Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
ZIGGY
I’m not a sexy guy. I’m not even an exy guy. The way Kennedy looks at me almost makes me think I can pull it off though.
I’m working more than ever in a thinly disguised effort to spend time with him.
He’s nice enough not to call me out on it, but I know he knows.
Kennedy isn’t an idiot, and he proves it every time we’re together.
Which has been almost all day, every day this week.
And the more time that grows since we slept together, the more the tension between us is suffocating.
I lean against the side of the house, taking a breather, and as usual, he finds me a few minutes later.
“Look at you, slacking off.”
I flip him the bird, smile painted on my face.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get away from me. Way to hurt my feelings.” He presses his hand to his wide chest like he’s emphasizing the point. “I thought we were friends.”
He’s not trying hard to act convincing, which is good because it wouldn’t work anyway. One, because I enjoy the attention, and two, because while most people don’t notice me, I notice them. I’ve gotten really good at reading people.
I’m not sure if it’s a leftover survival instinct from reading my parents’ moods and knowing when it was safe to appear or safer to hide, but the smallest things are obvious to me. I usually know within minutes of meeting someone whether I can trust them or not.
Kennedy has always had trustworthy written all over him.
He leans against the house beside me, shoulder against the shiplap paneling, his focus on me. Giving in to his begging for attention, I turn my head his way, and this wash of nerves floods my gut when we make eye contact.
This. This is why I love spending time with him. He makes me feel good from the inside out, and he’s probably unaware he’s doing it, but the subtle shift from friendly Kennedy to … this person couldn’t be more obvious.
I feel the way his eyes always find me. The way he gravitates as close as possible—like now—and his vibrating energy for more matches my own.
Like I know if I leaned in and kissed him, he’d kiss me back, but I made the first move once.
Next time is on him.
If he’s really determined to ride out this no-dating rule that he’s set for himself, then I’ll ride it out too. All the while making it as hard for him as possible. It’s his choice, but I never agreed not to tip the odds in my favor.
“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” His voice is half a pitch deeper than usual, and the familiarity of it makes me want to lean in closer. Who am I kidding? Everything about him makes me want to lean in closer.
It can’t be me though.
I lift my shoulders, trying to look cute while I do it. I’m not sure that I’ll ever pull off flirty, but I’ll do whatever I need to in order to keep Kennedy hooked.
It’s almost predictable the way he opens his mouth to suggest we hang out, but the sound of a car reaches us before he can speak.
And like that, our cozy bubble pops.
“Hart back already?” he asks, leaning forward to see the entrance to Old End, and it doesn’t take long for the white SUV to appear. “Weird. But I guess that’s our cue to—”
He cuts off when Hart isn’t alone. A shiny silver thing trails behind, and when Hart pulls off the road, it parks alongside him.
Kennedy and I exchange a confused look before he breaks away from me to see what’s going on. And I’m left frozen to the spot, not sure if I’m supposed to follow him or wait here.
Hartwell is hard for even me to get a read on, then add a complete unknown to that, and walking over there feels impossible. Especially with the further Kennedy gets from me.
Approaching a group of people? Having them watch as I get closer? No, thank you.
I’d rather electrocute myself.
But then, is it any more awkward than hovering here, at a weird distance, and staring at them?
Fuck me. The only thing that stops me from tugging at my hair is the fear it might draw their attention. Why am I like this? Why am I so set to sabotage myself that I know walking over there won’t be a big deal, but in my brain, it’s a very, very big deal?
I clench my jaw at the building frustration and duck back between the houses before I’m seen. Hudson’s likely to join them soon, and I can just picture him walking past and questioning why I’m spying on people.
Error. Error. Error.
In a split second of self-preservation, I duck back inside. I’ll pretend like I wasn’t interested in the mystery visitor, and if Kennedy wonders where I’ve gone, he’ll find me here working, and it will look like the most normal thing in the world.
After all, it’s the whole damn reason I’m in town to begin with.
I’m supposed to be here.
It makes sense.
It’s not until I’m sheltered from view inside the building, the dull murmur of voices outside too low for me to make out, that I remind myself to breathe. Kennedy won’t be gone long. Then we can pick up where we left off.
Minutes pass, and I try not to get antsy. Or curious.
Who the hell did Hart bring with him?
Another tradesperson to help with the houses? They have me to cover the electrical, but maybe a plumber? What if they’re an asshole?
While I wait, I might as well get my curiosity under control.
I check down the side of the house to make sure that Kennedy isn’t back yet before I creep through the inside, stepping around the frames of partially built walls.
The windows on the front of the house are mostly boarded up, but some of them aren’t flush, and sunlight peeks through the gaps.
I choose the biggest one to spy from.
Like I’d suspected, Hudson has joined them. He’s got his back to me with Hart beside him and Kennedy side on. The three of them are surrounding someone who’s blocked from view by Hudson.
Because of course.
That brother always has to make things difficult for me.
While I’m watching, a laugh bursts from Kennedy, the tops of his cheeks patchy and red as he scuffs a hand back through his hair.
His body energy is … nervous?
Who the fuck is it?
I turn my glare to Hudson, willing him to shift out of the way. Something about Kennedy is throwing up alarm bells, and I’m cursing my stupid wreck of a brain that wouldn’t let me walk over with him.
It would have been easy. So easy. For anyone but me.
And then I’d be right in Kennedy’s line of sight, so there’s no way he’d forget about me while he laughs and blushes at someone else.
There’s a whole house between us, but I know for a fact that’s what it is.
He’s blushing.
My tongue piercing runs over the back of my teeth, and I have to hold back the urge to bite it. This is fine. I’m probably misreading everything, and any moment now—
Hudson shifts to point at something, and my heart drops like a rotten tree branch in a storm. Torn away and then in free fall.
It’s the woman from the diner.
Her hair is out, and she’s not wearing that ugly uniform. She looks … pretty.
I hate her more than I did the first time I saw her.
I know this would be a perfect time to walk away, to go back to work and stop thinking about her and distract myself with literally anything else.
My feet are stuck though. Stuck like when all the worries kick in, but this is something different this time.
This time, it’s straight-up jealousy.
Hudson playfully pushes Kennedy’s shoulder, and I watch as he takes a step toward Caroline, then pauses. His gaze swings back this way before he leans in toward his brothers, says something, and then follows Caroline down the street.
My heartbeat is so loud in my ears, it makes my head dip out of focus.
Where. The hell. Is he going?
His form gets smaller the further they walk, and I’m so focused on him, it takes me too long to notice his brothers are heading toward me.
I hear them by the side of the house and only manage to scramble to my feet before they walk in and look around.
“Ziggy?” Hudson calls.
“Back here.” I speak without even thinking about it, but my head is scrambled.
There’s this deep ache in my chest that’s got me dangerously close to throwing up.
I’m trying to hide it as I reach them, but I have no idea what expression I’m wearing because when I step into view, both Hudson and Hart immediately look worried.
“You okay?” Hudson asks.
I nod, jerkily and too fast, but I’m losing the will to care.
Hudson doesn’t look convinced, but Hart buys it.
“Kennedy wanted us to let you know he’s taking the rest of the day off,” Hart said. “He had a visitor.”
A visitor.
The rest of the day.
The day that was supposed to belong to me.
Good to know I’m so easily traded out, I guess.
I try not to storm away but mustn’t pull it off because Hart’s arm flies out in front of me. “Hey, don’t mind him. She’s Mrs. …” He trails off, thinking, “Nine hundred and seventieth The One.” He rolls his eyes like that’s supposed to make me feel better.
“Yeah, he gets like this,” Hudson adds. “Meets someone, then for a week or so, it’s all about them, until they dump him and he’s a mess over it.” He snorts. “So much for not dating.”
I’m not sure if this is supposed to be comfort or rubbing it in that Kennedy had me as an option but chose not to take it.
“Should stock up on the gin now,” Hart drones.
Hudson sighs, crossing his arms to lean against the wall. “Maybe this could be it? I wasn’t expecting Wilde. Maybe Kennedy will find—”
“No.” Hart already sounds bored. “He’s not finding the love of his life up here. This will end the way they always do.”
“True …”
It’s like they’ve forgotten I’m still here, so I make it easy for them and leave. I jump off the open back of the house, cross the short distance to the tree line, and start the walk home.
He’s not going to find the love of his life up here.
Kennedy didn’t want me waiting for him.
So I won’t.
He knows where I live.
Let’s see how long it takes him to remember I exist.