Page 18 of Between Now and Forever

The sunrise brought with it my father’s thinly veiled insults over breakfast.

On weekdays, it ushered in a school day full of stares, snickers and solitude.

Daylight meant strangers looking at my face and asking, “Does that hurt?” or “What is that?”

I spent my days longing for that magical hour when the sun would cede its perch to the moon.

That’s when I came alive through the drawings that had become the savior of my sanity.

“Hey.” Duke’s hand on my shoulder jolts me awake. I sit up straight with a start and blink against the sunlight that’s streaming in through the windows.

“What?” I ask and run a hand over my face once before I remember my makeup.

Duke turns the radio down abruptly.

“We need to talk.” His voice is gruff and sharp. I look up to find his jaw tight as he watches the road, and his fingers drum an agitated, uncoordinated beat on the steering wheel.

His chest rises rapidly like he’s breathing hard.

“What’s wrong?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

When he finally glances at me, the dread in his eyes puts me on alert.

I sit up straight. His profile’s back in view, and a muscle in his cheek is jumping.

“What?” I ask again.

“Did you tell him…what…we…?” He looks nervous, and I flush from a fresh wave of shame.

“What? No way,” I say tightly to cover my mortification.

“Are you sure?” he demands. Insult mingles with my embarrassment, and I bristle.

“Unless you’re suggesting I have amnesia, what you’re really asking is if I’m lying.” My words are rigid and clipped, but he doesn’t seem to notice and relaxes in his seat, his breath leaving him in a relieved sigh.

“No. I believe you.”

I bristle at that, and I realize that I don’tcareif he believes me.

“It’s just…it’s better if we keep this on the downlow. You know…your dad is kinda old-fashioned. I don’t want to find myself walking up an aisle with a shotgun pointed at my back,” he says flippantly, and my stomach falls to my toes and shame sends heat rushing up my neck and face.

My heart has never been involved here, so that’s not what hurts… But my pride, the fragile remnant of it anyway, takes the full impact of the blow.

“Right,” I bite out and finally find my sunglasses. I slip them on and look out the window. I hope he’ll take the hint and stop talking about this.

“I just don’t want anyone getting any ideas about us or anything. We’re not a couple.” He points between us.

“Of course we’re not.” And the bitterness that is clawing at the back of my throat spills out. At least James could rest easy that Duke would ever try to take advantage of me, much less trap me into marriage.

“Your father’s been wanting to set us up for years, but I’m holding out for one of those princesses in Europe. One with money. You know when you keep that thing covered – you’re kinda hot. With your dad’s connections, you might score something like that, too.”

I look at him, some of the shine rubbed away from the rose-tinted lenses I’ve been wearing around him. He looks so self-assured.

But, I know better.

His vanity is anchored in the steady diet of praise and adoration he’s received. Not just his parents and their sycophants, but everyone who lives in Winsome. But, I remember the one time we all traveled to Houston and how a benign joke Phil made at his expense, turned him apoplectic with anger in front of a crowd of people he’d hoped to impress.

He can’t bear any criticism and needs constant flattery to maintain his interest in anything.

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