Chapter Thirteen

Kendall

Twenty minutes later, I’ve almost wrapped my head around the conversation with my sisters. “Sometimes things happen for a reason,” I say to the framed picture of my aunt and me on my nightstand just before the doorbell chimes. I double-check the condoms are in my handbag then hurry downstairs. Stopping in the entryway, I tell Snow to chill before I smooth my hands over my hair, catch my breath, and steel myself against the visual orgasm that is Vaughn Shaughnessy.

When I open the door, though, the mental cold shower fails. He is so much hotter in person. Snow obviously agrees, because I swear the excited noise she’s making sounds like a purr.

“Wow,” he says, raking his eyes over my sundress. His gaze lingers on the keyhole at my chest. It’s a rather large keyhole. “This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he fires back. “You look amazing. Ready to go?”

“Yes, thanks. You look amazing, too.” And effortlessly gorgeous from every angle. I close the door behind me.

It takes only a few minutes to arrive at our destination, a cute restaurant just off the beaten path. The hostess greets Vaughn like he’s a regular and leads us to a table. As usual, his nearness clouds my head. My pulse races.

The room is dimly lit and decorated in rich, dark colors. Our small corner table with a bench seat is semi-private. I sink into the pillows at my back as I look over my menu. When the waiter stops to take our order, we both ask for steaks, his with fries, mine with a baked potato.

As the waiter retreats, Vaughn turns to me. “So, you’re a virgin.”

I almost choke on a swallow of water. “’Fraid so,” I manage, and set the glass down.

“Virginity pledge?”

“No.” It’s so far off base I actually smile. “Is this your idea of interesting dinner conversation?”

He’s utterly complacent as he shrugs. “I’m interested. Very interested. Religious reasons?”

I shake my head. “No again.”

“Just haven’t met the right guy?”

My smile wilts. We’ve reached a conversational cliff. The next step is going to be a doozy. I tip my head to the side and look him in the eye. “You sure you want to know?”

He takes my hand. “I’m sure. You can tell me anything, Kendall. You can trust me.” Then his expression kind of freezes, and his fingers squeeze mine. “Shit. I’m a dumbass. Somebody hurt you.”

Once again, his concern makes me feel like a fraud, but this time I have to speak up instead of running away. “No. Nothing like that. I hurt somebody.” My chin trembles, and there’s a painful clog in my throat, so instead of elaborating, I pinch my lips together and wipe the corner of my eye with my free hand.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

I’m not sure if it’s a question or a request, but the patient words push us closer to the point of no return. Even though I’m terrified he won’t be there when I land, it’s a risk I’m ready to take. If I keep holding Vaughn at arm’s length he’ll definitely back off. There was a time I never shied away from people, and I miss that girl. If I tell him the truth he’ll either think I’m an awful person and this will be the last time I see him, or…

He’ll understand.

“I was seventeen when I got a DUI,” I say quietly.

His breath hitches before his hold on my hand tightens. The gesture gives me the courage to continue before I lose my nerve.

“It was after prom. My boyfriend, Mason, and I were both drunk—everybody was, not just us, and maybe that made it harder for us to realize how wasted we were. We never should’ve gotten in his car, but we’d made these big, romantic plans to spend the night at a hotel and finally, you know”—I clear my throat—“commit to each other in the one way we’d been saving.”

“But it never happened.”

He’s falling with me now, and I’m sorry for it, but there’s no way to shortcut the distance or soften the impact. We’re going to go all the way down, we’re going to hit hard, and afterward, things won’t be the same. “I can still feel the vibrations moving up my arms and through my body as I tried to handle the steering wheel, tried to keep control of his truck so it wouldn’t spin out. I’d taken a curve in the road too fast, distracted by Mason’s hands on my body and his voice in my ear urging me to go faster. I was too drunk to question my actions. The radio was blasting, the big V-6 engine roaring, and yet I heard this strange silence between my mind whispering Oh shit, and Mason yelling ‘Look out!’ Sometimes when I close my eyes I can recapture the sickening weightless sensation just before we plowed into a tree, but the moment of impact remains a blackout.” My breathing seesaws as guilt and pain lance through my chest. “All I remember is a rain of sticky glass particles pelting my face.”

“Jesus,” Vaughn says so softly I barely hear it. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and brings me closer, turning his body so it forms a barrier between me and the rest of the restaurant. Not just to comfort me, I realize, but to shield me from the curious stares of other diners. He thinks he knows where this fall from grace ends, and he’s gallantly trying to protect me. He doesn’t know, but I’m beyond grateful for his attempt. It puts him in a small, trusted circle. My parents protect me. Brit protects me. But most of the people Mason and I grew up with judged me—some silently, some loudly, almost all without a shred of mercy. I could never go through that again. It’s one of the reasons I don’t go home often or stay more than a few days.

I guess I’ve been silent for too long because Vaughn whispers, “Mason?”

“He didn’t have his seatbelt on and went through the windshield.” A tear trickles down my face. Vaughn gently wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m so sorry.”

He thinks we’ve hit bottom, and I’m bizarrely tempted to let him believe it, but the truth is we’re still falling. “Me, too. I’m sorrier than I can ever express, but…” And down we go. “He didn’t die. He suffered severe brain trauma. He’s still breathing, but otherwise unresponsive.” The tears start to fall more heavily, because I hate this part the most. Seeking escape, I turn away from Vaughn and lean my forehead against the wall. “We were supposed to go to college together, get married, work together, and have babies together. We had it all planned out.”

The arm around my shoulder gently pulls me into the safe harbor of his chest. “You loved him.”

“I loved him so much. A part of me always will, and it’s like an anchor around my heart.”

Vaughn’s regard is tangible, like he’s realigning all this new knowledge to piece together my past. Prom…hotel room…my virginity…my hesitation to get involved with him.

“I understand,” he says with tenderness I’m not sure I deserve. “When was the last time you saw him?”

This is one of the toughest things for me to accept. “I saw him in the hospital briefly after the accident.” I close my eyes to block the worst of it. “I wasn’t supposed to. I had broken ribs and a concussion, but I needed to know how he was. People kept saying, ‘He’s alive,’ without meeting my eyes. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see for myself, so I snuck down the hall to ICU. Apparently the nurses found me screaming and crying hysterically in his room. They had to sedate me. After that neither my parents nor Mason’s wanted me to see him. Everyone thought it would be…damaging.”

“I get that,” he says quickly. “But now, after this much time, it might help—”

“His parents still aren’t open to it. His mom says he wouldn’t want me to see him the way he is now, and he deserves to be remembered as young, vital, full of life. She’s protecting him. And in a way, me, too. I want to remember him looking strong and vibrant in his football uniform, his jeans and T-shirts, his tux that night. I can’t blame her, but—”

“But you don’t have closure. That weight you feel around your heart, that anchor? It’s not him. It’s you. This is your life. You’re in charge of charting your course, and you have to decide when it’s time to let go.”

I nod, because deep down I know he’s right. It took a suspended license, sixteen months of community service, three years of probation, mandatory alcohol awareness training, and hours of therapy to get me to this truth. “The last four years have been one long, slow exercise in letting go and learning to reach out again. I let go of the dreams I shared with Mason. I let go of my hope for forgiveness from our old friends, who wouldn’t look me in the eye but whispered behind my back. Eventually I let go of self-hate and bitterness, which weren’t getting me anywhere but were hurting the people who love me a great deal. I reached for ways to make my life meaningful. I reached for New York and college. I reached for new friends and new goals.”

“And you succeeded,” Vaughn says.

I’m proud that he thinks so. “Mostly. There are things I’ll never fully let go of. Regret will stay with me always, and it should. Some of the goals I’m reaching for don’t feel right for me anymore, but to please my dad maybe I need to give them a chance. And then there’s the whole virginity thing.”

Our meals arrive, and I’m grateful for the distraction even though I can’t eat a bite. Vaughn’s been beyond understanding, but it’s time to let him off the hook. “Thanks for listening to all of this, but we can go if you want. I’m sure it wasn’t the date you imagined.”

Vaughn shifts just enough to allow us room to eat. “I imagined getting to know you better. I don’t see how we do that without honest conversation.” He slides linen-wrapped utensils my way. “Thank you for confiding in me.”

Relief I didn’t anticipate washes through me, leaving my head light. To hold myself together, I unroll the utensils and cut into my steak. “I wanted you to know me—ugly parts included—before things between us got too…friendly.”

“Are things between us going to get friendlier?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, but something inside me flutters at the prospect. It could be panic.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

He can ask me anything at this point. I literally have nothing left to hide. “Sure.”

“Is ‘the whole virginity thing’ something you’re trying to hold onto, or let go of?”

This question, off another guy’s lips, might compel me to slap his face and say, “I just shared my most painful secrets with you, and you’re trying to figure out whether you have a shot at getting laid?” But the concern in Vaughn’s eyes as he searches my face tells me it’s the exact opposite. He’s trying to figure out what I want. He’s putting me in charge of how…ahem…friendly we get. He’ll play it my way. A new lump forms in my throat, and I take a sip of water to ease it before answering. “I think, for a long time, it was something I held onto out of love, loyalty, or guilt—probably a combination of all three—but it’s difficult to say for sure because nobody really tempted me. Until now.”

His quick smile assures me that last part went straight to his ego, but then he tips his head and strokes his thumb along my cheekbone. “Maybe you’re tempted now because you’re ready?”

Or maybe I’m tempted because it’s him? Attraction is one thing, but a man who listens without flinching while I unpack more emotional baggage than he could possibly have bargained for? I could really fall for him.

I place the fork on the plate at the wayward thought and lean away. “Yes, I think so. But I’m here for the summer.” Getting too attached will just break my heart and, given the delicate state it’s still in, that’s a mistake I can’t afford. Time for a reality check. “And we’re on very different trajectories. You’re destined for fame, be it from America Rocks or something else, you’re going to get there. I would never want that spotlight to somehow spill over onto me. I can’t hold up to it, and I can’t do it to Mason, my parents, or his. I need my privacy.”

“Kendall, I would never tell anybody the things you told me tonight.”

I clasp his hand. “I know you wouldn’t, but as your career takes off, your fans will be curious about your life. Especially who you’re friendly with. The media will do their best to feed that curiosity.”

Vaughn breaks eye contact to motion to the waiter for our check. “Right now, this summer, I can keep things on the down-low. Even friendship. I promise.”

The coil of tension inside me loosens. I finger-comb his hair back from his forehead and can’t help giving him a smile. “Friends for the summer?”

“Friends forever,” he corrects, and adds a wink. “Down-low for the summer. You up for a movie or something?”

I love that he doesn’t want our date to end, but after getting so little sleep last night, I’m tired. I also know myself. I need some time alone to process everything. Sharing Mason with him has left me feeling a new kind of vulnerability.

“I’m actually pretty wiped. Another time?”

“Absolutely.”

We talk about less charged topics on the drive home—things I like about Los Angeles, things I miss about New York, and whether one is required to root for “da Bears” when one attends school in Illinois. We’re laughing at each other’s Chicaaaago accents by the time he parks in my aunt’s driveway. He’s out of the car and around to my door before I release my seatbelt. His bigger, stronger hand takes mine to help me out. Our fingers remain comfortably entwined on the short walk to the front door.

“Thank you for dinner,” I say. “I’m really glad we talked.” The words aren’t exactly the right ones given everything I’ve revealed. But specific, more meaningful words would be too much. They’d put too much pressure on both of us.

He releases my hand and, rather than step forward to give me a kiss good night like I think he will, he takes a step back. “Me, too.”

I refuse to read anything negative into the distance he’s putting between us. Tonight was intimate enough without adding anything physical, and I know he doesn’t want to pressure me on “the whole virginity thing.” Still, I can’t stop myself from leaning forward and going up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Good night.”

He lets out a long breath, the only indication I have that separating is equally hard for him. That he wants more, but he’s taking my another time to heart.

“Good night, angel.” He backs up another step. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving mine.

When he pauses, I think maybe he’s changed his mind about a more serious kiss, but he doesn’t retrace his steps. “You busy Saturday night?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come to dinner at my house.”

“I thought you didn’t cook.”

“I have a few skills. Trust me to get it right.” One corner of his mouth curves up into a very wicked smile. “What have you got to lose?”

The question puts a tremble in my stomach. We both know exactly what I have to lose. “Okay.”

“Seven?” he asks, as if any woman could say no when he uses that grin.

“Seven.” I watch his retreat, waiting until I hear his car start before I slip my key in the lock and turn the handle. Once inside, I press my back against the thick wood and let out a long, uneven breath.

Hello, virginity? It’s me, Kendall. I know we’ve been through a lot together, but I think it’s time to give you up.