Say You Still Love Me(59)

Three, technically, if you count Ashley. “Yes.” Because the truth is, me losing this job won’t affect my future. It won’t deprive me of spending money next year. It won’t limit my college application or future career. All it’ll do is bruise my ego. And my parents’. I’m not sure who it would hurt more—my nostalgic mother or my prideful father.

“I’ll pay for the damages. It won’t cost the camp a thing, I promise.” My stomach tightens at the prospect of that phone call with my mother. “Please don’t fire them,” I ask again, in a more pleading tone.

“I don’t want to. Losing counselors the first week of camp throws everything off.” She drags her fingers over the picnic table. “Get to your cabin.”

I bite my bottom lip, hesitating. “So, you’re not going to fire them?”

“I don’t know. I need to give this some thought. I will let you guys know tomorrow morning. Now go on.”

I trudge back through the dark, quiet campground, preparing myself for a sleepless night, but holding on to hope.





Chapter 13



NOW


My left heel wobbles a touch as I step out of the elevator. I’m two minutes early and Kyle is already in the meeting room, seated and waiting, his back to me, his attention on his phone.

For just a moment, I lose my nerve and reach back to hold the elevator door. For just a moment, I tell myself this is crazy and that I need to let go and move on before I humiliate myself further.

I don’t know the cool, reserved man sitting in that room; I only know the wild boy he used to be.

But then that familiar thrill stirs in my stomach, the one that Kyle has always stirred inside me like no one else—not even David in our early days. And I can’t dismiss that.

Taking a deep breath, I push through the glass door.

Kyle doesn’t shift or turn; he waits until I’m towering over him to peer up at me. His golden eyes are wary and resigned. That gaze flickers down, over my slate-blue silk blouse—the collar plunging but not unprofessionally so—and then back up. It’s a quick look, but I don’t miss it.

“Is this about that Tripp guy?” he finally asks.

I settle into the chair across from him, putting us at equal level. “No.”

He nods slowly, as if he knows what I’m going to ask. I’m guessing he heard my question yesterday, after all. He chose to pretend he didn’t.

Do I go in hard or do I try a more subtle approach?

His eyes trail my hands as I clasp them on the table.

“How is everything?”

The smallest smirk touches his lips. “No complaints.”

“Are you liking things here so far?”

“Yes.”

“And you like Lennox?”

“Yes.” He’s answering as if he’s being questioned in an interrogation. And maybe that’s what this is.

“Do you like it more than San Diego?”

His smirk falters a touch.

“Gus told me that’s where you moved from.”

He nods slowly. “I figured it was time to come home.”

“Home?” I repeat lightly. “I thought home was Poughkeepsie. Or was it Albany?”

“Both, actually.” His lips twist in thought. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything, Kyle.” I hear the vulnerability in my voice and I hate it. I clear my throat and attempt to steel my nerve. “Unlike you, I’ve never forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he says quickly, sharply, piercing me with a look that is somehow both hard and soft. “Not a second of it.”

The air in this meeting room has suddenly turned electric.

So then why the act? I want to ask, but I bench that question for the moment.

“When did you move to San Diego?”

He shifts and settles back in his chair, as if to get comfortable. “Two weeks after I left Wawa.”

With not so much as a call or email or anything to me?

He drums his fingertips over the table’s smooth surface in an unhurried tempo, his gaze never leaving mine.

Waiting for me to ask my next question.

My phone vibrates in my pocket with an incoming call. I ignore it. This exchange between Kyle and me feels so much more important than anything else at the moment. “How is your family doing now?”

He sighs heavily, his eyes drifting to the window behind me. “Fine, I guess. I don’t have much to do with them anymore.”

“Are they out?” I don’t need to elaborate.

Kyle turns his head, as if checking the hall behind us to make sure there aren’t any eavesdroppers hovering by the door. It gives me a sublime view of his profile—of that long, slender nose that used to nuzzle against my neck, of those full, soft pouty lips that spent many nights against mine. Does he still kiss like he used to, I wonder, or has that changed along with the rest of him?

“Yeah. Well, my dad and Ricky are, anyway. They were released a few years ago. Max got into some trouble while inside, so his sentence got extended. He gets out in a few months.” Kyle doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I assume that’s all the information I’m going to get. But then he offers, “They were living in Albany for a bit, but they decided to move to San Diego. Last I heard, my mom and dad are back together, and Dad and Ricky were working construction. Probably looking for their next scam.”