Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
LILY
I shouldn’t have come to the grocery store across town. The thought hits as soon as I turn down the cereal aisle and see him. He’s moving along the rows with that same economy of motion I remember.
My hands tighten on the cart’s handle, and I back up before he can see me. I think I’ve made it without being caught when voices cut through the late Tuesday afternoon quiet.
“Is that who I think it is?” Amy Wilson’s stage whisper carries down the aisle. She nudges Kate beside her, and they both stare at Ronan.
My stomach drops. I know that look. I’ve seen Amy use it on every new boy who caught her attention since ninth grade. But this isn’t some college freshmen who worked summers at her dad’s place.
This is Ronan.
“God, look at those arms.” Kate’s whisper holds the same predatory edge. “Dibs.”
“You can’t call dibs.” Amy smooths her hair, and adjusts her designer top. “I saw him first.”
Heat floods my face, and my fingers tighten on the cart.
I have no claim on him. Not anymore. And certainly not after what he said to me.
You were an easy mark.
They advance as a unit, the same choreography they perfected in high school. Amy leads, Kate flanks, two predators who’ve spotted prey.
I press my lips together. I can’t watch this. I won’t. Except … I can’t look away.
“Ronan Oliver.” Amy’s voice shifts into a honeyed purr. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
He straightens, expression shuttering, then his gaze shifts over Amy’s shoulder, scanning …
And he finds me standing at the end of the aisle.
His eyes lock on mine for one second … two … and then his stance shifts. The guardedness doesn’t disappear, but it changes.
“Amy. Kate.” His voice drops into a low, slow drawl I’ve never heard before. “It’s been a while.”
“It definitely has.” Amy moves closer, hips swaying. “Prison clearly agreed with you.”
I expect him to back away. I’ve seen him do it a hundred times before when people moved into his space, watched him flinch from touches he didn’t invite. But this isn’t the boy I went to school with. He lets her approach. When her hand lands on his arms, his eyes find mine again.
The cereal box in my hand crumples.
“Did you work out a lot in there?” Her fingers trail over his bicep, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “It’s paid off, because this is new.”
I can’t breathe, can’t get the image of her hands on him out of my head, touching skin I—
No! I have no right to be angry. He made it clear we were nothing, that I meant nothing to him …
So why is he still looking at me?
“Had to pass the time somehow.” The words rumble from his chest, and heat floods my face.
I remember that voice. The way it sounded against my throat when he whispered my name in the dark of the factory. When he told me things he’d never said to anyone else.
Stop it!
Kate circles around to his other side. “We should catch up properly. Maybe over drinks?”
“Not much to catch up on.” But he doesn’t move away when she steps closer, her breast brushing against his arm.
My nails dig crescents into my palm.
He’s doing this on purpose. Letting them circle like sharks, and touch him. His eyes keep meeting mine between their attempts, challenging me … daring me to react.
To show I care.
To prove him wrong about us being nothing.
I need to get away from here, but I still can’t move, or stop the jealousy that’s poisoning every breath I take.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Amy purrs. “A lot can happen in seven years. And that house you’re living in on Cedar … It must get lonely up there.”
“The price of privacy.” One corner of his mouth lifts slightly, and my breath catches.
I recognize that smile. It’s the one that mimicked all the right things, gave off the right message, but was really just a mask. He used it when teachers asked how his home life was, and he’d tell them it was fine.
“Privacy is overrated.” Kate moves even closer. “Sometimes you need company to …” Her tongue wets her lips again. “To break in a new place.”
“I could help with that.” Amy’s hand finds his forearm again. “I’ve got excellent taste in furniture … amongst other things.”
My mind is screaming at me to move away, and leave them to their flirting.
I should do anything except stand here and watch while he lets them compete for his attention.
I force myself to take a step backward, and his eyes lock onto mine again.
This time they hold while Amy presses closer, and Kate trails her fingers down his arm.
He watches me while I watch them, and the half-smile on his lips turns darker.
“We're getting drinks at The Flamingo tonight,” Amy says, her voice dropping lower. “It used to be Sullivans, but it’s under new management. They have much better cocktails now. You should join us.”
“It could be fun.” Kate’s agreement comes with another deliberate brush against him. “Let us show you how much the town has changed.”
“Maybe another time.” He’s still not looking at them, and I can’t breathe past the intensity of his stare as it bores into me.
“At least take my number.” Amy pulls out a receipt, and scribbles on it with a pen from her purse. “For when you’re not so busy playing handyman in that big house all alone.”
“And mine.” Kate produces her own paper, and snatches the pen. “I can give you a proper tour of … the town.”
He takes both numbers without looking at them, folds them once, and slips them into his pocket. I remember doing that in high school. I’d slip notes into his locker, his textbooks, his jacket pocket when he wasn’t looking. Carefully folded pieces of paper with quotes and scribbles on them.
He’d fold them the same way, and tuck them away. And now he’s doing it with their numbers, right in front of me.
That’s the moment Amy seems to realize he’s looking at something that isn’t her. Her head turns, following his gaze.
“Lily!” Her smile sharpens. “Look who we found. He cleans up nice, doesn’t he?”
His expression changes instantly. The played-up tolerance vanishes, and the lines of his face harden.
“We were just convincing him to come out tonight.” Kate’s voice drips sweetness. “You should join us. For old times’ sake.”
“I have plans.” I force the words out between frozen lips.
“Your loss.” Amy’s hand smooths down Ronan’s arm. “More for us.”
She knows. God, she knows exactly what she’s doing. This isn’t about Ronan being attractive to her now. It’s about proving she can take what was mine.
While she stares at me, Ronan steps forward.
“Time for me to go.” He strides toward me so fast, I can’t get out of his way quick enough, and his shoulder brushes mine as he passes. The contact lasts for less than a second, and it sends sparks through my whole body. He disappears around the corner and doesn’t look back.
“Well.” Amy’s smile slips once he’s out of sight. “I do love a man that plays hard to get. It makes things a lot more fun.”
“Did you see how the muscles in his arm flexed when I touched him?” Kate sighs. “So delicious.”
“Please.” Amy’s voice drips with disdain. “Like you’d know what to do with him if you caught him.”
I abandon my cart, unwilling to listen to anything more they have to say. Their laughter follows me down the aisle, mixing with whispers from other shoppers as I hurry past.
Outside, the October wind bites through my jacket. I ignore it, my hands shaking as I fumble with my keys. They slip through my fingers once, twice, clattering onto the ground.
“Fuck.” The word comes out broken.
Movement catches my eye, and I turn in time to see Ronan coming to a stop beside a Honda, grocery bags in one hand. I pray to every god that I have heard of that he gets in and drives away without seeing me. Instead he turns, and looks right at me.
The mask is gone. The performance for an audience over. There’s just him looking at me across ten feet of parking lot, and memories of how his hands felt in my hair, how my body fit against his when he pinned me to the wall fill my mind.
My lips part. I don’t know what I’m going to say. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. My tongue darts out to wet my lower lip, and his eyes drop, following the movement. For one second, I think he might come over to me. Then he turns away, gets into his car, and drives away.
I stand there, frozen, keys finally gripped in my shaking hand, and watch him reverse out of his parking spot.
I stay where I am until his taillights disappear around the corner, and only then do I climb into my car.
The key misses the ignition twice before I manage to slot it in.
I don’t turn it straight away. I just sit there, staring at nothing.
My forehead drops to the steering wheel, and behind my closed eyes, I see it all again. Amy’s hand on his arm, Kate pressing her body into him, his eyes burning into mine the entire time.
And the worst part? I wanted to march over there and tell them that he was mine, and they had no right to touch him like that.
But he’s not mine. He made that clear on his porch when he told me I was an easy mark, then kissed me and shoved me away.
So why does watching other women touch him feel like drowning?
I start the car before I can do something stupid. Something like driving back to Cedar street and begging him to stop torturing us both.
The grocery store shrinks in my rearview mirror. I left a cart full of food in there. Half a week’s shopping abandoned in the cereal aisle.
I don’t care.
All I can think about is the way he looked at me. And even knowing that he did it on purpose, even seeing the manipulation for what it is …
It still worked.