Chapter 25
It was another mistake. Another slip he couldn’t afford to make.
Another truth that had her going silent with shock, her eyes wide with confusion.
But fuck it. He couldn’t let her think she’d been some burden.
“You’re not exactly hard to read,” he continued, relentlessly heading toward his own doom.
He let his gaze take in every aspect of her face, the slight, upturned angle of her nose, those freckles he wanted to trace with his tongue, the loose tendrils of hair curling at her temple that glowed like fire under the midday sun.
“Everything about you is clear as fucking day. You are exactly what you seem. A smart girl. A spoiled girl. A good girl.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, her cheeks once more going pink, her eyes going hazy.
His head went back with realization, his own breath locked in his chest.
She liked being called a good girl.
He was in hell.
“I don’t have to know a goddamn thing about your brothers,” he said. “Not when it’s clear you’ve never lacked for anything. You’ve been taken care of every day of your life. You’ve been loved every single day of your life.”
Her eyes once again filled with tears.
This girl was going to kill him.
“I just… I’m not so sure,” she said, speaking slowly, as if choosing her words carefully, when usually she spouted off whatever thought entered her head, “going to OSU is such a good idea.”
“Because you don’t know if you want to be a vet?”
“Because it’s not here!”
“Columbus is less than three hours away.”
Two hours and twenty-eight minutes to be exact. He’d checked when he’d found out she was going to school there.
“I know how far it is. The point is I don’t think it’s the best time for me to not be in Mount Laurel.”
She began to pace, but not in front of him. Around him.
The girl was literally walking—and talking—circles around him.
“Urban and Willow finally got together,” she continued, as he looked over his right shoulder, then his left, not willing to let her out of his sight for even a second, “which is miraculous in and of itself, but there’s no guarantee he won’t mess it up. Or worse. Go at his usual glacial pace and wait sixteen more years before asking her to marry him, which would be fine if they didn’t want kids, but if there were ever two people who were meant to be parents, it’s those two.”
She picked up her pace, as if her steps were in a race with the words machine-gunning out of her mouth.
And the words were winning.
“Miles is even grumpier than usual, which is more than likely due to his trauma over witnessing our parents’ car accident” —she shot Reed a look, as if to see if he was still paying attention— “which he refuses to talk about. Plus, his feelings for Tabitha, which he still has, no matter how many times he claims he doesn’t. I’ve spent the past two weeks dropping hints to him about the benefits of therapy, which Miles has, of course, ignored because our patriarchal society and its toxic masculinity doesn’t think men have feelings. At least, not ones they can express. But who knows? Maybe I’m slowly chipping away at his resistance. But if I leave, any progress I’ve made will just” —waving her hands wildly, she made a pfft sound— “disappear.”
She stopped, both the walking and the talking, but only long enough for her to suck in a breath—and turn and walk in a circle around him the other way.
Squeezing the back of his now-sore neck, he turned in time with her.
“Toby works way too much, which he claims is just him trying to run a successful restaurant, but it’s obvious that’s an excuse and he’s doing everything in his power to avoid his loneliness. And what about Ian? Who’s going to pick him up after school? Or take him to the library on Wednesday nights? Plus, I’m the only Jennings Kat likes. If I’m not here, she’ll never attend another Sunday family dinner, which means she’ll never learn to trust my brothers.”
She stopped again, this time whirling around to face him. “What if Silas comes home? He never stays in Mount Laurel more than a couple of days, and if his leave isn’t on a weekend or during one of my breaks, I won’t even get to see him. Plus, Eli’s trying to get traded to a team closer to home, but if that happens and I’m in Columbus, I still won’t be able to see him regularly.”
Christ, but she had a lot of fucking brothers.
“If you’re busy,” he said, “they can drive down to see you. Or you can skip a couple of classes to come home.”
“It’s not the same. Nothing is going to be the same.”
He didn’t get what the problem was. “Isn’t that the point of growing up?”
“Seeing as how we’re both new to this adult thing, I’m not sure how either of us is supposed to know that.”
“That’s the thing, princess. Some of us aren’t new to it. Some of us had to grow up faster than others.”
She blushed again, but held his gaze and nodded, gracefully accepting his rebuke like the royalty she was. “You’re right. And you were right before, too. Not about everything,” she quickly added, in case he started getting delusions that he wasn’t a complete idiot. “But I was taken care of every day of my life, just like you said. More specifically, my brothers took care of me. They’ve always been there for me. But when I’m in Columbus, I’ll be alone. Which, admittedly, had been the dream at one time, but now that it’s almost here? It just seems like a really bad idea.” Her lower lip trembled. “I’ve never been without them before.”
“That’s what you’re so scared of?” he asked incredulously. “Being homesick?”
“It’s not about being homesick,” she insisted—there was nothing she loved more than to correct him. “I’m just not so certain that going to OSU is right for me at this time. Not when I could just as easily stay here and commute to Pitt.”
Stay here.
If she did that, if she stuck around Mount Laurel, he might start thinking he’d been wrong to push her away. To keep his distance. He might even convince himself that being with her wasn’t such a bad idea.
That he wouldn’t end up hurting her even more than he already had.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, he gave her his best smirk. “You gotta grow up sometime. Might as well be now.”
“As helpful as that comment is, which is to say, not at all, I’m not sure you’re the best person to ascertain whether or not I should go to OSU.”
“Because a dumb grease monkey like me couldn’t possibly have an opinion?”
“Stop,” she said, shame washing across her face. “I didn’t say that. And that’s certainly not what I meant. You’re the farthest thing from dumb, and you and I both know it.”
“I’m not smart. Not like you. We both know that, too.”
“Yeah, well, as I’ve proven several times now, I’m not always smart. Not around you, anyway. If I was, I never would have texted you that time. I wouldn’t have asked you to get ice cream. And I never, ever would have told you any of those things that night at the lake. But it seems I’m rather inept when dealing with you. And the way you make me feel.”
She shouldn’t be telling him that, any of it.
And he sure as hell shouldn’t ask her for more.
But selfish bastard that he was, he couldn’t stop himself.
“How do I make you feel?”
“Reckless. Weak.” Her mouth thinned. “Stupid.”
“There is nothing,” he said, low and husky, “nothing weak or stupid about you.”
“If I was stronger, I would have kept right on walking to my car the moment I saw you out here waiting for me. Hearing you say the things you’ve said—that you’re an expert on me and that I’m brave and smart—standing this close to you while you look like the poster boy for sexy mechanic. I mean, really? The tattoos, the biceps, the loose hair? God. Come at me with all guns blazing, why don’t you?”
It wasn’t a surprise she liked what she saw. The attraction between them wasn’t exactly subtle.
He should ignore it.
Instead, he crossed his arms and flexed his biceps.
And got an epic eye roll for his trouble.
“Seeing you,” she repeated flatly, “hearing the things you say, seeing the way you look at me makes me want to throw caution, my pride, and any and all self-respect I might still have to the wind if that would mean you’d take a chance on me. On us.” Her voice dropped to a low, ragged whisper, but her gaze remained steady. Strong. “Pretty stupid, right?”
His heart pounded so hard, it echoed in his ears. His mouth dried.
This was it. His chance to take back all that bullshit he’d told her at the lake. To tell her he’d lied to her that day at Tabitha’s when he’d said she was easy to walk away from.
His chance to fix things.
But what good would that do? She wasn’t staying in Mount Laurel, no matter what she said. She was just nervous about going away to school. Eventually she’d settle in at Ohio State. She’d have experiences and friends and a life away from their hometown.
Telling her the truth would only make him start to think the same things she was thinking.
That he’d willingly give up his pride and self-respect for the chance to be with her.
Except he didn’t have five older brothers ready to catch him if he fell.
When he fucked up, there was no one in his corner to fix his mistakes for him. No one else to blame. No one who’d pick up the pieces if he fell apart.
If he broke.
“Yeah,” he said, but his voice was too low, too rough, too full of regret and self-pity, and he had to stop. Clear his throat. “That is pretty stupid.”
She flinched, but it was fast.
And replaced with a curled-lip, up and down look of disgust.
Like he was dog shit under her royal foot.
“Luckily,” she said, calm and cold and completely over him, “there’s a difference between doing something stupid and being stupid. And you were right. Again. I am smart. Smart enough to know that this?” Stepping forward, she gestured between them. “Has to stop. So count me out of whatever game it is that you’re playing. Because I’m getting really tired of losing. And I’m no longer all that sure the prize at the end is worth winning.”
Her words were quiet. Sincere.
And tore through him.
This was what he’d wanted, he reminded himself. For her to realize he didn’t deserve her time or attention. Wasn’t worth her honesty and courage. That he’d never be able to live up to whatever fantasy version of him she’d dreamt up in her head.
He just hadn’t realized getting what he wanted would suck this much.
Before he could give her some smartass response, her phone buzzed. She jerked and looked down at it, like she’d forgotten she was holding it.
She checked the screen, her gaze darting to him. The slight unease in her eyes, the tinge of guilt in her pink cheeks, had him stepping closer when he should have been walking away.
He looked down at her phone, not giving a fuck if she knew he was trying to see who was calling her. To see if it was that asshole Frat Boy who’d hit on her at the ice cream place. The same guy who’d tried to get her into the backseat of his car at the lake.
Seemed she had no fucks left to give, either, because she tipped her head to the side and slowly, deliberately turned her phone so he could read the name on the screen.
Patrick Henderson.
Not Frat Boy.
Someone else.
Reed’s breath locked in his throat. His shoulders went rigid.
Who. The fuck. Was. Patrick Henderson?
It kept buzzing and he realized he didn’t have to do or say anything.
She was more than capable of walking away all on her own.
“You should get that,” he said quietly. Testing her. Daring her.
Pushing her away after all.
Still looking at him, she swiped the answer button. A moment later, a smiling blonde guy wearing a backwards baseball hat appeared. He was maybe a couple years older than Reed and Verity, but Reed didn’t recognize him from school. Or anywhere else in Mount Laurel.
Any hope Reed had that the guy was a long-lost brother to go along with the five she already had—hell, he’d even take a first cousin—died when the guy’s grin widened. “Hey, babe.”
Babe.
Reed flinched. Fucking hope.
Never did him any good.
“Hi,” Verity said to the guy, her tone light. Happy. As if she was fucking thrilled to be standing in the middle of a parking lot, the sun beating down on her, turning her nose and cheeks pink, while some ass-wipe grinned at her.
But her smile was forced.
And she kept glancing at Reed.
“Sorry I didn’t pick up before,” she continued. “I was at the clinic.”
“No problem.” The asshole’s voice was deep and had a twang, like he was some fucking cowboy or something, and he spoke slowly, like he had all the time in the world to stare at Verity Jennings through the phone. He whistled, low and long. “Damn, girl. You look real pretty today. As always. I’m digging the braids.”
Reed snorted. Knew by the asshole’s husky tone that he was thinking about wrapping those braids around his hands.
Just like Reed had imagined.
But Verity shot him a hurt look, like she was so innocent she couldn’t even consider that the guy might be thinking dirty thoughts about her and those sweet looking braids.
Like Reed had been making fun of her.
Like he didn’t think she was pretty.
His stomach turned and he shoved his hands back into his pockets. Better that than grab her and tell her she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. That he dreamt of her. That he wanted her.
That he was terrified of her and the way she made him feel.
The things she made him want.
“Thank you,” she told the guy. She cleared her throat. Amped up that forced smile. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the game?”
The guy laughed. “Probably. But I have a few minutes before I have to leave for the field.” His voice dropped. “I just wanted to see you before I left.”
And her gaze once more went to Reed.
He locked eyes with her. Wanting to hold on to that connection. To make it last.
The guy must have noticed he didn’t have her full attention because he continued, “But if you’re doing something, I can just call you later.”
She blinked as if coming out of a trance. “No,” she said slowly, looking back at the phone. “I’m not doing anything.” Then she met Reed’s eyes once more and went for the killing blow. “Nothing important anyway.” She smiled at the guy, this one warmer. More real. “And I’d much rather talk to you.”
With that, she turned on her heel.
And walked away.
Just like Reed told himself he wanted her to do.