“I like that you’re jealous,” he says, his lips tipping up at the corners. “It shows you care.”
“Vander.” I narrow my eyes in warning before sidestepping him. “You can’t say stuff like that to me.”
“Sorry.” He cocks his head to one side, looking completely unapologetic. “I can’t control the things that come out of my mouth when I’m around you.”
My fingers brush the discolored skin on his cheekbone. “How did you get this bruise?”
His smile fades. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he steps back. “Don’t ask.” He looks down at his feet as tension tightens his jaw.
Rage swirls through my veins unbidden. “He hit you?” Closing the gap between us, I tip his chin up, forcing his eyes to mine. Sometimes, when I look into Vander’s eyes, he seems so old. He has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but staring into his eyes is like looking at an ancient battle-weary soul, and I hate that for him. “I thought the boxing put a stop to that.”
I called child services once after he showed up at my place with a cut and bruised face. That asshole Gregory made it go away, and he used his fists to deliver a brutal punishment to his wife and his son. It was a lesson learned the hard way, and I didn’t bother reporting him again. Instead, I found the boxing club, and Vander learned how to defend himself.
“It has,” he says, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. “But that doesn’t mean things are good.”
I know this. I have tried my best to be there for him, and I know West supports him, but he shouldn’t have to live like this. I already know the answer to this question, but I’m going to ask it anyway. “You’re eighteen now, Vander, and you have your future all mapped out. Why do you still stay there? You have the inheritance from your grandparents, and you’ll get into Yale to study art, so why don’t you just leave?” If my home life wasn’t such a mess, and I didn’t have such confusing feelings for him, I would offer him one of the guest bedrooms. But it’s out of the question.
He straightens up, and some of his usual confidence returns. “We can’t talk about this here.” He glances over his shoulder. “We need privacy, and there’s something I need to say to you. I know a place we can go. Meet me there in a while.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I open the oven door and remove the apple and berry crumble. “You know I can’t,” I whisper. I set the crumble on top of the stove before walking to the refrigerator in search of the whipped cream.
Vander stays silent for a few beats, reaching into the overhead cupboard, easily removing the bowls. He sets them down on the counter, and I open the refrigerator door. My heart accelerates when I hear his quiet footsteps approach as I grab the whipped cream. “Please, Kendall.” Heat rolls off his body in waves as he stands close behind me. I shut the refrigerator door and concentrate on breathing because I appear to have lost the ability. “I have a place I go to in Palmer Park when I need to think. It’s completely sheltered, and no one will see us there. Tell him you’re going for your usual walk, and meet me there.”
I won’t need to tell Curtis anything because he’s apparently playing golf after dinner. A likely excuse.
“We can’t do this,” I whisper, not moving a muscle.
He leans in, pressing his chest against my back, inciting a riot of illicit feelings inside me. His warm breath blows across my ear and delicious tremors skate over my skin. “I just want to talk. Four o’clock. I’ll text you the coordinates.”
15
KENDALL
“This is such a bad idea, Kendall,” I mumble to myself as I head toward Vander’s spot, clutching my phone, using Google Maps to guide my path. It’s almost four thirty. I’m late, and it will be dark soon. I spent the last hour trying to talk myself out of doing this, yet here I am. It seems I’m incapable of saying no to him, and that’s troubling.
“I’d just about given up on you,” he says, stepping out from behind a tree.
My heart lodges in my throat, and I almost trip over my sneakered feet. “Jesus, Vander. Don’t sneak up on me like that! You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry.” This time, his apology is sincere. Without asking, he takes my hand, jerking his head to the side. “My hideout is just around the corner. Come on. I’m dying to show you.”
Instead of pulling my hand away, my fingers thread through his, and a soothing warmth sinks beneath my skin.
“I’m glad you dressed warm,” he adds as he guides the way. “It can get real cold up here this time of year.” He tightens his grip on my hand as we navigate over rough, bumpy terrain, heading around a large boulder and descending a few feet along the rockface. Maneuvering around a few trees, I suck in a gasp as we come to a stop beside a little secluded area. It’s set a few feet back from the edge, bordered on both sides by high jagged tan sandstone. A plaid blanket lays across the space with two cushions. Vander’s black backpack rests against the side. “You can’t see this spot from the path, so no one will know we are here.”
“Is this where you bring all your girls?” I stupidly blurt before engaging my brain. “Forget I said that,” I murmur, sitting down on one of the cushions. I stretch my legs out, wiping some dirt off my yoga pants.
He drops effortlessly down beside me despite his broad body and long legs. His eyes dance in amusement as he stares at me. “I don’t take girls anywhere, and you’re the first person I’ve brought here.”
I blink at him in a stupor. “No one else has come here with you? Why?”
Reaching into his bag, he removes a matching plaid blanket and drapes it over our laps and our legs. “This is where I come when I need to be alone.” He holds my gaze captive as he adds, “I have never felt the need to share it with anyone until now.”
The air shifts with the gravity of that admission. These kinds of gestures have the most power over me. “Thank you for showing it to me,” I croak when I eventually find my voice. “I’m honored you would trust me with this.”
“I trust you completely,” he quietly says, handing me a bottle of water. “I have coffee too, but I thought you might like water first after the walk.”
“You are always so thoughtful.”
He shrugs. “I try.”
We lean back against the rock, drinking our water in companionable silence for a few minutes.
“The view is stunning. I can see why you come up here. It’s like there is no one else in the world but us. It’s quiet and peaceful. Perfect for contemplation. I love it.” While I passed plenty of walkers and joggers on my way, the crowd thinned out the higher I went. It’s also getting dark, it’s a weekend night, and the park closes in a couple hours.
“It’s one of my favorite places to draw too.” He offers me an apple.
I shake my head because my appetite is still shot to shit. “I’d love to see more of your work.”
“You can come by any time. I’ve been working on some oil paintings in my studio.”
“I didn’t know you used oil paints.”