Page 20 of With This Kiss
It was his turn to shoot me a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t believe my words, and I didn’t blame him.
But he was right. The last time we met for coffee was a little more than three months ago… and Etta had been with us.
I didn’t say that, and neither did he.
Although Preston wasn’t part of any crime organizations or gangs, he didn’t exactly come from a happy family either.
Etta and I had met him at the carnival, where we had taken that picture.
He had been like a lost little puppy, not knowing his place in the world. I liked that in a world of complication and darkness, he was the complete opposite of that, and for a brief moment in time, I thought he could be mine.
I liked the fact that he wasn’t a part of my world. He could be my something normal—the way I knew he wanted to be—but there was always something missing there.
And no matter how much comfort I found in his presence, I couldn’t bring myself to get used to his touch.
And he deserved someone who would not only want his touch but also crave it.
Things were even more awkward without Etta.
I hadn’t realized how much effort I put into just living because Etta wouldn’t let me rot away in my small corner of the world. But with her gone…
I didn’t see a purpose in trying anymore.
Not even with Preston.
“I know you’re sad,” he said suddenly, surprising me. I looked up and met his eyes. They were soft and understanding and…rage-inducing.
My fist clenched tightly on my lap. I looked away from him and out the window, watching as people hurried along, trying to get out of the cold. There was a slight fluttering of snow falling.
“I know you just want to push everything away and not see anyone anymore.”
I shook my head, not replying.
He let out a small sigh. “I’m sad too, Jamie. She was also my friend. But I know she wouldn’t want us to be like this. To treat her death as something?—”
“She’s gone, Preston. There’s no ‘wouldn’t want’ for anything. She is just—gone. And that’s all there is to it.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
I shook my head, cutting him off. “I know you didn’t. I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t have to be. I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“Yes, I’m going to work.”
“That’s it?”
I looked down at the table in front of me, my eyes tracing along the tacky, colorful pattern there. “I’m going on a date this Saturday.”
I looked up in time to see the pain in Preston’s eyes. I ignored that, pretending I didn’t know I was breaking his heart, and plastered on a fake smile.
“Who with?” he asked casually, his earlier worry about me vanishing.
“You don’t know him,” I said.
“How did you meet? Does your brother know? Your father?”
“Preston,” I said sharply. “What’s with the third degree?”
