Is this what I expected from my vengeance? A media circus and an explosion of interest in me online? Endless photos of my father, red-faced and furious as he denies the allegations?
I guess so. And it doesn’t matter what Governor Lennox says now: his political career is ruined, along with all the internships and fancy jobs he once planned for me.I’ll never go home after this. Will never see my family or society friends again.
My life is a smoldering crater, and I’m the one who pulled the pin on the grenade. Cue my cool-guy shades.
“How does vengeance taste, Poppy?” Whit finds me floating on my back in the pool, staring blankly up at the stars. It’s after midnight, the air crackling with static, and the photographers have only just given up on trying to scale the Honey Cove walls. The doctor’s voice is teasing, but my mouth twists.
“Bittersweet.”
His feet shift against the paving stones. “Ah.” He’s backlit by an ornate lamp post, and his tall, broad-shouldered silhouette makes my stomach do high kicks. “It’s not how you imagined?”
I shrug one shoulder and accidentally dunk myself, coming up spluttering and red faced. Whit doesn’t laugh at me. He never does when it really counts.
Ripples fan out across the inky surface of the water as I swim closer to his edge, coughing to clear my throat. “It’s fine.” I’m hoarse. The stone is still warm under my fingertips when I grip the poolside, baked all day by the sun. “But I spent all that time obsessing over Gina’s article and getting the word out. I never really thought about what comes next.”
“You’ll figure it out.” The doctor’s voice is so confident, ringing through the courtyard. He has such faith in me, and it makes me want to cry. “You’re so brave, Poppy, and there’s a whole world out there just waiting for you. You’re going to take it by storm.”
Okay. But do I really have to? Without him?
My forehead thunks against the pool wall. “Ow.”
“Hey.” Whit’s alarmed, squatting to pat at my shoulders. He strokes my wet hair and the shell of my ear. “It’ll be okay. Did you hurt yourself? Let me take a look.”
I tip my head back and stare past him at the stars. It’s too dark to see his eyes anyway. Gentle thumbs probe at my forehead, and my heart is raw, and I’m sinking, sinking, sinking. My head may be above water, but my soul is curled up on the bottom of the pool. They’ll fish it out of the filters tomorrow with the drowned bugs and dead leaves.
“Something’s wrong,” Whit says softly. With my forehead? Did I really smack it that hard? “I thought you’d be excited to leave, but you seem…”
Here goes. It’s easier to admit these things in the dark. “No. Well. I’ll never be excited to leaveyou, Doc.”
There’s a long pause, where the only sounds are the gentleslosh, sloshof pool water and the leathery flap of bat wings overhead. Then Whit gusts out a breath, and his touch on my head gets firmer. He’s stroking my hair; cradling my neck. Patting and soothing.
“This time together has meant a lot to me too.” His tone is so freaking careful, I could scream. “But Poppy, the things you want—the adventure, the travel—”
“You’rewhat I want.” For a girl confessing her love, I sound super grumpy. I grumble the words at the wet stone, my sore forehead creased in a scowl. “Dumbass.”
The doctor chokes out a laugh. But he’s not listening to me, the jerk, he’s still petting my hair as he says: “It’s been intense, I know. I feel the same way. But you’re young, Poppy, and in a few months’ time, you won’t even remember—Jesus!”
Whit shoots to his feet, slapping at his now-soaking chest, and I glower up at him, ready to splash the big idiot again. “Iwon’tforget. If I got my way, I wouldn’t leave at all. This is the first time in my whole life that I’ve ever had a real home, that I’ve ever felt l—” I break off, throat tight, because I can’t say that word. Not now, when he’s sending me away. “The first time that I’ve ever belonged. And now I have to leave.”
That last word comes out as a croak, vibrating with despair. And Whit stares down at me, his shadowed chest heaving like he’s been winded.
“You really want to stay?”
I shrug, anger making my movements jerky. Water sloshes onto the side and pools around Whit’s shoes. “Yeah. Obviously.”
“In your villa?” he presses, like I’d get this worked up over a freaking bungalow. Like the lack of sharp objects and the lukewarm shower is such a dream.
“Whit, I swear to god. Get your head out of your ass, or I will splash you again.”
And aren’t doctors supposed to be clever? But then his shadow moves, strong hands sliding beneath my armpits, and I’m lifted out of the pool in a shower of droplets. Like I weigh no more than an angry, wet feather. The stars wheel overhead, and his chest is already soaking when he crushes me in a hug.
“My towel is back there,” I tell the doctor as he strides away down the stone path, my legs wrapped around his trim waist.
“Poppy? I don’t care about your towel.”
Whit hitches me higher, and then I feel it: the hard length of him, pressing between my thighs. For once, he’s not moving me away. He’s holding me closer, letting our bodies grind together as he walks. Letting me feeleverything.
The gears thunk into place in my brain. “Oh my god.”