Shit. She was right; my hand was clamped around her thigh tight enough to leave a mark. Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, forcing my grip to loosen.
“It’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with her right now. There was also the fact that our arguments tended to end in her avoiding me. Most of the time I was fine with that—it made it easier to keep my hands off her—but right now I didn’t want to give her any reason to push me away. Not right before we needed to play the perfect couple in front of my parents.
The rest of the drive passed too quickly, the scenery blurring as it rolled by outside the car windows as we headed south.
It felt like only minutes before we were pulling into the gated neighborhood of oceanfront houses, all standing empty, waiting for their owners to return in the summer.
February was a terrible time to vacation here. It was cold, bleak, and almost every attraction around was closed.
Beach towns were most alive in the summer. Gated neighborhoods filled with mansions that were exclusively second homes for the wealthy people of New York,Boston, and a few other places were ghost towns this time of year. Everyone who had the kind of money it took to afford a house here had somewhere else to live during the colder months.
Danielle leaned forward in her seat, her eyes glued to the view outside.
“I think it’s safe to say we’ll be the only ones here,” I said.
Her smile was as unexpected as it was stunning. “It’s beautiful here.”
Not the word I would use to describe the empty houses and yards of dead grass, but okay.
“Which one is yours?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the line of houses.
“None of them are mine.” At some point you’d think I’d give up on correcting people when they talked about my father’s shit like it also belonged to me, but that day hadn’t come yet. “My father owns the white one at the end with the dark blue doors.”
The sight of the house brought back a whole host of mixed feelings. It had been years since I’d been here, but I’d come nearly every summer until I was a teenager. I’d spent countless hours at the beach and pool, following Maggie and her friends around like a lost puppy, racing Miles and never letting him win like the shit older brother I was, begging my mom to take us to the carnival we’d passed on our way in.
This house was where I’d felt most free, like I could just be a kid.
Except I wasn’t that kid anymore, and the woman sitting beside me wearing my ring was proof of that.
This time I was here because my father had insisted we all drop everything to come pretend to be a family for the weekend. Never mind the fact that he’d never been a real part of our summers here when I was young. He’d come for a weekend a few times a year and spent most of the time he was here on his computer.
“What are you thinking about?” Danielle asked.
“How long it’s been since I’ve seen this place.”
“And how long has it been?”
“Years.”
“Is it weird to be back?”
“Yeah,” I admitted as I punched in the code for the four-car garage and pulled in beside my siblings’ cars. “It is.”
Danielle grasped the door handle. “Are you ready?”
“I think I’m supposed to be the one asking you that.” I caught her hand before she could step out of the car, bringing it to my lips and kissing the spot next to her rings.
The sense of dread I’d had since yesterday when Dad told me we were going away was getting worse with every second that ticked by. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was that I was dreading, I just knew I didn’t want Danielle anywhere near a Blake family vacation.
It’s not too late to turn the car around and get her out of here,a voice in the back of my head whispered.
I might have listened if Danielle hadn’t picked that second to tug her hand out of mine and climb out of the car before I got the chance to.
So I was stuck following her toward the front door while sending up a silent prayer that we’d make itthrough this weekend relatively unscathed. I sincerely doubted God gave a damn about me or my personal life, but if there was anyone who deserved His notice, it was Danielle.
