Whisper to Me

Even though Dakota was my oldest girlfriend, I still wanted to please her. To appeal to the high standards she’d set for herself and everyone around her.

That realization struck me hard, and I rolled onto my side and curled up into a tight ball, attempting to make myself as small as I felt.

I had even put on a brave face for Dakota while in the hospital, to make it seem as if I was doing better than I actually had been. She had been so damn determined that I get better—and fast. It had been so much pressure, though she had been coming from a compassionate place. When she had been with me, I had been tense, frustrated, and stiff.

Then Kai would walk into the room, and all the suffocating and stale expectations would fade into the background. He’d lift the corners of his cheeks into a lopsided grin, and the atmosphere would shift and transform. I’d draw his fresh and abundant energy into my lungs, needing my fix.

“My turn, Turtle.”

Dakota would stand and kiss my cheek. “See you tomorrow.” As soon as the back of her perfectly-tamed tresses had vanished into the hallway, I would allow myself to fully breath. To suck in more of Kai’s verve. His essence. Allow it to permeate my lungs.

My muscles would loosen. My heart would expand. My true self would show her less-than-perfect head. Would know she was safe. Kai had been in his own world of trouble many times before, and somehow I’d known he would accept me no matter what.

Dakota was my best friend, but in the space of two heartbeats, I realized her brother knew me better. That thought made me spring out of bed, my consciousness fraying along the edges. I hadn’t been able to speak to Kai in private since the night we’d crossed the line.

There was no reason for it; I just wanted to see him. To be in his space. And being around him this summer had only made me realize how much I’d missed him these past three years. If I was being honest with myself, I had thought about him a lot during that time.

In addition to mourning my failed relationship with Miles—along with my former self—had I also been grieving for Kai?

Crazy how I’d seen Miles for a mere hour last night, and instead I was now craving Kai. Miles was bland in comparison. He hadn’t even gotten any words out. I’d felt like I was compensating for him and I’d regretted even telling him we’d be up at the bar. He’d had nothing to say. Only repeated what he’d uttered at Shane’s party. Just like he’d had nothing to offer the past three years. And maybe I’d just needed evidence of that.

I stepped into the hallway as quietly as possible and then stilled in front Dakota’s door to be sure she was asleep. Earlier, I’d heard the loud volume of her television, but it was silent now, and I could almost hear her sleepy breaths.

I padded to the kitchen and reached for a glass, unsure if Kai was even awake. As I turned the faucet on low, I heard it—the soft hum of his bass. My heart leapt in my chest. I didn’t know what the hell I was so anxious about. But the anticipation of seeing him, just talking to him alone, had revved my pulse to a feverish tempo.

But maybe he didn’t want any company tonight.

I wandered over to his door, unsure of what I’d say or even if I’d knock. Instead, I stood motionless, listening to him play. It was a low and drowsy strum, and I swayed against the wall, my senses dulled. During a longer pause, my knuckles tapped once and then twice against the wood.

I heard the sounds of what could have been his returning his heavy bass to its stand and papers rustling, and then the door slowly creaked open. Kai stood in front of me with his hair hanging loose at his shoulders. He had on those obscenely tight gray ski

My gaze followed the line of his neck, across his shoulder, to the muscular biceps propping the door open. I spotted the set of free weights resting beneath the stand of his bass. He’d definitely been working out in the three years since I’d last seen him. He wasn’t overly muscular like some athletes I’d been with, just lean and fit.

My gaze tripped over to his sculpted pecs and landed on his nipples. His pierced nipples—that seemed to harden at my perusal.

Fuck, that was hot. Since when did I think silver hoops dangling from a guy’s nipples were sexy? But on Kai, they worked. Like fruit waiting to be plucked, they hung above the trunk of his sculpted abdomen, while a smattering of fine hairs branched from beneath the button of his pants. Hot damn.

“What’s up, Rachel?” He swallowed thickly. “Did I wake you?”

“I . . .” I finally met his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep and I heard you were up.”

“Yeah, me neither.” He moved aside to allow me to pass into the room. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“Actually, most of the time your music lulls me to sleep.”

“Yeah?” he said in a low and gruff voice. “Is that why you’re here—so I can put you to sleep?”

“No, you ass.” I gri

We stood awkwardly in front of each other, until he finally had the wherewithal to lie down in his bed. He propped his arms behind his head as I sank down on the very edge.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, Rachel?” he asked. “Is this about seeing Miles?”

“No, not really.” Not at all, actually. Although he did figure in somehow, I supposed.

“I’m just . . . pissed that my friends are coming up here. I didn’t want . . .” I shook my head, the words dying on my lips.

“It’s not like I invited them,” he said. “They’ll see where you grew up—is it really that big of a deal?”

“If anything slips—even as a joke . . . ” I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Now I’ve got questions.” He looked pointedly at me. “Makes me wonder just exactly went on the last three years.”

“I’ve just been . . . doing what I wanted. Living my own life,” I said defensively. Though I didn’t know why I was suddenly feeling that way in front of him. “The same thing you were doing in Amsterdam, right?”

“Sure,” he said. “But if my friends from Amsterdam were to suddenly visit me, I wouldn’t be trying to keep them away from you guys. So what gives, Rachel?”

“Okay.” I held up my hands. “Stop playing the overbearing-big-brother role for a minute and just talk to me as a friend.”

“I’m pretty sure the idea of me being any kind of brother went out the window after the other night.” He held my gaze, and it was as if a sparkler had been ignited inside my belly.

“True,” I whispered, as prickly heat shot up my neck and across my cheeks.

“So what’s the harm in friends knowing things about you? Or telling my sister more about your college life?” he said. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Now the heat became unbearable as the same anxiety that plagued me knocked against the base of my skull. “So many people have already left me.”

“For the record, you left, too, Rachel,” he said, softly. “And the thing about true friends? We’re loyal. My sister is loyal. I’m loyal. We’d accept you no matter what.”

My hands began shaking as the cold dread of my lies rose to a crescendo inside of my chest.

He gripped my hand and then drew it toward him. “Come here.”

My body pitched forward, and I descended onto his sheets. “Wha . . . what are you doing?’

“I’m doing what I do well,” he said, tugging me nearer. “Taking care of my Turtle.”

My heart rose up in my throat and threatened to send my tears tumbling out. Why did his words hold such meaning?

He maneuvered me around and pulled my back flush against his bare chest. I could feel the outline of his nipple rings against my shoulder blades. “I don’t remember you taking care of me like this.”

“Sure I did,” he whispered. “You just couldn’t hug me back at the time.”

I gasped as memories crashed over me in waves. The moments he’d given me lingering embraces in the hospital. The time he lay down in my bed to watch a movie and fell asleep with his head propped on my shoulder. I woke first, felt the heat of his warm body coiled next to mine, and watched him sleep for a while.