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Authors: Elizabeth Langston

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BOOK: Whispers from the Past
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I nodded.

“How do you like living with Marissa?”

“It is fine.”

“Is she a terrible mess?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “I am certain that I took a vow of secrecy.”

“So, that’s a yes.” Sherri laughed, took a sip of her tea, and then sobered. “I’ve wondered how long you’d be able to stay after…”

I returned her gaze frankly. “I do not expect to remain there much longer.”

“Too awkward?”

“Indeed.” That was no exaggeration.

“Where will you go?”

“I am not sure.” I squirmed. It was true. I couldn’t be certain where I’d be in the next week or the next month.

“Do you plan to stay in the area?”

“It might be wise to move at some point.”

The door to the garage opened. “Mom?”

Sherri watched me steadily. “Yes, Mark?”

I held her gaze with utter calm, but I moved my hands to my lap where she couldn’t see them.

“Did you wash my—?” He entered the kitchen and stopped.

I looked at him and inhaled deeply. His legs were mud-splattered, his bike jersey was wetly darkened, and his jaw was in need of a shave. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

“Hey.” His expression was carefully polite.

“Hello.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. I didn’t trust myself to fill it coherently.

“Why are you here?”

“My handwriting job.”

He nodded and exchanged a glance with his mother.

She gave him a relaxed smile. “I washed your swim trunks.”

Mark was about to attend a pool party. I rose. “Thank you for the tea, Sherri. I shall go now.” I strode quickly down the hallway. He caught up and opened the front door for me.

“Susanna,” he said as I walked past him onto the veranda.

I hesitated, feeling a pull from that voice that I couldn’t deny. “Yes?”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“I shall ride my bike.” I wouldn’t look into his face, for if I did, I would be lost.

“I don’t mind—”

“Not when you will go from me to her.” The words spilled from me in a rush, and as soon as they were out, I wished them back.

He joined me on the veranda. “
You
broke up with
me
,” he said, his tone sharp with frustration.

“So I did, and I do not regret the choice, but it does not cool the sting.” I hurried down the steps and around to the side of the house.

He followed and held the bike for me.

After eight long years in the household of Jethro Pratt, where the display of emotion had been a punishable offense, I had become greatly skilled at hiding my feelings. I would draw on those experiences now to mask how bittersweet I found this moment. If this were our last time together, I’d want him to remember me with a smile. Nor would I permit tense words to be the final ones we ever shared. “Mark?” I forced myself to look at him.

“What?” The word came out soft and sad.

I strained up and kissed him on his rough cheek.

He flinched. “Why did you do that?”

“I wish you happiness. Truly.”

His eyes narrowed on my face. “You haven’t wanted to touch me in a month, Susanna. Why now?”

I did want to touch him. Too much. “I am sorry…”

“For what?”

“Perhaps for everything.” I swung a leg over the bike. I had to leave, but it was hard to make that first move away from him.

He smoothed back a wisp of my hair and then pressed his lips to my temple. When I wobbled on the bike, he reached for me, his hand warm and familiar at my waist.

I pushed off and pedaled down the drive. There would be no good-byes.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-E
IGHT

W
ORKING
T
HE
P
ERIMETER

Gabrielle hosted the first graduation party of the spring, a full six weeks before graduation. Not surprisingly, there was a huge crowd around her aunt’s pool, most of the senior class from our school. Jesse couldn’t make it, which meant Benita wasn’t there, either.

Everybody seemed to accept that Gabrielle and I were a couple. Maybe it was time that I did too, especially after that disaster of a conversation with Susanna on Saturday, and her formality earlier today. She’d moved on. Clearly. I should follow her lead and move on, too.

Gabrielle stayed busy most of the time, playing the perfect hostess. She had on a tiny, shiny gold bikini, the kind that would probably disintegrate if it touched water. Her body in a bathing suit was amazing. It made me wonder if she would ever do nude scenes in a movie, which made me wonder how I could possibly be thinking that about the girl I was fake-dating.

It was weird, but for now I was content with being a spectator at this event, standing on the sides, watching everyone else having fun. It was a great party, but I didn’t feel like joining in.

The guys from my senior class were watching me with envy and maybe a little confusion, since I wasn’t currently hanging onto Gabrielle. Or maybe the confusion was about why she was going out with me at all.

Some of the bolder senior girls had tried to hit on me, even though they’d known me for years. Being wanted by someone famous upped my value.

Carlton May entered the poolhouse, his eyes skimming the crowd. We hadn’t spoken a lot recently. Well, actually, we hadn’t spoken much since last summer when he started dating my ex. Alexis was here, too—clinging to the arm of another guy. I hadn’t heard that Alexis had broken up with Carlton. So, either the grapevine didn’t reach me anymore or the news was very recent.

A girl I didn’t recognize wandered through the French doors from the house and stopped next to Carlton, sliding her hand into his. She was very curvy under a sleek black one-piece. She kept peeking at him with this startled look of wonder.

He headed in my direction, dragging her with him.

“Mark.”

“Carlton.” I looked pointedly at the girl.

“This is Stacey Lan,” he said, smiling down at her.

I coughed. “Ted Lan’s daughter?” As in—Carlton’s former stepfather?

They both nodded.

“Okay.” I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I snagged a glass of something from a passing waiter and pretended to be intensely thirsty.

“Have you decided where to go?” he asked.

The eternal college question. “Not yet. I’ve heard you’re going to Dartmouth?”

“Yeah.” His hand tightened around Stacey’s. If remembered correctly, she must be a freshman. Their relationship wouldn’t last much longer.

He gestured toward Gabrielle. “Is it true that you get chauffeured everywhere you go?”

“Pretty much.” We had to. Garrett wouldn’t permit anything less.

“And you sometimes fly to dates on private jets?”

“Yeah.” It had only been one so far, but there would be others. We were already talking about the Memorial Day opening of
Flight Risk
in California. There was just no downside to being the guy who got to hang out with Gabrielle Stone.

“She is…gorgeous. You’re the luckiest guy here.”

Stacey blinked, her face flushing.

I nodded and pretended I didn’t notice her reaction.

“Okay, then. See you ‘round.” Carlton gave Stacey a nudge, and they moved away from me.

Olivia was working the perimeter of the party, but her course—although somewhat zigzag—was steadily making its way toward me.

“Mark.” The wide smile on her face did not match her tone, which was pissed.

“Uh-huh.”

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“Why would you say that?” I didn’t owe any explanations to her.

“The frown you’ve been wearing for the last half-hour.”

“I’m brooding. It’s a good look on me.”

Her face scrunched up as she considered me. “I have a photographer showing up soon. Could you brood some other day?”

I blinked at her. “This is a media event?”

“Everything Gabrielle Stone does is a media event.”

An arm slid around my waist. “Hi.” Gabrielle pressed a kiss to my cheek. “What’s going on?”

Olivia sniffed. “Your boyfriend is too subdued for the cameras.”

“He’s smoldering. I like it.”

I threw the publicist a
so there
look and then hugged Gabrielle to my side. How had she stayed so nice in the midst of all this stupidity?

“Better,” Olivia muttered as she turned away.

“So,” Gabrielle said. “What do you think?” She nodded towards the laughing clusters of seniors lounging around the pool.

“It’s pretty tame for most of them.”

She wrapped both arms around me and snuggled closer. I reciprocated, resting my cheek against her hair.

“I can’t have bad stuff getting out in the tabloids.”

“Understood.” I smiled. “Your party will definitely stand out in their minds.”

“It would’ve stood out anyway.” She tossed her head smugly.

“True.”

With a light gasp of excitement, she looked up at me. “Did Olivia tell you about the agent?”

“The what?”

“A modeling agent has approached us about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“You’re hot, and you smolder when you’re next to me.”

“Uh-uh. No way.”

“Give it some thought. You could hold out for the products you wanted. Like mountain bike gear.” She relaxed against me again. “It’d be easy money, and the RDU airport is close enough that you could fly to shoots on the weekend. It wouldn’t even have to interrupt your college schedule.”

RDU was nowhere near the closest airport to Newman or Virginia Tech. Did she think I was going to accept Duke?

I didn’t know what career I wanted in the future, but I was positive that it would
not
be modeling.

Marissa’s car was parked at the curb in front of the house. As I pulled in the driveway, she came out the front door.

“Hey,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

“Hey, yourself.” She whipped off her shades to give me an assessing stare. “Been having fun times?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah. Sounds like it.” She frowned at me. “How’s it going with the movie star?”

“Good.”

“Glad to hear it. Whenever I’m totally into a guy, I always describe it as good.”

“Marissa.” I frowned back. “I don’t want to get into this with you.”

“Too many people pumping you for information about it?”

“Sure are.” If I was lucky, she was about to drop it.

“Poor baby. Guess you can’t escape the curiosity.” She spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “Granddad and Gran are on Team Susanna.”

Like I didn’t know that already. “Who else?”

“Dad. Mom, too.”

“Mom?”

“Yeah. Mom adores Susanna.”

“She never acted like that in front of me.”

“That’s the point. She was afraid that her feelings about Susanna would give you permission for something deeper.” She sighed as she reached up to smooth the collar on my shirt. “Susanna represents a choice that Mom’s not ready for you to make.”

I looked away from her, my gaze scanning the manicured lawns around our cul-de-sac. “So, is there anyone on Team Gabrielle?”

“The rest of America.”

My gaze snapped back to hers. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, Mark, you are such a child sometimes. You’re all over the internet.” She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving rapidly. “You haven’t searched your name recently?”

“Why would I
ever
do that?”

“I do at least once a month.”

I did not want to know why. “What are they saying about me on the internet?”

“You’re Mr. Swoonworthy.” She handed over the phone. The screen held a page from an online gossip magazine. “Everyone knew you were going to end up with Gabrielle after Homecoming Court.”

I stared at the screen in horror. Dozens of images of me scrolled past. Some were with Gabrielle. In others, I was alone. On my bike. Arriving at school. One had my shirt off—and I had no idea when or how that shot had been made.

My sister smirked. “Crazy, I know. It’s a wonder you can go grocery shopping anymore.”

“Does Gabrielle know?”

“Of course she does. Why do you think she picks you up all the time now?”

“She has bodyguards.”

“Technically, so do you.”

“What?” I handed the phone back to my sister.

“There is a security company monitoring our neighborhood.”

“Do Mom and Dad know that?”

Marissa nodded.

I didn’t like worrying that paparazzi could be hassling our neighbors. I didn’t want to worry about candid shots of me popping up on the internet. And I didn’t want the word “swoon” and my name to ever appear in the same sentence.

I could see why Gabrielle had kept all the details quiet. I wasn’t dense. It was a given that there would be some interest in the guy going out with Gabrielle, but it might’ve been nice if she’d made the specifics clearer. I was royally pissed to be learning all of this crap now. The modeling agent thing was one more piece of the craziness—and something else I was
not
sharing with Marissa.

So there were downsides, only I hadn’t known about them until this moment. Would there be any others?

“Hey, little brother. Are you all right?”

BOOK: Whispers from the Past
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