Page 16 of The Last Key
KENNEDY
Devon is messingwith my head.
And my body.
Maybe my heart.
When he grabbed my arm in the pantry today and looked at me like he did all those years ago, it was almost cruel. Throwing me back into the moment I realized I didn’t have a shot with him. But then he wrapped his arm around me, and in one sentence, he told me a truth I’d been afraid to believe in.It didn’t matter that he could have anyone else. He wantedme.
And God, when his arm was around my waist and his breath was tickling my ear, I’d never been hotter for him. If he’d stayed there for ten seconds longer, I’d have been begging him to close that door, shove my jeans down, and fuck me against the storage racks.
“Kennedy, sweetheart, can you grab some garlic out of the fridge?”
“Sure, Sharon,” I say, like I’m not fantasizing about Devon doing dirty things to me while I’m helping his mother cook dinner. I grab a head of garlic out of the fridge and turn back to her. Their apartment has a nice eat-in kitchen, which is perfect for Sharon. She has a rolling office chair so she can get around the kitchen easily, then use the table for all the chopping and prep. “Want me to chop it?” I ask.
She slides me a garlic press and says, “Work smarter, not harder.”
I chuckle at that. “I’ve missed cooking with you.”
“I’ve missed it, too. It’s so good to have you home. Though I suppose you see New York as home, don’t you?”
“In some ways. I spent my formative years here, though. I think a part of me will always think of Brighton as home.”
She smiles brightly at me, then her eyes trail through the kitchen doorway out to the living room where Devon is chatting with his dad. Following her gaze, I watch Devon’s arm flex as he brings it to rest on the back of the love seat.
When I look back at Sharon, her smile has grown, but there’s something devious in her eyes.
Oh shit.
“Sharon…”
“Honey, if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t have even the slightest feelings for my son, I’ll let go of this.”
“Of what?”
“The hope that one day the two of you will realize what you have is special. And greater than friendship.” I stare at her for a moment, opening and closing my mouth several times. She smiles knowingly at my inability to speak. “Good. I’ll keep the fantasy alive.”
You and me both.
Different fantasies. Same idea, though.
Devon and me.
The thing is, I have no idea if he wants to be with me, if hewants to fuck me, or if he’s madly in love with me and wants to marry me tomorrow.
I’m not sure flirting can give me that answer, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop, either.
After a nice dinnerwith Devon’s parents, I’m finally taking a hot shower. Much needed after traveling overnight and all the times Devon made me sweat today purely by his proximity.
It was hard to see how Devon’s parents struggled tonight. Sharon tried to pretend she was okay, but every time she stood up, I could see the pain in her eyes. When I chatted with her about it, she said it’s just the way things are now, and she has good days and bad days. Devon’s dad, Lon, is still the quick-witted man I remember. It’s strange to see him struggle to walk or coordinate his movements. Though he didn’t show it, his frustration was palpable. I can’t imagine mentally feeling like nothing has changed, but to feel my body deteriorating.
Yet, they were both upbeat. Maybe some of it was for my sake, but it seemed genuine. Though it’s clear, they’re hoping for Devon to get married and have kids soon. Not that they were pushing it, but there were a few side comments. Most of Sharon’s seemed more directed at me.
This whole trip has thrown me for a loop. Until this morning, I never considered telling Devon my feelings for him. He’s always been the fantasy that would never happen. Now, I’m wondering whatcouldhappen. More importantly, I’m trying to sort out what Iwantto happen.
The physical attraction is easy, but how do I actually feel for him? Like I want to date him? Do I have a crush on him? Do I… love him? I’ve never allowed myself to even wonder those things before. Now I’m slowly opening that box, taking my time to figure out what’s inside it.
As I rinse my hair and grab the soap, I think back to the physical side of things. How his hand felt around my waist. What it would’ve felt like for that hand to have slid down my abdomen, inside my jeans, beneath my underwear until his fingers were buried in my pussy and his thumb was swirling over my clit.
