Page 3 of Promise Me

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“I am.” I reach into a cupboard and pull out the aspirin.

“Sally told me you’d be here this summer.” He sits at the breakfast bar. His arms cross atop the counter and his body sags. He looks tired, and I can’t explain why, but I get the feeling it’s not just from lack of sleep. But from the day-to-day stuff we all have to deal with. It’s in his eyes. They remind me of my own when I look in the mirror after a difficult day.

I fill a glass with water from the sink and hand it to him along with the two small white hangover helpers.

His eyes lock on mine. For five heartbeats—yes, I count—he just stares. Finally he looks down at the aspirin in his palm, looks back up at me. I’m curious what he’s thinking. I’m suddenly curious about everything that has to do with him.

“Take two and call me in the morning,” I tease when the silence makes my pulse pick up. I lean against the counter across from him, grateful for the support.

“Thanks, angel.” He swallows the pills with the water and puts the glass down. I’m about to remind him of my name—I’m sure my aunt mentioned it—when he scrubs a hand over his jaw and adds, “Or should I call you Trixie?”

I bite my lip to keep from grinning. I wanted to be Trixie so badly. Speed Racer’s girlfriend, played by the awesome Christina Ricci, was the coolest.

“How about Kendall?”

“I’ve never met a Kendall I didn’t like.”

“How many have you met?”

“Counting you?”

Good to know his sense of humor is still intact. “Of course.”

“One.”

I smile, expecting he’d say that. “You’re my first Vaughn.”

“I’m honored to take your Vaughn virginity.”

I laugh. “You should be. Clearly I’ve been saving it.”

Instead of a quick comeback, he closes his eyes and dips his head for a long moment. “Okay, either Sally and Jack installed a carousel in their kitchen, or I’m more wasted than I thought.”

“I’m going to have to go with more wasted than you thought. You should probably lie down. Lucky for you, I just happen to have a vacancy on the living room couch.”

“Thanks. Sorry for…” He makes an all-encompassing gesture with his hand.

I give him an It happens shrug and walk out of the kitchen. He follows me to the family room even though I’m pretty sure he could’ve led the way. He’s got a familiarity with the house I’m guessing stems from my aunt having him over for breakfast or dinner or something. She and my uncle don’t have any kids, and she’s always taking in strays.

Not that Vaughn is lost. But there’s something about him I can’t quite put my finger on. I grab a blanket out of the antique wooden chest behind the love seat while Vaughn sits on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table. For the second time, I notice he’s barefoot. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. Drunk and shoeless seems so…so desperate to escape his own party. His own life, maybe?

All of a sudden, my own tangled mess of regret and guilt pulses louder than the beat of my heart. I hate when my past takes over my present, so I bite down hard on my bottom lip to remind myself where I am and that I want this summer to be about new beginnings. It’s time I move on from my mistakes.

Vaughn’s green eyes are intense and right on mine when my head clears. I quickly walk over to the love seat and grab the throw tossed over it.

“Sit with me a minute?” he asks, moving his feet to the floor and sitting taller as I approach.

I hand him the plush chenille throw while deciding how to answer. He takes it, grazing my arm with his fingertips in the process. The slight, probably inadvertent contact makes me crave more. Nope. There’s no way I can sit with him. If I do, I don’t know what will happen, and I’ve lived the past four years knowing exactly what will happen. Since the accident, staying in control has been my lifeline.

“I’m beyond tired.” Total truth right there. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay? And if someone is still spoiling for a fight then, you’ve still got me on your side.” I turn away, ready to collapse into bed.

“Promise?” he says softly.

I twist around to hit the light switch and say, “Promise.”

“G’night,” he mumbles.

“Goodnight.” I can just make out the outline of his body in the darkened room before I rush upstairs and dive under my covers. The sheets are cool, comfortable. Safe.


Tags: Samanthe Beck Romance