Then There Was You: New York Times Best Selling Author Page 4

  “It’s quiet out here,” he said.

  I glanced away from his tempting, bare chest and focusing on the seemingly endless water before us. “It was.”

  “You trying to kick me out, Sprite?”

  My heart did a little dip. I’d hated that nickname when I was young. I’d always thought it was a way to make fun of me and my small, slightly pointy ears, but hearing it stirred up something deep inside me.

  Don’t fall for it, Tess. Don’t you dare fall for it.

  “Even I know I don’t have the power to kick Poseidon out of the water.”

  He chuckled, and I leaned back in my canoe, closing my eyes once again. The soft scuff of fabric against wood told me he was doing the same. “I’m not used to this being so empty in the summer.”

  “Everyone’s gone.”

  “Why do you think that is? We all grew up here. Have had a pretty good life. Why did we all leave?”

  I sat up. “I don’t know. Why’d you leave?”

  “School.” He frowned as if he wanted to add something. I would’ve bet money it was to get away from his family, the way most of us wanted to do during that time.

  “Most of us left for the same reason.”

  “But not everyone is willing to come back.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “I’m already back. I would’ve been back sooner, but I wanted to finish my master’s degree before coming back.” He watched me closely. “Are you?”

  “I have nothing to come back for.” I turned away and faced the sun again, adjusting my bikini top as I did.

  “What about your family? You’ve always been tight-knit.”

  I scoffed, wondering if all the time he’d spent outdoors rowing had messed up his brain. Surely, he knew my family was completely and utterly broken. Even if he hadn’t heard it from Sam, this was a small enough community for him to have heard the rumors. Hell, I couldn’t walk down the street without hearing whispers about it. Between that and the rumors about Camryn and Rowan getting cozy in college, I’d spent an entire year with my head down. What was worse was the way people talked about them, as if they knew they were destined to be together and were glad they’d finally figured it out. It made me want to scream, “What am I? Chopped liver?” I never would, of course, but the words were always on the tip of my tongue.

  “How’s your dad?” I asked, staying on topic. I didn’t care whether his mother was doing well or not. As far as I was concerned, she was dead to me after the last conversation we’d had. He looked away, placing his elbows on either side of his canoe. I tried not to focus on the way every single muscle on his back and arms flexed with each motion.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard from my brother.”

  “I want to hear it from you.”

  His attention whipped in my direction. “Why?”

  “Because I want the real version, not the watered-down version that pretends the world is a beautiful place.”

  “I thought you liked that about Sam.” His gaze held mine with intensity, like he knew something I wasn’t telling him. It threatened to pull me under. To make me want to snatch all the lies back, put them in a bottle, and put a cork in it. I cleared my throat. He didn’t deserve my truth. He hadn’t earned that much from me yet.

  “Tell me.”

  “Dad’s fine, as usual. Mom, however, is an emotional mess,” he said. My brows rose. He chuckled. “I know. I never thought I’d see the day. I think she’s told me she loves me more in the last six months than she has my entire life.”

  My heart felt heavy at his admission. His parents had really done a number on him and Samson. Somehow, they’d settled on extreme ends of the social ladder, but the outcome was the same. They both felt like they were unloved, as if they weren’t enough. I’d never understand how two people could have such beautiful children and let them grow up to feel that way.

  “Dad has practically moved on with his new family, as if none of us existed. I meet with him in the mornings, but it’s strictly work. I’m sure I’ll see less of him when the division is complete.”

  My attention whipped to him, and I narrowed my eyes. “What division?”

  “They’re getting a divorce and splitting up Hawthorne Fabrics.”

  “What?” My heart climbed into my throat as I fought to digest the news. “After everything?”

  “It was inevitable. They should have never merged their companies to begin with. All it did was create . . .” His voice drifted as he continued his rant.

  My brain stayed stuck on the fact that they were splitting up Hawthorne Fabrics. My hands gripped the paddle and, as if on autopilot, I started to row back to the shore. I could hear Rowan’s voice behind me, but I couldn’t make out his words. My father sold his company, everything he’d worked for, and they were splitting it up as if it were nothing to them. Because of a lousy divorce? It was stupid. The entire thing was stupid, and the Hawthorne’s were cursed. I reached the dock and scrambled out of the canoe, tripping over my feet as I did so. Thankfully, I managed to stay upright and keep walking.

  “Tessa!” Rowan shouted behind me. I kept moving. Maybe if I picked up my feet fast enough, I’d make it back without having to speak another word to him. I was leaving in two and a half weeks. Surely, I could avoid him until then. Surely, he wouldn’t hound me everywhere I went. He gripped my arm and spun me around. I met his fiery gaze, eyes wide.

  “What the hell? I was talking to you.”

  “I was done listening.”

  “Tough luck. You can’t just walk away when you have a problem with reality.”

  I scoffed. “Look who’s talking. The king of running away from things he’s afraid of!”

  “I don’t run away.” He stepped closer, looming over me, the heat of his skin kissing across my own. “And I’m not afraid of anything.”

  “You’re afraid of everything!” I screamed, slapping a flat hand over his hard chest. “Everything.”

  “Bullshit. You’re the one who’s always afraid.” He pushed his chest against my hand, which was still lingering on his chest, a stupid excuse of a barrier, especially when all I could think about was the way his warm, muscled chest felt beneath my touch. “You’re afraid of leaving, afraid of staying behind, you’re always stuck in a state of guilt for every decision you make because you’re too fucking afraid to follow what your own heart wants.”

  I pursed my lips, ironically still stuck between storming away and keeping my hand right where it was.

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged. “Tell me you didn’t pick the university I told you not to go to because you were afraid you’d follow me and we’d actually have a shot at something real.”

  “I did follow my heart! I went to my dream school. The school I’d wanted to go to long before you walked into my life.” I brought my other hand up and pushed him hard. He didn’t budge. He just pressed against both of my trembling hands. “And for the record, you wouldn’t know real if it smacked you in the face. That was why you broke things off with me, and that was why you chose Camryn.”

  He growled, and in one swift motion, he grabbed me around the waist, dragged my body flush against his, and ducked his head. His mouth crushed against mine so hard and fast that I was forced to bring my hands up to his biceps and hold on. I’d kissed Rowan thousands of times, but this kiss was unlike any other. This kiss made the air swoosh out of my lungs. His tongue swept into my mouth and demanded I bend to its will, stroking mine with a precision that made Leonardo da Vinci’s brush pale in comparison. He slid his fingers into my hair and massaged my scalp as he commanded the kiss. I heard myself moan, felt the liquid heat between my thighs, and gripped his muscled arms tighter. He pulled back slightly and teased my lips with light nips. It was then that my eyes popped open. I ripped my mouth from his and pushed him away.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted, panting. He stared at me with an odd expression on his face, as if he wasn’t sure where he was standing or how he’d g
otten there. When he didn’t respond, I turned and sprinted away as fast as my wobbly legs and sandaled feet would allow.

  Chapter Seven

  Tessa

  Past

  “So, you get that perfect tan from your grandmother, huh?” Rowan asked as he walked over to me.

  I was standing in the wooded area of the lawn by the fire pit, which was where I normally hung out during parties like these. Tonight was my grandmother’s birthday party and my siblings had gone out of town, something they’d planned before Mom planned this party, and while I definitely thought I’d be alone, Rowan’s presence made me giddy, though, it wasn’t only because I didn’t want to be bored and alone.

  “I guess so. You’ve never seen her before?” I smiled as I answered his question, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I could’ve sworn you had.”

  “Never had the pleasure. She must travel a lot.”

  “She travels back and forth to France. My grandfather left her a Chateau.”

  “Is that why you were in France last summer?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, hoping the darkness and my complexion were enough to hide my flush.

  My heart hadn’t managed to contain itself from the moment he walked through the door, and it didn’t matter how much I told myself that it was because I’d been bored until he got here. The truth was that I’d sported a crush on him for quite some time. I could tell you virtually everything about him, from the specks of gray in his blue eyes to where he sat in the coxswain during rowing matches. Still, we were just friends. Just friends. He was more of Freddie’s friend than mine. I constantly reminded myself of this whenever he walked by me in the halls and winked and my girlfriends squealed and freaked out. He was a year older than I, but I still managed to snag two AP classes that he was in. Thank God for small miracles like small private schools with limited AP. I was the only junior in a class with three seniors. Also the only junior in the school that would graduate ahead of my class and start college a semester ahead.

  Normally, Rowan hung out with Freddie and Sam. Tonight, our siblings weren’t around to buffer our interactions. Celia was away scouting colleges; Freddie had gone with her. Samson was on a trip with his girlfriend. That left Rowan and I alone in the woods, quite literally. I would have sworn he’d be at Emma Wesley’s party, his rumored girlfriend, whom I wanted to hate so badly but was too nice to warrant those feelings from me. It was stupid for me to hate her at all. It wasn’t like Rowan kept girls around. He was the kind of guy who had a new girlfriend or fuck-buddy or someone to keep him company every few weeks. Samson said he got bored quickly. I thought he hadn’t met the right girl, and that included me. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d be the one to tame the beast inside him. I hadn’t even thought about trying.

  I changed the subject. “I’m surprised you’re here tonight.”

  “Where am I supposed to be?”

  “Emma Wesley’s party.”

  “Why would I be there?”

  I settled back against the tree trunk behind me. “Aren’t you two dating?”

  “Define dating.” I could hear the playful tone in his voice, but I wasn’t having it. I lifted my chin and met his eyes.

  “I’m not Freddie or one of your crew boys. Are you dating or not?”

  “Not,” he said, pausing before continuing. “She wanted to get serious, I didn’t, so she broke it off. I heard she’s dating Erick Gnash.”

  “The quarterback?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, she certainly has a type.” Erick was one of the cutest kids in school. Even Celia had a crush on him, and she was a senior, in the same class as Freddie and Rowan. Perks of being born ten months after your older brother and having a birthday that coincided with state laws.

  “She’s a nice girl.” A nice girl but not what he wanted, I supposed. I wondered if it was because what he wanted was tall, blonde, and obnoxious. I didn’t bother pointing that out. If I did, he’d think I was interested, and I wasn’t. Not at all.

  Liar.

  I whisked the little voice away with the shake of my head.

  “How’d it go at your last meet?”

  “We won. You should’ve come.”

  “You only want me to go because all of you fit in my truck.”

  After that, he was silent for the longest time before asking, “So, where is your grandmother from anyway?”

  I had totally been staring at his profile, which was just about perfect. Long lashes, chiseled jaw, long nose, plump lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took another sip of his drink. Even his neck was nice. I blinked away from my thoughts and remembered he’d asked a question. Right. My grandmother.

  “New Zealand.”

  “Hm.” He looked at me for a moment. “Where is that?”

  “Near Australia.” I felt my lips pull up at the corners. People always had funny reactions to that. His brows scrunched together as he took a sip.

  “Right,” he said slowly, as if remembering the geography. “It’s an island.”

  “Tiny island.”

  “With beautiful women,” he said.

  I felt myself blush, bit my lip, and glanced away. Was he calling me beautiful?

  Maybe he’s saying your grandmother is beautiful, moron.

  Grandma Joan was quite stunning, after all, and he’d never cast me a second glance before. Why would he start? I clutched my own cup tighter when I heard him speak again.

  “Do you know anything about it?”

  “Like do I know how to speak Māori?”

  “If that’s the language.” His lips twitched. I felt my face go hot at the mere sight of it.

  “I know a few things but not much.”

  “Like what?”

  I took a sip, my eyes set on his. He watched me expectantly. I mulled over the things my grandmother had taught me, which hadn’t been much if I were being honest. She was barely one year old when her parents moved to the States. It wasn’t as if she remembered anything about her birthplace, but her parents had made it a point to teach her about her roots, and she tried to do the same for my mother, which was where it stopped. Mom said she couldn’t feel a connection to a place she’d never visited. I took a breath, leaned down to set my cup on the grass, and made my way over to him. The shade of his eyes became clearer with each step that I took. My heart shook, but I managed to close the distance between us and stood directly in front of him. He waited.

  “Tena koe is how you say hello,” I explained. “It means, ‘I see you.’”

  “Tena koe,” he repeated, his eyes set on mine.

  If he’d ever looked at me like this before, I had never been aware of it, and I was glad for it because I felt like I was on a ledge with no place to go. Maybe it was the fact that we were alone. Maybe it was all of the changes happening in my life, with my siblings moving away soon. Whatever the reason was, it urged me to act on something I had wanted to do for as long as I could remember. I took a step closer, reached my right hand up and cupped the back of his neck. He lowered the hand holding his drink so there was nothing between us, and I pulled him closer to me. He didn’t close his eyes the way I would have if I thought someone was about to kiss me. He also didn’t back away the way I would have if I had a boyfriend and someone who wasn’t him was about to kiss me. He simply looked at me, searching my eyes quickly, as if to make sure I wanted this. If my pulse hadn’t been spiking the way it was, I would have laughed because, hell yes, I wanted to kiss him, but it wasn’t what I was doing.

  “This is called a hongi,” I whispered. “It’s how they greet each other. You have to press your forehead against mine, your nose against mine, and breathe out.”

  “Why?” he whispered back.

  “To indicate that we’re all equal—one soul.”

  He took a step back. I dropped my hand from his neck. He looked at me warily, his eyes jumping between mine, searching for God only knows what. I waited. That was how things were with Rowan. He liked to process his thoughts and
feelings while people waited. I knew his game, knew that if I pushed him, he’d freak out. So, I watched as the wheels turned in his head.

  “Okay,” he said after a few beats. “Let’s try this again. This is how everyone greets each other? Man and man, woman and woman, woman and man?”

  I nodded and felt myself smile. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled a shaky laugh.

  “My dad can’t seem to hug us, yet people in New Zealand are doing this?”

  My smile dropped. His parents were assholes. When we were kids, while his brother and the rest of us were in tee-ball and ballet, Rowan was spending his Saturdays in meetings with his father. They’d come by Monte Industries and I’d catch the bored, faraway expression on his face. He’d found rowing in our early teens and stuck with that every weekend since, and I got the impression that his boat, Miles, saved him in a way. My mind drifted back to his father and his refusal to show affection to his sons.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “No.” He frowned, looking away from me and back to the party, back to the adults who thought what they did was so much more important than raising responsible, caring individuals. He sighed and looked back at me. “What else do you know?”

  “That’s basically it.”

  His lips twitched. “So, we can’t go on a trip to New Zealand any time soon?”

  “Guess not.”

  “Hm.” He stepped closer again, close enough that I could smell his Jean Paul cologne and feel the heat from his body. He brought his arm up, splaying his large hand on the side of my neck, his thumb rubbing my jaw gently. I wondered if he could feel the way my pulse skittered under his hold, wondered if he knew just how deep my feelings for him ran. If he did, he didn’t let on. If he did, he’d run. I knew that much. The Hawthorne boys only gave you small particles of themselves, enough to make your cells lose balance while their own regenerated. He held my gaze steady as he dipped his head and placed his forehead against mine, his nose touching mine. Then he closed his eyes. I followed suit. And we breathed. He inched closer. I did the same. Without preamble, his lips touched mine. I jolted but managed to keep my eyes closed, mainly because if this were a dream, I wanted to remain sleeping, preferably forever if Rowan Hawthorne was going to continue to kiss me. I stifled a breath, a whimper, anything that would threaten to pull us out of this haze. I wondered if he knew how long I’d dreamed of this, if he had any idea that every time I looked at his lips, I imagined them on mine.