“Echo, wait!”
Guess that answers one question. He must’ve kissed her hard and fast if he’s running after me so soon.
“Christ, Echo, would you just bloody stop?” I hear his steps pounding on the pavement, doubling mine, his voice sounding closer now.
He’s going to catch me…and then what do I say? “Why the hell does it feel like I’ve been kicked in the gut?” “Do I want you so badly because I can’t have you?” “Is this yearning for you that continues to creep up on me, no matter how many times I tell myself we can’t be anything more than friends, even real?”
I’m at my truck, but I don’t jump in. I stand frozen, facing the door, keys in hand. And the resentment, confusion, and pain coursing through my entire body turn into something fiery and intoxicating as he comes to stand right behind me.
He’s panting in deep, husky breaths that ruffle my hair and singe my neck.
“Will you turn around and look at me, please?”
“Did you kiss her?”
Why this one kiss, among what I assume are countless others he’s had in this town, bothers me so much, I don’t know. But it does.
“Turn around and ask me to my face. Then I’ll answer you.”
I don a mask of indifference (or so I hope), and turn slowly around to face him.
His eyes are a deep, smoldering gray as he moves closer, forcing me back against the side of my truck. He braces his arms on either side of my head, trapping me in the cage of his massive frame. And then he lowers his face so our lips are too close, our breaths mingling.
I’m imprisoned in his gaze, his scent, and his powerful body looming over mine. And there’s not a slice of fear in me—only the need for answers as to what’s happening between us, and whether it’s only me feeling it this time.
“Now, then,” he says in a low, gravelly voice. “Ask me again.”
I lick my lips, gulping down any second-guessing. “Did you kiss her?”
“No.”
No? While I very much like that answer, is that all he has to say?
His eyes remain trained on mine as the silence between us lingers. If I leaned forward, just an inch, our lips would touch. I’d finally know how his feel, taste…if it’s really all I’ve imagined it would be, or just a need to quench my curiosity.
“Kingston, I—”
“I know, Love, me too. God damn it,” he growls, suddenly grabbing his hair with both hands. “Me. Too. Fuck!”
I don’t even know everything I was about to say, or am feeling, so I certainly don’t understand exactly what’s going on with him right now. I’ve never seen him like this: pacing, angry…like a caged beast.
“Get in your truck and drive home,” he orders. “I’ll follow you.”
“But—”
“No.” He stops pacing and drops his head and shoulders, rubbing hard at the back of his neck. “Please don’t say anything else. Just get in your truck and go.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
I do as he begs, using the drive time to replay the scene in my head. And by the time I pull into my driveway, I no longer feel rejected or bewildered. I have clarity, and finally understand what just passed between us.
I’m not alone in this battle of craved push and forbidden pull.
“Echo Victoria Kelly.”
My father’s booming voice stops me right outside his bedroom door.
“Yes, sir?”
“Did you have a nice time?”
Um. Never in a million years would that have been my guess as to what he’d say next.
“Honestly?”
“Always, young lady.”
“No, not really.”
He laughs. Laughs. “I’m glad to hear it. And Kingston—was that him pulling in the driveway behind you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Either of you drink?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s good. No more parties for you—especially ones hosted by a male junior in college. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gotta love small towns; I’m sure he knew I was there before I even walked through the door. And he knew who was throwing it! I was there, even asked, and didn’t manage to nail down that piece of information.
“Good night, Echo. Good night, Kingston.”
He’s behind me now, unable to hide those heavy-booted footsteps from my dad.
“Good night, sir,” Kingston clips before walking right past me, straight to his room.
~~~~~
It’s Savannah’s incessant texting that wakes me. I roll over and read her messages, but don’t reply. I have nothing to say to her yet.
But when I notice the time, I’m shocked into a sitting position. I slept in pretty late. It had taken me a while to finally fall asleep—after I may have purposely stayed up for a bit, hoping Kingston would come talk to me.
But he hadn’t. Beyond that, though, I don’t remember it being a restless night.
I throw on a robe over my pajamas and head downstairs to apologize for missing breakfast, only to find the house quiet and empty. But there’s a plate of covered food and a note from my mom on the counter.