Page 94 of Dove
There was nothing more I wanted to do than show her she was my everything. I just had to convince her to let me first.
Slowly, I wound an arm around her waist, keeping her close. The fact she didn’t immediately brush me off was a small victory.
“Do you remember the night of your graduation?” I heard myself ask, the question leaving me quietly, as if someone, somehow might overhear us, despite being the only two for miles.
Her eyes met mine before they flitted away. “Some of it.”
“Do you remember coming home that night?”
She kept her gaze stubbornly downcast, but answered honestly, “I remember being dropped off.”
I was almost afraid to ask my next question, but I had to know. I had vowed never to bring this up, to never admit to something that had shamed me so greatly it had lost me my family—had lost meher—but things were different now.
For years, I’d been convinced Dove was drunk that night. That her request for me to kiss her was off the wall, fueled by alcohol, teenage hormones, and cloudy judgment. That it couldn’t be anything more than that.
But now…
I needed to know the truth.
Steeling myself for whatever answer she was about to give me, I bite the bullet and asked, “Do you remember anything else from that night?”
Dove swallowed, the line of her throat working as she worked to answer. “I?—”
She paused, then shook her head, gaze still not meeting mine.
I knew Dove better than I knew myself, and Iknewwhen she was lying. The knuckles of my hands brushed her biceps as I traced them up until I could wrap my hands around her throat, cupping her jaw gently to guide her eyes to mine.
They were as deep as the ocean and just as vast, glistening with unshed tears. Eyes that couldn’t lie, not when they held the truth hidden within their depths.
“I want the truth, Dove.” I leaned down to place a kiss on the corner of her mouth, pulling away when she swayed closer. “It’s important.”
“I—” Her voice shook. “I asked you to kiss me.” Her blue eyes gleamed with emotion as she whispered vulnerably, “You didn’t, though.”
“No,” I agreed, clearing the hoarseness from my throat before I continued honestly, “But I wanted to.”
“You did?” Her surprise was apparent, which surprised me. I thought I’d been so obvious that night.
Clearly, I had been. Just to the wrong person.
I nodded. “Gareth caught me.”
Her eyebrows drew together adorably, creating a tiny crease in the middle of her forehead. “Caught you doing what?”
“Entertaining the thought of kissing you.”
My thumbs brushed the corners of her lips as the truth I’d locked tightly inside me for years broke free. “I wanted to, Dove. God, I wanted to so bad, you have no idea, but you were drunk, and it was wrong. I couldn’t take advantage like that.” I sighed, dropping my forehead to hers. “I wanted to lean down and finally figure out how you tasted so badly, baby, because I had wondered for so long.”
“You could have,” she whispered. I shook my head against hers. I really couldn’t have.
“Why did you leave?” The question held the slightest tremor. “Is it because I-I asked?—”
Her voice trembled withguilt, of all things, and I reared back to look down at her sternly. “It hadnothingto do with you, Dove. It was on me.” More than that, though. “It was on my father.”
Ever argumentative, Dove demurred, “I was the one who asked.”
“But I was the one who knew better.” I pushed back a few loose pieces of hair around her face. “Gareth saw me in that moment, contemplating taking what didn’t belong to me, and made it clear he didn’t want his sick, disgrace of a son calling his farm home any longer. He was afraid I’d ruin his relationship with Josie, should she find out.”
“My mom wouldn’t have?—”
