A Kiss Like This (30 page)

I look down into my beer cup at the white foam drifting on its surface, then glance up, shrugging. “A few, but…”

Wakefield cocks his head. “But what? What’s the hesitation?”

The
hesitation
is the decision I’ve never voiced out loud to any of them: that I have no plans to enter the NHL draft after graduation. That ultimately, I intend to get my law degree and become Chief Council for a mergers and acquisitions firm. A lofty position defending small companies that won’t have me standing in a courtroom.

That’s the plan, anyway.

Clearing my throat uncomfortably, I look around at the curious, watchful stares of my teammates. Everyone seems riveted, waiting for my response, and I reach my hand up to readjust my ball cap self-consciously. “I, uh…”

As if sensing my distress, Cecelia removes her intuitive gaze slowly from mine and gives her boyfriend’s meaty bicep a squeeze, leaning in to whisper in his ear. His eyes widen and shoot to mine, and he gives her a stiff, jerky nod. “Okay, okay, I’ll change the subject. Sorry,” he mumbles, both of them pasting on fake smiles.

Wakefield surges on. “So, what else is going on? How’s everyone behaving in that hockey house of yours?”

I glance behind them to catch a glimpse of Abby, her teeth biting down on the plastic rim of her cup as she tries to fade into the background and become unnoticeable and avoiding my stare. The hopes I’d been harvesting for the past few days that she and I would get the opportunity to talk tonight begin to rapidly fade before bursting into flames.

I pry my eyes away. “I’m sorry?”

Matthew Wakefield raises his eyebrow and repeats the question, glaring at me impatiently like I’m dumb as a box of rocks. “I asked how everyone is behaving at the hockey house.”

“Good.”

His dark eyebrows go higher into his hairline as he waits for me to elaborate.

I don’t.

Curling his lip, he addresses Cecelia, who is still sidled up next to him. “Wow,” he adds flatly. “I can see what the appeal here is for Abby. What a deep conversationalist.”

Heat rises from my neck, and I can feel my cheeks warming considerably. Shit, just what I need—I’m fucking blushing.

“Babe, would you do me a favor and grab me a water from the bar?” Cecelia cuts in, stroking his triceps with lazy fingers. He looks down at her hand then up into her face, the scowl on his face replaced by a relaxed, easy grin.

He leans in and kisses her on the nose. “Sure. Want lemon, too?”

“Um, sure. And take Abby with you.” Cecelia gives me a wink.

“One water with lemon coming right up,” Wakefield says, grabbing Abby by the elbow and dragging her through the crowd to the bar. I track their movement as the crowd parts to let them through.

Cecelia is on me like flies on shit.

“Okay, we only have a few minutes, so listen up.” She gets in my personal space, rises to her tiptoes, and talks close to my ear, comparatively. “What’s your plan?”

“Uh…”

She throws her arms up in frustration, and I can hear her exasperated groan over the blaring music. “Ugh! This is the problem with you two. You’re both so awkward.”

Words fail me, but I manage to respond with, “Uh, yeah.”

Cecelia glances over her shoulder. “Shit, they’re already being served. Look, I know you didn’t keep the ring on purpose.
Abby
knows you didn’t keep the ring on purpose. And all this crap with your friends being rude isn’t anything I didn’t experience myself. I mean, Matthew’s friends are—ugh! Awful.”

She’s babbling, but I’m hanging on her every word.

“So the way I see it, you’re just going to have to suck it up and take one for the team. She obviously blew this whole thing out of proportion—and don’t you dare tell her I said that or I’ll kill you—but there’s no way she’s going to admit it. She’s way, way too embarrassed to approach you. So, you have to be the one to make things right. I see no other way around it.”

Abby’s best friend grips both my shoulders, bears down, and gives them a firm shake. “Are you listening to what I’m saying? Blink once if you’re getting this.”

I blink once, afraid she’ll whack me, and add a curt nod for good measure.

Cecelia smacks my right arm anyway, then releases me, smoothing down the rumbled sleeve of my long-sleeve tee shirt. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” And just when I think she’s done with me, Abby’s best friend levels a finger in my face, her pointed fingernail hovering dangerously close to the tip of my nose. “You better not disappoint me, Caleb Lockhart. I
know
where you live.”

Shit, she’s kind of scary.

~ Abby ~

I wish I could tell you that before leaving Lone Ranger’s tonight, Caleb and I had the courage to talk.

That I had the courage apologize.

That I had the courage to look at him.

But I didn’t.

CHAPTER 31

Caleb

I stand in the dark, surrounded by thick, overgrown hedges that rise to my waist, and study the window before me. Flashlight app illuminated on my phone, I shine it directly on the eyelevel casement window.

Somehow, before I can swing it open, I’ll have to lift the pane until it’s off the lock. Only then will I have access to the dark room inside.

I dig into the pocket of my track pants for my pocketknife, flip open the bottle opener, and wedge it securely into a crack at the base of the pane, giving the knife a firm tug.

Only the echo of splintered wood and rustling bushes fill the quiet void in this space of yard I occupy.

Ignoring the recognizable cracking sound, I make a mental note to come back and calk it, my deft fingers grab hold of the window base, and I push up. The pane gives a loud creak, then a moan, and I hear the telltale give of the lock coming undone before the crank moves the window forward.

Grunting, I pull, and the window eases opens. A tad too accessible for my comfort level, but I’ll have to deal with that later.

Once I have the glass all the way open, I close the pocketknife and stuff it back in my pocket, along with my phone, and crack my knuckles. Bracing both hands on either side of the window, I stiffen my arms and upper torso, then bounce on my heels, warming up my body and preparing to hoist myself five feet off the ground and up into the window from a stand.

The curtains inside billow and wrap around my face when my waist is jackknifed over the side, half in, half out. I grunt, pulling myself forward, and fall into the dark room, bringing the curtains, curtain rod, and tiebacks crashing down with me in the process.

“What the fuck!” A loud screech comes from the dark recesses, followed by fumbling, banging, and a light being thrown on.

“What the
fuck
are you doing?” A voice that is most certainly not Abby’s shouts down at me from my position on the ground, and I stiffen as angry footsteps approach from the other side of the room.

Did I mention it’s a room that is most certainly not Abby’s?

Shit, fuck, shit.

“Caleb?”

I look up into Jenna’s shocked face.

“Um. Yeah?”

“What the hell are you doing? God
,
you’re such a jackass.” She throws her arm out and reaches for my hand. “Get up, you idiot.”

“Sorry.” I take her hand and she helps pull me up, but I stumble, my ankles wrapped in a heap of twisted curtains. “Shit, sorry.” Bending, I push down the gauzy purple fabric, yanking from under my feet and stepping out of the tangled chaos.

“You’re so lucky I didn’t
shoot
your sorry ass.” Jenna props her foot out, and my eyes flicker up and down her body; she’s only wearing thong underwear and a tight, sheer half tank.
Fuck
.

“You have a
gun
?” I spit out in a near screech, incredulously, averting my eyes.

“I have a Taser. But it’s hot pink and I’ve been
dying
to shoot someone with it. Bummer that’s it’s only you.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, so you keep saying.” Throwing on a short leopard-print robe that reaches her thighs, she ties the belt into a knot and turns to face me, arms crossed. “You really, seriously suck at this relationship crap, do you know that?”

Like I needed a reminder.

She continues. “Honestly, I’ve never seen such a bumbling mess.”

“Thanks.” Because really, what else is there to say?

“But it’s actually kind of sweet.”

My ears perk up.

“Even if you’re a little old to be so clueless.”

My shoulders sag.

“It’s a good thing we’re dealing with Abby here and not someone more sophisticated. She eats this shit up.”

Right. Okay, then. “Do you want me to help you with this?” I turn, bending to grab some of the curtains from the carpet.

“Dear God, no. Just go. Get the hell out of here.”

I gesture back and forth from the door to the window uncertainly. “Do you think I should…?”

Jenna rolls her eyes skyward. “Yes, go back out the window. If you knock on her door from the hallway it won’t be as romantic. Trust me.” She walks over and grabs the curtains out of my hands. “But take that stupid hat and hoodie off. She’s going to think she’s about to be raped.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Um, excuse me, was that
sarcasm
?” Jenna narrows her eyes. “You want me to Taser your ass?”

Wait. What? Panicking, my hands go up in a surrender. “No! I’m going. Jesus, stop trying to find an excuse to Taser me. I’m going.”

***

Abby:
I THINK THERE’S SOMEONE OUTSIDE MY WINDOW!

Cecelia:
Do you want us to come over?????!!! Call 9-1-1

Abby:
This is FREAKING ME THE F OUT
.

Abby:
Know what? I’m just going to yell for Jenna. She just bought that Taser gun from some guy in an alley downtown.

Cecelia:
Oh great. It’s probably a black market Taser that shoots STUN darts.

Cecelia:
Um… I was just talking to Matthew and he says to wait on calling the cops
…

Abby:
Why would he tell me not to call the cops
????

Cecelia:
Remember that time he pretended to be a creeper at MY door in the middle of the night? Thought he was being romantic in a Shakespearean kind of way but really just scared the ever-loving SHIT out of me?

CHAPTER 32

Abby

I hear the familiar grunt again, accompanied by the sound of metal being scraped along the side of my windowpane.

“Go. In. God. Dammit,” the voice curses gruffly in a huff, doing God only knows what to my window, a dim light flickering through my curtains, aimed at the bottom righthand corner of my window.

I bite my lip and pull the blanket up to my chin, debating.

I would know that voice anywhere.

Throwing back my blankets, I smooth down the shirt I’m wearing—Caleb’s shirt, the one I was wearing the last time I was with him, um, intimately. My legs are bare, but I move across the room toward the window, my heart beating so wildly in my chest that I pause, and press a hand to my breast to steady it.

The action does little to soothe me.

Pulling back the curtains, I unlatch the lock and crank open the window.

Crouching, I speak through the screen. “Caleb.”

“Holy shit, Jesus Christ! Abby, you scared the piss out of me.”

I ignore his startled litany of profanity and bring a hand to cover my mouth, chuckling. It feels good to laugh.

“I scared you?
You’re
the one trying to break into my room.”

“Yup.” His low, grumbly voice rises out of the dark, but he sounds oddly pleased with himself. “Wanna help me up?”

It only takes me a few seconds to decide my next course of action. Reaching down, I pop the screen out of its frame, then stand back as Caleb counts out a few bounces on his heels, and, like a gymnast, hoists himself up using only the strength from his upper torso.

Drool
.

He hangs over the window frame, grunting, before falling to my carpet in a heap inside my bedroom.

I walk backwards in the dark and sit on the edge of my bed as he steadies himself and rises to his feet. Kicking off his shoes, he neatly arranges them next to the closet door.

The uncertainty of the situation while he busies himself is killing me, so I adjust my position on the bed restlessly, pressing my palms to my flaming-hot face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask nervously when he stands at his full height, his tall frame silhouetted by the full moon lingering high in the night sky.

He hesitates. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Well, yes, when you put it that way
…

I groan inwardly.

“Do you have a small light we can turn on?” he asks, crossing the room. “Not the overhead light. I just want… I have to see your face.”

“Yes, m-my desk light, maybe?” I stand, careful to avoid contact with him. I feel my way through the dark to the little white light clamped to my IKEA desk and click the switch. A dim light casts pallor over the room.

I turn to face Caleb, whose imposing figure swallows up all the space in room, and I nervously flop down on the edge of my bed.

He approaches slowly then sinks to his knees in front of me.

~ Caleb ~

I sink to my knees in front of her, needing her to see me, and place my palms on her smooth, bare knees. It doesn’t occur to me to ask permission, but when she doesn’t pull away, my heart encourages me to power forward.

“God, Abby, I’m so sorry.” I risk a glance at her face, and she’s staring at me slack-jawed. “I’m such an ass.”

Her head tilts to the side as she silently watches me.

“Right after you climbed out that window, when you stormed away, that’s when I found your ring. It was shining in the sun, and I went to your cousin’s. He would have given it to you, but—” I run a hand under my hat, nervously before I continue “—I wanted to see you again. So I kept it.

“At first, I had it in my pocket. You know, just in case I ran into you. Then, when I finally did see you out, either I was with Blaze, or my friends, or I was just ashamed to admit I had it. That day you stormed out of the yard, and I walked you home, all I could think about was being in that moment with you.”