The Kiss Lottery

Chapter 2 Beckett

Chapter 2

Beckett

Aunt Margo bursts through the double doors of my office—and there goes my day.

“Beckett, darling! I’m back!”

“If you’ve got a good book idea, you’re welcome. Otherwise, go away,” I grumble, barely looking up from my laptop as I attempt to outline my next thriller.

She dismisses me with a wave, shoving things aside as she perches on my desk. In a floral dress and heels, she’s fresh from a town committee meeting. She serves as vice mayor, and every meeting is her personal fashion show.

“You look awfully pale,” she says in her Southern drawl. “I suggest some sunshine. No one likes a pasty face, even at the end of January. We do have tanning salons in town.”

“Uh-huh.”

She leans in. “Guess what?”

“What?” I say, not really interested but knowing she won’t leave until she tells me.

“The Kiss Lottery is going to be bigger than ever. Um, also, well, I entered your name in the lottery. The single ladies are gonna go nuts,” she says, examining her manicured nails with feigned nonchalance. “Even though some tanning wouldn’t hurt you.”

My gaze snaps up. “Nope. Absolutely not. Never in a million years.”

“No to getting a tan or the lottery, darling?”

I glare at her. “Both.”

“Oh, stop. It’s important to be part of the ambiance of Valentine’s Day. It’s the month of looooove. Come on.”

I groan. She’s tried to enter me every year, and I always say no.

She presses her hands together as if praying. “It’s just a date. Then you can forget about it. I’ll never ask you to be a part of it again, but you know this year is important because I’m on the committee. Pleeeaaase.”

“Margo—” I say, but she shushes me, putting a hand over my mouth.

“Do it as my birthday present. I love unique gifts. Let this be mine. Please.”

I ease her hand back. “Your birthday is in May.”

“It’s an early present. Right?” She scoots off my desk. “You must be tired and hungry. Let’s go to Hank’s.”

I stand and stretch, rolling my shoulders and neck back and forth. “Fine. I’ll do the lottery. But only this once, got it?” It’s for her birthday, and she rarely asks for anything specific.

With her auburn curls around her face, she nods and smiles as she loops her arm through mine. My lips twitch. She’s impossible to stay annoyed at, especially when she looks so much like my mother.

A few minutes later, we step inside the diner and the bell above the door jingles.

I take my seat and glance around the diner, my eyes stopping on a woman on a stool at the front counter. She has her back to me, but there’s something about the shape of her shoulders, the way she tilts her head ...

My brow wrinkles.

Wait a minute . . .

Is it her?

No.

The Everly I know has pale-blond hair, not that rosy color.

And she’s far away from Tennessee.

She’s living a fancy life in New York, along with her fancy lawyer boyfriend.

Just when I’ve convinced myself it isn’t her, she turns to talk to Hank, and I see the curve of her smile, the indentation on her lush bottom lip.

Then she takes off her sunglasses, and my breath comes out ragged.

Sometimes she still appears in my dreams. I see her walking the farm in denim shorts and cowboy boots, weaving through the cherry trees with her arms spread wide, as pink petals fall around her. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever known.

I remember summer days when I’d race her through the fields. Sometimes I let her win and she’d shake her finger at me with her face flushed, and smile.

It took everything in me not to pull her close, not to make her mine right then and there.

I even put her in my last book to dig her out of my head, bury her in the ground, throw a shit ton of dirt on top, put a tombstone up, and lay it all to rest.

I shift in my seat, trying to focus on the menu, but it’s no use. My hands clench into fists under the table as the past washes over me.

We’re alone in the locker room before the championship game. I should be focused on winning, but all I can think about is her.

Everly stands in front of me, pale and defiant in her cheer uniform, eyes wide with unshed tears.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The trouble you’ve caused for all of us?” I say, my fists clenched at my sides.

Her throat bobs. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t know it would get this big.”

“ Why did you write those things? ”

“ Because they’re true,” she says as she chews on her bottom lip. “It’s how I feel. Don’t you understand? ”

The door slams open, crashing into the wall with a force that makes us both jump. Carson storms in, his face twisted in anger. His eyes lock on me, sharp and accusing. “So, it’s true then,” he growls. “You two have been sneaking around behind my back. My girl and my best friend.”

I take a step forward, wanting to explain, but Carson puts up a hand to stop me, his gaze burning with betrayal as he glares at me. “I trusted you. You were supposed to have my back,” he snaps. “And you turned me into a fool.”

“ Nothing happened,” I say. “I’d never betray you like that. ”

His eyes narrow, his lip curling. “I’ve seen how you look at her.”

I shake my head, trying to calm the rising tension. “Everly and I are just friends.” It’s a half truth, one I’ve repeated to myself over and over, hoping it would make it real. But the way I think about her every time I close my eyes—it’s anything but just friendship.

Yet I know betrayal too well. My father’s infidelities, the way he tore my mother apart with his affairs is burned into my memory. I’m not him. I’ve fought against these feelings, tried to do the right thing for months.

Carson’s fists ball at his sides, fury evident. “Her diary is all over the school. All over town even. You don’t have to lie. Everyone’s read it. The way she writes about you, how much she loves you, the way you used to crawl in her bedroom window.” He advances toward me and shoves me. My shoulder slams into the locker with a heavy thud.

“That was before she was with you, and it wasn’t like that,” I say, trying to explain. “She and I have been friends since we were kids.” I stop, swallowing. How do I tell him that she and I have a connection that is bone deep without hurting him?

Before I can come up with what to say, Carson swings. His punch hits my face, and pain explodes behind my eyes. Instinctively, I shove him back, adrenaline spiking.

My fist connects with his jaw, sending him tumbling over the bench, landing hard on the floor. I stand over him with fists clenched, breathing hard.

She rushes between us. “Just stop! Please! It’s my fault! It’s my diary!”

He scrambles to his feet, wild eyed as he looks between us. He points at me with a shaking finger. “You say there’s nothing going on. Fine. Prove it. Walk out of here with me, right now, and she doesn’t exist for either of us. You can’t have it both ways.”

My gaze drifts back to Everly as she talks to Hank. She laughs at something, and my chest gets a knot in it.

She looks happy.

In the end, it’s all I ever wanted for her.