Lucky Penny (26 page)

“I’m a virgin, Blake.”

“You mean, you’ve never…” He didn’t say the words, so I nodded my head.

“But how. How is that possible?”

It probably wasn’t meant as a joke, but a small laugh bubbled up and tumbled out of my mouth. “If I have to explain that part to you, you’re probably doing it all wrong.”

“Fuck, Penny, I… I don’t know what to say. Fuck.” Blake leaped up from the bed and started pacing the length of my small bedroom. I thought I would feel a deep sense of embarrassment, but part of me was relieved. Relieved that I’d shared this with him. But then Blake stopped with a look of alarm on his face. “Does this have anything to do with what he did?”

All of the air was sucked from the room.

“Yes… and no,” I answered honestly. “What Derek did left scars. The kind you don’t just get over, but it wasn’t just that. I’ve just never found anyone who I felt truly comfortable with letting touch me.”

Blake’s brows furrowed as he whispered, “But I’ve touched you. We’ve kissed.” He dragged one hand over his face clearly struggling to put all the pieces together.

I smiled weakly. I couldn’t explain it either—why I came alive when Blake touched me, but when others touched me, I wanted to retreat into myself. Neither of us spoke. Blake came to stand next to me and dropped to his knees. He grabbed my ankles gently and pulled me around until my legs were hanging over the edge and he was resting between them. Everything was silent except for the beating of our hearts. One of Blake’s hands reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear and I dropped my eyes and blushed. It was such an intimate gesture. Something was changing between us. It was scary and intense, and yet, despite all of my better judgment, it felt right.

This was our chance.

I felt it with every fiber of my soul.

Blake opened his mouth to say something, but this time, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. If one of us spoke now, this moment would pass.

And we might not get another.

“Pen- Penny, what are you doing?” he mumbled into my mouth as I parted my lips urging him to kiss me. I pulled back slightly to reply, “I’m making a choice.”

Age 18

T
he square envelope taunted me.

Today, I turned eighteen. It was the day I would have aged out of foster care, but here I was, hiding in my room while crowds of people partied in the rooms below in my honor. I could hear their laughter and the drunken conversations. Uncle Anthony and Aunt Miranda had gone all out for me. A DJ was set up in the garden room, food and kegs filled the kitchen, and my whole class at Wellington was present. But it could all go to hell.

Until my uncle wished me a happy birthday this morning and handed me two cards, I was ready to pack my shit and go find her. I was eighteen, and legally, they couldn’t stop me. Even if it meant turning up on
their
doorstep and demanding an address. I just wanted to know Penny was okay. Her feelings might have changed toward me, but mine hadn’t. For a year, they had only grown stronger.

The envelope changed everything—my uncle was right all along.

The first time I’d asked about riding out to Lancaster to see Penny, Uncle Anthony had reminded me that I couldn’t just turn up at the Freeman’s house. There were rules and protocols about that kind of thing. So I’d asked if I could call. He said no. Email. Another no. So I did the only thing I knew how. I waited until the house was quiet and my uncle had finally retreated to bed. I made it as far as the thirty-three before a police car pulled me over. Turned out Uncle Anthony really did know everyone in the city, including the local police officers. They had recognized the black Prius my uncle insisted I drive once I passed driver’s ed. It wasn’t until the third time I tried to sneak out that Uncle Anthony really lost his shit. Officer Dalty walked me to the front door, the third time in less than three months, and waited until my uncle answered. He’d thanked the officer, grabbed me by the scruff of my neck, and hauled me inside.

“Sit,” my uncle commanded, the vein pulsating in his neck.

I dropped into one of the leather chairs and glared at him. It was the first time he’d ever gotten physical with me, but he didn’t scare me. After all, I’d survived Derek Freeman and lived to tell the tale. What worse could my own uncle do?

“Do I need to ask you where you were going, or were you trying to drive out to Lancaster again to see that Wilson girl?”

Penny, her name’s Penny.

I remained silent. We both knew where I was headed.

“Blake, have I not already explained that you can’t just turn up on their doorstep?”

“Why not? I just want to see her, to make sure she’s okay. It’s been months, and I haven’t heard back from her.”

Uncle Anthony walked over to the cabinet pushed against the wall and poured himself a glass of whiskey. “Have you considered that she might not want to write you back? That maybe she has moved on with life?”

No.

No
.

Pain ripped through me. I hadn’t forgotten about her. Not a single day went by when I didn’t think about Penny. She wouldn’t just forget about me.

Would she?

“You’re wrong. Are you sure you gave them the letter?”

He nodded. “Max hand delivered it himself.”

“Maybe if we talk to the social worker. You must have their number, right? The ones who helped you find me?”

Something passed over Anthony’s emotionless face. It was quick, there and then gone, but I saw it.

“What? What aren’t you telling me?” I stood up too restless to sit. Everything pissed me off lately. It was here—this place—the money, the luxury—it was all too much.

My uncle regarded me for a second and then swirled his whiskey around in the glass. It sloshed up the sides, and he brought it to his lips and knocked it down in one. He placed the glass on the table dividing us and said, “I had to pull a lot of strings to get you here, Blake. Strings that usually take a long time to move. It would be bad for a lot of people if we draw attention to your situation.”

Situation?
Is that what he thought of me; I was a fucking situation?

“You bought me, didn’t you?”

I don’t know when it all started to click into place, but Uncle Anthony’s admission seconds ago was the missing piece of the puzzle. He hadn’t just used his position as one of the top lawyers in Columbus to get me out of the group home; he’d paid them off.

“You make it sound like I committed a heinous crime,” he scoffed turning his back on me to stare out the window. “I saved you, Blake.”

“At what price? That I never stepped foot in Lancaster again?”

“You’re overreacting, son.”

“I AM NOT YOUR SON,” I yelled balling my hands into fists.

Anthony snapped. He marched up to me and stared me down, fury rolling off him. “Your father was a drug abusing son of a bitch who ruined my sister. Imogen was a good girl headed for great things before he came along and stole her from us. He poisoned her with empty promises and look how they ended up. Look how
you
ended up. Without me, you have nothing Blake, nothing. What can you possibly offer Miss Wilson? Dreams and young love don’t pay the bills. They don’t secure your future.”

My mouth opened, and I stood there unable to speak. He thought he was saving me from a similar fate? It was crazy. Penny wasn’t a drug dealer. She’d never even smoked, not even the time Mason had dared everyone.

“I can get a job,” I ground out. “I can work. I don’t expect life to be easy, but you don’t know what it was like for us in there. What it’s still like for Penny. She needs me.”

My uncle’s hard eyes softened, and he shook his head regretfully. “I will not see you end up like your mother. I won’t do it. Even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I will not let you give up your chance at life for her. You’re just children.”

An idea crossed my mind and I said, “She could come here when she’s eighteen. We can take her in, right? There’s more than enough room and we cou-”

“No.”

Just like that. He wasn’t even prepared to hear me out.

“Why not?”

“Blake, please do not be unreasonable. We can’t just take in some girl…”

“Some girl?” I closed my eyes in an attempt to calm the anger pulsing through me. When I opened them again, I said quietly. “I love her, Uncle Anthony. She only has me.”

“Blake, you’re seventeen. What do you know of love? Of relationships? Love is fickle, so-” he coughed covering up his mistake. “Blake. How do you think she’s going to react when she realizes you’re from money? When she sees that you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

It wouldn’t matter, would it? I wasn’t from money; I just happened to have a rich family. Penny knew me. The real me. Not the me I was forced to pretend to be here.

But the more my uncle’s words played in my mind, the more I questioned it. We’d already spent so long apart. What if she really had moved on? Met someone? What if she had plans when she turned eighteen? And then I turned up offering her what? A shitty apartment and dead-end jobs? Penny’s grades were good; she could go to college, be anything she wanted to be.
Without you holding her back.
Or, if Anthony did agree, I could offer the world. Would she come freely? Or would she look at me as if she no longer recognized me?

A firm hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “Blake, you know this is the right thing to do. You both have your whole lives ahead of you. Young love comes and goes, family doesn’t. I can see to it that Miss Wilson is given more than enough when she ages out. She’ll have everything she needs to start a life for herself.”

Tears pooled in my eyes. Was this the right thing to do? Every cell of my body was screaming no, but all I wanted was for her to be okay. I would give up everything in a second for her to be okay.

I don’t know what hurt more—that Penny had moved on or that Uncle Anthony had been right. A knock on my door startled me, and I groaned. “What?”

The door clicked open and blond hair appeared in the crack. “Hey, it’s just me.”

“Hey.”

“Can I come in?” Brittany said peering around the door.

I scrubbed a hand down my temples and squeezed. This had my uncle written all over it. He seemed to think us getting together would be a good way for me to move on. There was one huge fucking flaw in his plan: Brittany wasn’t Penny. Not even close.

“I’m not really in the mood for company, Brit.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, birthday boy. You can’t celebrate all alone.”

“Fine, whatever,” I relented. Sometimes, it was just easier to give her what she wanted. After enrolling at Wellington, I’d quickly learned that Brittany Arnold was used to getting what she wanted. She had guys practically falling over themselves to date her and girls kissing her butt wherever she went. But she also had a softer side, one she didn’t let many people see. We became friends. I was upfront about not being interested, and she seemed cool with that.

“So, why are you up here instead of downstairs at your party? Which, by the way, rocks. Your Uncle Anthony outdid himself.”

I rolled my eyes. These people were always so impressed by money. Who had the biggest pool, the fastest car, the most popular party. It was exhausting and fake and it wasn’t who I was. I couldn’t give a shit.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” I replied flatly.

Brittany sat on the edge of the bed next to me and nudged my shoulder. “Don’t sound so excited. What’s eating you?”

My eyes flickered to the envelope balanced against the lamp on my desk. “Nothing.”

“You’re a tough nut to crack, Blake Weston.”

I didn’t reply. Sharing and caring wasn’t really my thing, especially not with the way our class gossiped. Silence filled the room. Thick and heavy and as awkward as fuck.

“Shit,” I said feeling too bummed out to deal with Brittany. “Maybe you should just head back down to the party.”

A soft hand glided across my knee and rested there. “Sometimes sharing helps. Try me. I can be a good listener. I promise,” Brittany said, and I swore I heard a nervous quiver in her voice.