16. Sam

16

SAM

"Who licked the red off your candy?" ~ Archie "Witty" Whitlock

I'd seen Kenna mad quite a few times over all the years I'd known her. But I'd never seen her look homicidal before. If looks could kill, I'd be lying on a cold slab in the mortuary.

"What's wrong?" I asked her when I finally caught up with her after she speed-walked to the back of the civic building. "What happened?"

She pulled her journal out of her bag and held it up in the air between us. "This happened."

"Oh, that." Fuck. I'd overslept this morning for my PT appointment because I'd been up all night thinking about what I'd read, and we had to rush out of the house. I planned on coming back to the house and figuring out how to put it back wherever Winnie found it, but once I was cleared to work and drive, I went directly to the station to let them know. I'd spent the afternoon catching up on cases, and before I knew it, I had to report for my shift at the kissing booth.

"What the fuck, Sam?!" Kenna swatted me across the upper arm with the book. "I can't believe you went into my room and?—"

"No! No, no, no," I cut her off, holding my hands up in surrender. "I didn't go into your room. Winnie brought it to me."

My statement took a little steam out of her anger train. I could see her taking in what I was saying. But just when I saw a glimmer of light at the end of the calm-down tunnel, it was blocked out as she demanded, "Did you read it?!"

I could lie. I could tell her that I hadn't.

No, I couldn't. I'd never lied to her, and I wasn't going to start now.

"Yes," I admitted.

She slapped me with the diary again, but this time, I saw tears forming in her eyes. She was hurt. Betrayed. And she should be. I was totally in the wrong.

"But only one page," I explained quickly. "I was reading it when you came home, and I shoved it under my pillow. I was going to put it back in your room, but I overslept for my PT appointment, and I had to go to the station and then straight here for my shift."

"What did you read?"

I might be tempted to fib on this one, but I couldn't. The problem was, since I'd only read one page, I didn't have any other material I could reference. I'd really backed myself into an honesty corner here.

"Um… I read the page you wrote on the 21st. The one about your birthday."

She nodded, and a tear slid down her face. My heart broke for her as she tried to sniff back the emotion, straightening her shoulders and holding her head high.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I mean, I did mean to, but not at first. When Winnie brought it to me, I didn't even know what it was. I gave her a treat and went to set it on the coffee table, and I dropped it. It fell open to that page, I swear. When I reached down to pick it up, I saw some keywords that caught my attention. I closed it and put it on the table. I told myself that it was wrong to read it, but?—"

"What words." She wiped the tear that fell from her cheek.

Triple fuck. Why did I keep painting myself into these corners?

"Birthday. Virgin. Sex."

Her lip quivered as she closed her eyes, and her head fell back. I wanted to comfort her. I meant to comfort her, but instead, when I opened my mouth, I asked, "How is it possible that you are?—"

Her lids flew open, and the fire in them kept me from finishing my question. What had been hurt a moment before was now fury. Once again, my hands lifted in surrender.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong…I'm just…what about Greg?"

Her eyes were cast down as she let out a loud exhale. It was what she did when she was frustrated but resigned or defeated.

"I wasn't his type."

"That's…impossible. You're everyone's type."

She let out a forced laugh. "Yeah, right."

Wait. Did she actually not know how fucking amazing she was? Had she been my best friend for this many years, and she didn't know how perfect she was?

"You are," I insisted with a chuckle of my own at the absolute ridiculousness of her reaction.

I could see the hurt in her eyes when her gaze met mine. "This isn't funny."

"I know it's not, and I'm not fucking joking. You're smart, hilarious, cool, sweet, and fiery. You never look for a fight, but never back down when one finds you. You are loyal and caring. You love your family and friends with breathtaking intensity. All of that, and you're hot . Insanely hot. You are the epitome of a sexy girl-next-door. Literally, in my case." Finally, saying some of the things I'd always wanted to say to her felt like a weight had been lifted off of me. But it fell right back down when I saw the look in her eyes.

"Stop." She held up her hand, and I saw that it was shaking. "Just stop. I don't want you to…I don't need you to say that to try and make me feel better. And I'm not talking about not his type like he doesn't like redheads; I mean, I don't have a penis."

"Oh. Oh, okay." Not to stereotype Greg, but they met in musical theater; he took her to a Madonna cover band on their first date; they went to get color matched together on their second date; and he had posters of Bette Midler in his locker. I just chalked it up to him marching to the beat of his own drummer, which apparently, was one with a cock. "What about Rudy?"

Her eyes searched mine. I wasn't sure why she was staring at me for so long. She looked genuinely confused. Baffled. "You remember Rudy?"

"You were with him for a year." Twelve months and twenty-two days, to be exact, but who was counting?

I was.

"He was always drunk, and every time we tried to hook up, it didn't work."

"It didn't work?"

"Yes, and before you ask, it was the same thing with Steve. But I fixed the problem, so now there's no issue."

"The problem?" Now, it was my turn to be baffled. "What are you talking about?"

"It's none of your business."

She said the entire phrase instead of shortening it to noneya, her abbreviated version, so I knew that this was serious.

"Kenna, what problem?" My tone was firm and final. It was the one I used on perps when I meant business.

Again, she inhaled and then exhaled loudly before looking around, I would assume making sure that no one was within earshot. We were very alone.

"I had an issue; um, it's called an imperforate hymen. It made it impossible to, you know. But I had a procedure, and now everything is…fine. So, yeah. That's all of it. You know everything. I don't ever want to talk about this again."

"So you really are a virgin?" I knew that's what she was telling me, but I needed to hear it from her mouth.

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her purse. "I have to go."

"Where? Where do you have to go?" What could possibly be more important than this conversation?

"I'm meeting Jonah for the tree lighting ceremony."

Jonah . I hadn't been thrilled about them hanging out before, but in light of this new information, I really wasn't happy about it.

"We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't. There's nothing to talk about. I told you the topic is closed."

Kenna's eyes were filled to the brim with emotions. Hurt. Anger. Betrayal. I'd seen the same exact look in my mom's eyes more times than I could count. That look was the reason I refused to ever be in a relationship because I never wanted to make anyone feel the things I'd just made the most important person in the world to me feel.

She turned to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed her hand. There was no way I could let her walk away feeling like this. Especially not into the waiting arms of another man.

"Kenna, I'm so sorry I read your diary. I really am. I know it was wrong, and I feel like shit that I did that. I promise I will never, ever do anything to betray your trust like that again."

"It's fine." She shrugged, but I could see she didn't mean it.

"No, it's not, and I will do everything I can to make it up to you."

"No, really. It's fine," she assured me, and this time I saw that she meant it. "I know you didn't mean to; it just fell in your lap. Literally. And to be honest, I would probably have done the same thing." A tiny grin lifted on her lips.

"Are we okay?"

"Yes, of course, we're okay."

I tugged her toward me and pulled her into my arms. She was stiff as a board for a moment, but then she melted into my chest. I kissed her on the top of her head. "You know I love you, pretty girl."

"I love you, too."

I could hear the sadness in her words, and I wanted to kick my own ass for making her feel that way. Her phone buzzed again, and she stepped away from me. Without saying another word, she turned and headed back to the festival.

I watched her walk away, feeling empty, lonely, and scared. I was scared that our friendship was changing. That we were changing. I knew we still loved each other, that would never change. But it felt like our relationship might. That it already was.

Tonight wasn't the first time we'd said those three little words to each other. We actually said I love you on a fairly regular basis. But it was said in the context of friendship, not romance. I'd almost told her that I was in love with her a handful of times. I'd even dreamed that I'd said it to her at the hospital, but I'd never said it to her in real life because I knew I couldn't back it up.

And seeing how my betrayal had made her feel tonight, I knew that I'd been right. I'd never be able to live with myself if I did something that was irreparable. Something that she couldn't and shouldn't forgive me for. As much as I wanted to believe that would never happen, I had generations of men before me who were proof of my shortcomings.

I loved Kenna. I loved her enough to know that she deserved a hell of a lot better than me—someone like Jonah Walsh, the man who was probably going to be her first.

That thought was a sucker punch to my solar plexus, but I absorbed it and the nausea that went with it. It made me sick to think about her with someone else, but I'd rather be the one feeling like this than ever see Kenna cry because of me again.