Текст книги "Dare You To"
Автор книги: Katie McGarry
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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Ryan
I SET MY CELL to the loudest ringtone and place it on my chest before I rest my head on my pillow. Beth’s supposed to come home from the hospital today and because of that I’ve refused pain medication. I want to hear her voice on the other end of the line and know that she’s only a mile down the road instead of thirty minutes away in Louisville.
Then, for the first time in more than a week, I can sleep deeply.
My body is one slow, throbbing ache. Every pressure point pounds in time with my pulse.
Broken ribs, bruised everything, and cuts. Each and every injury worth the cost of saving Beth.
“Can you tell me why?” My dad’s voice
carries into the room.
My eyes flash open and I turn my head to
see him leaning against the door frame with his HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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gaze pinned to the floor. It’s the first words he’s said to me since I hit him. He’s been around. Present, but not speaking. I don’t feel bad about it, because I haven’t talked to him either…until now. “Why what?”
“Why you risked it all for that girl?”
“Because I love her. And her name’s Beth.”
No response. Sometimes I wonder if Dad
knows what love is.
“Scott called,” he says stiffly. “He wanted to remind you that there are rules now. He’s angry with both of you and he won’t be letting her out of the house anytime soon.”
I return my focus to the ceiling. I can deal with rules as long as I’ve got Beth. Scott’s been a mixture of grateful and pissed. In hindsight, maybe I should have called him when I found Beth’s note, but I don’t think Beth would have listened to him. She needed me.
“I don’t think you should continue to see her,” Dad says.
“Don’t remember asking.”
There’s silence and when I glance out of the corner of my eye, Dad’s gone. Who knows if the two of us can fix what’s been broken.
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My cell buzzes and my stomach
plummets when I notice Beth’s name above the text. She promised she’d call. Friends, right?
I half chuckle. It’s the first text she ever sent me. Always.
The doorbell rings and I rub my eyes. I’m too exhausted for guests, but they keep
coming: my friends, the baseball team, my coaches, teachers, my parents’ friends.
Mom and Dad’s slightly raised tones
indicate that they’re disagreeing over
something, and I don’t care enough to figure out the issue. I expect them to continue the argument, but what I don’t expect is Mom’s voice at the door of my room. “Because I said so.”
She throws a glare down the hallway before addressing me. “Ryan, you have a guest.”
Before I can ask who, Beth walks into my
room with her left arm in a sling. The breath slams out of my body. She’s here. Forgetting about my injuries, I rush to sit up—and wince.
The smell of roses overwhelms me and I
glance up to see Beth by my side.
“You look like hell. Have you been resting at all?”
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The right side of my mouth quirks up.
“It’s nice to see you, too.”
“I’m serious.” Beth doesn’t wear worry well and the ache on her face bothers me.
I capture the hand she uses to try to push me back down, bring it to my lips, and kiss her palm. God, I’ve missed her.
A clearing of a throat and I notice Scott standing beside my mother at the door. “A few minutes, Beth, then we’re heading home.”
Beth nods and I watch my mother’s reaction to a girl in my room. She studies us, almost like someone seeing a painting they don’t quite get. There’s no malice in her expression, just curiosity. “I’m leaving the door open.”
“Thanks,” I say and I mean it. Mom’s trying now—not only with me, but with Mark, and I have Chris to thank for it. He called Mark when EMS brought me into the emergency
room. Mark and Mom talked for the first time while I was in X-ray. Both are silent about the conversation they had, but they’re speaking again. It’s a start.
Scott leans his head in when Mom leaves
and stares straight at Beth. “Behave.”
She rolls her eyes. “Because the moment
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you leave we’re going to go at it like wild animals. Please.” She motions to her arm.
“Broken bones and bruises are so attractive.”
Scott shakes his head as he follows Mom to the living room and Beth mirrors his
movements. Do they have any idea they’re
clones of each other?
Beth sinks onto the bed and turns her head toward me. I don’t like how she looks. Beyond the cuts on her face and head, plus the bruises, she’s too pale and dark circles outline the bottom of her eyes. Wondering if I’m
dreaming, I reach over and rub her hair
between my fingers. It’s silky and real. I let the strands fall and meet her gaze. “How are you?”
I hate the way her forehead crinkles and the pain weighing her features. She closes her eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault he hurt you.”
“Nope, not going to hear it.” I grab Beth’s hand and coax her to lie with me on the bed.
She resists. “But your mom—”
“What’s she going to say? I’m hurt. You’re hurt. We got tired and lay down. I want to hold you so for once in your life can you not fight me?”
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“Wow. Someone’s cranky.”
“Damn right I am.” But the knots twisting my gut begin to unravel when I lie back and Beth wraps her body gingerly around mine.
She’s hesitant, testing areas first to confirm the contact won’t make me sore, and I’m gentle when placing an arm around her so that I don’t jostle her arm.
When we’re settled, I exhale and close my eyes. I’ve dreamed of this for seven days. Who knows, I’m probably dreaming now. If I am, maybe Beth will do something that’s hard for her; maybe she’ll give me answers. “Why did you believe Gwen over me?”
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Beth
I READJUST, SNUGGLING CLOSER to Ryan, but braced for signs that I’ve hurt him. I can hear his heart now and the inhale and exhale of air through his lungs. If I weren’t so damn tired, I could possibly cry. I thought I lost him at my mom’s apartment.
Ryan runs a hand through my hair and I lick my lips, searching for courage. He deserves an answer. If not because he risked his life to save me, then because I love him. “I didn’t trust you.”
His heart beats several times before he
speaks again. “Why?”
Because I was stupid. “I don’t know.…” I
don’t have Ryan’s way with words. They’re hard for me. Difficult. At least words that have emotion. “I guess it was easier to believe that you used me rather than loved me. To be
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honest…I don’t get it. Why would someone
like you want to be with someone like me?”
Ryan tips my chin up so that I have to look him in the eye. “Because I love you. Beth—
you’re everything I want to be. You’re alive and live without apology. I never would have made love to you if I thought you didn’t trust me…or love me. And I never would have done it if I didn’t trust and love you.”
I lean up on my elbow and my heart is
practically yanked out of my chest by the hurt in his eyes. “I do love you, and I want to trust you.…It’s just that…I try.…And…”
Just damn. I slam my good hand on the bed.
Why can’t I explain it? Why am I so impaired?
“Hey.” The authority in his tone causes me to meet his gaze. My heart stalls when Ryan caresses my cheek with one finger and, under his touch, my skin turns red. I miss this. I’ve missed him. Maybe I’m not fucking this all up.
“Breathe,” he instructs. “It’s okay. Take your time, but just keep talking.”
Keep talking. I actually stick out my tongue in disgust and Ryan fights a smile. If he weren’t so battered already I’d sock his arm. I blow out a rush of air and try again.
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“I don’t know.…I just
don’t…trust…me.” I blink and so does Ryan and it feels sort of scary and exposing to have said something so raw. He rubs my arm, urging me to continue, and I don’t know how to
continue. That’s bull. I just don’t want to continue. But this is beyond what I want. This is about me and Ryan.
“I don’t want to make bad choices
anymore.” I glance at him, hoping I’m making sense, because I’m not sure that I am. “And I sort of think that any choice is bad because I’m making it and then I meet you and you’re great and you’re wonderful and you love me and I love you and I’m just so damned scared I’m going to screw it all up.…”
I slam my eyes shut and my lower lip
trembles. “And I did. I messed it all up again.”
Ryan cups my cheek with his palm. I lean
into it and open my eyes. “I’m glad it
happened,” he says.
“I thought they ran an MRI on your head.”
His eyes laugh. “They did. Just answer me this—before Trent arrived, were you going to leave with me?”
I swallow and I’m nodding before I answer.
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“Yes.”
“Why?”
My eyes narrow as I try to understand the question.
“No, Beth. Don’t think about it. Just give me the first answer that comes to mind. Why were you going to leave with me?”
My eyes flash to his and my mouth pops
open. No, it’s not possible, because if it is, then it’s a first for me.
The same hope I’ve seen a million times
from Ryan builds on his face. Is it possible he’s known all along? “Say it, Beth.”
“I love you.” Those used to be the hard
words, but now they’re easier. I exhale and the air shakes as it comes out of my mouth.
“Nice try,” he says. “The other thing. Say that.”
“Ryan…” My throat dries out and sweat
forms along my hairline. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” He tucks my hair behind my ear.
“But it’s okay.”
His fingers slowly trail down my arm, over my sling and he rests his fingertips against mine. A warmth unfurls within me, starting in my heart and flowing through my bloodstream.
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It creates a weird sensation of chains
unlocking and breaking free. It’s almost as if I’m floating.
“I trust you,” I say. “I was going to leave with you because I trust you.”
Ryan’s silent, but the small, peaceful smile on his face causes me to smile in return. I wonder if my smile looks like his. I trust him.
Ryan. It’s a little scary, but not as much as I thought it would be. Maybe this is it; maybe this is the beginning Scott’s talked about for months—the clean slate.
“Was that so hard?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Ryan touches my hair again. It’s like he
requires the contact to confirm I’m not a ghost.
“You need to learn how to start trusting
yourself.”
I flop down so that my head rests on the
pillow beside him. Ryan’s slow as he shifts.
Our faces are so close that our noses almost touch. My arm begins to ache and I have a feeling Scott will show soon because he’s timed my pain med schedule into his phone.
“Do you mind if I heal first before I tackle anymore long-lost resurfacing emotional
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issues?”
Ryan tilts his head and I silently swear.
Apparently we’re not done yet. “You’re
kidding me, right?”
“Scott said Isaiah came to the hospital,” he begins.
I nod, preferring not to go into this now…or ever. Noah visited me several times while I was in the hospital—once with Echo, and
twice on his own. He told me that Isaiah paced the waiting room until he heard I was going to be okay, then he left. My best friend left.
“I think we should talk about it.”
The fingers of my left hand try to tighten, but the blast of pain keeps me from making a fist. I hiss at the sting and Ryan edges closer.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I bite out. “It’s just…I already told you that it’s not like that for me with him.”
“I believe you.”
My brow begins to lift and I stop when the stitches on my forehead pull. Dammit, I’m never going to be able to move again. “Then why bring it up?”
Ryan sucks in a breath and I can tell this conversation is eating at him as much as it is HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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me. “Are you going to see him again?”
No. Yes. “If he’ll let me. But he left the hospital without talking to me. I don’t know what that means.” Screw that. “Yes, of course I’ll see him again. Isaiah and I are friends and he’s going to realize that even if I have to take a two-by-four to him.”
He looks torn between a smile and a sigh.
“And you wonder why I’m concerned.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ve got to admit, the life you lived in Louisville is different than the one you have now. I’m scared that if you have a place to run, a person to run to, when things get tough you’ll go.” Ryan stretches out the fingers of my left hand that had begun to retighten. “There’s always going to be someone doubting us, Beth, and I can’t be in this if you’re always running.”
“No more running. I promise.” It’s almost painful to step past my pride to say the rest.
“You were right…in Louisville…about me
having a life in Groveton. I have you…but I also have Scott and Lacy and school. I like who I am here.”
“Me too,” he says as if proving his case.
“But Isaiah and I go back too far for me to HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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abandon him. I’m here. Heart. Soul. Body.
Groveton’s my home, but I will never abandon a friend, especially my best friend.” I stare at the comforter beneath us. “I need you to be okay with it, because I’m not budging when it comes to him.”
After a few moments of silence, I risk a
glance. Ryan eventually caves. “Fine. He’s your friend. If you’re going to trust me, then I’m going to trust you.”
I kick off my shoes and rub my toe against his foot. It’s the best I can do with an arm in a sling. “Deal. I love you and…” I swallow my fear and push through. “I trust you.”
“Good.” Ryan’s muscles visibly settle and his eyelids flutter.
“Good,” I repeat, allowing myself to relax along with him. “You know I want to hear it again.”
Ryan moves closer, wraps a protective arm around my waist, and shuts his eyes. “I trust you.”
“Nice try.” I softly mock elbow him with my padded cast and his chest moves as he
chuckles. It feels so good to tease him again.
“The other thing. Say that.”
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“I love you.”
Enjoying his warmth and strength, I melt
into him and close my own eyes. “Again.”
“I love you,” he whispers.
“Again.” But this time my mind drifts as I hear his soft declaration. I mean to demand the words again, but then my head finds his chest.
His heart beats steadily in my ear and I have my answer. Both Ryan and I lose ourselves in each other and sleep.
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Ryan
A YEAR AGO, I had my life completely mapped out. It turns out, no one knows the future. I slip my arms through the suit coat and readjust my shoulders so the jacket will fit properly on my body. The bruises and cuts faded, but my ribs still ache by the end of the day. Especially if I’ve pushed myself too hard.
“Your tie is crooked.” Mom leans one
shoulder against the door frame and gives a disapproving nod as she looks at my throat.
“Come here.”
I inch away from my dresser and Mom
undoes the knot.
“You look nice,” she says.
“Except for the tie.”
Mom’s lips tilt up and she slides the tie to measure it against my chest. “Except for the tie. How do you feel?”
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“Good.”
Lines worry her eyes and she strains to hold the smile. “I know the doctor cleared you to start practicing, but I think you should wait another week or two. Just to be sure everything healed correctly.”
Mom expertly weaves the tie into a knot and tightens it up to my throat. She stares at it for a second before letting her hand touch my
cheek—a rare physical gesture for both of us.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
She withdraws. “I talked to your brother
again this morning. He asked how you were doing.”
Mark knows how I’m doing. We’ve talked
on the phone every day since I was released from the hospital. Mark must still be feeling awkward talking to Mom and looking for the easiest conversation to have. I busy myself with buttoning my cuffs. “What did you tell him?”
“That you’re stubborn like your father and wouldn’t tell me if you were in pain.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
Mom fiddles with her pearls. “If we had
listened to you that morning…If we had
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listened to you weeks before…If I had
stood up to your father when Mark told
us…none of this would have happened.”
“It’s okay.” I wish they had listened to me the morning Beth ran away. I wish they had listened to me weeks before when I told them I cared for her. I wish Mom had stood up to Dad and kept Mark in our family, but none of that happened. Even if it did, there’s no telling if it would have stopped the nightmare in motion.
Beth ran away because living in Groveton
terrified her. She would have run regardless of what happened between us and because I love her, I would have followed.
Mom sighs and falls into social mode.
“Mark’s coming home for dinner on Sunday. I thought we could keep it simple. Just me, you, Mark…hopefully your father.”
“Sounds great.” Even though we both know
Dad will go into town while Mark is home.
Dad still refuses to acknowledge Mark exists.
Nothing much has changed in my parents’
marriage. Mom’s choosing me and Mark, and Dad dropped the idea of running for mayor.
But he’s still home and they’re still going to counseling. As I said, who knows what the HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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future might bring.
“Don’t forget the corsage.” Mom slips out of the room.
I grab my car keys, the red rose wrist
corsage, and head out to the garage. From the corner of my eye, I see Dad sitting behind his desk in his office. We haven’t talked since that day in my bedroom and I guess today won’t be the day either of us breaks our silence.
As I open the door to my Jeep, I hear the squeak of his chair and footsteps against the cement floor. Dad walks to his tool bench and sifts through the boxes of bolts and nuts. “Your mom told me you signed a National Letter of Intent to play for the University of Louisville.”
My muscles tense in preparation for a fight.
The letter required a parent to sign with me and I asked Mom for help. “Yes, sir.”
“She said that you’re planning on playing with the team for a year, then reassessing whether or not you’re ready to go pro.”
Feeling naked without my cap, I rub the
back of my head. I could go the easy route and give him a simple yes, but I’m done saying or doing whatever it takes to appease him. “At the end of my freshman year, I’ll decide if I’m HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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good enough to go pro. I’m also going to
major in creative writing. I love writing and baseball and I want to give them both a shot.”
Dad slides a drawer full of nails closed and nods his head. “Did you get her a corsage?
Girls like flowers.”
I hold the clear box in my hand. “Yeah,” I say, and lift it up so he can see. “You taught me that.”
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Beth
SCOTT AND ALLISON’S BEDROOM is too gaudy
for my taste. The curtains are blue silk and frilly things like flowers and paintings of flowers decorate every available space. The bed is beyond massive. Scott and Allison don’t have to go to separate rooms if they fight; they can roll over a couple times and be in different zip codes.
I sit on the overly cushioned chair in front of Allison’s vanity and watch as she pins the hair onto my head. I hate the updo, but I can’t complain. An hour ago, she dyed six stripes of temporary black color in my hair. Now my hair is an inch and a half of golden-blond at the roots, black flows over my shoulders, and black stripes even it out. “Scott is going to be pissed.”
“Yes,” she says. “He is, but I’ll deal with HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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that.”
My lips curve and when Allison catches it in the mirror she smiles too. We’ve had an uneasy truce since I came home from the hospital and sometimes I’m scared I’m going to say the wrong thing and send her over the edge. “Why are you being nice to me?”
Allison lifts the curling iron again and
shoots me a glare when I fidget. She twists a few strands that refuse to be a part of her plan.
“Because Scott loves you.”
He loved me before, but that didn’t keep her from hating every cell in my body. Not like I helped. “I’m sorry I accused you of trapping him.”
The curling rod pulls at the roots of my hair and I bite my lip. She releases the hair and little ringlets dance on the back of my neck.
Okay, I deserve the pulling—and the ringlets.
Maybe now we’ll be even.
Allison sets the iron back on her vanity. “I’m sorry…well, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you here.”
I blink. That was blunt, yet honest.
“Scott told me about his past, but it was easy to pretend it was a story until you came into the picture. I prefer life clean and simple. You HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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made Scott complicated.”
“Scott was always complicated.”
Allison spritzes hair spray on me. “I know that now.”
Scott clears his throat and both Allison and I turn to see him entering the room. I stand and Scott grins when he sees me in the black
strapless dress with a skirt that ends at the knees. He frowns again when he sees my hair.
“I did it,” says Allison without a hint of guilt.
Scott’s eyes widen. “You did that?”
“You told her last weekend she could wear those God-awful shoes with her dress and I told you that you’d regret it.”
I fidget in my official Chuck Taylors. “I’m wearing panty hose.” That was a major
concession on my part.
“You should put on a sweater,” Scott says.
“She’s not wearing a sweater.” Allison swats at him. “That would look wretched.”
“I don’t care how she looks. I care how
much skin is showing.”
Allison leans forward and Scott kisses her lips. I glance away. They do this more since I came home from the hospital. Not just kissing, HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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but kissing like they mean it. Kissing
because they truly love each other. She steps out of the room and Scott shoves his hands in his pockets.
I resist the urge to scratch my healing
temple. “She covered the cut with the
makeup.”
“I noticed.” He gestures to my left hand.
“How’s it feeling?”
I shrug. “Fine.” The black cast is temporary.
Trent shattered lots of the bones in my hand, wrist, and arm. I’ll have to have another surgery in two weeks. My nondamaged fingers drum against my leg. I thought I could go without asking, but I can’t. “How did Mom’s court appearance go?”
Mom and Trent had preliminary hearings
yesterday. I told Scott that I didn’t want to know what happened, but the curiosity is
eating me alive.
“It’s okay to want to know.” He meets my
eyes while I wrestle with the millions of emotions tugging me in different directions.
I nod and he continues, “She accepted the plea bargain and will be serving six years.
Trent pleaded not guilty against his lawyer’s HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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recommendation. The D.A. thinks they can
get him to serve fifteen years.”
A ball of dread forms in my stomach and I sink back into the chair. “Then there will be a trial.”
Scott lowers his head. All of us had hoped to avoid this. “Yes.”
Ryan and I will have to face Trent again
when we testify. I take a deep breath to calm myself.
“Did you talk to Mom?” I ask.
He shakes his head and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m not sure how I feel about my mom at all. Six years. My mom is going to prison for six years and I’m the one who put her there.
“You did the right thing, kid.”
“I know,” I say softly. I do know, but it doesn’t mean that it sucks any less. The
doorbell rings and the dread starts to fade.
Ryan’s here.
A good-natured smile settles on Scott’s face.
“And Prince Charming awaits.”
“Hey, Scott?”
He motions for me to continue.
“How could you keep the heroin to yourself?
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I mean, that’s a pretty big secret. I know that you wanted something to blackmail me with, but it was heroin.”
Scott scratches behind his ear. “I was in the process of hiring private detectives to find you when your aunt called. When I got to the
police station, there was no way you were going home with anyone but me. One look at your mom and I knew things were bad.”
He sighs. “She was so jumpy around the
cops that I figured she was hiding something. I would have said anything I had to in order to keep you. But I never used the word heroin with you or your mom and I never went into your mom’s apartment. I guessed that she had a secret and I bluffed.”
And I sort of feel like an idiot. A happy idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. “Well played.”
He smirks. “I think so.”
AT THE TWO-MINUTE WARNING, my hands
begin to sweat, including the one in the cast.
Indian summer in Kentucky has a strange way of making November feel like July. As we
walk to the open field behind the scoreboard, Ryan holds my hand and he doesn’t seem to care it’s cold and wet. People yell and scream HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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from the bleachers and the announcer
informs the crowd that our team is at the first and ten—whatever the hell that means.
The other couples nominated for
homecoming court stand closer to the
lamppost, but I hesitate farther back and Ryan plays along.
“Gwen won’t bother you,” he says.
“I know.” He’s right. She won’t. Since Ryan and I returned to school, she’s been less than her normal stuck-up self, quiet and withdrawn.
She apologized to both me and Ryan. I
accepted it, but it doesn’t mean I have to like her or be near her. Perfectly groomed, Gwen stands off to the side of the group. I sort of feel bad for her. Guilt is a horrible emotion. I should know.
“We could go talk to Carly and Brent,” Ryan teases. “She’s a big fan of yours.”
I roll my eyes. “Carly and I were paired as lab partners today.”
“See, best friends already. Lacy will be
pissed someone is encroaching on her
territory.”
“That’s exactly what’s going to happen,” I say sarcastically.
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“Carly’s nice.”
“She’s chipper.”
“Same thing.”
“Nice is nice. Chipper is annoying.”
“We should double-date with them.”
My eyes almost pop out of my head. “Are
you kidding me? I’m about to walk out onto that football field and make a fool out of myself and you want me to consider double-dating with Mr. and Mrs. Chipper? Have you lost your mind?”
Ryan chuckles, then winks. “I just wanted to see you get aggravated.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You’re annoying.”
He lets go of my hand, slips his arms around my waist, and pulls me close to his strong body. “You’re beautiful.”
The corners of my lips turn up and I slide my right arm around his neck. “I miss touching you with both hands.”
“It’s weird seeing the ribbon on your other wrist,” he says.
I shiver when Ryan caresses the sensitive skin above my cast and rubs the small of my back. Joyous and devious warmth spreads
throughout my body. “I never take it off.”
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“I miss you in my bed,” he murmurs so
only I can hear.
My smile grows and Ryan’s face reddens.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant I miss
sleeping with you.”
I know what he means. “It’s a little hard to slip out with a broken hand.”
He lowers his head to mine and his hold on me tightens. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better.”
“Ryan, no. I would have died if it wasn’t for you.”
“It’s over now,” he whispers against my
mouth.
I expectantly part my lips for his kiss. “It is.”
“Mr. Stone. Ms. Risk,” calls the assistant principal. “A little more space between you and a lot more paying attention. It’s time for you to get onto the field.”
I deflate and wrap my hand on Ryan’s bent arm so he can escort me out underneath the glaring lights. I wanted Ryan to kiss me. I needed him to kiss me.
Over the PA system, our names are
announced and Ryan leads me to the fifty-yard line. People yell and scream, the loudest cheers HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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coming from the section where we left
Lacy, Chris, and Logan.
“When you win,” says Ryan, “don’t forget
you said you’d keep that tiara on your pretty little head all night.”
My eyes widen as I realize how I can get
exactly what I want. We stop in the middle of the field and I turn to him. “Kiss me. Not just a peck. The real deal.”
Ryan glances around at the bleachers full of hundreds of people. “Excuse me?”
“I, Beth Risk, do double dog dare you to kiss me in front of all these people.”
Ryan’s eyes brighten and the arrogant smile that makes my heart trip over itself spreads across his face. “Are you forgetting dare etiquette? You have to dare before you can double dog dare.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I dare you to kiss me.”
“And if I do?”
“If I win homecoming, which I won’t, I’ll wear that damn tiara for a week straight.”
He cradles my face with both his hands. His lips whisper against mine and I ache for him to kiss me. My mind whines that he won’t do it, but then he nibbles on my lower lip. His mouth HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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parts and the two of us move our lips
hungrily in time with one another.
In between gasps of air our names are called as the winners. I feel Ryan’s lips tug into a smile before he says one word: “Can.”
* * * * *
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Acknowledgments
To God—Isaiah 61:1
For Dave—Because I still own the first
baseball cap I ever saw you in.
Thank you to…
Kevan Lyon—everybody should have
someone like you in their corner. Your advice and guidance have been extremely valuable to me. Thank you. I will never forget that this all began with you.
Margo Lipschultz—Thank you for caring as
much about my characters as I do. You are absolutely brilliant and I’m a better writer because of you.
Everyone who has touched my books at
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Harlequin Teen, especially Natashya
Wilson. You guys have made this experience fantastically memorable!
Matt Baldwin and Mike Baldwin with
Future Pro: Thank you for welcoming me into your indoor training facility and for taking the time to answer my questions on baseball.
Angela Annalaro-Murphy—Thank you for
loving Beth first. It was your faith and
friendship that kept me writing.
Shannon Michael—How many times did I
end up on your back porch with my head in my hands wondering if I was headed in the right direction with the story? Thanks for the laughs and friendship.
Kristen Simmons—I couldn’t have done this without you. It’s amazing when I think of the laughter and tears we’ve shared since we met.
This book is for you.
Colette Ballard, Kelly Creagh, Bethany
Griffin, Kurt Hampe, and Bill Wolfe—you
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guys are more than a critique group. You’ve become family. Kelly and Bethany, thank you for holding my hand through my debut year.
Kurt and Bill, thank you for pointing out when
“a guy wouldn’t do that.” Colette, thank you for the endless hours of laughter, support, and extra reads.
Louisville Romance Writers: It was you
guys who first put me on the path toward
publication. Thank you for continuing to light the way.
Again, to my parents, my sister, my Mt.
Washington family, and my in-laws…I love
