Chapter 6
Present day…
“Sammie!”
Before I’ve even had the chance to fully process that it’s actually him standing in the doorway in front of me, he ropes his sinewy, inked arms around my shoulders and pulls me in for a tight squeeze.
God – He’s just a pillar of steely muscles covered in a layer of soft, warm, tattooed skin...
I’m trying hard not to like it.
Chaos swirls inside of me and I have no idea how to react. I haven’t seen this guy in eight years. He disappeared into thin air on our prom day, shattering my 17-year-old heart in the process. And now, he’s back and he’s acting like it’s the good old days.
He finally releases me and pushes me back slightly to hold me at arm’s length. “Well, look at you. You’re all grown up, Sammie Trotten.”
His focus moves lazily from my eyes to my lips, then down my neck before settling on my breasts (which are squished together in my tight neon green yoga bra). Then, he continues down my bare stomach, my wide hips, my toned calves.
Looking rather satisfied, he smirks.
“What are you doing here?” I snap angrily.
My sharp tone seems to startle him. He drops his hands from my shoulders and steps back. “Ah, that’s right. Daniel’s been trying to call you since yesterday. He couldn’t reach you. He wanted to let you know that I’ll be staying here for a while.”
“You’re staying here?” I grimace. It’s just like Daniel to spring something like this on me without warning. I would have appreciated the opportunity to prepare for this. Or to say ‘no’. I’m not happy at all to have Keeland staying next door again.
And no, I’m not petty.
What he did to me was damn shitty. Yes, I get it. He was just a kid and his family was moving. He didn’t have a choice. But he never once tried to reach out to me and offer an explanation, and possibly an apology, for what had happened. I spent a lot of time wondering about him over the years. I imagined a thousand scenarios as to why the Masters’ left, where they went and if they’d ever come back. I imagined some pretty tragic, heart-breaking stuff.
Then, a few years later, I found him on Facebook, healthy and well and hotter than sin. And one not-so-sober night, I sent him a friend request.
He never responded.
What kind of person does that?...A shitty person, that’s who.
Yet, every few days, he would update his status or post new pictures. Despite the sharpness of the resentment inside of me, I just couldn't look away. Apparently, he’d opened a tattoo shop in Los Angeles and it was thriving. He would post pictures of work he’d done on B-list celebrities or carefree trust fund kids. Every now and then, there would be a picture of himself partying with friends like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Then, photos of him with a girl started popping up. She had acid blonde hair and intricate tattoos covering most of her skin. According to Facebook, her name was RhysTheBadAss O’Gallic.
Yeah, I know…
There was one photo in particular that was a sledgehammer to my gut. His arms were tight around her shoulders and his lips were pressed to her temple. Her heavy makeup made her eyes smolder as she stuck out her pierced tongue and held up her middle finger to the camera. That photo devastated me because it confirmed beyond a doubt that Keeland hadn’t spent his years sitting around thinking about me the way that I’d been thinking about him. He’d found happiness with a girl who was my polar opposite.
The photos of him with RhysTheBadAss and the increasingly-romantic captions that accompanied them just kept coming. And like a fiend, I couldn’t stay away.
But then one day, the pictures just stopped. And so did the nauseatingly-sweet status updates.
For over three years, there has been radio silence from Keeland's Facebook page. I eventually came to the bitter conclusion that I'd never see his face again. Not on social media. Not in real life.
But now he's right here, standing in front of me. Tall and shirtless and dripping testosterone. And by the way, fuck him for looking so good. Especially when I look like a sweaty, unkempt mess.
Keeland’s expression hardens. “Is my staying here gonna be a problem?” he asks, one eyebrow inching up on his forehead.
I grumble, shifting all my weight to one foot and stubbornly folding my arms across my chest. I want to say ‘yes’. I want to tell him to get the hell out of here and to never come back. But in my head, I hear echoes of the tiny, insecure teenager that I used to be. For some reason, I don’t want him to think that I’m an absolute bitch. Even after the way he treated me. I kind of still want him to like me.
“Your motorcycle,” I say nodding toward the bike sprawled off in the driveway. “Really loud.”
He looks over at it. “Ah — sorry about that. I was just doing some repairs. But you’re right. This is a quiet neighborhood. I should have been more considerate. Tell you what? I’m gonna just have it towed to the garage and let the professionals deal with it.” He winks at me.
I think he expects me to smile.
I don’t.
“Yes, please keep it down,” I say sourly. “I was in the middle of my meditation.” I don’t wait for him to respond, I just turn on my heels and trudge down the stairs.
“Hey Sam,” he calls after me as I stomp away.
I spin around and glare at him.
He smiles anyway. “You forgot something,” he says, waving my rake around in the air.
Well, there goes my dramatic exit. I grunt angrily as I march back up the stairs and snatch the stupid rake out of his stupid hand.
He grabs me by the wrist and I feel fire crawl across my flesh. “Daniel and some other guys are taking me to grab a drink later,” he tells me. “You should come.”
I shrug out of his grasp and continue to give him the stink eye. “Sorry, I can’t make it.” I hurry down the stairs before he tries to change my mind.
Nancy and Delores amble gingerly up the walkway, freshly-baked cranberry muffins and oatmeal cookies in hand.
The neighborhood welcome committee has arrived.
“Well hello, there, Samantha,” Nancy says cheekily. “I see that you’ve already taken the opportunity to grace the newcomer with your lovely, affable personality.”
Delores peeks over my shoulder right at him. “Darling, please don’t scare the nice young man away with your silly pout-face.” She wrinkles up her nose at me.
“Keeland Masters is anything but nice, Delores,” I say as I breeze past them.
Nancy lifts an eyebrow. “Keeland Masters? Jane’s son?”
I nod. “Yup, he’s back in town.” My frowning expression clearly broadcasts my displeasure at that fact.
Delores sighs dreamily. “Well, he may not be nice, but he certainly looks…virile.”
I stop in my tracks and spin around to face her.
Did she really just say that?
From the way she’s clutching her pearls and staring at him with flushed, wrinkly cheeks, I can tell that she did.
Cringe!
Nancy rolls her eyes. “Don’t go making a fool of yourself, Delores,” she warns. “Remember what the doctor said when he changed your blood pressure medication.”
Delores shoos her away dismissively. “We definitely need more young men like him in Reyfield.” She flinches slightly under the heat of Nancy’s disapproving stare. “We are all safer when strapping young men like that live in our community.” She almost sounds earnest.
I toss a peek over my shoulder and see Keeland leaning against the doorjamb, staring at us with an amused look on his face. He gives us a small wave and Delores looks like she might need some smelling salts and a glass of ice water.
I turn away, angrier than ever. “Anyway, ladies. He’s all yours. Enjoy,” I say with a huff as I stomp across the lawn back to my now-ruined meditation oasis.
My zen has evaporated like a puff of smoke. Now, I need a stiff drink.
Keeland Masters is back next door.
I’m going to kill my brother.