Finding Kyle(34)
I’m betting the sex is different too, as I personally know there are hundreds of ways to have an orgasm.
“You believe in that stuff?” I ask, another nod to the book.
“You mean love?” she returns, her head tilted in confusion.
“Love, romance, soul mates,” I say in a dismissive tone.
“I do,” she says simply. “Don’t you?”
“Nope,” I answer quickly and with utter honesty. My views on relationships are so fucking whacked based on what I’ve been immersed so deeply in over the last several years. I don’t have much faith in people or in love.
“Ah,” Jane says knowingly, her eyes turning soft. “You’ve had your heart broken before.”
I blink at her in surprise and sit up straighter in my chair. “Actually, I haven’t.”
Never had my heart broken… but it had absolutely turned to stone fairly early on in my days with Mayhem’s Mission. It was a necessary means to survive because I’d have never been able to make it through all those years of crime and depravity if I left open any soft spots to knock me off course.
“You’ve never been in love?” Jane asks softly, pity written clearly on her face over my suspected answer.
But I decide to deflect. “Why? Have you?”
Her mouth opens to answer, then it snaps shut. Her eyes seem confused, and she glances down at the book.
“Jane?” I prompt, because she looks like someone kicked her best puppy.
Her gaze slowly slides up to mine, and she looks at me sheepishly. “I was going to say ‘yes,’ I have been in love before. With Craig—that creeper you helped me with that day at the festival. But then I just realized… what I felt for him is nothing like what I feel when reading these books.”
“Maybe because what you’re reading is fiction,” I suggest. Because that makes the most sense to me.
Jane shakes her head adamantly. “No. I mean… yes, this is fiction, but it’s also real. This is what love’s supposed to feel like, and it just hit me… that’s never what I felt with Craig.”
While it is absolutely none of my business what Jane had with her ex-boyfriend, for some weird reason, I feel strangely fulfilled by her proclamation she never loved that douche. And also a bit sad, because Jane is the type of woman who should experience whatever it is in those books that brings such a smile to her face.
She absolutely deserves something good. Because it’s nothing but a pipe dream for me to hope I could be the one to give it to her, I firmly put it out of my mind and go back to reading the crime thriller in my hands.
CHAPTER 15
Jane
Today was a really good day, but it was painful too. I had an amazing time with Kyle, and I watched him come out of his shell more than ever as we acted like tourists. After coffee in the bookstore, we visited several local artisan shops and galleries. We then had a lunch of thick deli sandwiches and decided to drive Park Loop Road, which enabled Kyle to have a taste of Acadia National Park. The scenery, as always, was stunning and reinforced one of the many reasons why I continue to live in this area rather than go out and explore the world.
Kyle seemed to really enjoy the day. It’s almost as if he “needed” to relax. Once he gave into it, I got to see more of his wit and humor as the day went on. Not to sound too cheesy, but he was kind of like a flower that bloomed under the sun.
But it was painful to me as well, because it only made me like him more. I had suspected there was more behind those walls he’d erected, and the more he showed it to me, the worse I felt because I’d never get to really touch the real Kyle. Because he’s insisting we are nothing but friends, I’ll only have him on the most basic and shallow level.
We catch the last ferry back to Misty Harbor. The sun is setting as Kyle drives his truck off the dock. I’m hungry and I’d like to suggest we go grab dinner, but I’m hesitant to do so. I don’t want him thinking this is me pining for another date—which makes me look pathetic—and I have a feeling he’s probably had about as much friendship frolicking fun as he can handle for one day. He’s slipped back into his quiet mode, not having said much on the ferry ride.
So I remain quiet as we drive down Front Street, staring out the passenger window at the point where Misty Bay meets the Atlantic. The sky still has some pale pink up high, but the horizon is already purplish-gray, signifying dusk has arrived on the East Coast. The lighthouse comes into view, its revolving strobe winking at me on each half-turn. The lighthouse has always made me feel a little sad as it stands tall and alone, removed from the rest of the town because its duty is first and foremost to protect the incoming water vessels. It reminds me a little of Kyle, actually.
When Kyle turns onto Gray Birch Street, which borders the south side of my house and intersects with Cranberry, I reach to the floorboard and grab my purse, preparing to exit the vehicle after a quick and friendly goodbye. While in my very own romance novel, Kyle would pull me back and kiss the hell out of me, I know that’s not going to happen because he’s drawn a line in the sand, and it’s not likely he’ll cross it. He seems like a determined man in all things, and wishy-washy doesn’t describe him at all.
Kyle pulls into my driveway. Before he comes to a complete stop, I grip the door handle, prepared to make flight. I’m totally shocked to inaction though when he shoves the truck into park and turns off the ignition.