Little Secrets(54)

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. He was right.

“I know,” she said. “Nothing’s going to happen. He’s too … I don’t know.” Broken was the word that came to mind, but she liked Derek as a person. It felt disloyal to say it out loud.

“He’s grieving,” J.R. said.

They’d sat in silence for a while. She watched as he stared into his beer thoughtfully, wondered if he’d want to have sex later. When he turned her down—gently, but still—she kicked herself for continuing to try with him when all J.R. did was remind her that she was never going to be the one.

Her grand-mère had been right. Might as well get your heart broken by a rich man.

Kenzie’s had her heart broken twice. The first time was the day her father walked out on her mother, when Kenzie was only twelve. He left them for a woman half his age. Her mother, who hadn’t worked since Kenzie was born, was forced to take a job she hated. In a small town, job prospects were scarce, and she ended up working as a night cleaner for several local businesses.

Kenzie’s father died of a heart attack two years ago. She found out through Facebook, when her estranged aunt shared the announcement her “stepmother” had posted, along with details of the memorial service. Kenzie did not attend. She’d said her goodbyes a long time ago.

The second heartbreak was J.R. He was never her boyfriend, but he was her first love, a guy from her hometown whose family knew her family. They hooked up the summer before she left for college. She lost her virginity to him on a blanket on the grass by the river, under the stars, and it was every bit as fucking romantic as a country song.

“Am I going to see you again?” she’d asked him afterward, as she pulled her underwear and shorts back on. She felt sore, but in a good way, an adult way. There was a light breeze fluttering the leaves of the trees. The moon was a crescent, casting almost no light, but it made the stars shine brighter.

“Of course you will,” he said. “We’ll both be back for Thanksgiving. And we’ll talk all the time between now and then.”

But they didn’t. He didn’t. She left for college the next day, and for the next month, J.R. didn’t return any of her calls or texts. The only time he picked up the phone was when she used her roommate’s cell phone to call him, and he expressed polite surprise at hearing from her, but otherwise sounded distant.

Kenzie got the hint. It was over, whatever “it” had been. It was clear that J.R. didn’t want a relationship, and though she’d worked hard at keeping her expectations low, the confirmation that it would never be anything more nearly ruined her. She was knocked sideways by the pain. She didn’t know she could hurt like that, that she could give herself to someone who could throw her away so easily, and it felt even worse than her dad leaving. Her only comfort was that they lived far apart, and she’d probably never have to see him again.

Except she did see him again. J.R. stopped by her mother’s house on Thanksgiving weekend and invited her to go for a drive down to the river, acting like he hadn’t ripped her heart out of her chest and set it on fire a mere two months before. She agreed to go. She had things to say, and here was her chance to say them.

“You used me.” The river looked different in late November than it had back in August. They sat on the same plaid blanket, but they were wearing their coats and boots instead of shorts and T-shirts, and drinking coffee with Baileys instead of cold beer. The same trees that had been lush with leaves a few months before were now stripped bare, their branches thin and brittle. Naked. Exposed. Which was how Kenzie felt.

The air was filled with the sweet, skunky scent of J.R.’s joint. He offered it to her, and she took a long drag before passing it back.

“How did I use you?” he asked. “Have I lied to you? Have I made you promises I’m not keeping?”

“You said you’d keep in touch.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, okay, so I’m not great with that. I should’ve warned you. I tend to focus on what’s right in front of me, and if you’re not in front of me, it’s kind of—”

“Out of sight, out of mind?”

“Something like that.” He offered her the joint again. She declined. Anything more than a puff tended to make her paranoid. “Don’t let emotions get in the way of a good thing, M.K. What we have is perfect just the way it is.”

“And what is it we have?”

“We’re friends,” he said, and she winced. The word friends had never sounded so dismissive. “We’ll always be friends.”

“I want to be with you,” she blurted, and as soon as the words were out, she felt terrible. She’d worked hard at putting him behind her, and now here he was, and all the feelings were back. She didn’t know what to do with them; it was all so confusing.

“You are with me.” He stubbed out the joint, cupped her chin, and turned her face toward his. “That’s the part you don’t get. When I’m here, I’m here.”

“And when you’re not, you’re not.”

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. You have your whole life ahead of you. You’ve got school, you’ve got friends, you’ve probably got guys asking you out all the time. My advice? Say yes. To everything. Don’t let opportunities pass you by because of me. Your life is bigger than me, than this.” He swept a hand toward the river. “You wanted out of this town for a reason. Don’t let anything drag you back. Not even me.”