Chapter 19

Joey

 

“You all right, man?”

I shake my head and look to Jake, a Haven Point deputy. He’s a friend I’ve maintained over the years since my brief stint here.

Coen takes a seat, draining the rest of his beer as he looks at me with expectation lighting his eyes. I thought getting out and playing a few rounds of pool and drinking beer with my brother and Jake would help distract me from Kennedy—and now she’s here.

“Yeah,” I tell him, stealing another glance at where she stands at the bar with a brunette at her side and a dozen people vying for her attention.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Jake cranes his neck around. “Or is it a who?”

Coen chuckles, and I consider lying or denying; then I wonder why. After all, from what I’ve heard, this town is going to figure it out sooner than later. “You know Kennedy?”

Jake’s forehead creases as his eyes round, and he looks from me to across the room, where Kennedy is standing next to who I’m assuming is Violet, scanning the bar. “Kennedy Wallace?” His attention moves back to me, and I nod. “We’re all kind of surprised to see her back here, to tell you the truth.”

“Why?” Coen asks.

“She’s smart,” Jake says simply. “She was always really motivated. I thought after she left for college, she’d find a fancy job in the city and never return.” He shrugs. “I mean, she was always happy growing up, so I can’t say it’s completely unusual to have her back, but it surprised me.” Jake looks from Coen to me. “She’s good people, though.”

I take a long pull from my beer. “You think Grace being back has anything to do with it?”

Coen gives me a sideways glance, warning me to shut up.

Jake seems to consider my question for a moment, his eyebrows pulled high on his forehead. “They’ve always been close, so I wouldn’t doubt it. You know who knows the family well if you’re lookin’ for an in is Ethan. He dated Grace for . . . well . . . forever, it seemed.”

“Is there bad blood?”

He quickly shakes his head, rolling his pool cue between his palms. “He had joined the army and got shipped out.”

I think of what would have happened if he had stayed or she had gone. What if Grace had waited for him here in Haven Point and not moved in an attempt to outrun a broken heart? Then I selfishly wonder what would have happened to Kennedy? Where would she be? What would she be doing?

“You might have to stake your claim, though. I’ve heard Billy Porter has some interest in her.” Jake tries to hide a smirk.

“Who in the hell’s Billy Porter? And what do you mean, ‘stake my claim’? Have you met Kennedy? I’m pretty sure if I rolled up and tried to ‘claim her,’”—I use my fingers to create quotations—“she’d knee me in the nuts.”

Coen laughs and Jake chuckles. “Well, she doesn’t need to know that’s what you’re doing. Just he does.”

“I feel like you’re setting me up for a practical joke.”

Jake hides his smile with a drink of beer. “Well, that’s your decision. But that”—he points to the bar—“is Billy.”

I follow his finger and see a man with a few-days-old dark and scraggly beard and dark unruly hair sticking out from a baseball hat standing close to Kennedy, nearly blocking my view of her.

“Easy,” Coen warns, grabbing for my pool cue as I take a stride toward them.

I release the stick. My intentions aren’t to thwack him with it . . . well, not entirely. I take a deep breath and shove my temper back into place, allowing reason to direct me closer, with Jake and Coen on my six.

“He’s mouthy and vulgar,” Jake warns. “And he’s likely been drinkin’.”

“Well, he should probably catch a cab.”

Jake laughs. “When’s the last time you saw a cab rolling through Haven Point?”

“He can take a horse for all I care.”

We’re within a couple of feet of the bar when Kennedy’s friend makes eye contact with me, her face lighting up with recognition. It fuels my ego and reasoning for coming over here; it tells me Kennedy’s told her about me. As I get closer, her smile grows, and she takes a purposeful step back, creating a window of space beside Kennedy.

I nod my appreciation and place a hand on the bar, brushing my hip against Kennedy’s as I sidle up beside her. She looks at me, lowering her shoulders in relief before concern registers, and her emerald eyes round. I grin.

“Hey.” My grin grows into a smile as her face flushes, and she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. I feel a twist of guilt for finding her discomfort so attractive, but there’s something about her genuineness and sweetness, which she sometimes tries to hide, that reveals Kennedy has no idea how beautiful or liked she is—even here, where the entire town adores her.

Billy turns, and I feel his stare as I keep my gaze on Kennedy.

“I didn’t know you were coming here tonight. You and Violet want to play some pool? Jake, Coen, and I have the next five games reserved.” I nod toward the pool tables, where we have several stacks of quarters lining the green-felted edge.

Kennedy stares at me. I’m sure my brother is, too—waiting to see if my hot button gets pushed and I revert to acting like a caveman.

“Sorry, you are?” Billy’s dark brow is furrowed below his camo-printed hat.

I take a moment to look over his bruised knuckles, mud-caked boots, and the silhouette of a naked woman on his T-shirt before staring him in the eye and pushing my shoulders back. “I’m Joey.” I try not to tag on a label at the end, like my temper is encouraging:

. . . a detective with the DC Police Department.

. . . Kennedy’s friend.

. . . Kennedy’s boyfriend.

. . . the guy who’s going to kick your ass if you don’t move away from her.

“You new to town? I don’t recognize you.” Billy shifts his weight, and again, I’m watching every detail.

“I’m here helping my brother, Coen.”

Billy snaps. “Coen DeLuca.” He nods as I confirm with a single nod of my own. “The new captain of the fire department.” His voice is taunting, and for a second I picture the pool cue Coen took from me splintering as it connects with his gut.

I take a deep breath through my nose. “That’s him.” I point to Coen, who tips his chin and raises his bottle of beer in way of greeting.

“So you moved to town with him?” He’s trying to see if I’m a threat.

Damn right, you need to be worried.

“I spent a lot of time here a couple of years back. I had partnered with the local sheriff’s office.”

His eyebrows go up. “Oh yeah?”

I nod and clench my fists as he steps forward, standing so close to Kennedy his chest grazes her shoulder. She straightens and shuffles closer to me.

Billy watches her, just like I do, recognizing her attempt to flee. “You guys friends?” he asks.

“We are. But based on how uncomfortable she’s looked since you tried to corner her at the bar, I’m guessing you’re not.”

He pulls his head back, surprise evident with each of his rapid blinks before he masks his shock with a scowl. “I’ve known her my entire life, pal. You’ve been in town for what? A day?”

Arianna likes to point out how my nostrils flare when I get frustrated and how my chin rises as though I’m using all six feet and two inches of my height to my full advantage, so I seem even taller. I don’t doubt I’m doing it now, because everything about Billy annoys me. He’s not a predator by definition, but he’s a sleazeball through and through. For a while my older sister, Mia, was attracted to men like him who liked to muscle their way into people’s lives and refused to leave. She quickly learned she was above that and deserved to choose whom she wanted to be with rather than allowing them to choose her.

“Let me give this to you straight.” I step out from the bar so that I’m toe-to-toe with him and ensuring Kennedy won’t be in the middle. “When you approach a woman and they back up, it means you’re too close.” I pause, letting that sink in before continuing. “When you talk to a woman, and they won’t look at you, they aren’t interested.” Billy’s shoulders go back farther, matching my posture. “And if you’re laughing at something you’ve told a woman, and it takes them more than three seconds to laugh or smile, they’re laughing at you.”

“Let me get this straight.” Billy cocks his head to the side, confidence oozing from him. He has the upper hand, as much as I don’t want to admit it. He knows this town far better than I do and might even know Kennedy better—or at least believes he does. “You know what women want and what they’re thinking?”

I chuckle. “If I did, I’d be a millionaire. Hell, I’d probably be a billionaire. You want to know why? My own sister changes her mind and confuses herself every other day trying to consider what she wants.”

Billy laughs—it’s loud and buoyant.

“But considering my job consists of arresting assholes who ignore those hints and others, I’m going to say yes.” I nod. “I understand the social norms and expectations women portray that tell others when they’re interested or when to fuck off, and since you walked over here, these two women have been silently screaming at you to fuck off, and you just keep ignoring them. They’re not going to change their minds if you get closer or offer to buy them a drink or keep running your mouth about stories they don’t care about.”

Embarrassment has him crossing his arms over his chest, his cheeks paling. “Well, clearly you don’t know her as well as you think you do, because we’re friends.” His head bobs, agreeing with his own assessment.

I shake my head in response and pull two twenties from my back pocket. “Your next round’s on me. Have a good night.” I pause and wave to the three men standing a dozen feet back, watching us—his wingmen. “And remember, if a woman does something like keeps your eye, smiles at you, winks at you, approaches you—then they’re interested.” I tuck the bills between his crossed arms and then pat his shoulder as I turn him around in the direction of his friends.

I watch him retreat several steps before he takes a deep breath and turns back to Kennedy for a final glance, then continues to his buddies.

“You basically just shattered his world, you know that, right?” Kennedy pushes her glasses back into place, though they’re already high on the bridge of her nose.

“By telling him you’re not interested in him?”

She shakes her head, the gesture so slight her long hair doesn’t even move. “By telling him no one in the entire town likes him.”

I chuckle, and in response, Kennedy smiles. Her lips are painted the same shade of red as the lights on a patrol car, bringing a sharp contrast to her white teeth.

“You must be Joey.”

I back up, allowing space for Kennedy’s friend, and smile widely, likely exposing exactly how much I like that she knows who I am and how much I like Kennedy. “I am. And you must be Violet.”

“The one and only,” she says, offering her hand. She has a firm handshake and looks me in the eye. I don’t doubt for a single second that she’s from Boston, and it’s not just because I can hear her faint accent. “I have to say, I was kind of looking forward to you kicking his ass, but—” She smiles, shifting her gaze to Kennedy for only a second before returning to me. “That was sexy. I like you already, Joey DeLuca.”

I glance to Kennedy, who’s rolling her eyes in response. “All of her dreams have come true by you being here,” she admits.

Confusion has me staring at Kennedy, waiting for further clarification. But she’s looking at Violet, smiling as she shakes her head.

“She means I’m really glad I get to meet you because I’m great at reading people and their intentions,” Violet says, clueing me in.

“You’re reading my intentions?” I ask.

Violet nods boldly, again staring me right in the eyes. She reminds me a bit of my sisters, and of myself, as she remains unforgiving and demanding.

Kennedy laughs, her green eyes finally returning to me.

Just yesterday morning I was telling her we could be friends with benefits.

Just this afternoon I was failing to convince Arianna that Kennedy was going to move back to Boston and that things would end between us when she did.

Just this evening I came here with Jake and Coen with the intention of distracting myself from going to the pond so I wouldn’t wait for her like a creep.

And just now I’ve realized I’ve lied to everyone, including myself.

“She talks a big game. You guys will either get along great or become enemies.” Kennedy shrugs with indifference, but I can see the concern in the way the skin around her eyes tightens.

“You guys want to play some pool?” I ask again.

Violet nods. “You bet we do.” She pushes away from the bar, and the three of us make our way back to the pool tables, where Coen and I each grab an additional stool for Violet and Kennedy.

“Thanks,” Kennedy says, setting her purse on the stool Coen brings over. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Coen’s instant smile appears. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Hi, Jake,” Kennedy calls. “How are you?”

Jake nods. “Hey, Jelly Bean.”

Violet smiles. “I love that they all know you as Jelly Bean. Love it.”

“Jake, this is my good friend, Violet,” Kennedy says, ignoring her comment.

“Best friend,” Violet corrects her, shaking Jake’s hand.

“And, Vi, this is Coen, Joey’s brother.” Kennedy extends a hand toward my brother.

Violet shakes his hand as well and then turns toward Kennedy. “I don’t know if it’s because you’ve been down here a few weeks or the alcohol, but you’re starting to get a drawl.”

Kennedy shakes her head and takes a seat on the stool beside where I’m standing. “If you ask Joey, he’ll tell you I sound like a librarian.”

“How does a librarian sound?” Violet asks, looking to me.

“Probably a lot like Kennedy,” I admit.

Violet giggles and Jake nods as he sets to work, setting up the table.

“I do not look or sound like a librarian.” Kennedy sounds nearly indignant.

“You do,” I tell her before lowering my face so only she can hear me. “And it’s sexy as all hell.” I move my hand to her bare knee and gently squeeze.

Kennedy pulls her head back, her eyes pinched in a scowl. “Have you ever seen or heard of a librarian being portrayed as anything but stodgy and boring?”

“Trust me, the porn industry has made billions off the fantasy.”

Her nose wrinkles, and for a moment I’m backtracking, wondering why in the hell I’d mention porn to her and how I’m going to dig myself out of this crater of a mistake. I look to the others to see how badly my words were perceived, but they’re talking, allowing us a moment.

“You’re thinking school girls and their Catholic uniforms.”

I quickly shake my head and then lift a shoulder. “Sure. Show any teen guy a girl in a plaid skirt, and they’ll tell you it’s sexy. Men don’t want girls, though; we want smart, motivated, and sexy women who know how to put us in our place.”

This time, Kennedy looks away, surveying our audience for a moment before returning to me. Emerald eyes dance over my face, continuously landing on my lips before averting to my eyes. “Are you trying to flirt with me again?”

I consider the small crowd of people here tonight and wonder if Kennedy would care if I kissed her. If that’s what’s stopping her from kissing me, when I know that’s what she’s thinking of as her glance drifts back to my lips again.

“Because you’re doing a much better job of it this time.”

Public restrooms suddenly aren’t quite so disgusting as I consider Kennedy in the picture.

We play four rounds, changing the teams with each game. My focus remains on Kennedy the entire time, watching how she interacts with the others. Noting how at ease she is with Violet. Appreciating how easily she gets along with my brother and how she seems to genuinely care when she asks how Hayden and Ella are.

Jake pulls his phone out of his pocket as I begin racking the balls. “Sorry, man, but I’ve got to call it a night.”

“Me too,” Violet says. “It’s going to be a long drive home tomorrow.”

I reluctantly grab the tray. I’m not ready for this night to end.

“Do you guys need a ride home?” I ask, looking to Kennedy.

“We drove,” she says.

“Do you have candy at your place?” Violet asks, looking to me. “She craves sugar when she’s been drinking.”

“She’s got jelly-bean stashes. Check her glove compartment.” I grin.

“You should grab some to bring with you,” Violet tells her.

I stop, realizing Violet’s insinuation.

“I had to bring them into the hardware store. It’s been so hot, they’ve been melting.”

“You guys should stop and get some.” Violet looks at me. “Once she was at my house and was so desperate, she rolled grapes in sugar.”

Amused, I watch the two on their path of recollection that is punctuated by giggling and objections as they sift through details and memories.

Jake turns to me with a sour expression pursing his lips. “Grapes dipped in sugar?” he asks me before shaking his head. “Sounds disgusting.” His comment is too quiet for either of the women to take note of. If he realizes the insinuation of Kennedy coming home with me, he either doesn’t care or question it as he leafs through some bills in his pocket.

I raise a hand when he offers them to me.

“Weren’t the stakes five bucks a game?” he asks.

“Consider it a warm-up for next time.”

“Oh, so you’re giving me pity games now, huh?” He tucks the bills back into his pocket and grins.

“Figured I’ve taken enough of your money over the years.”

He laughs. “Isn’t that the truth. You’d think I’d have learned by now to find some new friends.”

I chuckle. “Remember, you don’t have to outrun the bear, you just have to outrun whoever you’re with.”

He slaps my shoulder.

I turn my attention back to the ladies, whose voices have turned into quiet whispers. Their hushed tones and serious expressions are paired with holding hands, a gesture I can tell is one from an aged friendship and support. I force myself not to listen, though I’m already wondering if it involves me.

“You missing work yet?” Jake asks.

Coen laughs. “Would you?”

“I don’t miss it even a little,” I admit.

Jake’s gaze drops as he releases a quiet laugh. “Are you happy with the transfer? I know you had a few concerns before you made the move.”

With the toe of my flip-flop, I kick a small piece of dirt under one of the stools, considering my answer. “I’m happy on days I feel like I’m making a difference, but to be honest, the longer I’m in the force, the harder it is for me.”

“Because of what you see?”

I lift a shoulder. “That’s part of it. I also think the prison-and-jail system need a huge overhaul. Privatized jails and prisons—where inmates are being beaten and raped while we turn a blind eye to it and try to slap the excuse that they aren’t humans because they’ve committed a crime—are getting harder and harder for me to stand by. I see what some of these monsters do, beating their wives and children, kids being neglected and malnourished, and rapists who think they have the right to harm others—I hate them. Every day I struggle with understanding how a person grows up to become that, to do that kind of harm to another person—and I don’t understand it. Then I think of the other people I’ve seen being processed and put in jail for petty crimes and unpaid tickets and stupid shit you know they’re regretting, and I wonder how things got so messed up and if we’re making it worse by putting them in an environment where they have to become stronger, bigger, tougher in order to go unscathed.”

Jake blinks, his mouth parted as he processes my admission.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck as the muscles constrict. “I don’t want people who hurt and violate others to be roaming the streets. I just wonder if we’re doing this backward sometimes. If we put as much time and money and resources into preventing these crimes, what would our world look like?”

He expels a deep breath. “There are a lot of things wrong with the world.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Coen says.

“Are you considering transferring again?” Jake asks me.

I shrug to avoid answering his question. Lately, the only thing I’ve been thinking about is quitting.

“You know, Sheriff Ray announced his retirement. The town’s aging. People who’ve been running things for decades are all starting to realize they’re ready to pass the reins over and start enjoying all the work and effort they’ve devoted their lives to. It’s opening up positions for other people. You should consider applying. Your salary would probably be butchered and barely recognizable, and your pension would be shit, but you’d be here in Haven Point. Be close to your brother.” He nods toward the women. “Close to Kennedy.”

“She’ll be going back to Boston soon.”

“Will she?” His tone indicates obvious doubt.

I look behind me, where Kennedy and Violet are again smiling as they continue talking quietly, their arms now making wide gestures that make the other laugh.

“She seems pretty happy here. They both do.”

As he speaks my very thought, both women turn their attention toward us, giggling. Kennedy’s gaze travels to my mouth again, and her smile slips as she bites her bottom lip.

Violet beams. “It was so great meeting you, Joey!” she says, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around my waist. “Take care of her,” she whispers. She turns to Coen and then Jake, hugging each of them as well.

The five of us walk out to the parking lot as a group, several people nodding their goodbyes.

I’m regretting my decision to ride here with Coen, unsure of how this will transpire. But Kennedy heads to her car without hesitation, calling out a final goodbye before she gets inside and pulls out her phone.

My phone vibrates against my leg.

Kennedy: I’m going to drive home with Vi, and then I’ll walk to your place.

I read her message twice before glancing up to see her waving at us.

Jake passes by me, his attention on their car. He pats my shoulder a few times. “A man in your position should be smiling.”

I shake my head in an attempt to clear my many thoughts of doubt. Ideas of her wanting to avoid me, being embarrassed or ashamed of me, not wanting anyone to know about us . . .

“What’s her history?” I ask Jake.

“Kennedy’s?”

I nod.

Coen shakes his head again. “He already told you he doesn’t know.”

Jake pulls to a stop, running a hand through his short, cropped hair, a wince closing his eyes. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t already looked up her report.”

I tried. It was blank, but I don’t admit to him that I abused my power. “That’s because what I’m asking about isn’t on there.”

Jake’s gaze returns to the street Kennedy and Violet disappeared down. “What are you asking about?”

“You know what I’m asking.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I do. The only people you’ve ever asked me about are ones you don’t trust.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” I remind him.

Jake’s eyebrows jump before his gaze shifts to Coen for a brief second. “She’s the town’s sweetheart.” His shoulders rise. “The only thing you can can’t trust her with is a bag of jelly beans.” He shakes his head and smiles.

“Have a great night, Jake.” Coen clamps a hand on my shoulder and leads us over to his truck.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Going on with what?”

“You!”

“She’s just . . .” My words fade as my temper rises.

“The more I think about tonight, the more I feel like a complete tool.”

Coen jerks his head back. “What? Why?”

“Why wouldn’t she have come over when she first saw us? Why’d she make a beeline to the farthest point from me? And why would she send me a text telling me she’s coming over? Why not just tell me? It’s like she doesn’t want to be seen with me.”

“Not everyone is out to screw you over, Joe. You have to remember, this town is small. What she does, who she’s with, what she says—it’s all going to follow her. Her parents will hear about it, her sister will know, everyone will. Until you guys sort out what’s going on between you and decide if it’s something serious, you can’t expect her to act any different.”

“This is stupid. Everything’s set up for this to fail and implode on us.”

Coen pulls into the driveway and comes to a stop but keeps the truck running. “You’ll figure it out. If you want this to be something, you guys will find a way to make it work.”

Thoughts of Kennedy subtly leaning against me tonight infiltrate my thoughts, bringing memories of how her perfume mingled with the taste of my beer.

“This isn’t a case, Joe. If she can help you forget the ugly stuff and sleep at night, that’s what you need to focus on.”

I release a deep breath.

“But remember, you’re in a small town. Her small town. You can’t get all pissy if she doesn’t want to advertise that she’s sleeping with you.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” Coen cuts me off. “Everyone knows her, Joey.”

“Are you telling me I’m not good enough?” My tone is teasing, but my question is 100 percent sincere.

“I’d guess by the way she gets nervous around you and most everyone else in this town, Kennedy doesn’t feel like she’s good enough.”

I pull my head back and am ready to fire back with how ridiculous that is when we’ve just agreed that she’s the town’s sweetheart, and I know personally how mouthy and stubborn she can be. Then I think of her telling me how I wouldn’t have noticed her. How she stared at my lips but didn’t act on it.

“Did we worry about what girls’ parents thought about us when we were in high school?” I ask, raking a hand through my hair.

Coen laughs. “You’ve got more than just her parents.”

“This is crazy. It’s stupid,” I repeat.

“Joe, you’re about to turn thirty-four. If you’ve learned nothing else in those years, you must have at least learned that everything pertaining to women is stupid and crazy.”

“I’m going to quote you when I tell Ella that.”

His quick smile appears. “Good. I need someone else to remind her.”

We share a laugh that fades as Coen turns off the engine of his truck. “I know it’s tough to trust people, and that it’s even harder for you. But if you like her, you have to give her some benefit of the doubt. Especially when she hasn’t done anything to make you question her.”

“I hate Jackson,” I admit randomly.

Coen simply nods. “There could be worse situations. At least she has someone to look out for her.”

“That’s what I hate about him. He always wants to look out for her.”

“You need a flashlight?” Coen ignores my petty attitude and reminds me I need to get going.

“You got an extra one in here?”

He nods and flips open the middle compartment that’s filled with several flashlights. I grab one and click it on to check the battery before jumping out of the truck.

“Hey, Coen,” I call out quietly, so as to not wake Hayden or Ella in case she’s gone to bed as I take steps backward toward the edge of my brother’s property.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me stay here while things are sorted.”

“Go get Kennedy,” he says.

I’m grateful Coen suggested I bring a flashlight, because the woods are pitch black. The heavy foliage doesn’t allow even the stars to shine through. Once I get to the pond, though, it’s easy to follow the footpath to Kennedy’s.

I lean against a tall chestnut tree at the edge of the Wallaces’ property line. Standing here in the dark, waiting for her, is eerily close to more than a dozen court cases I’ve studied, convincing me I should go back or text her or something other than stand here like a stalker.

The sounds of giggling pierce the night, and my focus moves to a window dimly lit by a flashlight.

“Stop taking pictures!” I hear Kennedy exclaim. I watch something fall from the window and realize it’s the screen.

I’m two steps into the yard when I freeze, hearing another window slide open. A light flips on, and Grace appears in the window next to where Kennedy is dangling her feet out the windowsill.

“What are you doing?” Grace leans forward.

“You don’t have a screen on your window?” Kennedy asks.

“I took it out in high school.”

“I knew you used to sneak out!”

Grace laughs quietly. “Why are you sneaking out? You don’t have a curfew anymore. Unless . . .”

There’s a pause, and I hold my breath, waiting to hear her explanation.

“Who are you going to meet?” Grace asks.

Kennedy drops down the short fall from her first floor window and faces her sister as Violet leans out the same window to join in the conversation.

The feeling of being an interloper grows as the women hush each other and remain silent for a moment, listening for something in the house.

“It’s just me, Mom!” Grace yells, and with a flick of her wrist, she shoos Kennedy forward.

Kennedy hunches down, listening to a conversation between Grace and her mom that I can barely hear over the crickets, frogs, and cicadas as I slink back to the chestnut tree, regretting my decision to be here even more.

“Go!” Violet hisses. “Now!”

Kennedy slowly stands and then jogs toward the forest line surrounding the back of their house—toward me. I pull my flashlight from my back pocket and flash it twice. Kennedy stops, and I flash it twice more. She continues, but slower, until she reaches the tree where I’m waiting.

My heart pounds as she stops in front of me, changing the scent of the night air and raising the temperature several degrees. She’s changed into a pair of pink cotton shorts and a white tank top that makes her tanned skin look darker. “What are you doing?” she asks. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t want you to walk through the woods alone.”

Her lips curl. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might be starting to like me, Joey DeLuca.”

“Well, we can’t have this town losing their only librarian.”

She scowls.

“Come on.” I take her hand and move the flashlight to stream across the footpath I followed here.

“How many people come back here?” I ask.

“Not many. Mom said more were coming last year when they put up the playground, but because you have to walk to it from the parking lot, I don’t think many do. They’ve got a big playground in the middle of town that gets used a lot. That’s the one Grace and I grew up using, and I think for a lot of people, it’s what they know. Plus, they can go to the library or the market while their kids play.”

“And parents don’t worry about leaving their kids to do stuff?”

“Well, most don’t leave small children out there alone, but you’ll hear a lot of parents share a sentiment here, and that’s ‘it takes a village.’ People are happy to help others because they know they’ll be returning the favor another time.”

My fingers tighten around hers.

“And there are certain people you’ll learn to want to do favors for because they will do super nice things in return. Like you know that blueberry pie you’re so fond of? Mrs. Watts over on Black Walnut Lane bakes them, and if you get in her good graces, she’ll bake you pies and cookies and all kinds of treats.”

“Anyone else I need to make sure to help?”

“Let’s see . . .” She pauses. “Judy Bartlett, who lives over on Cedar Crest, makes really good jams all summer long, and her husband, Ken, has bees and will give you jars of honey. And then Jerry and Sabrina Biggs have a giant smoker, and they smoke salmon and turkey and . . . well . . . pretty much everything. Kip is a handyman who knows how to jerry-rig just about anything. Jackson knows more about cars than the local mechanic, and you can’t forget Mrs. Wilson, who will happily supply you with endless amounts of homemade sock snowmen each winter.”

“Sock snowmen? Remind me to make friends with her,” I tease.

Kennedy laughs quietly. “I will. Trust me. I’ll even be sure to give you credit for things you don’t do, just to ensure you get plenty of them.”

“I’ve heard your brownies and cakes are famous here in Haven Point.”

“For a while during middle school, I was known for having a crazy sister,” she says.

Pain slices my heart.

“I baked a lot of brownies and cakes for a couple of years so we could be known for something else.”

“Do people still talk about her like that?”

Kennedy absently brushes her arm against mine. “The summer before I went into high school, I was at the playground in town and heard a girl whisper to her friend—something super creative, like there goes the nuthouse or something ridiculous.” She shakes her head. “I punched her in the nose.”

I pull my head back, surprised and moderately impressed. “You punched a girl in the face?”

Kennedy nods. “You aren’t the only tough guy in town.” She bumps into me and sways a bit when I don’t budge.

“Did that stop it?”

She nods. “I was known for my right hook for the summer, and everyone was so shocked by it, they stopped talking about Grace and allowed the next rumor to pass through. Every once in a while, Grace would miss a week of school or be seen dancing in the rain in the middle of the night, but by that point she was dating Ethan, and suddenly they found it endearing. Like by him accepting her, they did too.”

The woods recede as we reach Coen’s property line, and Shakespeare barks at us from inside the RV.

Kennedy’s eyes grow wide, our moment of privacy interrupted as the realization of what we’re about to do becomes more real.

When we reach the garage, I flip on the overhead light and follow her up the stairs.

“Is this crazy?” she asks, turning to face me as I turn off the light and close the garage door.

“Probably,” I admit.

“I still think you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

“But you also kind of like checking my ass out.”

She ignores me. “And we’re in the room above your brother’s garage.”

“Would you rather be in your bedroom at your parents’ house?”

Her eyes cut to me, wide with repulsion. “You’re making this worse!”

I chuckle. “Are you worried people might find out about me? About us, I mean?”

“Worried isn’t the right word.”

My heart resumes the pounding rhythm it’s becoming accustomed to while waiting for Kennedy. “What is the right word?”

“Sometimes being back here makes me feel like I’m a kid again. I know that’s silly and weird, but I also never had a serious boyfriend when I lived here. And so after being gone for ten years, I don’t want to be back for a couple of weeks and have everyone thinking I sleep around or something.”

“So you aren’t embarrassed because it’s me?”

She shakes her head slowly and then quickly as she studies my eyes. “No! Of course not! It has nothing to do with that. I just don’t want people to think we’re having, like, this affair or something since everyone knows you’re leaving.”

“And you’re leaving.”

“I’m . . .” She frowns, her green eyes pinched at the corners as she debates something.

“You’re what?”

Kennedy takes a deep breath that she releases in a huff. “I’m not sure anymore. I mean, I have an interview soon, and we’ll see how that goes, but I’m kind of considering staying.”

“You are?”

Slowly, she nods, her movements bordering on uncertainty. “I mean, I love living in Boston. I even think I loved the idea of being a teacher. But now that I’m back home, I’ve realized how much I’ve missed being here and my family and this crazy little town.”

My first question is if I have anything to do with her decision. If whatever this is between us is adding to her reasons to stay. The question twists and floats across my tongue as I draw closer to her. Kennedy doesn’t move, but her eyes track me, attempting to read me just as I’m struggling to read her. I stop, leaving a short gap between us. Her emerald eyes dance from my lips to my eyes and back again, driving me to the brink of insanity. Still, I manage to remain still, noting her pupils dilating as each pass to my mouth takes longer.

“Would your parents be okay with us?”

Kennedy blinks several times, pushing through lust to reasoning. She frowns and then shakes her head, preparing me for rejection. “The entire town of Haven Point loves you. You’re like a local celebrity.”

I want to point out that her words are a contradiction to her action, but I settle for smiling.

“You just wanted me to admit that, didn’t you?” she asks, pursing her lips.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less what the town thinks of me. I care what she thinks, and because she respects and loves her family, I care what they think—but I don’t tell her that. I close the space between us with one step and wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pushing my fingers through her glossy hair.

There’s a war happening in her eyes as I look down at her. Her focus is on my lips, confirming she wants me to kiss her, but her stance is rigid, her back and shoulders straight.

“I asked about your parents, not the rest of the town. You chose to stroke my ego.”

“Well, I take it back.” She whispers the words, and when her lips don’t become pursed with frustration like they often do when we argue, I smile.

“Too late.”

I notice her lips starting to purse and lean forward to kiss her. She kisses me like she has something to prove. Whether to me, herself, or both of us, I’m not sure, but I allow her to set the pace while I try to focus on her and this moment rather than getting lost in how good I feel. How good she makes me feel.

When her lips press harder, so do her fingers into my back, and when her tongue slides along mine, her body bows into me, relying on me.

Her annoyance transforms into lust and builds into desire, and her arms encircle my neck, and her body becomes flush against mine.

I reach beneath the layers of her cotton shorts and underwear, and as my fingers run along her, Kennedy pulls her head back—her mouth open and her eyes closed. When my fingers stop, she leans forward and kisses me again, gripping me tighter, and when I touch her again, she pulls back, the same nearly silent gasp passing through her parted lips.

It drives me crazy and wild and absorbs each and every single one of my thoughts and memories until there is nothing in this world but her.