Chapter 18
Everly
Still clutching Julian’s biceps in my clenched fists, I take a deep breath and blow it out on a shaky exhale.
I press my forehead to his chest again. I don’t want to look at him.
I don’t want him to look at me differently.
What if he blames me like everyone in Oak Valley?
What if it happens again and everyone here turns their backs on me? Where will I go then?
“Is that your boyfriend?”
I shake my head vehemently.
“Okay.” He nods slowly.
I’m gulping air, trying to catch my breath. I know I have to say it. More shallow breaths.
“A girl back home, a friend—I thought she was my friend, accused me of sleeping with her boyfriend . . .” More gulps of air.
“Then tried to kill herself.” More gulps.
“Then took a social hit out on me.” I can’t get enough air.
“It’s him.” I’m clawing at my shirt now.
I need more air. “I changed my number. No one has it. Only my sister. Olivia.” I’m rambling and panting.
Sweat runs down my spine. “But they’re all friends.
Maybe he found it on her phone.” I shake my head.
“This can’t be happening again.” My breath hitches.
“I left. I disappeared. I left my whole life so they’d all leave me alone.
I can’t . . .” I can’t breathe. My chest feels tight.
The room starts to go dark at the edges, my fingertips tingle.
Julian stands up with me still wrapped around him and swivels, sits me down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me.
“Ever.” He sounds mad. At me? “Hey, look at me.” His hands shake my legs to jar my stare into nothingness to his eyes.
“Deep breath. In one, two, three, four; out one, two, three, four. Again. In. Count with me in your head. Out one, two, three, four. You’re about to hyperventilate.
Keep breathing and counting. Nothing else matters. Just breathe and count with me, okay?”
The edges of the room come back into focus along with his eyes. I love his eyes. The tightness in my chest eases.
Julian puts his hands on my cheeks and pulls my face to his. Then he kisses me so softly I almost can’t feel his lips. He moves his hands down my neck, arms, then clasps my hands. “C’mon, let’s go downstairs and make some tea.” He stands up and pulls me up with him.
I follow numbly. I know I have to tell him all of it now. Will he believe me? I don’t want to go back there, even to tell it. I keep breathing and counting as I retrieve my sweats from the floor where I dropped them earlier this evening. Why does that feel so long ago?
***
Steaming mug in hand, I face him across the breakfast bar.
“I can’t say for sure what happened. All I know is I didn’t sleep with him or anyone.
I’ve never even kissed a guy, I . . .” I stop abruptly, realizing what I’ve just admitted to this man in front of me, who gave me my first kiss and a mind-numbing orgasm less than an hour ago upstairs.
Judging by the expression on his face, he realizes it too.
My face flames with the inadvertent admission.
He clears his throat and takes a sip of tea, sufficiently hiding behind his mug. Swallowing visibly, he asks, voice raspy, “Then why is everyone convinced you slept with him?”
“My sister went to see Kendall in the hospital the next day. She claims she found us in their bed together. And when he left to drive me home, she took a bunch of pills. Kendall admitted she made herself throw them up right after but went to the hospital just in case. Chase told everyone he just went in to use the bathroom and I came on to him. I don’t remember anything except waking up in their bed and being thrown out of their house.
I remember drinking too much at their party.
“Not something I usually do,” I add when I see Julian raise his eyebrow.
My heart begins hammering in my chest, tracking the judgment that I inevitably see on every face of anyone that hears about that night.
“Anyway, Kendall’s dad pretty much runs Oak Valley, so by proxy Kendall does too.
I became a pariah overnight. But that wasn’t enough for Kendall’s friends.
I got death threats, bullied online, my car vandalized.
That’s when I came here—when they destroyed my car.
I couldn’t subject my sister to it any longer.
Kendall and her posse are my sister’s best friends.
Chase is Ryan’s best friend. And of course, none of it could be traced back to Kendall or Chase.
And maybe it wasn’t them. Just their loyal self-appointed minions.
We may never know. It just got to be too much and .
. .” I shrug and let my sentence trail off as I stare at the cooling tea in my mug.
“And Allie to the rescue,” he finishes for me.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask her to rescue me,” I retort, suddenly pissed.
“No one asks. It’s just what she does.” He stands to take his mug to the sink.
“Ever, I’m not judging you. From the little I know about you, I’d bet money you didn’t make a move on him, even drunk off your ass.
It doesn’t track for me. Maybe getting some time and distance from it will bring back that night.
Maybe it won’t. But this isn’t Oak Valley, and I’m not those people.
I’m not judging you,” he repeats and takes the mug out of my hand and places it in the sink.
“Come on, let’s try to get some sleep before the alarm.
Kickboxing tomorrow . . . or today technically. ”
Upstairs, he follows me into my room and waits for me to get into bed. He surprises me by sitting down in the chair next to the bed. “Just till you fall asleep,” he explains.
“Somehow I think you being right there will do the opposite.” I see his half smile in the diffused moonlight.
“Just close your eyes. Count your breaths.”
I roll over so my back is to him and pull the covers around my shoulders, my eyelids already drooping. I wish he were next to me, but I don’t know how to ask. And my brain is too exhausted to figure it out. Before I drift off, I call out softly, “Julie?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Believing me.”
“Night, Ever.”
***
The next time I open my eyes, the room is bright, telling me it’s later than normal wake-up time.
I roll over to sit up and see Julian slumped in the chair, arms folded over his chest that rises and falls with his slow, even breaths.
I quietly push back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
Pushing off the mattress with my hands, I stand and look back at him.
Clear, hungry blue eyes meet mine a second before the shutters come down. “Hi—” He clears his throat and tries again. “Hi,” he repeats, his voice even deeper than usual from sleep.
“Hi.”
“Sleep okay?” He yawns the question.
“Better than I expected.” I grip the edge of the mattress and hold my breath. I don’t know what to make of waking up with a beautiful man in my room. Or in my life. I hold my breath.
He pouts his lips at my reply.
I change the subject. “What time is it?” I ask, reaching for my phone. “My alarm never went off,” I say, looking at the screen.
“It did. I turned it off. Sleep seemed like the priority.” He shrugs as he stands and rolls his neck. Several cracks pierce the quiet room.
“Didn’t you have sand coming to the beach . . . an hour ago?” I ask, looking at the time again.
“Yeah, Pete and his three boys are out there right now. They’ll handle it.” He pauses, then, “So . . . kickboxing?” This he says as he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
As much as I want to revel in that sweet gesture, I’m suddenly furious.
Maybe it was him babysitting me in a chair all night instead of lying next to me, or him deciding to shut off my alarm, or changing the schedule without asking me, or Chase’s texts last night, or all of it.
But shortly after my dad died, I became hyper independent.
I don’t like people telling me what to do.
Especially a guy I’m interested in. Granted, I don’t have any previous frame of reference, but him taking care of me is one thing.
Him handling me is another altogether. Maybe it’s just the OV stuff coming up last night weighing on me, but none of those people are here right now.
Julian is. Lucky him. I take it all out on him, deserved or not.
“Look, I’ve been making my own decisions for a while now.
I don’t need a dad. I don’t need a babysitter.
And I don’t need someone making decisions for me.
And yeah. Kicking the shit out of something sounds pretty good right now.
See you downstairs in fifteen.” I say all of this as I stand up and face him.
When I’m done, I pivot and storm into the bathroom, my shoulder bumping his chest on my way.
I slam the bathroom door and immediately regret it, because it’s giving unhinged soap opera energy which is very not me.
When I get downstairs fourteen minutes later, Julian is dressed, his hair damp, his clothes fresh. He’s a statue in front of the kitchen slider, with the morning sun beaming on him. I know he hears me; I wasn’t quiet coming down the stairs. I wait for him to turn.
He doesn’t turn but says to the glass door, “Want to ride to Fit together? There’s coffee if you want some.” He’s choosing his words carefully.
I’m an asshole. “Uh, yeah, thanks. I’ll grab a travel mug and take it with me.”
He nods once and heads toward the door without looking at me. “I’ll go warm up the Jeep. Take your time.”
Fuck. I’m such a jerk. Maybe this hillbilly air isn’t working its magic on me after all. Rolling my eyes, I begin digging through cabinets for a travel mug.