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Gabe glares at me, his eyes a stormy blue. I turn to the driver’s side door. If he expects me to just step aside, he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.
23
KATHERINE
If my phone was lit last night, it’s even worse today. And there’s no hiding from it as we cruise along the sandy streets toward town.
The number in the text message bubble is nauseating. I didn’t know there was space for three digits.
The missed calls are almost as bad, but I ignore them for now and wade into the texts. There are several follow up thoughts and questions from LaShonda. A couple of check-ins from other friends. A short and surprisingly sweet note from my father, so I shoot him a quick reply. A half dozen messages from Kingston.
Kingston: Someone’s popular. *upside down face*
Then, a few hours later, he sent another message.
Kingston: Let me know if you need to talk.
Or get away.
Or anything.
My heart squeezes in my chest, and I blink back tears. It’s like he reads my mind and knows exactly what I need to hear.
I scroll further, scanning his messages, feeling more and more rotten. While I was kissing Alex and Gabe, my best friend was worrying about me.
Kingston: are you okay?
I know you’re tough, Kay, but you don’t have to be.
Let me know you’re okay.
I can hear his voice as I read each of the texts. It’s so tempting to call him. To hear his voice for real.
“We’re here,” Roman announces. His deep, steady voice reminds me of Alex’s. Alert, confident, capable.
I slip my phone back into the wristlet purse as he parks. Here goes nothing.
Roman opens my door, and I slide from the back seat.
“Thank you.”
Long Island is sprinkled with posh towns, each cuter than the last. I adored this place as a child. Lots of nooks and crannies to hide in. A candy shop with the sweetest couple, who always gave me a caramel. A deep breath sweeps me back in time before my parents divorced and my mom became bitter. Back when life was simple and sweet and filled with laughter.
“Is everything all right, Miss Montgomery?”
I blink over at Roman and nod, wishing I had a giant pair of sunglasses to hide behind. Though I’m fully clothed, I feel naked. Exposed. Which is nothing new, but you’d think I’d be used to it by now.
Down the street, my brother leans against the side of his restored Bronco. The sight of his lean frame and golden hair has my shoulders dropping from my ears. It’s not even Memorial Day weekend, and he already has a tan.
“Hey,” I say as I approach, and he turns those sky-blue eyes my way.
A smile curves the corners of his lips, and he shoves away from the Bronco, glancing from Roman to me. No questions. Just a silent understanding of who my shadow probably is. Because this is our life. Our nannies were all trained in self-defense and evasive driving. After college, I said no more shadows, and for two years, I came and went.
But as much as I hate to admit it, Alex is right. This kind of attention is new. Maybe even dangerous.
Ford yanks me into a hug, and I close my eyes, soaking in the familiar scent of his cologne.
“What have you gotten yourself into, sis?”
