Two Weeks Later…
Where are you? Haven’t seen you all day! Working late tonight. Catch up tomorrow?
I stare down at my phone, worrying my lip with my teeth before I type my reply. I’ve been spending more and more time away from home, something new for me and, obviously, something Brooke is still getting used to. I still haven’t confided in her about Coder. I know that I should, but I’m still not ready. Whatever we are, whatever we’re becoming, we’re still figuring it out, and there’s something liberating about this being mine to figure out. There are no outside influences in my head; no one telling me that I’m not enough; no one telling me that he’s too different; no one telling me that we’re not in the same league and there is no hope of a future for us.
Of course, Addie knows about him, but as our relationship progresses, I find myself telling her less and less. Coder and I now have intimate secrets, something I’ve never had with anyone before—at least not like this—and I know her. I know my sister. I know she would not approve—my brother even less so. In fact, for a moment, I didn’t even know if I approved. The morning after our night alone in his bedroom, I struggled with the morality of what we had done.
I’m a virgin by chance and by choice. My faith in God and everything I’ve been taught my whole life has instilled in me the belief that I am worth dying for, and my purity is worth protecting because my body is worth more than a quick lay. Though I’m still struggling with my anger at God, I still believe that He loves me and wants more for me than to be a notch in someone’s bedpost. I still believe that to be truly intimate with a man is sacred.
But then I remember the way Coder made me feel—the way he makes me feel every time we’re together. I remember him telling me that we’d go slow, and that we’d do whatever I wanted to do. I’m not ready to have sex with him, but he’s not asking me to be. Furthermore, his level of respect for me cannot be denied. The more time we spend together, the safer he makes me feel, and I’m not convinced we’re doing anything wrong. I’m not a conquest he’s after. I won’t be another notch in his bedpost. I trust him. More than that, I like him so much.
I puff out a sigh, thinking about what to say to Brooke. She’s been pretty quiet about her Coder chase lately, which is a relief. Maybe the time to tell her is quickly approaching. Though, I’m certainly not going to tell her via text. Rather, I give her half the truth—as is becoming my custom.
Just studying. Needed a change of scenery. I work tomorrow night, but should be home around eight. xoxo
I toss my phone into my purse and glance down into my lap, which currently happens to be my desk, and scrunch my face in annoyance. Almost a month into the semester, and I’m so unmotivated, it’s not even funny. I’m getting my stuff done, because that’s who I am, but my doubts about what I want to do with my future make it hard for me to get excited about my studies. I’m starting to feel aimless—a truth that frightens me if I think too much about it, so I try not to. Needing a distraction, I look up and across the room.
Coder’s back is to me. He’s hunched over his client; a position he’s been holding for the last hour as he works on the piece she’s getting done on the small of her back. I like hearing the buzz of the tattoo gun. I like watching the muscles of his back through his t-shirt. I like bearing witness to his level of concentration. He respects his responsibility and the permanence of his actions, and I’m in awe of what he does. I think it’s brave and daring, and I admire his confidence and his passion for his work. Before I met Coder, I’d never given much thought to the role of a tattoo artist. Now, after seeing him in action, I understand that he’s worth admiring.
I watch him for a minute, then force myself to focus my attention back on my homework. I don’t have much left, and I tell myself that if I finish now, I can enjoy the rest of the evening I intend to spend with Coder. He gets off early tonight, and he’s promised to feed me as soon as we leave. I use my hunger as motivation.
Keeping to his word, he’s been really great about calling me even on the days we can’t see each other. Sometimes, I’ll get a text when he wakes up. Mostly, he’ll call me at night before I go to bed. It’s not every day, but seventy-two hours of silence has yet to repeat itself, which makes me happy and hopeful, fueling the rate at which I’m falling for him.
“Code!” bellows Pete before he appears in the doorway. My head shoots up, but Coder keeps on working as his brother asks, “Willow’s doing a dinner run. You two in or out?”
The buzzing of his gun stops as Coder looks up—first at Pete, then over his shoulder at me. “Babe?”
“Oh,” I mutter, reaching up to sweep my hair behind my ears. I haven’t gotten the chance to be alone with Coder all week, the last few times we’ve managed to see each other being here at the shop in the middle of the day. I was actually really looking forward to having him to myself. Yet, for whatever reason, I’m not brave enough to say it. “Um, whatever you want to do is fine.”
He smirks, lifting an eyebrow at me as he says, “Babe—I’m asking you.”
Suddenly feeling hot, like I’ve been thrust under a spotlight, I look over at Pete and then back at Coder before I reply, “Actually…I was hoping…” My sentence trails off when a grin spreads across his face. He then chuckles and winks at me before turning back to his brother.
“Mack isn’t up for sharing, bro. We’ll pass.”
Smiling over at me, Pete lifts his chin before he says, “Cool.” Then, without another word, he leaves, calling Trevor’s name.
Now feeling girlishly giddy that Coder is content to spend his Friday night with just me, I set about finishing my homework with a new determination.
My belly clenches and my core throbs as he rolls me onto my back, making room for himself between my legs. A moan spills from my throat, filling his mouth as he presses his jean-clad erection against me. I know my panties are soaked, and even though we’re both still fully clothed, the feel of him rubbing up against my aching center feels incredible. I moan again, burying my fingers in his hair as I hitch my knees up to press against his sides.
“Fuck, baby, don’t do that,” he grunts, severing our kiss as he rests his forehead against mine. He pushes down one leg, then the other, gripping my waist tightly as he thrusts his hips. “Got my limits, babe. Don’t push ‘em.”
“Sorry,” I whimper as I pant.
He responds only with a kiss, his tongue delving deep into my mouth and twisting with mine. He kisses me greedily, and my heart beats wildly as his hand travels up my side until his thumb is grazing the underside of my breast. I arch my back, and he groans, moving to palm my breast instead. The sound turns me on even more, and I wish I could get Coder closer somehow.
Without second guessing myself, I drag my hands down the front of his chest until I reach the bottom of his plaid button-up. I then sneak my fingers underneath the fabric, sliding my hands over his abs and around to his back, holding him close. He thrusts his hips again, causing a spark between my legs, and I gasp, digging my fingertips into his skin.
“Shit, baby,” he groans, grinding against me again. “We gotta stop.”
My eyes fly open in search of his, my entire body on edge at his suggestion. “No. Please—please, don’t. I—I—”
“What, Mack? Hmm? Tell me,” he insists, tilting his head, his lips seeking out my neck.
I turn, pressing my cheek to his as I whisper, “I need you.”
“Goddammit,” he mutters, rubbing up against me in just the right way.
“Coder,” I moan.
“You got ten seconds, babe,” he warns as he continues to rock his hips. He props himself up on his forearms, his lips hovering over mine as he stares into my eyes. “Nine, baby. Fuck—I can’t believe I’m doing this shit. Seven, Mack.”
“Why are you counting?” I manage between breaths. “You’re making me nervous.”
“God, you’re killing me, babe,” he chuckles, reaching for the top button of my jeans. He yanks down my zipper and then shoves his hand into my panties. I come the instant his fingers press against my clit.
“Mmmm—Coder!”
My eyes locked with his, he continues to stroke me until the intense pleasure begins to dissolve. As soon as he pulls his hand away, he kisses me—hard. Then, suddenly, he rolls off of me and storms out of the room. Propping myself up on my elbows, I watch as he closes himself into the bathroom. Thinking this is extremely odd behavior and that maybe I’ve done something wrong, I throw myself back on his pillows, closing my jeans before clapping my hands over my face.
He told me that I was pushing his limits, and I told him not to stop. Now that the fierce longing that burned inside of me has been satisfied, I feel horribly guilty for not listening to him in the first place. Then, when he doesn’t come back right away, my guilt grows even heavier. Sure that he’s upset with me, my stomach knots up as I get panicky. I’m on the verge of tears when I feel the bed dip. I lower my hands only when one of his tugs at my wrists.
“What are you doing, babe?”
Peeking over my fingertips, I mumble, “Are you mad at me?”
He laughs, rolling onto his back, and then he mutters, “Get over here, Mack.”
He lifts his arm in invitation, and I hesitantly accept his offer, curling up against his side. Resting one arm down my back and around my side, he uses his free hand to grab my thigh before pulling it toward him so that it’s hooked over his leg. Once he has me where he wants me, he speaks.
“I don’t do blue balls. Never have, never will. Heard that shit hurts like a motherfucker.”
I blush, curling deeper into him in an attempt to hide my face. Knowing what he was just doing in the bathroom makes me feel embarrassed, guilty, and unbearably bashful. Unsure of how to respond, I try and find my voice in order to whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Babe,” he starts on a sigh. “You’re pre-med. You’re a smart girl. You know biology. You’re not the only one who needs a release, baby. All I’m saying is—you’re just gonna have to return the favor sometime.”
I nod, knowing he’s right, but not at all sure that I’ll be any good at it. Just thinking about it makes me anxious, so much so that I don’t notice that I’ve clutched a handful of his shirt into my fist until he pries open my fingers.
“Didn’t say you had to do it today, babe. Calm down,” he tells me, lacing his fingers with mine. “Actually, we should probably be thinking about getting you home soon. It’s getting late.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I nod again. I don’t feel good about leaving, at all. Not after what just happened. However, the last thing I want to do is make it worse, so I start to sit up in order to put my shoes on. He lets me go, but I don’t look at him as I scoot to the edge of his mattress before reaching down to grab my shoes.
“Hey, what’s your weekend look like?”
“Um, tomorrow’s busy. I’ll be at the hospital for a while, and then I have to go to work. Brooke sort of mentioned hanging out, so I should probably keep my night open.”
“And Sunday?” he asks, catching me off guard when he he circles his arms around my waist and pulls me into the space between his legs.
Resting my side against his chest, I look down in my lap as I reply, “No plans.”
“Good. You can come to family dinner.”
“What?” I gasp, my head snapping up to look at him.
He smirks, pulling me closer as he says, “Think you heard me, babe.”
“But—I—is that allowed? I’m not—”
“You’re with me. Of course you’re allowed,” he insists, cutting me off. “Besides, you’ve met everyone who will be there. Not a big deal.”
I purse my lips together, fighting a smile as I relax into his arms even more. Yeah, he just said that me going on Sunday isn’t a big deal—but it’s family dinner. It’s definitely a big deal. He’s right in that I’ve met everyone who will be there; but more than that, I’ve seen them together at the shop. I understand why they consider each other family. Regardless of whether or not my relationship status with Coder can be defined, this invitation is important.
When I lean in to kiss him, he kisses me back, his eyes studying my face after I pull away. No longer able to hide my smile, knowing that he’s waiting for my answer, I tell him, “I’d love to come.”
“Good. Now, let’s get you home, yeah?”
This time, I’m not afraid to agree.
I wake up Sunday morning thinking about Sheamus. I pray for him, not knowing whether or not God intends to answer my prayers, but unable to stay silent about it. Yesterday had been a horrible day for him. I stayed only long enough to say hello, Lance informing me that his little fighter didn’t feel well and wasn’t up for visitors. It broke my heart to see Sheamus pale and exhausted in that bed, when just weeks ago he was so full of color, hope, and optimism.
Even with the joy of knowing that I was one patient short—Zoey having left after recovering from her very successful transplant—it was a rough day. I spent my shift at work thinking about how much my world has been shaken since I got back from winter break. The more I thought about it, the harder I began to question what I want to do with my future.
The fight against cancer is an impossibly hard war. Watching these kids endure their own personal battles, it takes a toll. I care about them, and that’s not something that can be helped. Right now, I’m not their doctor. If I was, if I was responsible for their treatment, if I had to watch them suffer at my hand—I don’t know if I could do that. They say you get worse before you get better, but I know science. I don’t know a whole lot about medicine now, but I know enough to understand that when there is no known cure, it’s all experimental.
For so long, my goals and aspirations were my armor. I was so sure that one more brain, one more doctor on the front lines could help. Yet, little by little, the hard days and the dying children have chipped away at that armor. Even still, I feel like I have a responsibility with my skillset and my background. I come from a family of doctors—how many people will I let down if I choose not to be one? How many destinies would be altered if the course of my life took a sudden left turn, and the path that I was supposed to take is not the one I travel?
My head has been buzzing with questions and uncertainties, but movie night with Brooke did take my mind off of things for a while. I wasn’t feeling particularly chatty, a truth she picked up on right away. She didn’t seem to mind, though, and was content to laze with me over a bowl of popcorn. However, she did inform me that she intended to spend the afternoon cheering Owen on at his indoor match today. She encouraged me to come, but I just told her I wasn’t up for it and that I’d try and make the next game. It was the truth, mostly. After yesterday, I could really use an afternoon with Coder.
Now, with the apartment quiet and empty, I finish dressing for Generation Ink’s family dinner, trying my best to combat my nerves. I wasn’t quite sure what to wear, so I hope what I picked out is okay. I decided on a pair of dark wash, skinny jeans with my long-sleeved, red, flannel tunic dress. The thin, brown belt that goes around my waist matches my riding boots, and my feet are extra toasty in my thick, gray, wool, boot socks. I pulled the front of my hair back, gathering it in a low half ponytail, leaving the rest of my wavy mane free to hang down my back. I’m just finishing up my eye make-up when there’s a knock at the door.
As I make my way out of the bathroom to answer, my stomach knots up as my anxiety starts to grow. I know that I’ve met everyone who will be at this meal, but for some reason, I still feel like it’s really important that I make a good impression. I’ve been around, but I’m still new, and these people mean everything to Coder. I know this without him even having to tell me; so his comment about this not being a big deal—I don’t buy it for a second.
When I open the door, I can’t stop myself from staring. As per usual, he’s wearing his motorcycle boots, his legs covered in a pair of worn, black jeans. He’s got on a hunter-green, mock-neck pull-over sweater, and instead of his winter coat, he’s wearing his motorcycle jacket. On his head, covering his ears, is a slouchy, charcoal gray beanie. As I admire him, I realize he looks every bit like the bad news I assumed him to be, and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more.
Luckily, Coder has a thing for my lips, and I don’t have to wait for what I want. Before he speaks a word of greeting, he steps over the threshold, his eyes staring into mine as he circles an arm around my waist and pulls me against him. My lips part as I suck in a breath of anticipation just when his mouth connects with mine.
He teases me with the tip of his tongue before he mutters, “You’re too fuckin’ cute, Mack.”
Everything inside of me goes squishy, and I grab onto the lapels of his jacket, pulling myself closer as I push myself up on my tiptoes. “You have no idea what you do to me,” I whisper, boldly clinging to the daring girl inside of me that wants Coder so much that I ache at the thought of messing all of this up.
He chuckles, his other arm wrapping around me as he hugs me tighter. “Think I do, babe,” he drawls before taking my mouth in a hot, wet kiss. When he pulls away, he does so with a grunt before he declares, “We’ve got to get out of here or we’ll be late. Coat, babe. Let’s roll.”
“’Kay,” I murmur in reply.
When he lets me go, I turn toward my room with a smile on my face.
Guess I picked the right thing to wear after all.
The Paxton home is nothing like I thought it might be. It’s not too big, not too small, and homey—so incredibly homey that I can see why everyone likes coming here. Grace is obviously the mastermind behind the country-chic flare that’s everywhere, and I love all the rustic charm. I don’t get a full tour, but as Coder walks right into the house, not even bothering to ring the bell, he leads me through the entryway, past the sitting room and dining room, and into the kitchen. I see enough to know that Grace has made this house a home, and I adore it.
“Code!” Caroline squeals, breaking away from Daphne’s ankles as she comes running for Coder.
“Hey, Care Bear,” he says, leaning down to scoop her up with one arm.
“Mommy cooking, Code.” She points back at her mother, who is standing at the stove, grinning our way.
“I see that,” he chuckles.
“Hey, guys,” says Daphne. “Food will be ready in a few. Take your coats off. Stay a while.”
“Oh, hey, you two,” greets Grace as she exits her walk-in pantry, a sleeping Axel strapped across her chest in a pretty blue sling. “It’s good to see you, Kenzie,” she adds before shooting a knowing look at Coder.
I don’t get a chance to read into what it means as Willow comes into the room. She grins at the sight of me, then claps her hands as she practically sings, “Kenzie’s here!”
I laugh, surprised by everyone’s welcome, and offer up a meek wave. “Hi,” I murmur.
“Coder, the guys are parked in front of the TV,” says Willow, heading toward us with outstretched arms. “Scoot. And leave your girl,” she demands, taking a willing Caroline into her arms.
I grow warm at the thought of being left alone in this room with these women. Without Coder as a buffer, I feel completely intimidated by them. They’re all older and in a completely different place in life than I am. They know who they are and what they want. They know who they belong to and who they love. I, on the other hand, am just Kenzie.
Coder squeezes my hand, earning my attention. “You good?” he asks as I look up at him.
“Oh, please, Coder—we don’t bite,” Daphne insists.
“Yeah. We’re harmless,” pipes in Grace, her blue eyes bright with playful mischief.
“We can’t bond so long as you’re here. So, my little brother-to-be, get out.”
Looking at all of them, each more adamant than the last, I decide that they’re right. I slip my fingers from between Coder’s, dropping my hand to my side as I assure him, “I’m okay.”
He studies me for a moment and then takes a step behind me, easing my coat off. He then gives me a quick kiss before pointing at his friends, warning them, “Don’t fucking scare her away.”
As soon as he leaves, Grace giggles and then says, “I have never seen him like this before. I love it.”
“Seen him like what?” I venture to ask.
Walking over to link arms with me, Willow escorts me to the kitchen table as she explains, “Before his accident, Coder was…”
“Flighty,” says Daphne.
“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Grace agrees with a nod.
“Anyway, he wouldn’t commit. He didn’t want to be tied down, I guess.”
My nerves from a moment ago make way for a rising sense of panic as I sit. Too busy comparing myself to these women, I never stopped to think that maybe they’d offer up inside information on Coder. Fidgeting with my fingers, I force myself to ask, “And after his accident?”
“It was a real eye opener for him,” answers Willow as she sits, settling Caroline in her lap. “None of the girls from his little black book were around for the hard parts.”
“He’s never said it out loud to any of us,” Grace pipes in. “But that was when he grew up. When he realized that he was never going to find who he wanted so long as he was messing around with a bunch of girls he didn’t really care about.”
“Coder’s one of us, you know? He’s a family man, always has been. He respects what we have here; he respects the men in the next room and the relationships that they have with us,” says Daphne, turning from the stove. “He was betting for Trevor and I to get our act together just like everyone else.” She smiles, smoothing her hands over her baby bump before she goes on to add, “He was just younger back then. He needed a chance to sow his wild oats. We knew he’d grow out of it eventually. All of our guys did. It sucks that it happened when it happened the way that it happened, but he’s okay. In fact, he came out stronger—more determined and grounded.”
“Harvey still talks about how his work has improved so much in the last year. We’re all really proud of him—our baby rascal,” Grace concludes with a grin.
I look to each of them, their love for Coder evident; but I still can’t figure out what all of their words mean. They say he’s different now, that he’s not flighty—but he hasn’t committed to me, either. Not officially. I don’t know what that means.
“Um,” I start and then I pause, my stomach dropping as all eyes fall on me. “Has he…has he ever brought a girl to family dinner before?”
None of them answer me at first, each of them exchanging knowing looks. Then, finally, Willow reaches over and squeezes my knee as she tells me, “Never. Not once. I told you you were special.”
My heart swells and my cheeks warm up in a mild blush as I look down into my lap, hiding my smile.
“All right, all right—now it’s time to flip the script before we call the guys in,” Grace demands. My smile slips as I look over at her. She smirks, lifting an eyebrow at me. “You’re a pretty little thing, and it’s obvious why he would like you, but he’s our baby rascal—we need to make sure you’re not hiding any skeletons in your closet.”
“Skeletons? I don’t—”
“Shit!” Daphne gasps, snapping her finger. She then points at me as she states, “That’s where I’ve seen your face before!”
I seal my lips closed as I stare at her with wide eyes. I knew she looked familiar, since that first day that I was in the shop, but I haven’t been able to figure out why.
“You were at Avery’s wedding a couple years back—Avery O’Conner?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s my sister-in-law, sort of. Her twin is married to my brother.”
“Oh, my god,” she says with a laugh. “You’re Beckham’s little sister.”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she smiles as she announces, “She’s good people, ladies. I know her family. No interrogation necessary.”
She winks at me, and I breathe a sigh of relief, which makes both Willow and Grace laugh. Then, as if I’m no longer just a guest, but one of them, Grace waves me over and points up at a cabinet before she says, “Set the table, will you? Dinner’s ready.”
Dinner is amazing—and I don’t mean just the food. Though, it must be said, Grace’s spaghetti and meatballs rivals my mom’s, for sure. But it was the experience itself, it was getting the chance to just be in the room that made it so enjoyable. It was like a slow afternoon at the shop, everyone hanging out and messing around, except it was better. It felt like a holiday, with all of us crammed at the table—the guys drinking beer, Willow and Grace drinking wine, and Daphne and me sticking to water—the kids giggling or screaming, depending on their mood, and it was…amazing. Just amazing.
When everyone was done with dinner, the guys cleaned up, and then we all headed into the family room to watch movies. Coder grabbed a couple pillows and threw them on the floor, claiming our spot. He guided me down into the space between his legs, holding me against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was then that I truly noticed and appreciated that we were all coupled off—and not once, not once the entire afternoon did I feel like an outsider or a hang-around. I felt like I belonged to Coder, which made me feel just as special as Willow keeps insisting that I am.
We had dessert after the first movie, and then Trevor and Daphne headed home so they could get Caroline ready for bed. It wasn’t until after the second movie that the rest of us dispersed. Now, as Coder walks me to my door, I can’t stop smiling.
“Thank you for letting me be a part of that. It was really fun.”
“Liked having you there.”
I look up at him, still smiling, and he winks at me as we reach our destination.
“Lunch on Tuesday?”
“I’ll order in,” he tells me, pulling me into his arms.
“’Kay.”
“Meant what I said, babe,” he mutters, dipping his head until his lips graze mine.
“What?” I whisper.
“Liked having you there today. Want you there again.”
Grinning, I grab hold of his jacket and pull myself closer. “’Kay.”
I barely get the word out before his lips are sealed around mine. When his tongue sweeps through my mouth, nothing in the world exists except for him. I’m so lost in our kiss I don’t hear the door open. I don’t hear it close, either. It isn’t until Coder pulls away from me, looking beside us, that I realize Owen is standing there, glaring at us in obvious confusion.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asks.
Coder drops his arms from around me, squaring his shoulders to Owen as he asks, “What’s it to you?”
Owen’s brow dips even further as he says, “Kenz is a friend of mine. Seeing as I’ve never seen you before in my life, I’m guessing I know her a hell of a lot better than you do.”
Coder’s lip turns up in a smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement. Before he can say a word, I jump into the space between them. I grab his hand, looking at him from over my shoulder, hoping to convey to him not to say a word, and then I look up at Owen. His eyes flick down to my hand wrapped around Coder’s before his gaze locks with mine. When he lifts an eyebrow at me in question, I take a deep breath and then try and find the words to explain.
“This is Coder. He’s—he’s—” I trip over my own words, not entirely sure what he is to me. Shaking my head, I go on to say, “He’s important.” Feeling confident in my explanation, I nod and repeat, “He’s important to me.”
“Funny. You’ve never mentioned him before.”
I start to tremble, afraid that this is all going to fall apart right here and right now. If Brooke hears us and comes out here—
“Look, I didn’t tell you because Brooke doesn’t know. I haven’t told her yet.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Owen asks, “And you’re keeping this from your best friend because…?”
I don’t answer him. I can’t. I can’t stand here and look him in the eyes and tell him that I was afraid to tell Brooke because I was afraid that she would try and steal Coder from me. I can’t remind him that when Brooke sees something she wants, she gets it. That would only serve to remind him that she doesn’t see him. It would hurt his feelings to know that in spite of his availability—in spite of his deep, genuine feelings for her—she has her heart set on the guy who is fast becoming the owner of mine. Or at least she did. I can’t say for sure anymore. Nevertheless, the right time hasn’t presented itself.
“Owen, it’s complicated.”
“Mack—I’m gonna go,” says Coder, squeezing my hand before pulling his out of my grasp.
I whirl around to face him, my heart suddenly pounding. “Wait—don’t go.”
“Babe, you’ve got issues,” he says, jerking his chin behind me. “I’m gonna go.”
Sure that this is bad, that this is really, really bad, I watch him get as far as the staircase before I go chasing after him.
“Wait—please!”
He stops only when I’ve grabbed hold of his arm, and then he sighs before his eyes seek out mine. “How is it that all of my friends know about you—and none of yours know about me?”
“Coder, honey, it’s not like that,” I blurt out, my eyes suddenly swimming in tears.
His lips curl up in a smirk, and my stomach clenches at the sight, even though I’m not at all sure what his expression means in this context. He then pulls his arm from out of my grip before gently taking hold of my chin. He kisses me softly, and in a voice so low and rumbly I’m sure only I can hear, he tells me, “Think about it, babe. I’ll talk to you later.”
My heart sinks as I watch him hurry down the stairs, my vision growing blurrier as he descends further into the darkness. I almost forget that Owen is still with me until I feel his hand on my shoulder. I flinch, spinning to face him, and he holds his hands up as if in surrender.
“What’s going on with you, Kenz?”
I draw in a shuddered breath, wiping at my tear filled eyes as I shake my head. When I look back up at him, all I can say is, “He’s mine. He’s gorgeous and fun and talented and sexy—he’s mine, or at least I want him to be. But she saw him first. Or, she thinks she did. It doesn’t matter. What matters is—he’s mine. It’s ours, whatever we are, it’s ours—and I just wanted to keep it that way until we figured things out.”
“How long has this been going on?”
I swallow hard before I admit, “A few weeks.”
“Shit.”
“I know.”
“What’s this guy even about? He doesn’t exactly look your type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I mutter, hugging my arms around myself.
“You’re a good girl, Kenzie.”
“And he’s a good guy,” I retort, quick to come to his defense.
“The kind of good guy who goes to church? I thought that was, like, a prerequisite for you.”
“So did I,” I argue, suddenly feeling frustrated. This conversation—this line of questioning—it’s just one more reason why I didn’t want to tell anyone. “I thought I wanted a lot of things. I thought I knew who I was waiting for—but then I met Coder. I met Coder and…I like him. I like who I am when I’m with him.”
“A liar. You’re a liar when you’re with him.”
“That’s not fair,” I bite back through clenched teeth, my tears rapidly returning. “It’s not fair, and you know it. We do a lot of things in the name of love, Owen—it’s not always black and white. You and I, we’re not that different. We’re both keeping our silence. We’re both cowards—but at least I’m chasing after what I want.”
I brush past him, headed for the apartment. I pause when my hand is on the doorknob. Looking back over my shoulder, I plead, “Don’t tell her. I’m going to do it.”
He coughs out a humorless laugh and shrugs his shoulders before he grumbles, “Whatever.”
We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us speaking a word, and then I head inside, hurrying straight to my room.