Because I’m going to do it.
I’m going to win Kennedy over.
I glance at where he’s singing along to the radio as we speed back toward Wilde’s End and promise myself that I’m going to give Kennedy the love he deserves.
There’s just one problem.
I need to figure out what love is first.
A recluse with absentee parents vowing to shower this guy in love? Ridiculous. It sounds like the start of a bad joke. People underestimate me all the time though, and I’m not about to do it to myself.
We reach Old End, and I’m expecting him to pull over, but he passes the houses and keeps going.
When I turn my confused look on him, he’s already watching me, grinning like he’s up to something. I have a hunch that I know what that something is.
My eyebrows rise a little, prompting him to share the idea he’s so obviously proud of.
“I’m going to keep driving,” he says like he’s warning me. “So you might want to tell me which way to go to your place, or we’ll end up very, very lost.”
I don’t point out that it’s impossible to get lost in Wilde’s End. The real risk is ending up in the Dale, but Kennedy doesn’t need to know it exists.
Not completely sold on his idea, I tap the dash for his attention, then point to a trail to the left.
“Here?” he checks. I know why he’s hesitating. It’s deceptively small, but we get trucks through here fine, and those are much bigger than this SUV. “Okay …”
I could have easily had Kennedy drop me anywhere in Wilde’s End, but I alsowanthim to know where I live on the off chance he’ll come to me for once. But while that idea is appealing, I’m nervous as hell because I love my place. It’s warm and comforting and gives me everything I need.
It’s also a mine shaft.
I couldn’t stand it if Kennedy looked around at my entire world and decided it was beneath him.
I don’t own much, but what I have ismine. I’m proud of it, and I’m proud of the life I’ve built for myself. I might be lonely,but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve fought hard to get here. Exactly where I want to be.
I direct him the whole way, getting more nervous the closer we get to home. Kennedy’s back singing along to the music, and I remind myself, for the millionth time, that it doesn’t matter either way.
I’m able to hold on to that thought until we clear the tree line and he pulls to a stop on the dirt clearing in front of my place.
Kennedy looks around. “Where is it?”
Directly in front of us, but I’m not about to tell him that.
Instead, I make a show of tapping my knuckles against his jaw before climbing out of the car. Unfortunately, Kennedy follows me.
“Hey, wait. Aren’t you going to show me around?”
Before it can dawn on him that themine shaftis my home, I take him by the shoulders and spin him back toward his car, then give him a little push.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine. Next time, then.”
Oh, yeah, sure, of course.
I wait for him to climb back into the car and turn on the engine, and then I wave until he disappears into the trees and I can’t see him anymore.
Ahh … Kennedy. These last twenty-four hours have been … they’ve been … I’m all jittery and squirmy and fluttery in my gut. I can’t believe we kissed. I can’t believe we hadsex. Sex that apparently won’t happen again, and I don’t have the energy to sulk about that because I got more than I ever thought I would.
Is this what happiness tastes like?
The titter of a bird in a tree close by brings me back to the now. The sky is still patchy with clouds, but the rain is gone, and it won’t take long for everything to dry out, including me. It’s also way too quiet for the big feelings I’m having, and because I know there’s no way I’ll be able to go inside and rest, I figure I’llspend the day working on my present for Kennedy. I stayed up late watching him sleep last night, and I don’t regret a minute of it.
