Chapter Six

Graham stared at his phone. It wasn’t a familiar number, which immediately set off warning bells. Diana. Always Diana. She’d said she was volunteering at the library today—then waited for him to drill her with questions and details. Instead, he’d called the library on his way to work and confirmed she had signed up to volunteer. Not that volunteering ensured she’d stay out of trouble. He drew in a deep breath, paused in the hall outside the next exam room, and hit redial.

“Hello?” He nodded as one of the nurses walked past, escorting a very pregnant Mrs. Guajardo into exam room five.

“Hello?” He didn’t recognize the voice. “Graham? Graham Murphy?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested—”

“No.” A high, feminine laugh. “It’s Romi Takahashi.”

He blanked. Did he know a Romi Takahashi? No one sprang to mind. But the name was familiar.

“Miss Takahashi—from St. Thomas Catholic School. The assistant principal. But, please, call me Romi.”

The school Diana had been expelled from. “Yes.” Now he knew exactly who it was—he’d spent enough time in her office. But it didn’t clear up why she was calling him now. Diana was no longer enrolled there. And it was summertime. “How can I help you?”

That laugh again. “Don’t tell me Eileen Rainey didn’t call you?” She paused. “She gave me your number. Said something about you mentioning having coffee with me but…were too shy to call?”

No, she hadn’t told him. Because Widow Rainey knew good and well he’d never said anything about having coffee with Miss Takahashi or any other woman in Pecan Valley, and he would have told her so. Again. He closed his eyes and swallowed the litany of curses that rose up. “She did?”

“Yes.” An awkward silence ensued. “So, anyway, I’d love to have coffee. If you’re free?”

No, he wasn’t. “Coffee?” He was flattered but… “Now’s not a good time.”

“Well, not now now. Of course. I meant, sometime in the near future.” She paused. “I was really flattered you’d ask, after Diana and…well, you know.”

Technically, she was the one asking—but he didn’t point it out. He was still doing his best not to blow a gasket. It wasn’t Miss Takahashi’s fault. He didn’t know how the hell Widow Rainey gotten his number, but this was a problem. Widow Rainey was relentless and, clearly, she hadn’t listened to his objections. Not good. He’d never thought to guard his number. Considering his profession, most of his patients had it. He might have to rethink that practice going forward. “I’ll have to check my schedule and get back to you.”

“Sounds great, Graham. How’s Diana doing?”

“She’s fine.” He didn’t miss the nurse’s pointed look from the clock to the patient’s door. He understood. None of them wanted to work late. Again. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’m at work—”

“Oh, right, right. Some people have to do that job thing through the summer, too.” She laughed again. “I’ll let you get back to it. Looking forward to hearing from you soon.”

“Right. Bye.” He hung up and stood, staring at the exam room door. Clear head. Work mode. He took a slow, calming breath, grabbed the chart, and entered the exam room. “Good afternoon…” The name threw him for a loop. “Charity?” Charity Otto was the last person he’d expected to find in his office.

“Surprise,” she said, her cheeks a bright red.

He scanned over her paperwork. Charity Otto was pregnant. And alone—two things that didn’t add up. Where was Felicity? Or Mrs. Otto for that matter? “Yes.” He glanced at her, then back at the chart.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “I’m just as shocked as you are.”

He smiled his professional smile, ignoring the list of questions he was mentally assembling. She was here as his patient. As such, the only questions he should ask were pertinent to her and her baby’s health.

“You can’t tell anyone, right?” she asked, fingers pleating her examination gown. “I know you and Filly are getting chummy, but I’m wanting to wait a while on my baby bombshell. I think the family is dealing with enough at the moment, don’t you?” It was a sincere question—as if she wanted his opinion.

“You’re my patient. Unless you give us permission to share information, all of this remains here.” He studied her, noting how uneasy she was. She looked young. And scared. “You’re almost three months along?” he asked. “You won’t be able to keep it a secret for long. Pregnancy is emotional enough without keeping it a secret. You have a supportive family. You should tell them, Charity, so they can be here for you.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Doctor.” The paper on the exam table crackled as she swung her legs back and forth.

He began a quick exam, listening to her heart and lungs before reading over her chart. “Your numbers are good. Blood work looks great. Are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

She nodded.

“Eating well?”

She shrugged. “If that means eating everything in sight, yes. I’m eating very well.”

He smiled. “No. That’s not what I meant. Focus on eating quality food—foods that will give your baby the vitamins to grow big and strong.”

Her skin paled as she nodded. “My baby. I can’t tell you how bizarre that sounds,” she whispered.

“Unplanned, then?”

“Oh yeah.” A nervous giggle. High. Forced. “I met Sergio when I was working as a private tour guide in Florence. He sort of swept me off my feet. Seven weeks later, his wife comes knocking on our apartment door.” She shrugged. “Turns out his missus was someone important enough to get me fired. I hocked the diamond ring Sergio gave me after his faux proposal and made my way home.”

Graham had no idea what to say.

“I know. Crazy, right?” Her hands gripped the edge of the exam table so tightly her knuckles whitened.

Scared, alone, and hurting, then. “I’m sorry.” He meant it.

She smiled even though her eyes filled with tears. “Graham, you’re the sweetest guy.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “If I hadn’t already decided you and my sister are soul mates, I would so be crushing on you.”

“Not you, too,” he murmured. First Diana. Now Charity. No. Felicity deserved better.

She perked up. “Me too, what? Don’t tell me Filly made a move? I’m so proud of her. I mean, I sort of mentioned what I was thinking but I didn’t think she had it in her—”

“No moves have or will be made.” They’d talked about him? Was Felicity interested? What would he have said if she had? He pressed his eyes shut. Get a grip. What was wrong with him? He was forty, not some knobby-kneed high school kid. He shut down that line of thinking before it took root. “I’m not interested in dating. No matter what you, Diana, or Widow Rainey think.”

Charity groaned. “Oh. Who did she sic on you?”

“Some assistant principal.” He shook his head. He was not going to discuss this with her—she was his patient now. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her brows rose. “It does if the woman’s going to give my sister competition.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you’re going to be my patient, we need to lay down some ground rules.”

She crossed her arms and stared back. “I’m not good at rules, Graham.”

He ignored her. “When you’re here, you are my patient. Meaning we’re not going to discuss things that aren’t related to your pregnancy.”

She frowned at him. “But when I’m not sitting on paper, wearing some naked-backed robe thing we can still be friends?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. “It might be best for you to see Dr. Luna, Charity. Because of the…the family connection.”

She stared at him, her legs swinging rapidly. “You mean connection between you and my sister.”

“This isn’t going to work.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Six o’clock couldn’t get here soon enough. Maybe an hour at the gym would ease some of the kinks out of his neck and back. But if that were true, the last year of near-daily hour-long workouts would have his stress under control. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll stop. I don’t want to see Dr. Luna.” She sighed. “I’m scared, Graham, okay? Freaking out. Don’t pawn me off on some strange dude.”

“Dr. Veronica Luna,” he interrupted.

“Right, still. I’d rather see you. So, I’m determined to get you and my sister hooked up—but at least I’m up front about it.”

He stared at her. Hooked up? She sounded like Diana. Uncensored and unapologetic. Still, the idea wasn’t bothering him the way Romi Takahashi’s phone call had. No, something told him he would have reacted very differently if Felicity Otto-Buchanan had called him. And he wasn’t sure that was a good thing. “If you can act like a patient, I will be your doctor. Agreed?”

“Yes, totally. Agreed.” She nodded. “But outside your office, all bets are off.”

…

Nick ran his hands through his sweat-slicked hair, heart hammering in his chest as he ran along the near-dry creek bed. No one hovering around, acting like he was going to explode. If one more person asked if he was okay, or gave him that look, or said they were sorry, he was going to lose his shit.

But that would give everyone in this pathetic town something else to say about his family. And that was the last thing his mom—any of them—needed.

Diana said she had something that could help. Why he was listening to someone who was even more screwed up than he was, he wasn’t sure. But now he was running the dry creek bed at two in the morning to meet her where all the potheads hung out to get high. He was that fricking desperate. Because his dad was an asshole.

Dead now. A dead asshole. And the fact that his asshole dad’s death hurt this bad pissed him off.

He couldn’t shake it. The anger. His phone kept blowing up with texts to hang out, go see a movie, or game online, but Nick ignored them—ignored the phone calls and tweets and snapchats, too. They didn’t get it. He couldn’t hang out and act like everything was normal. Unlike his friends, he knew the truth: life sucked. It was cruel and pointless and believing anything different would get your heart stomped and your dreams trashed.

Over and over again.

“You came.” Diana was sitting at the edge of the pipe, her skinny white legs all but glowing in the dark.

“Yeah,” he said, gasping for breath. He pulled at the hem of his shirt, sweat gluing the fabric to his chest.

“Jesus, Nick.” She pushed off the ground. “You ran here? You are crazy. Come meet everybody.”

Everybody was three people. Some vaguely familiar overweight girl named Beth, with bloodshot eyes and a see-through shirt. A guy Diana called Whack, who had acne scars and a chip on his shoulder.

And Lane. Lane Aisley. Lane was a major prick—everyone at school knew that. The asshat lived to piss people off.

This was further proof that life wasn’t fair. If it were, this waste of a kid would have died, and his father would still be here to piss him off and ignore him.

Breathing in hurt. Something jagged lodged in his throat.

Lane had a joint in one hand and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in the other—as if Nick needed more proof that the guy was a complete tool. But something about Lane’s face, his cocky smile, made Nick’s hands clench. Planting his fists into Lane’s face, again and again and again… Stopping would be the problem.

He pulled at the hem on his shirt again and rolled his neck.

“Chill. Here,” Diana said, holding out the lit joint. “I promise, this will help.”

Getting high wasn’t going to do a damn thing—except get him high. But screw it, he needed a break before he did something really stupid. The sweet cloud of smoke flooded his lungs and then he breathed out slowly—through his nose.

“Feel anything?” Diana asked, watching him.

The full moon overhead cast shadows over everything. Diana’s smudged dark liner made her eyes look like holes in her pale face.

“No,” he murmured, his tongue thick in his mouth. Anything? Try everything. Too frigging much. He was sick and tired of choking on all the things he didn’t say. Wound tight with all the things he ached to do but didn’t.

Diana smiled. “Sure.” She took a long drag off the joint. “You can cut the crap, okay? It’s me.”

Maybe that’s why he was here. With Diana, he didn’t have to try. He didn’t know why she was pissed at the world, but they had that much in common. Considering she was a total nut job, that wasn’t exactly comforting.

He stared beyond her at the others. Lane was watching them, that smug smile creasing his face. His fist, on that face—he could almost feel the force of the blow, see the way Lane’s head would pop back. He’d fall, down, down… And Nick would be the one smiling.

The images stretched and twisted, throwing off his equilibrium. The world slanted, the corners softening and blurred.

“I get it.” Her smile was hard. “I so get it.”

Wait, what? She got it? “No. You don’t,” he pushed back. She had no idea what he was going through.

She ran a hand through her hacked-off black hair, scratching her too-thin forearms with black-tipped nails. “Whatever.” She took another hit. “If you’re going to be an ass, you don’t get to share my weed.”

He sighed and stood, staring up at the star-laden sky overhead. The sky was dropping, pushing down on him and swallowing the air. If this was her idea of relaxing, she was more messed up than he’d realized. This sucked. Stars were moving. Or was he moving?

“You think your dad is up there?” Diana asked, swaying slightly and holding out the joint.

He took another hit, breathed in deep before eventually answering. “Nope.” His legs were giving out so he sat at the edge of the pipe, the sky slowly descending until he couldn’t move. Was his dad there? Close now, close enough to touch—if he could reach out. He didn’t. “No way.”

She sat down, hard, beside him. “My mom is.”

He nodded. The ground was moving. “Your mom was awesome. Her peanut butter cookies. The best.” He wanted one. No, he wanted a plate of them. All the memories he had of Mrs. Murphy were good. She was up there in the stars. Stars that were falling, leaving big white streaks in the sky. “Think she can see us?”

Diana leaned back, resting on her elbows. “I sure as hell hope not.”

“Diana,” Lane Aisley called out. “Come here.”

Diana sat up. “The boyfriend calls.”

Diana had self-destructive tendencies, but… That tool was her boyfriend? Maybe she didn’t know he was all about hooking up and sharing the details with anyone who would listen. The guy was a douche. She needed to know that. He should have beaten the crap out of the loser when he had the chance. “Bad idea,” was the only warning he managed. Everything was heavy. It was hard to focus on anything.

“I’m all about the bad ideas, Nick.” She was blurry and wavering, but she was staring at him. “We both know being good is a dead-end street.” She sighed. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Weed? No. Never. But he didn’t make a sound.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Those words again. Why did people ask when no one wanted an answer? No. He wasn’t okay. No frigging way. But no one wanted to hear him scream or see him punch the wall of this concrete pipe until his knuckles were shredded and breathing was possible again. Right now, the world was spinning too much for him to do either. All he could do was hold on to the edge of the concrete tube, hold on or fall.

“Here,” Diana said, nudging him enough to throw him off-balance. “Shit, Nick… Lean against the wall.”

Somehow, he made it to the side of the pipe. Head back, eyes closed, he held the cigarette she’d pressed into his hand but didn’t take another drag. Through the fog, the same shit was waiting for him. His father, Jack, his mom and sister, his inability to make things better or get away from everything. And sadness. He wanted to run, to keep running until he couldn’t think or run anymore. But movement, now, was an impossibility. And it scared the shit out of him. He was too high to leave, too high to drag Diana home, too high to stop the hot, angry tears from spilling down his cheeks.

…

Honor rolled over and looked at her phone. It was almost five a.m., and Owen Nelson was calling her? “Are you kidding me?” she groaned. Did he not get the whole silent treatment thing? Fine. If he needed her to say the words outright, she would. “Hello?”

“Good morning, sunshine. I found something that belongs to you.” He was whispering.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

He chuckled. “I’m not. But your brother is. Wanna let me in before that old lady next door calls the cops on us?”

“What?” Honor sat up and covered her other ear. “Nick?” she whispered, pushing her tangled red hair from her face. “He’s been drinking? With you?”

“Yes, to the first one. No, to the second. I found him when I was out running.” He paused. “We’re outside and he’s heavy.”

“Back door,” she heard Nick add, voice slurred and thick.

“Coming.” She was already hurrying across the landing, down the stairs, dodging Pecan and Praline as they leaped up hoping for breakfast, and through the living room to the french doors at the back of the house. Outside was Nick, his arm draped around Owen’s neck, bleary-eyed and looking like hell.

“What’s going on?” she asked, opening the door. “Nickie, are you okay?”

Nick glared at her. “Seriously?” he growled.

“He’s stoned. Whiskey, too—I can smell,” Owen said, practically dragging her brother inside. “Threw up a few times on the way.”

“Sorry, man,” Nick mumbled.

“My shirt.” Owen glanced down. “And my shoes. But he’s doing better since he downed my water bottle.”

Honor adored her little brother. But this… On top of everything else? Fury kicked in, hard and fast. “I can’t believe you…” But her voice was rising so she broke off and clapped her mouth shut. When there wasn’t the fear of their mother discovering them, she was so going to lay into him.

“Honor,” Nick groaned. “I know I screwed up, okay? Not gonna happen again. I need to sleep it off.”

“Shut up,” she hissed. “You are not going to wake up Mom, you hear me? She has enough to deal with right now. So be quiet before I…I lose my cool.” Hands fisted, she glanced at Owen. “Why are you smiling?”

He shook his head, but his smile never wavered.

“This way,” she hissed, sliding across the floor in her fuzzy socks. “Fifth step squeaks,” she said, pointing at the step as she led them to Nick’s room.

She glanced back, angry and worried and completely clueless about what to do next. Was Nick okay? He looked terrible. All gray. His lips were white. And he was covered in sweat. Did he need a doctor? Sleep? A kick in the ass?

“He’ll be okay,” Owen said.

She frowned. How did he know? Did he have a vast knowledge of being stoned and the aftereffects? And why was he smiling at her like that?

“In here,” she said, pushing open Nick’s door.

Owen helped her brother to his bed. “Going down,” he said, lowering her brother slowly to the mattress.

Nick lay back, both hands pressed to his head. “This sucks.”

Good. Serves you right. But she couldn’t very well yell it at him the way she wanted to.

“Thanks, man.” Nick clasped Owen’s hand in that weird angled handshake thing guys did to look cool.

“No prob.” Owen put his hands on his hips. “That shit’s bad for you.”

“Yeah,” Nick groaned.

“I get you’re wound up, though. So, starting tomorrow, you’re going to the gym with me.” Honor’s anger was temporarily derailed by Owen’s offer. He did have the body of a professional athlete—all muscle. And he moved like one, too. Not that she’d spent a lot of time noticing. She hadn’t. Everything about Owen Nelson made her squirm. He was too pretty, too popular, and too…too confident. He’d always loved being the center of attention. And people loved making him the center of attention, so this newfound selflessness didn’t make sense.

“Okay?” he asked, still waiting for some sign from her brother.

Nick gave a thumbs-up.

“Good.” Owen waited until Nick nodded before leaving. “You owe me shoes.”

Nick’s chuckle ended in a groan.

“Shh,” Honor reminded them.

Owen held his hands up and headed her way, lingering in the door—beside her. Way, way too close to her.

She stepped back and whacked her head against the doorframe.

“Careful,” he whispered, his hand sliding between her head and the doorframe. “Don’t want to have to carry you to your bedroom.”

Tingles covered every inch of skin. He was close. And big. And staring down at her with a totally different smile on his face. She didn’t know what it meant but the hot, tight burn in her belly was delightfully foreign and totally unsettling.

“He’s going to be okay?” she murmured. “No doctor or anything?”

“No,” Nick groaned. “Sleep. Lemme sleep.”

She glared at her brother.

“Sleep should do it,” Owen whispered, his gaze never leaving her face.

Which was good because she was wearing a massive T-shirt, zebra-striped socks, and had crazy bed head.

“I should go.” When he wasn’t trying so hard, he wasn’t nearly as obnoxious.

“Yes.” She nodded, leading him back down the stairs. It was only when she was pushing open the french doors that she realized he could have shown himself out.

He paused in the doorway. “You’re avoiding me?”

There was just enough rumble to his voice to make her toes curl in her fuzzy socks. Against her better judgment, she looked up at him and held her breath.

“I’m leaving for boot camp in a few weeks. After that, you’ll miss me.”

He’d been a thorn in her side since the day he’d moved here. Freshman year. English class. He’d been assigned the seat in front of her. From there she’d seen what sort of guy he was. From his constant flirting with every girl in school to the way he relentlessly teased her, Owen Nelson became her nemesis. Everything about him pushed her buttons. She was pretty sure he knew that—and liked it.

Now he was leaving. Miss him? Her lungs felt heavy. Why would she miss him? “I doubt it.” Her voice wavered.

“Ouch.” He pressed a hand over a bulging pectoral.

She swallowed, too aware of him. “But tonight, this morning, I mean… Thank you for this.”

His fingers brushed a curl from her cheek. “That hurt to say, didn’t it?”

She was smiling at him. Why was she smiling at him?

Owen’s hazel eyes swept over her face, the hint of real emotion surfacing on his model-worthy face. “I knew you’d be worried about him.”

Meaning he’d done this for her? No. That wasn’t at all what he meant. Was it?

“I’ll whip him into shape before I leave. I need someone to work out with anyway. If you’re okay with that?”

She nodded, doing her best to stop smiling at him.

He drew in an unsteady breath. “We need to go out.” It was the softest whisper.

Say no. Say it now. And tell him to stop asking. She swallowed. “Why?”

He grinned. It was a heart-stopping sort of grin. “Because I’d like to spend time with you. A lot.”

He did? “Why?” She repeated, not nearly as resistant to the idea as she should be.

“Shh,” he reminded her, but his grin grew. “Why not?” His gaze held hers. “Good memories to take with me when I leave.”

He was leaving. Joining the Marines, like her uncle Zach. Meaning she wouldn’t see him again for a long, long time. Like Uncle Zach.

“Please,” he added. The word was soft and husky.

“Owen.” A little voice inside shouted yes.

“Honor.” He cocked his head, stepping closer. “Why is it so hard to say yes?”

Because he was all about the hunt and she was the one—the only one—who’d turned down the Owen Nelson. And now? She didn’t have time for this. For him and his smile and the way he was getting to her. “Why is it so hard for you to accept my no?” Why couldn’t she sound certain? Instead of all soft and wavering and lame. Because I’m lying and I’m a terrible liar.

“I would, if you meant it.” He reached for her again, his hand warm against her cheek. “You know what, Honor Buchanan? I’ve made sure I have no regrets so far. You’re going to mess that up. Because us, not happening… I’ll regret that every day.”

He was staring at her, waiting. But she couldn’t back down. Not after three years of eye rolling and staying strong. How could she?

Because she really wanted to. Oh my God, I do. “Fine,” she muttered.

“What?” he asked, his thumb sweeping lightly across her cheek.

“You heard me.” She shot him a look, but there was no hiding the shiver his touch caused.

His grin was back. “I heard you.”

That grin was a warning. This, he, was a bad, bad idea. “But…things are sort of messed up right now.”

“I got that.” His eyes searched hers as he stepped closer. “I’ll call you. But that means you have to answer the phone.” Another step. If he leaned in to kiss her…

The overhead lights clicked on.

“Honor?” Her mother stood there, staring back and forth between them in shock and mounting concern.

Her mother waited for an answer and, for the first time in her life, Honor didn’t have one. The truth was there on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t do it. The last few weeks had been hell. Adding more stress and worry went against everything Honor believed in. She would make sure Nick didn’t pull this sort of crap again. And, if Owen was serious, he would keep Nick out of trouble—for her. Her mother didn’t need to know. Maybe.

“Mom,” Honor managed, her voice high and thin. She was scrambling for an explanation. She was in her nightshirt, with a boy, in the dark… “We didn’t want to wake you.”

Her mom’s owllike eyes blinked. “Oh?”

Way to really freak Mom out. She sucked in a deep breath and took Owen’s hand in hers. “Owen. You know Owen, don’t you?” She cleared her throat.

Her mother nodded, eyes on their hands.

“Well, he and I…” She shrugged, smiling nervously.

Owen squeezed her hand. “I was out for a run, Mrs. Buchanan. Just stopped by to say hello.” He chuckled. “I forget not everyone is up at this hour.”

Her mother’s posture eased the tiniest bit. “Running? At this hour?”

“Yes, ma’am. I leave for boot camp in a few weeks. Trying to get myself on schedule and in fighting shape.” He smiled his win-over-the-teacher smile. “I apologize for stopping by uninvited. Had to see Honor—miss not seeing her every day at school.” His fingers threaded with hers, setting Honor’s nerves to tingling. “Best way to start my day.”

Honor’s heart was thumping in her chest. He was good. Oh, so good. Good enough for her to wonder what that would be like—for him to feel that way about her.

“She has that effect on people.” Her mother smiled. “You’re welcome to join us for breakfast, Owen. After your run?”

Her mom was a goner. Not that she blamed her.

“I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Buchanan, but I have work today. It was nice to officially meet you.”

“You’re welcome to drop by this evening if you’d like. Just let me know what works.” Honor knew she was freaking out over walking in on her daughter in her pj’s with a hot guy, but she was doing her best to act cool because she was the best mother ever.

“I’m sorry I woke you.” Those warm brown eyes locked with hers. “I’ll let you go back to bed.”

Like that was going to happen. Her head and heart and…all of her were in a tailspin. She swallowed. “’kay.”

“I’ll call later.” His fingers tightened around hers, then slid free. This shivering from his touch thing had to stop. She enjoyed it way too much. “You have to answer your phone,” he whispered.

She nodded, his smile making her flush warmly.

“Bye,” he said, waving at her mother, winking her way, and leaving through the back door.

Her mother’s arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Wow,” she said. “He’s sort of…grown-up.”

“We’re the same age, Mom.” But she knew what her mother meant. Owen was wow.

“And Owen is your boyfriend?” she asked, squeezing her shoulder.

No. No way. The idea was laughable. “Yep.”

“And he did just stop by?” she pushed.

Honor glanced up at her. “Yes.”

Her mother relaxed then. “I know you’re an adult, Honor. I know you’re responsible and young and, apparently, in love. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Okay?” She touched her cheek.

Careful? Was she talking about sex? Sex? With Owen? Even if she did forget that this was all a big cover-up for Nick’s stupidity, which she wouldn’t, there was no way she’d ever contemplate sex with Owen.

All right, fine. Maybe. But she barely considered herself a decent kisser at this point. It wasn’t like she’d had a ton of experience. But Owen? He was probably a pro at kissing. Probably sex, too. Not that she’d ever know—or that she wanted to know. She didn’t. At least, she didn’t think so.