Wrapped in Lace by Prescott Lane Page B

virginity last after that?”
    He busted out laughing. “Let’s just say I had a really good New Year’s that year.”
    *
    Drew held my hand as I drove his truck through McAdenville. He was still being quiet, but the feeling wasn’t heavy this time. I got the impression he was just giving me time to process what he told me, and I was thankful. I felt disgusted and angry, and I was so happy I hit Rob the other night. I hated cheaters. And having your brother be one of the culprits must have been devastating. No wonder Drew didn’t come back here. I could understand a little bit better now, but that wasn’t going to make things any easier between Drew and me. But for now, I just wanted to enjoy Christmas, the snow, the carols, but mostly the man beside me.
    “Ellie was jealous of you,” Drew said quietly.
    “When?”
    “I think she always was,” he said. “That’s why I stopped writing to you.”
    “I thought you said the guys were teasing you.” I stole a glance at him.
    “I lied,” Drew said, his eyes cast down.
    “You lied to me? Ellie is the real reason you stopped writing to me?”
    He nodded. “She and I started hanging out a lot about a year after you moved. She saw one of your letters on the kitchen table one day and freaked out. Told me I was cheating on her by writing to you.”
    I gripped the steering wheel, wanting to claw her eyes out. I’d been no threat to her. I was living a thousand miles away. Drew and I were nothing more than pen pals at that point. “I figured you just lost interest. My letters to you were always so boring.” He reached for my hand, and even through my mitten, I felt my body tingle at his touch.
    “I waited for the mail every Friday for your letter. I loved getting them. The paper always smelled like flowers.”
    “You smelled them?”
    He flashed me a grin. “Tease, I know you used to spray them with something.”
    I laughed. He’d caught me. I sprayed them with my mom’s perfume. They were hardly love letters. In fact, we never once wrote about our kiss or feelings beyond friendship. “The first week you didn’t answer, I cried for days.” I think I could see his heart breaking in his blue eyes, but I wanted him to know how bad I felt, how abandoned.
    “I’m sorry. I should never have let Ellie get to me like that.”
    “I never did care for her much.”
    “I just wanted you to know why I stopped writing. It had nothing to do with you or how I felt about you.” He squeezed my hand. “That never changed.”
    I wondered what exactly he felt for me, but three days into a relationship was hardly the time to ask. “Thanks for telling me.”
    “Hey,” he said, rubbing my hand. “I really am sorry.”
    “Ok.” I quickly wiped away a little tear. “It just felt like our friendship didn’t mean anything to you. You just stopped writing, no explanation. Just like. . . .” I stopped myself. I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t forgive and let go of the past.
    “Just like your mom,” Drew said softly.
    I’d forgotten how well he knew me. He knew all my secrets, all my insecurities. He was the only person I ever talked to about my mom, about how sad it made me that she just left me. My grandparents were the best, but having your mother dump you off on someone like you didn’t matter was a tough thing to swallow as a kid. I got my fair share of teasing about it, too, and Drew was the only one who I ever confided in. He got in a good number of fights defending me as well. That’s why it hurt even worse when he stopped writing. He knew I had issues about feeling wanted and cherished, yet he dumped me, just like my mother had.
    “Piper, I never even thought about that.”
    “It’s all right,” I said. “It’s my hang-up.”
    “Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t act like you’re tough. Like it didn’t hurt you. Don’t do that shit with me.”
    I pulled his truck in front of Hank’s and turned off the