the words. Use the dirtiest words possible.”
She laughed again. “Be serious. We’re not going to be stupid.”
“You’re not even close to stupid, and neither am I. We’re two smart adults who have an insane attraction to each other, while at the same time having pasts that make this terrifying.” He cocked his head. “How am I doing?”
“Nailed it.”
Again he cupped her face. “I’m trying to respect the fact that you’ve put yourself in a time-out,” he said softly. “You haven’t unpacked, or brought in more than a single duffel bag.”
She started to open her mouth, then shut it.
He watched her for a beat. “I know you’ve been hurt, and I hate that for you, but no one’s going to hurt you here. I hope you get that. You’re safe here, Brynn.”
She bit her lower lip. “I know.” And she was getting more than that as well. The other night while watching the sunset with everyone on the beach, Max had made the joke that the three of them—him, Eli, and Kinsey—were wounded birds, watching one another’s backs, being one another’s family because family was who you let in, not who you were born to. “You’re a gatherer. But I don’t need to be gathered. I’m okay, Eli.”
“I know. But I want you to be comfortable here. I want that a whole lot.” He pulled her in for a hug, and she was surprised to find herself wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck—an addictive spot, she was discovering—and holding on, taking solace in his warmth and easy strength.
It comforted her that he was just as attracted to her as she was to him. As did the way he was taking things slowly and cautiously, which she knew was for her sake.
His phone beeped, and he looked at it and swore. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go.” He kissed her again, lightly, the appe-tizer on Eli Thomas’s menu, before meeting her gaze. “Have a good day.”
Oh, she would. “You too, Eli.”
When she was alone, she let out a shaky breath. She felt . . . She didn’t even know. She was still standing there, lips tingling, body quivering with an anticipation of something that wasn’t going to happen, when her cell buzzed with an incoming text.
KINSEY: I forgot my lunch box. It’s in the fridge. Bring it to work with you? I’ll swing by and pick it up from your classroom after my 11:00 a.m. meeting.
BRYNN: Please?
KINSEY: Please what?
BRYNN: Please bring the lunch box.
KINSEY: I’m not one of your students, but okay, sure. PLEASE bring my lunch box.
Rolling her eyes, Brynn opened the fridge and pulled out Kinsey’s black lunch box. Because she was completely discombobulated—that kiss!—the lunch box slipped from her fingers, hit the floor, and spilled open.
There was no lunch. But there were meds, lots of them, none pronounceable, all prescribed to one McKinsey Davis.
Brynn scooped them all back inside and worried about it the entire drive to school.
Mornings in her classroom were always a fine balance between teaching and managing behaviors, so naturally there were a lot of various behaviors today, thanks to kids not sleeping for whatever reason, or eating a bowl of pure sugar cereal for breakfast, or maybe just plain being five years old.
All of which meant that Brynn didn’t get a spare second to look up any of Kinsey’s prescriptions until circle time. This twenty minutes before lunch was used for sharing and talking about bad feelings in a healthy way, aided by a talking stick. “Okay, bring it in for circle time,” she called out.
Because this always took them a few minutes, she quickly pulled out her phone and googled a couple of the meds she’d seen. Her heart stopped. They were all related to transplant rejection.
“Ms. Turner! Cindy’s touching me!”
“Ms. Turner! Ethan’s looking at me!”
“Ms. Turner! I have to go potty!”
Brynn let out a breath, her mind racing. Transplant rejection. That was . . . serious. Really serious. Potentially life-threateningly serious. And even though she and Kinsey had been frenemies for years, more actual enemies than friends, Brynn felt . . . heartsick. Because she wouldn’t wish something like this on her worst enemy, and Kinsey wasn’t that. Not even close.
“Ms. Turner, can I go first?”
Brynn shoved her phone away and pasted on a smile as she joined the circle with the kids, bringing the coveted talking stick she’d bought after her first day of teaching. You couldn’t talk without the stick.
The stick was genius.
With it, the kids could—one at a time—talk about their feelings, good or bad, and help each other learn to get along.
Huh. Maybe she should bring the talking stick home with her . . . “Okay
, let’s get started,” she said, just as Kinsey popped into the classroom.
“Ms. Davis!” Toby called out. “Sit next to me for circle time!”
Kinsey’s eyes met Brynn’s, and Brynn could see she wanted to refuse, which made Brynn say with perverse amusement, “Yes, Ms. Davis, join us for circle time, where we talk about our bad feelings in a calm, healthy way.”
Kinsey shot her a look that said maybe she shouldn’t close her eyes tonight when she went to sleep, but smiled sweetly at the kids.
Brynn hadn’t even realized she could do that.
Then she very carefully kicked off her pretty nude, strappy high heels and sat on one of the folders she’d been holding, still smiling at the kids like she genuinely loved them.
Brynn handed the stick to Suzie, the student on her right.
Suzie sucked in a deep breath and spit out her words really quickly. “Carly told me that her brother has the same shirt as me and that hurt my feelings.”
“My brother does have that shirt!” Carly said.
“Remember,” Brynn said gently. “We can only talk if we’re holding the stick.”
Carly’s hand shot up in the air for the stick, and Suzie reluctantly passed it to her.
“My brother has that exact same shirt,” Carly repeated. “And I’m going to borrow it after my mom washes it, because my brother gets dirty all the time and I just wanted to know if you’d wear yours the same day so we can be twins.”
Suzie blinked, and then beamed. “Okay!”
Carly handed the stick to Matt, the boy sitting next to her.
“River wouldn’t let me have a turn at the water fountain.”
“Because you wouldn’t let me have a turn yesterday!” River yelled.
“River, you need the stick,” Brynn repeated quietly, having discovered that a quiet voice forced everyone to zip it in order to hear her.
Matt handed River the stick.
“You were mean to me yesterday,” River said. “And you hurt my feelings.”
Matt just crossed his arms.
“Matt,” Brynn said. “Do you want the stick?”
Matt shook his head and glared at River.
River glared back.
“Matt, are you sure?” Brynn asked.
Matt held his hand out for the stick. “I hurt your feelings because you hurt mine first. You didn’t pick me for your kickball team.”
“Because you told Trevor, who told Harrison, that you didn’t want to be on my team!”
This went back and forth for several minutes, during which it was discovered that Matt had said he did want to be on River’s team. A little detail that had been left off the gossip train. They apologized to each other and resumed their BFF status.
Brynn picked up the forgotten stick. “Anyone else have something they’d like to share and get off their chest? Remember, sharing is caring, and holding on to bad feelings isn’t good for you.”
“Ms. Turner always shares,” River noted.
Brynn grimaced inwardly and took a quick look at Kinsey.
Kinsey took a sip of the drink she’d brought with her while giving Brynn a look that said, Don’t you dare. And damn if that didn’t make her dare. “Actually, I do have a grievance to air. A friend of mine is sick and I want to help, but I don’t know how.”
Kinsey choked on her iced tea, then, with a long look at Brynn, took the stick. “She’s not your friend and she doesn’t need your help. Now for my problem. Someone from my summer camp days thinks I don’t remember how awful she also was.”
Brynn gaped at her and snatched back the stick. “At my summer camp, there was a mean girl who always stole my glasses, even though she also wore glasses and knew how hard it was to see without them.”
There was a collective gasp from the kids. Kinsey didn’t gasp, but once again she choked on her tea.
The kids were watching them like they were at a ping-pong match.
“What happened, what did you do?” Suzie asked Brynn.
Kinsey snatched the stick right out of Brynn’s hand. “She tattled, even though the other girl was younger and none of the girls were nice to her.” She paused. “Probably.”
“You’re supposed to ask nicely for the stick, not just take it,” Brynn said through her teeth. And younger, her ass. There were only two months between them.
“My point is, that other girl’s . . .” Kinsey paused, like she was working on chewing something extremely distasteful. “Sorry. Okay? She’s sorry for taking the glasses, but honestly? She was just tired of all the drama.”
“Drama,” Brynn said, shocked.
“Ms. Turner, you have to wait for the talking stick.”
Kinsey tossed the stick at her and rose to her feet. “I have a meeting.” She grabbed her heels and the lunch box from Brynn’s desk before heading to the door.
Oh no she didn’t. “Kids, let’s talk about something good that happened today. My something good is that I feel very lucky to have such sweet, well-behaved students who always keep themselves in line when I have to step outside the classroom.” She handed the stick to Toby. “I’ll be outside the door for a minute, and then right back.”
“I was drama?” she asked Kinsey’s back in the hall. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” Kinsey turned to her. “Everything had to be about you, and everyone thought you were amazing.”
Brynn gaped at her. “You made fun of me when I cried because I was homesick. You made fun of me for those completely vegan, weird-looking homemade packages I got from home. No one thought I was amazing, least of all you.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. Dammit, she’d let Kinsey distract her. “Look, forget camp. Forget all of this. You’re sick?”
“Nope, not me. I had my flu shot.”
Brynn crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
Kinsey blew out a sigh and looked around. They were still alone in the hallway. “Yeah, okay, fine. So I’ve got a little situation going on.”
“Really? You call kidney failure a little situation?”
“It’s not kidney failure.” She paused. “Exactly. It’s transplant rejection. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
Brynn crossed her arms. “When?”
“When what?”
“When did you get a transplant?”
“See, normally, ‘don’t want to talk about it’ means no talking about it.”
Brynn shook her head. She was horrified and sad and . . . sad. She’d been here over a week now and no one had mentioned it. Which meant she was literally just the roommate, not friends like she’d hoped they were all becoming. Which also meant that she was still way too trusting and naive.
But none of that mattered even a tiny bit because Kinsey was in trouble. Life-threatening trouble. Which put a pretty damn big damper on hating her.
Chapter 12
From thirteen-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:
Dear Journal,
So . . . I’m back, even though I don’t want to be. I almost got out of coming to camp this year altogether because I—shock—got sick. Really sick. Ended up in the hospital, but of course I recovered in time for my mom to ship me off. And I found out why—she gets a scholarship for me to come here. She doesn’t pay a penny of the cost.
She’s in Hawaii, by the way.
While I’m in hell.
Eli likes girls even more than last year, and he’s having the time of his life. I hate him. I hate you, journal. And I hate life.
Kinsey
ELI GOT HOME from work and followed the most amazing scent of food into the kitchen. Max had lasagna going and was working on garlic bread while telling Kinsey she was cutting up the veggies for the salad all wrong.
“If I’m doing it wrong, then maybe you should do it yourself.”
“No, because you’re doing it wrong to get out of doing it,” Max said. “Do it the way I taught you, or no lasagna for you.”
Kinsey looked at Eli. “Your brother’s mean.”
&nb
sp; Max laughed.
Eli didn’t even try to get in the middle of the two, who’d been bickering bickersons since the day they’d met years and years ago. He snagged a piece of the cucumber Kinsey was currently mangling. “Where’s Brynn? Usually the scent of something cooking lures her into the kitchen with the rest of us.”
“She’s not home yet,” Max said.
Eli looked at the time. Six o’clock. “She wouldn’t still be at school this late, would she?”
This got him a double shrug from the bickering bickersons. He headed to his room to change but stopped in the doorway of Brynn’s room.
Her duffel bag, which had sat on the chair since day one, was gone. The bed was neatly made, odd only because, though Brynn was a lot of really great things, a good bed-maker wasn’t one of them. In fact, there were none of the usual signs of her presence. No sneakers on the floor, no sweater tossed over the back of the chair.
Concerned, he stepped into the bathroom and found her things gone from there too. No toothbrush and toothpaste, no hairbrush, none of her lotions or makeup . . . nothing.
He went back to the kitchen and looked directly at Max. “She’s gone. Did you say something stupid again?”
“Dude,” Max said. “I swear to God I didn’t. I mean, okay, yeah, I might’ve checked out her ass because, well, you’ve seen it, right? But I swear I didn’t say anything or touch her. I’ve been a fucking angel.”
Eli looked at Kinsey, who was now cutting carrots with chef-like precision while remaining uncharacteristically quiet and sarcasm-free. “Kinsey.”
She stopped cutting. “Okay, maybe it had something to do with me.”
“What did you do?”
“I forgot my lunch box and asked her to bring it to me. She snooped and found my meds, and then we were in the share circle and she got upset with me.”
“Explain.”
“Turns out, she’s still mad at me for how I treated her at camp. I mean, talk about holding a grudge.”
“Aren’t you still mad at Kendall, that chick you used to be good friends with at work, because she made fun of how much you spend on shoes?” Max asked.
Kinsey flipped him the bird.
Eli didn’t take his eyes off Kinsey. “So you apologized for summer camp and told her why you were the way you were, and also that you two share a sperm donor for a father. Right?”