don’t ever want to leave.” Lyra took a swig out of her bottle and sighed. “This—this is heaven, Kinz.”
“But if you stayed, you wouldn’t see Ronan again,” I reminded her, singing the name of the man she’d frequently gushed about since she’d left Savannah last year. I’d heard about him since we were still in middle school (when she’d met him), and he’d heavily influenced her decision to follow her dream last year. Lyra shot me a dark, warning look then laid back on the pink and brown crocheted blanket she’d taken off the daybed in my bedroom.
“Or are you going to swear up and down it’s complicated?” I probed.
She groaned, dragging her hands over her soft features, ruffling her black hair, before staring up at the stars. “It’s been complicated since I first laid eyes on him.” When I stretched out beside her, she turned her head slightly, and I swallowed hard at the moisture glistening at the corner of her eyes. My chest clenched painfully. “Now, it’s just ... shit, it’s painful.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
She shook her head. “But we’re not here to talk about me or that fire-breathing bastard. I want to know what’s next for you.”
Damn. I should’ve known she’d want to talk about my future, and what was I supposed to say? If I were a bigger dreamer—if I were Lyra —I’d say I was going to be a star. That, in a year, she’d hear my voice on Q100, but when I spoke, my voice faltered. “I-I honestly don’t know. Hell, I don’t even know where I’ll be living in a month.”
Propping herself up on her elbows, she nodded in the direction of Mrs. Hudson’s Victorian house, several acres from where we lounged by the pond. “If you’re still worried that woman up there is going to kick you out just because you’re eighteen and out of high school, you’re ridiculous. She cares about you. I mean, she came right out and called you her granddaughter when she took that call at dinner.”
Mrs. H had taken us into the city, to a restaurant on Peachtree Street earlier this evening. When a call from her son had interrupted us, she told him point blank she was out with her honorary granddaughter and a friend celebrating my graduation. Whatever he said next had pissed her off, because she’d icily reminded him that visitation was a two-way street before promising to call him when she got back home. While she never said anything negative, I knew she had visited her son and his family in Dallas last year right before I moved in and that the trip had been disastrous.
She’d returned to Georgia feeling like a burden.
Which is what I felt like when I thought about asking her to stick around after my birthday.
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’ve managed to make a huge impression on her. Since I got here, she’s praised everything from your angelic voice to how neat you keep your bedroom. You’re like Saint Kinsey or something. Trust me, she wants you in her life,” Lyra said, and I released a harsh laugh.
“Just because she likes my voice and doesn’t hide her jewelry from me, doesn’t mean she’ll still want me in her life.”
She narrowed her gray eyes and moved her face close to mine, strands of her short black hair flopping into her face. “First of all, I don’t think she judges you for getting in trouble after the five-finger K-Mart discount you did for your folks over a year ago. No offense, but your parents are jerks and screwed you over big time . Secondly, she clearly loves you. I know you have a hard time with that word, but she does.”
I was my own worst enemy because I wanted to argue with Lyra, but I nodded instead. “Ugh ... sorry for being such a Debbie Downer.”
“Please, you mention Ronan the Undecided, and I turn into a pile of blubbering wimp. Trust me, you’re fine, but ...” Lyra reached to the edge of the blanket and grabbed two more bottles from the Styrofoam cooler we’d lugged to the pond. “I
“But if you stayed, you wouldn’t see Ronan again,” I reminded her, singing the name of the man she’d frequently gushed about since she’d left Savannah last year. I’d heard about him since we were still in middle school (when she’d met him), and he’d heavily influenced her decision to follow her dream last year. Lyra shot me a dark, warning look then laid back on the pink and brown crocheted blanket she’d taken off the daybed in my bedroom.
“Or are you going to swear up and down it’s complicated?” I probed.
She groaned, dragging her hands over her soft features, ruffling her black hair, before staring up at the stars. “It’s been complicated since I first laid eyes on him.” When I stretched out beside her, she turned her head slightly, and I swallowed hard at the moisture glistening at the corner of her eyes. My chest clenched painfully. “Now, it’s just ... shit, it’s painful.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
She shook her head. “But we’re not here to talk about me or that fire-breathing bastard. I want to know what’s next for you.”
Damn. I should’ve known she’d want to talk about my future, and what was I supposed to say? If I were a bigger dreamer—if I were Lyra —I’d say I was going to be a star. That, in a year, she’d hear my voice on Q100, but when I spoke, my voice faltered. “I-I honestly don’t know. Hell, I don’t even know where I’ll be living in a month.”
Propping herself up on her elbows, she nodded in the direction of Mrs. Hudson’s Victorian house, several acres from where we lounged by the pond. “If you’re still worried that woman up there is going to kick you out just because you’re eighteen and out of high school, you’re ridiculous. She cares about you. I mean, she came right out and called you her granddaughter when she took that call at dinner.”
Mrs. H had taken us into the city, to a restaurant on Peachtree Street earlier this evening. When a call from her son had interrupted us, she told him point blank she was out with her honorary granddaughter and a friend celebrating my graduation. Whatever he said next had pissed her off, because she’d icily reminded him that visitation was a two-way street before promising to call him when she got back home. While she never said anything negative, I knew she had visited her son and his family in Dallas last year right before I moved in and that the trip had been disastrous.
She’d returned to Georgia feeling like a burden.
Which is what I felt like when I thought about asking her to stick around after my birthday.
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’ve managed to make a huge impression on her. Since I got here, she’s praised everything from your angelic voice to how neat you keep your bedroom. You’re like Saint Kinsey or something. Trust me, she wants you in her life,” Lyra said, and I released a harsh laugh.
“Just because she likes my voice and doesn’t hide her jewelry from me, doesn’t mean she’ll still want me in her life.”
She narrowed her gray eyes and moved her face close to mine, strands of her short black hair flopping into her face. “First of all, I don’t think she judges you for getting in trouble after the five-finger K-Mart discount you did for your folks over a year ago. No offense, but your parents are jerks and screwed you over big time . Secondly, she clearly loves you. I know you have a hard time with that word, but she does.”
I was my own worst enemy because I wanted to argue with Lyra, but I nodded instead. “Ugh ... sorry for being such a Debbie Downer.”
“Please, you mention Ronan the Undecided, and I turn into a pile of blubbering wimp. Trust me, you’re fine, but ...” Lyra reached to the edge of the blanket and grabbed two more bottles from the Styrofoam cooler we’d lugged to the pond. “I
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