You Were Mine (Rosemary Beach #9)(42)
Author: Abbi Glines

“So I had to run. If I ran away and found a way to become independent from them, then they wouldn’t have any power over me, and I could come back and see you. Then, when you turned eighteen, you could come with me. That was the only answer I could find. I didn’t want to lose you.”

I watched her face as she listened to me. I had tried to explain this to her so many times. But this time, she was listening to me. Finally.

“As for the pregnancy, I wasn’t using the phone my parents paid for. I left that behind. I was saving money to get my own. I was going to call you as soon as I had it. But I was worried about you, and after a month, I used a phone in my hotel room to listen to my voice mail. That was when I got all your messages. My world fell apart in that room.”

Bethy let out a sad laugh and shook her head. “We were so young then. Do you even remember those kids? I forgot how it felt to be them that summer.”

I hadn’t. “We may have been kids, but what I felt for you was real. It never changed or faded. Not once.”

We sat there, neither of us speaking, as the sound of the cars on the street and the neighbor’s music above us filled the silence between us.

I watched her, and she stared off at the wall, lost in thought. So much had changed since that summer when she’d walked into my life and lit it up.

“What I said when we were on the island—I was wrong,” she said, swinging her gaze back to me. “I was terrified because I had done the things we had done and not once felt guilty about it. I hated myself for not feeling guilty. But I do want to live my life. Walking through it numbly is lonely, and you’re right, Jace wanted me to live.” She paused and closed her eyes tightly. “I think, that is, if you want to, I think I’d like us to see each other more. Not exclusively, just casual. Maybe. If that would be something you would want to do.”

Not exclusive? Fuck. I controlled my reaction and kept my expression neutral. She was offering me an olive branch, or at least a very small twig, but it was something. It was better than what we had right now. “Yeah, I’d like that,” I replied.

She smiled, and the relief in her eyes made everything worth it. “Really?” she asked, as if I was going to change my mind.

“Absolutely.”

She looked around awkwardly with a silly grin on her face, then glanced back at me, unsure. “Is it OK if I . . . hug you?”

I held my arms open. “Come here,” I told her, and she waited a split second before she wrapped her arms around me.

I inhaled and held on. Dipping my head down, I ran my nose up her neck and grinned as she shivered.

I wasn’t her number one, but that didn’t change the fact that she was mine.

Bethy

If a guy were to order takeout and rent a movie, would you be interested in joining him?

I grinned down at the text message. Since our talk the other night, Tripp had sent me a couple of random texts but nothing else. I hadn’t been sure if he was busy or if he was just testing the waters. This text cleared the air a bit.

I put the golf cart into park so I could respond.

Depends on the guy asking. I have standards.

After I pressed Send, I tucked my phone into my shorts pocket and jumped down to unload the leftover stock. My shift was at an end, and the sun was setting, so the course was closed. The last group had just finished up.

When my phone vibrated, I quickly pulled it back out.

He’s tall, extremely good-looking, great smile, knows you like the chicken fettuccine alfredo at Gambino’s, and intends to have that and a glass of white wine waiting for you when you get to his place.

I laughed out loud, then looked around to make sure no one saw me smiling like a loon at my phone.

Sold, I typed. I’d go anywhere for that fettuccine.

His response was fast.

Score. See you at seven?

I replied: OK.

I tucked my phone back into my pocket and got to work. I needed a shower and a change of clothes before I went over there. I smelled like suntan oil and sweat. Not to mention the beer that had spewed all over me earlier. Occupational hazard of working as a drink-cart girl.

I managed to get everything unloaded in record time and get out of there without Aunt Darla asking where I was off to. She didn’t approve of Tripp, and although she was holding something against him that happened years ago, I wasn’t sure she would let that go. I would deal with her when I had time.

I made it to my apartment, took a shower, and changed into a pair of leggings and a top that hung off one shoulder. It was comfortable and cute. I didn’t want to dress up to watch a movie at his house. That seemed like I was trying too hard.

This was supposed to be an easy thing.

By the time I pulled up to his apartment, it was five after seven. His Harley was parked outside, and all the lights in his apartment were on. The first time I had walked back into that apartment after his return had been hard. Jace had wanted to throw him a welcome-home party, and I had to pretend I hadn’t lost my virginity on his sofa. Or slept in his bedroom more nights than I could count.

Now I was walking back in there to spend time with Tripp. Facing those memories was terrifying. But that was our past, and I didn’t have to hide from it.

I knocked on the door, and I could hear Tripp’s footsteps as he came down the hall. When the door swung open, the sight of him caught me a little off-balance. Sometimes I forgot just how sexy the man was until he was there in my space again. No wonder my sixteen-year-old heart had been stolen by him.

His hair was damp, and I could smell the fresh soap on his skin. A gray T-shirt clung to his chest in a few places where he hadn’t completely dried off before pulling it on. The jeans he was wearing hit his hips so perfectly I was sure they had been made just for him, so that women everywhere could lust over the way his flat stomach rippled and cut into a V as it disappeared into the denim. The jeans also did wonderful things to his long legs. The muscles in his thighs flexed easily as he shifted his stance. Then there were his tanned bare feet, which shouldn’t have been a turn-on but totally were.

I snapped my gaze back up to meet his after openly ogling him at his front door. I was thankful that he wasn’t smirking at my lapse. He grinned and stepped back for me to enter. “Just now pouring the wine,” he said as I walked in, his clean scent meeting my nose.

Why did that make me want to lick his neck?

“I waited for you to rent the movie. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to see. I’ve got iTunes pulled up on the television so you can scan through it and rent what you want.”