Whisper to Me

I drove to the casino in a haze, prepping myself for the night ahead. I parked in the garage and took the elevator up to the casino level. As I neared the bar, I saw that Miles was already seated at a small table. My emotions flooded back. How it had felt to be with him. How I’d melded into his body, his interests and plans. How I’d lost who I was with him.

How I had just allowed him to talk me into meeting with him on three separate occasions.

And there had been something altogether comfortable about letting him have that control, because I didn’t have to think or prepare—I just had to be. A perfect role for a first-time girlfriend of a hugely popular jock. I had been virtually invisible.

Until suddenly I wasn’t—because of the crash and the recovery, the scars and the shaved head. It had been as if he’d stepped out of the limelight and allowed me to take center stage, which I’d never even asked for. Which I’d never even wanted. Especially not for that.

I wasn’t that girl anymore, and tonight, I needed for him to know it.

He stood as if in a daze when I approached the table and then pitched forward to pull out my chair. Ever the gentleman. Adults loved him. His own parents worshiped him, just like everybody else in this damn town. Even my parents had loved him. Until he’d walked away so callously.

“Thank you,” I said clumsily.

He returned to his seat as his eyes greedily took me in. “You look great, Rachel.”

I dipped my head, feeling uncomfortable about the compliment. Even though I had selfishly wanted it. “Thanks.”

“I ordered you a beer. Hope that’s okay.” And it all came crashing back. How he’d always done things like that—things that I’d thought I liked—under the pretense of his taking care of me.

I felt my rage welling up. “What if I wasn’t in the mood for a beer today?”

“Shoot, you’re right.” His eyes widened in discomfort. “Sorry. Order whatever the hell you want.”

“I will, thanks,” I said, my eyes meeting his in a challenge.

He studied me from across the table, and I had trouble holding his gaze. I looked down at the bar menu in front of me.

“God, you’re so different, Rachel.”

“Of course I am.” My eyes slid back up to meet his. And suddenly I had a moment of vulnerability. Something he often brought out in me. “Is . . . is that a bad thing?”

“Hell no,” he said. “Just wasn’t sure what to expect after so long.”

I ordered a margarita from the server, and we sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

Tapping my fingers on the black tabletop, I said, “What did you need to say, Miles?”

“I just . . .” He adjusted the sleeves of his button-down. My thoughts immediately drifted to Kai and how differently he’d dressed from someone like Miles. Miles was so prep school, with his starched shirt and loose jeans. He wouldn’t be caught dead with any piercings on his body. I used to love that clean-cut look in a guy. Had sought it out, even.

What had changed in a couple weeks’ time?

I’d gotten it on with a bad-boy musician with more holes in his ears than in mine, and he’d made me feel damn good. He’d made me forget. So fucking what?

Kai was somewhere in this casino working one odd job or another, and I forced my gaze back to Miles. I needed to be present no matter how much I was fighting it. The dread of what Miles was about to say was difficult to tamp down. And the longing to meet Kai’s gaze—to have him silently tell me all would be okay—before Miles got on with it was tugging at me.

“Could you listen to me first without interrupting?” Miles said, his voice low, timid even.

I started to protest and tell him where to stick it, but he cut me off by saying, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to get it all out. And I want to. Please.”

I nodded and then waited for him to begin, all the while sca

“Listen, Rachel,” Miles said. My eyes sprang back to his. “What I did to you was wrong. So damn wrong. And I’d never make any excuses about it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping his apology would finally register. I’d wanted to hear it for so long that now the words just sounded hollow in my ears.

“But I need you to understand what was going on in my head at the time.” He took a quick sip of beer, maybe for courage. “I just . . .”

Just get it out already was the phrase screaming inside my head. So I could get the hell out of there and do whatever I needed to do to lose myself. To forget the ache in my heart.

“Look, I though maybe I could make it up to you somehow. See if we still had what it took . . . to date again. That’s one of the reasons why I kept asking to see you.”

Anger lapped at my neck and heat crawled across my cheeks. “I’m pretty sure you don’t get to make that decision alone, dill weed.”

“I know that, okay?” he said, clenching his teeth. “You promised not to say anything until I was done.”

I gave a curt nod. “Whatever. Go on.”

“See, before the accident, I was already questioning our relationship,” he said, looking away from me. Like a goddamn coward. “Wondering how to break it off.”

I sucked in a deep breath. That certainly was news to me.

I hadn’t been expecting that confession, and it felt like a hard slap across the face.

An old wound being ripped open.

Was his damn promise ring some last-ditch effort to keep me happy? Fucking promise ring. What a crock. A racket. A bucket load of shit. So glad that puppy had been lost after the accident.

I was so stu

Chapter Nineteen Kai

I was filling in for a cashier who’d called in sick at the casino that day and only had about an hour left on the clock. My father had looked impressed when I arrived ten minutes early for my shift. I wasn’t about to fuck around where the casino’s money was concerned, even though I was bored stiff and my fingers were numb from counting out change.

Rachel had slept almost until morning in my room the previous night, and when she awoke, we both agreed to be more careful. I had no clue what in the hell we were doing. All I knew was that it felt damn good.

I figured it was nice for her, too. Probably in a different way. This is what she’d been doing with random guys for the past three years. But I knew we shared something more—a history. She loved me like a brother. Okay, maybe not like a brother anymore. Maybe more like a guy friend.

I still thought she was only using me instead of going out to the local bar to work out her issues or whatever the hell it was that she’d been doing with those guys. And I was fine with that. It was going to hurt like a bitch at the end of the summer when all of this ended, but at least I’d have those memories to hold on to.

Her soft and smooth skin. How she watched me when I touched her. The excitement in her eyes when I took control. How she thrilled at taking it back. Watching her shudder when she came. The way her tits were perfectly round and full in my hands.

She’d have no clue I was thinking or feeling any of this, and it would remain that way. She probably figured this was what I did with all the girls I’d been with. Except she’d be so wrong.

I didn’t savor or revere those girls or even remember some of their names. But I didn’t want to give Rachel the impression that I liked being with her too much—she might pull away if she knew. I needed to act natural and confident like I always had around the opposite sex.

So when this super hot chick headed toward me at the cashier’s counter, I gave her a good look up and down. I tried to push the image of Rachel far away. “What can I do for you?”