12. CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER TWELVE
KINSLEY
T he short drive to my sister’s house is quiet except for the near constant blasts of wind tunneling through Ethan’s truck and the occasional groan from the driver himself.
With both windows open and no rubber band to tie back my hair, I’m held hostage by long strands of hair blinding me as we meander our way around the bay and drift through downtown Hope Island. At one point, I consider rolling up my window, just a little, so I can actually see the road, but the scent of wildflowers and freshly mowed grass is too good. Okay, that’s a lie. I don’t touch the window because I’m not chancing a conversation that I’m not ready to have.
By the time we pull up to Tessa’s, I’m ready to unbuckle and escape without having to discuss what the fuck my problem is.
I’d rather not get into how I blew up Ethan’s engagement and then dragged him into my issues with Tessa by asking him to flirt with me, which turned into making out and then, sex or not, me ending up in his bed.
However, my hand isn’t even on the belt before Tessa sashays outside and straight up to Ethan’s window.
“Hey, you two,” she coos in her this is more than I could have hoped for voice, resting her arms on the open window frame. “How was last night?”
“Actually,” I say, unsnapping my belt and pursing my lips. Maybe she’ll get the hint from my expression, and I can end this without a long, drawn-out explanation.
“It was great,” Ethan interjects, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “Your sister just agreed to let me take her to dinner tonight.”
I tug my hand, trying to free myself from his firm grip, but that only makes him hold tighter.
“Oh goodie,” Tessa squeals, her eyes lighting up. “That makes my heart so happy. I knew the two of you could move past everything. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but at least you can start fresh.” She straightens. “I’ll let you two say your goodbyes. I just wanted to give you this before I headed out.”
She holds an envelope, reaching past Ethan. The words Fletcher’s Farm are scrawled across it in black lettering.
“It’s the key to the back door, just in case the code doesn’t work for the lockbox. The lawyer might come by and check in at some point. He’s not completely convinced that we’ll find the documents,” she says, eyes gleaming, “and I’m pretty sure he’s worried you’ll do something to jeopardize the sale of the house.” Then, with a wink, probably more for me than Ethan, she says, “Okay. Gotta go. Bye, you two.”
Ethan lifts our conjoined hands in a parting gesture.
It isn’t until she’s driving down the road that he finally releases my hold.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “I was going to tell her that it didn’t work out. You know, a stupid version of the truth that probably would have created more lies and drama, but at least it would have taken the heat off your back.”
“I don’t know,” he says, his jaw rigid. “I kind of just froze.”
“Freezing consists of not opening your mouth,” I huff, shoving the door open. Once my feet are on the ground, I spin and shoot him a glare. “You literally did the exact opposite.”
“I’ll pick you up at five?” he asks, completely ignoring my comments. “We still need to talk, right?”
With a thin-lipped smile, I give in and nod. Then I disappear into Tessa’s house and berate myself for how I’ve behaved over the last twenty-four hours.
It’s noon by the time I pull up to Nora’s Bakery, a small café in the heart of downtown Hope Island. Surrounded by antique shops, an art gallery, and a dozen boutiques, Nora’s offers the best lattes, espressos, and scones this side of Atlanta.
“Good morning. What can I get started for you?” a thin, pale-skinned teenage girl who is not Nora asks. Her eyes are bright, and her smile is wide.
“I’ll take the largest coffee you can make. With a splash of cream and a lot of sugar,” I say, trying to temper my cranky attitude. I don’t have a hangover, which is a surprise, but I am utterly exhausted.
The bell on the door jingles, and out of habit, I turn.
Jill steps in, her dark hair with dusty-brown highlights down and flowing over her shoulders.
I smile. “Jill.”
“Kinzie. Hey, I can’t believe you’re walking after last night.” She meets me at the counter and gives me a quick hug. When she pulls away and shifts her attention to the barista, her eyes are rimmed red. “Are they making you a round of espresso shots?”
“Let’s not talk about shots. Or last night.” I wince.
“Oh no.” She chuckles, perking up a little. “You’re not getting off that easy. I saw you leaving with my brother.”
“What you saw was an optical illusion.”
She scrunches her nose and assesses me, but before she can respond, the barista calls out my name and hands me my hot coffee.
The distraction doesn’t do me a whole lot of good. When I turn from the counter, Jill is right there. “So you’re telling me,” she says, clutching my arm, “that you weren’t drunk and Ethan didn’t toss you over his shoulder like he owned your ass and then take you home and have his way with you?”
Closing my eyes, I smack my free hand to my face. “No. That’s not what happened.”
“Damn. What kind of magic do you practice?” She laughs.
With a long exhale, I drag my fingers down my cheeks. “I was drunk. Obviously. But nothing happened. None of it was real.”
Jill orders herself a large caramel latte with extra whip. Then she checks her watch. “I have all the time in the world for this story,” she says, giving me a sly grin.
Giving in, I follow her to a small table near the door, where I fill her in on Tessa’s evil plan to find me a life partner and how she’s subjected me to blind dates and random hookups. Then I tell her about my equally evil plan to use Ethan as a decoy. “But it was clearly a huge mistake. I have too much resentment bottled up. I figured I could let it go. And I really should .”
“I don’t want to overstep, so stop me if I’m going too far,” Jill says, angling in closer, her brows pulled down. “What happened? We used to be friends. You used to tell me everything. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that when you and Ethan broke up, I was probably the last person you wanted to talk to. But what do you mean resentment?”
I assess her, and for the first time, I don’t think about it before I say the next words aloud. “I was pregnant.”
Jill’s eyes widen, and her mouth drops.
“He never gave me the chance to tell him. He left without telling me and then broke up with me through a note.”
Jill sets her coffee on the table and cups her mouth with one hand.
We sit there for a few seconds in silence as my confession sinks in.
When she lowers her hand, she swallows audibly, then jumps straight into apologetic mode, repeating that she’s sorry and she had no idea.
My heart clenches. “Jill. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Does Ethan know now? Did you tell him last night?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Straightening, she narrows her eyes. “You have to tell him.”
“I know.” Though I don’t think I can.