“It was…cute.”

For a few moments, the silence of the morning enveloped us, broken only when Gram said something very unladylike and rose to her feet. She was late.

“Are you coming with me to service, Monroe?”

Shit.

“No?”

My answer came out more like a question, and for a moment, I was afraid she was going to make me go with her. I tugged on the edge of my T-shirt and exhaled, trying to stem the panic that I knew was there beneath my skin, just waiting to explode. I hadn’t stepped inside a church since Malcolm’s funeral, and my throat was already closing up at the thought of going.

I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never.

“You go and I’ll clean up the dishes from breakfast and call Mom and Dad.”

Gram wiped an invisible crumb from her forearm, her silky white hair brushing her shoulders. She grabbed her teacup, turned toward the door, and spoke softly, her voice catching a bit and making me feel worse than I already did. “You’re going to have to face all of this sooner than later, Monroe. All of it. And that means opening up to your parents and letting them in.”

“I know, Gram,” I whispered. “But not today…okay?”

Gram bent and kissed me as she walked by and then disappeared inside, leaving me alone with the bees and the honeysuckle.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled away in the Matlock, and I was washing up the few dishes we’d used for breakfast. My cell vibrated on the counter and I ignored it, drying the frying pan instead, but when it vibrated again, I tossed my towel aside, glaring at the phone.

I really didn’t want to talk to my parents—not today. Not after the Malcolm dream when things were way too fresh in my mind, because I knew exactly what would happen. Dad would be polite, afraid that if he said the wrong thing it would trigger a relapse and send me back into the darkness. Back to before. And I got it. Before hadn’t been pretty.

Before had been hell.

But what he didn’t realize was that I didn’t want polite. I didn’t want the robot he’d become, because when I got the robot, it made me feel as if my dad was gone forever. And I’d already lost so much, the thought of never getting him back was more than I could handle right now.

And Mom would be all in my business, wanting to know every single boring thing I’d done. And then she would ask how I was feeling—if I was happy—which was stupid. We both knew I would never be happy again. Not really. So why ask?

And when I lied? When I told her that Gram and I were bonding over iced tea and kumbaya and that I was freaking A-okay? She would get emotional because she wanted to believe it so badly, and I would shut down because it was all a lie. And even though I knew my mom needed to believe things were going to be okay in order for her to survive, I hated that she could slide things under the rug and forget.

Or maybe I was jealous because I couldn’t.

The cell phone blipped instead of buzzing and I grabbed it. Great. Now they were going to text me to death.

But it wasn’t my parents sending me a text message.

It was Nate.


Thanks for last night. I owe you.

When had I given him my phone number? I chewed on my bottom lip and my heart sped up again, hitting a new level of insanity as I stared at his message. Crap.

What did he mean, he owed me? I rubbed my hand along my bare thigh, wondering what to say back to him, and I decided something casual was the way to go.


no probs.

Too much? Too little?

My phone bleeped almost instantly, and I jumped.


See you tomorrow.

If my heart was beating a mile a minute before, it kick-started into overdrive something fierce, and for a second, I was dizzy. Me. Monroe Blackwell. Dizzy over a stupid text message from a boy who not only had a girlfriend, but was as screwed up as I was.

I gave myself a mental smackdown and took a step back. Why was I getting so worked up over a few text messages? It’s not as if they meant anything. The guy had a girlfriend. End of story.

I took a deep breath and typed a reply that I thought was appropriate.


okay.

And then winced. Lame.

I put the cell phone onto the table and watched it for way too long, but there was nothing. No more text messages. Only one longwinded voicemail from my parents telling me they were out for the day but would call later tonight.

With a groan, I headed upstairs to get dressed because I knew Gram wouldn’t let me stay in my pajamas all day, even if I begged her.

Just. Effing. Lovely.

Chapter Twelve

Nathan

I knew the moment Monroe arrived.

I’d just tossed the last empty water bottle into my bag after soaking my bandana and tying it around my head, and I knew that if I turned around, she’d be there. Don’t ask me how. It’s not like I’m psychic or anything. I just knew.

So I blew out a hot breath and turned around.

And there she was.

Her long hair was loose, kind of wild-looking, as if she hadn’t brushed it. She wore cut-off jean shorts and a white Foo Fighters T-shirt that fit her like a T-shirt should fit a girl—tight in all the right spots. I had to give it to Monroe, the girl had good taste when it came to music. She tucked one long curl behind her ear and glanced behind me at the iron fence.

“You’re done,” she said.

I nodded. “Yeah. I started early. Figured it was a good idea ’cuz it’s gonna be a hot one.”

She cleared her throat and held out her hand. “Gram thought you might want this. The lemonade is fresh. I squeezed it myself.”

“Thanks,” I murmured.

A slow blush crept into her cheeks as I stepped forward and took the tall glass filled with ice and lemonade. I liked the fact that I could make her blush. Our fingers touched briefly, and I liked the little zing that shot through me too.

I also liked the way her tongue darted out to take a swipe at her lips.

I followed the movement—what guy wouldn’t? Monroe had a really nice mouth. Her cheeks reddened even more when she noticed, and I grinned.

“What are you doing this afternoon?” I asked, taking a long gulp of lemonade. My eyes didn’t leave hers.

She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jean shorts and shrugged. “I’ve got nothing exciting planned. Thought I might read a book or something.”

I drained the glass and wiped my mouth. “You wanna go swimming instead?” Okay, I hadn’t meant for that to slip out. “I owe you,” I said in a rush as I waited for her to shoot me down.

“You owe me?”

“Yeah, for being my taxi Saturday night and for, well, everything else.” I didn’t mention the bush party or how lame I’d been, and I was glad when she didn’t say anything about it.

Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Don’t you have work to do?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I only had to finish this fence today. Tomorrow I’m starting on the back porch at the main plantation house.”

“Oh,” she said softly, biting her mouth as her eyes fell away.

“At least your mistake is still alive.”

Her words had rattled around in my head since Saturday night, and I knew that there was a lot more to Monroe Blackwell than a hot body and amazing eyes. And maybe I was stupid for wanting to get to know a girl who wasn’t all that interested in me, but hey, I’d never been the guy to let something drop just because I thought my endgame wasn’t achievable.

I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to get to know her, except that sometimes when I looked into her eyes, I knew that she knew exactly what was going on inside me. And how crazy was that, considering I’d just met her?

“I know a really cool place, and it’s not far from here, though…” my words faded to nothing.

Shit. My suspended license was going to bite me in the ass over and over again. Frustrated, I yanked off my bandana and balled it in my fist.

That got her attention, and once more, those pale green eyes focused on me. “What’s wrong?”

“My car is still under house arrest, so it’s not like I can actually take you anywhere.” Pissed at myself, I offered her the glass back and shrugged. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

“Won’t your girlfriend be mad if she found out you’d invited another girl to go hang at some watering hole? I mean, I’m not saying there’s anything going on between us, because we both know that’s not true, but still…”

Oh, there’s something going on. I just don’t know what it is.

“If I was the girlfriend of a guy who did that, I wouldn’t be happy.”

A shot of hope ran through me. So that was it. Her only thing was Rachel, and since Rachel and I had…

“I broke up with Rachel yesterday.”

Sunday had sucked. Not surprising, considering the epic failure Saturday had been, but waking up to find a very naked Rachel in my bed had been the icing on the worst cake ever.

I can’t lie. At first it had felt pretty damn good, but I guess that’s because I’d been half asleep, and though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, in some far corner of my screwed-up head, I thought it was Monroe.

I’d been half asleep as Rachel kissed her way down my stomach and tugged on my boxers. I might have let her finish, but then she opened her mouth—and not in the way I’d been anticipating—and reality crashed in hard.

“Babe, I heard you went to the Peach Festival with some skank ho and then out to the bush party. Tell me it isn’t true.”

“Shit, stop,” I said, coming fully awake.

“You’re kidding, right?” She’d sat back, pissed and confused. “What the hell is wrong with you, Nate? On what planet do you turn down a blowjob?”