Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set (14 page)

I settled for meeting her gaze with a
low-voiced, “Looks good to me.”

Only because I was watching so closely did I
notice her eyes widen a tiny bit. Then her dark lashes swept down
and she focused on the socks.

“They’re big, but they’re doing the job.
Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

She was nervous. Only with her sitting on
the opposite side of the couch, I couldn’t exactly tell if it was
because she didn’t want to encourage me, or because she was feeling
exactly what I felt. I distracted myself by leaning forward to drop
a handful of marshmallows into my mug before passing her the
bag.

She added some to hers and then settled into
the couch corner with the mug cradled in her hands, feet tucked to
the side. I assumed a similar position, only I extended my legs and
crossed them at the ankles. My mug balanced on my abs between
drinks.

Our eyes met over the rim of our cups.
Neither of us looked away and I felt my pulse begin to pound from
the silent connection.

“How come you’re not married with a couple
kids running around this place?” she asked.

My heart stopped, then
jack-hammered in my chest at the word
kids
. “Wow, jump right in why don’t
you.”

“I just did.”

That she did—with both
feet. So how come I felt like
I
needed a life jacket?

Memories surged forward, but I shoved them
behind the wall like earlier. I lifted my mug for a sip, stalling
until I could figure out an answer that wouldn’t break the gate.
Something told me it was already too late.

Summer mirrored my movements, waiting. I
tried to distract myself by watching her lick melted marshmallow
from her upper lip, but I knew I couldn’t wait forever.

Finally I lifted my gaze to hers. “I guess I
haven’t met the right person yet. Sounds like a cop-out, but it’s
the truth.”

“Do you want kids?”

Four words. I never would’ve guessed it, but
that question from her was all it took to bring back the acute
feeling of loss I’d kept at bay for years. I had to swallow twice
before I could speak, and despite the ache in my chest, I gave her
the truth.

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yes.”

I seized the opportunity to swing the
pressure her way. “So why give the ring back?”

My turn to watch her wrestle with inner
demons. Only, her expression cleared quicker than I expected.

“Wanting kids isn’t a good enough reason to
marry the wrong person.”

The relief in her eyes gave me the
impression she hadn’t known the answer to my question until the
moment she spoke it.

To lighten the mood, I
asked, “Is there
any
reason good enough if it’s the wrong person?”

She looked up with a laugh. “No, none at
all.”

After her unexpected ice-breaker, we talked
long after our hot chocolate was gone. Except for that night in
high school, which I noticed she avoided as much as I did, nothing
was off limits. Past relationships, politics, religion, future
dreams, mistakes, successes.

Time stood still and flew by, all at once. I
couldn’t remember sitting on a couch with a woman and talking for
this long without being impatient for something else to happen.
Whether it be moving to the bedroom or walking her to her car.
Things were just different with Summer. Not that I’d object to
moving to the bedroom, but I enjoyed this, too.

Best of all was when I discovered something
to tease her about. Teasing her gave me the chance to enjoy her
laugh. It was about two a.m. when she revealed she was a die-hard
romantic. Total sucker for sappy chick flicks and romance books.
When I mocked the half-naked men who posed on the covers of those
books, she pelted me with one of the mini-marshmallows she’d been
snacking on.

“Watch it, buddy.”

I located the marshmallow and popped it in
my mouth with a grin. “I’m just saying, all that hyped-up romance,
and chick flicks in general—”

This time two marshmallows bounced off my
forehead. “I would advise you to stop while you’re ahead.”

A hail of ammunition rained down on my head.
Under cover of my raised arms, I judged the distance to the coffee
table to grab the half-full bag of marshmallows. I lunged, but she
nabbed the bag before I could. I couldn’t stop my forward momentum
and when she fell on the floor, I landed on top. White marshmallows
spilled in her hair as I laughed above her.

“Ahead of what?” I asked.

“My former opinion of you.”

Guilt hit harder than ever before. I didn’t
move. She didn’t move. We lay there on the floor, body to body, the
night of the Snowball winter formal between us. I shifted my gaze
from hers to pick a marshmallow from her hair. Flicked it away.

Now
. Now was the time to finally apologize.

And I had to look her in the eye to do it.
Unbelievably, I saw a flash of remorse in her expression. Then she
reached up behind my head and pulled my mouth down onto hers.
Thoughts whirled in my mind, until I realized I could wonder what
the heck was going on, or I could enjoy her kiss.

I’m not completely stupid, and I’m a guy. I
chose the latter. Shifted my body to align better with hers and
angled my head to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted beneath mine.
Warm and soft. The taste of marshmallow registered as I slid my
tongue against hers. Chocolate, too.

“
Mmm
.” Okay, I hadn’t meant to voice
that out loud. But then Summer made a similar sound deep in her
throat and raked her nails through my hair.

Talk about instant turn on. As the kiss
continued, things started to move a little fast. The exploration of
her hands created a wake of tingles that spread throughout my
entire body. She arched up as I eased my palm under the hem of her
sweatshirt and across her rib cage. I felt her breath catch, and
then the first brush of my fingers against her breast triggered an
arousing little moan.

I broke the kiss so I could see her face.
Her hair was spread out on the carpet in wild disarray around her
head. Her lashes fanned her cheeks, and her lips were red and wet.
Beautiful. Amazing. Sexy.

I’d thought about kissing her numerous times
during the evening, touching her, but never imagined it’d be this
explosive. My arousal throbbed in the juncture of her hips, the
cotton fabric and denim between us did nothing to soften her effect
on me.

She opened her eyes. There was no regret,
only the sight of her lips curving into an inviting smile. Her leg
rose up along my thigh, giving me more room, until she banged her
knee on the coffee table.

In that moment, I knew I couldn’t do this.
Somehow she’d forgiven me and how did I repay her? No apology and
sex on the floor. Summer deserved better than that. Better than me.
She always had.

I was the one dealing with regret as I
pushed up and then helped her to her feet. Confusion colored her
eyes more brown than green, and I brushed her long hair back to
rest my hands on her shoulders.

“I honestly didn’t intend for this to happen
when I offered you a place to stay,” I said softly.

I knew I’d said the wrong thing when she
lowered her gaze and tried to step back. I couldn’t have her
thinking any of this was her fault, so I tightened my hold. When I
was sure she wasn’t going to fight me, I crooked a knuckle and
raised her chin to meet my gaze.

“I’m not sorry it did.”

“But…?”

I sighed and let my arms fall to my side.
“But…it’s not such a good idea. Asking you over was selfish on my
part—a way to ease my guilt. Jenna was right, you should stay
away.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “What if
I don’t want to?”

Defiant Summer. I’d caught a glimpse of her
once or twice during the night. I liked her very much, but right
now she mystified me. “Why wouldn’t you run the other way? I mean,
after what I did…”

“What’d you do?”

“I ditched you at the Snowball dance,” I
stated, holding her gaze without flinching. “Never explained. Never
apologized.”

I saw the old hurt in her eyes. Moisture
shimmered in her eyes, but no tears fell. She crossed her arms over
her chest and jutted out her chin. “Did you have a reason for
ditching me beyond Lyssa’s shoes, or were you really just that much
of an ass?”

Lyssa’s shoes?

Oh, yeah, the fuck-me shoes. I’d been
fucked, all right.

I swallowed hard, knowing of all people,
Summer deserved the truth. A truth that I’d never told a single
person. Not Dave, not even Meg or my parents.

“In addition to being that much of an ass, I
had a reason.”

Her eyebrows rose in silent question.
Everything flooded forward from the recesses of my mind. I took a
deep breath and jumped.

“She was pregnant.”

“Lyssa?”

I nodded and backed up a step to drop down
onto the couch. Yes, I’d decided to tell Summer the whole truth,
but it didn’t make it any easier. “She told me out in the hall that
night. Wanted me to take her to get an abortion.”

Summer was quiet. I looked up to see her
surveying the room. I didn’t understand why until she sat on the
couch and asked, “Did you take her?”

“No. No way.” Elbows braced on my knees, I
jerked my head in denial. And that’s when it dawned on me—she’d
been looking for pictures. Of my child.

This time I was ready for the pain. Not that
it hurt less, but I didn’t lose my breath from the suddenness of
it.

“So the pictures on your fridge...?”

“My nephew, Zach—Meg’s son. Lyssa and I left
the dance and drove around the rest of the night while I talked her
out of it,” I told Summer. “Or so I thought.”

“What happened?”

Remembering the night I’d found out what’d
really happened triggered my lingering resentment. Anger curled my
fingers into fists. “She had the abortion anyway and then pretended
she was still pregnant.”

Summer sucked in a breath and covered her
mouth. “That’s awful.”

“A couple months later I came home from work
early to find her half-drunk and high. We got in a fight and she
told me it didn’t matter anyway because she’d had the
abortion.”

I forcibly relaxed my hands, only to rake my
fingers through my hair. I’d have been a good dad. I’d been scared
to death when Lyssa first told me, and for weeks afterward, but I’d
always wanted the baby.

“I was pretty stupid and naïve back then. I
mean, I should’ve realized something wasn’t right when she kept
begging me to keep everything a secret.”

Summer looked as confused
as I’d felt. “What did she hope to accomplish by lying? I
mean,
obviously
you were going to find out.”

“I know. But Lyssa was so messed up, I don’t
even think she could’ve answered that question. And after what she
did, I wasn’t hanging around to find out.”

I’d seen her a time or two since high
school. The first time was the fall after graduation, a year after
everything had happened, and she tried to suck me back in. I’d
grown up a lot in that year and her conniving left me cold. Last
I’d seen she was still making the rounds on the party scene. She
still had her looks, but time would catch up with her I knew. These
days, if I managed to set aside my bitterness over what she’d done,
I simply felt sorry for her.

After a moment of heavy silence, Summer
murmured, “I’m sorry, Josh. That was a hell of a lot to deal
with.”

“Yeah, it was. And it’s about time I admit
it doesn’t excuse my actions. You deserved better. I should’ve
talked to you.” I lifted my hands palms up, hoping she’d
understand. “At first I didn’t know how, I was too ashamed. I
picked up the phone a half-dozen times that Sunday after the dance,
only I chickened out every time because I had no clue how to
explain why I’d left you—I’d promised Lyssa I wouldn’t tell anyone.
And then at school on Monday, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

Unable to sit still any longer, I stood and
paced around to the back of the couch. “We used to be friends, you
know? But that day, you crossed to the other side of the hall to
avoid me. Everyone knew what I’d done, and Jenna and your friends
kept telling me what a jerk I was and—”

“They did?”

I nodded with a grimace. “Every single
day.”

She rose to her feet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for—it was
true. And yet each day that passed made it harder to apologize and
easier to ignore. Then I convinced myself Lyssa was enough to deal
with.” I braced my hands on the couch and met Summer’s gaze again.
“Earlier, when I saw you in the ditch, I felt like I was right back
in high school and wanted to go crawl under a rock. But instead of
telling me to go to hell, you smiled.”

She smiled now. “I was just as surprised to
see you. Though, you were a little bossy about the whole car
thing.”

“I was hoping for a shot at redemption.”

She walked around the couch, her feet
soundless on the plush carpet. I turned around to half-sit on the
back of the couch. When she was only two steps away, I raised my
hand, palm out, to halt her from coming close enough to make me
lose my mind again. Not before I finished making this right.

I locked my gaze with hers. “I apologize for
leaving you that night, Summer. I know it’s way overdue, and
probably not worth much by now, but I am truly sorry I hurt
you.”

I barely got the last bit out past the lump
in my throat. Her forgiveness seemed imminently important. The lump
swelled when I saw her blink away tears. She took another step and
placed her palm against mine. Encouraged, I interlaced my fingers
with hers, tightening my grip to bring her closer.

“It might be a little late,” she said, “but
it means more than you’ll ever know. Thank you.”