That was a complete exaggeration of events, but it made me laugh, nonetheless.
“In all seriousness, though,” she continued, “there’s not much to tell. Like I said, I think it’s my grandmother’s journal from when she was in high school. It starts right before her senior year, and it ends right after she moves away for college. There are a few more entries in the back, but they’re sporadic and disjointed. It reads like she only picked it up when she really needed to write about something…all without giving full dates or details. She only used the month and day for those entries, not the year.”
“Well, what did she say about the place? Did she mention the resort by name?”
Confusion narrowed her gaze for a moment before she shook her head. “Oh, no. She didn’t say anything about the resort. I didn’t even know it existed until I looked it up.”
I grabbed her hand and halted my steps, forcing her to stop with me. I turned her to face me, and with my hands on her shoulders, I squatted to bring us as close to eye level as I could. I wasn’t sure if Kenny was deliberately being vague or if this was how she acted under the influence. All I knew was that her fragmented and heavily disorganized story frustrated me.
“Start over, Kenny. Or at least back up a bit.” I should’ve known not to say that to someone who’d been drinking. She literally took a step backward. Any other time, I would’ve laughed—much like she did—but right now, my one-track mind refused to process anything other than the questions I needed answered. “The other night, on the dock before the fireworks, you told me you’d heard of this place from a book.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“And then you said the book was a diary you presumed to be your grandmother’s. Correct?”
“Uh, yeah.” She furrowed her brow, staring at me as if I was the crazy one.
“But ten seconds ago, you admitted that your grandmother never mentioned this place.”
“What are you getting at?”
I couldn’t help but think about how funny this would be if it were happening to someone else. “Why did you just say that you heard about this place from her diary if she never mentioned it in her diary?”
While I wasn’t angry with her, I did find myself growing increasingly more frustrated with the situation. The last thing I wanted was to make her believe that my testiness was directed at her because, in reality, this wasn’t something to get pissed over. Not to mention, I was convinced that this was all an act, put on to tease me.
I became even more convinced of that when Kenny’s expression fell flat, eyes locked on mine. Her brows knitted together a split second before she raised just one, reminding me of a soft and feminine version of The Rock. It was the epitome of a you’ve-gotta-be-kidding-me glare.
“You’re no fun,” she muttered with a dismissive eye roll. “My grandmother used to live around here, and when I went to look it up, I found information about the resort. That’s all I know. So technically, the diary led me to this place without specifically mentioning it.”
Surprisingly, that was a rather plausible explanation, one that made me feel quite small for making such a big deal about it. To pass it off, I laced my fingers with hers and continued our casual stroll along the dirt road.
“Where did your grandmother live?” I asked, wanting to act normal, not like a crazy person who flips out when confused about details.
She took a long pull of her cocktail through the straw, and based on the presence of ice rattling against the side of the plastic to-go cup, I assumed she was almost finished with her drink. “I’m not sure; her journal doesn’t mention it by name.”
“Can’t you just ask her?”
“No, she died the night I was born.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Oh, that sucks. What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Surely your mom told you about her, though.”
She shrugged, catching me by surprise. “Not really.”
I found that odd. Even though my dad couldn’t recite in detail the stories that Grans used to tell, he knew enough to tell people about his mother. Hell, he did a pretty good job at making sure I knew what I needed to know about my own mom.
“I mean, she’s said things about her here and there but not much. And even then, most of that was because I’d ask, and I guess she couldn’t avoid it. For instance, my grandfather wasn’t in my life until I was thirteen. And that’s only because he suffered a massive stroke and didn’t have any other family to help. It took her a while, but my mom finally explained why he’d been absent.”
When her answer didn’t come as fast as I wanted, I asked, “Which was…?”
“Apparently, he wasn’t a very good husband. My mom never said it outright, but based on her choice of words and body language, as well as the way she reacts around my grandfather, I believe he was abusive.” She dropped her chin and stared at the dirt as she sluggishly put one foot in front of the other.
“Hey…” I squeezed her hand and slowed my pace, gently calling her attention. “Talk to me. What’s going through that head of yours?”
I’d never wanted to know something more.
Except, rather than answer my question, she turned to face me and slid her palm up my chest to the back of my neck. And in that moment, I learned how McKenna Leigh Richards changed the subject when she didn’t want to talk about something.
Chapter Seven
Kenny
In the sun, Drew’s eyes shone like two polished obsidian gemstones. However, in the darkness of night, even standing beneath a lamppost, they resembled black holes, ready to teleport me to another time, another universe. Regardless of where we were or what we were doing—or what conversation we were in the middle of—I fell victim to them.
Over and over again.
Slowly raking my nails through the hairs on the back of his head, I whispered, “Why won’t you kiss me?”
That was one hundred percent the alcohol’s fault. Sure, I’d silently questioned it ever since the day on the boat, but never out loud. There were several instances when I’d thought he would kiss me again yet never did, and there were many times I’d wanted to take matters into my own hands. However, I was far too reserved to do something like that, which was why I blamed my outspokenness on the many mixed drinks I’d downed tonight.
Liquor made me do it. Final answer.
“What did you say?” His words came out like the hull of a boat raking over a pebbly beach—a low rumble full of grit. The hollow dips in the reverberations of his voice were laden with a toxic mixture of confusion and astonishment, a soundtrack tailored perfectly for his befuddled frown and brow taut with disbelief.
His intense stare was enough to drag me back to reality. Instantly, my neck burned, and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before my cheeks glowed with the red-hot embers of shame. If not for the lampposts, I would’ve been able to hide it, but unfortunately, the yellow light shone directly on me like I were centerstage on Broadway.
I quickly dropped my chin a few degrees and concentrated on the Black Bird Resort logo stitched on the front of his shirt. It made me wonder what his bare chest looked like, how defined his pecs were, if he had hair or if his skin was silky smooth. Before I knew it, his heartbeat pulsated against my palm, and that was when I realized I had dropped my arm, lowering my hand from the back of his neck to the subtle dip in the center of his chest.