But I’ll never know because I’ll never see Kit again.The thought has me frowning.
I follow Sister Jessie through the orphanage, and when we reach the back glass door that leads to the rectory, she smiles.“Thank you for doing this, Liv.We’d be lost without you.”
It’s nice to hear.
Sister Jessie quickly walks toward her classroom while I use my swipe card to unlock the door.I hear “Sweet Home Alabama” playing softly.I round the corner and am about to announce my arrival, but when I see who’s under the hood of the car, I stop dead in my tracks and dare not make a sound.
Although the man’s face is hidden by the hood, his hand—adorned with silver chunky rings on long fingers and a skull tattoo on the back of his right hand—grips the engine bay.I freeze, doubting what I see.But when the man leans over and reveals a familiar head of that messy brown hair, I quietly step back and return inside.I press my back against the wall and take two deep breaths.
What’s going on?
Whyis Kit here?
And why have I seen him twice in two days?
I can handle that later, though, because I have more pressing issues to deal with—like figuring out how to see him without being recognized.
It’s been three years since I last saw him.I think I’ve changed enough, butperhapsbear a slight resemblance to the girl he once knew.
But his comment at the club has me deciding not to take any chances.
I need a disguise, and I need one fast.
It’s a sign from God, I tell myself, as I rush into the laundry room and see clean habits hanging from the silver railing.I quickly put one on.
“I’m going to hell anyway,” I say to my reflection in the mirror as I affix the veil in place.
I don’t have time to be fickle and dart back out into the hallway, ensuring to remain unseen as I’m pretty sure pretending to be someone holy breaks about twenty rules.I swipe my card over the reader and take a deep breath.
A country song plays softly over the radio.
Kit is still under the hood, tinkering away with some tools.I stand off to the side and wait for him to notice me.I don’t announce myself because I’m hoping to get through this with minimal to no talking.
I watch him unguarded, taking my time to familiarize myself with the boy I once knew.Although Kit was never a boy, he now reeks of pure alpha energy.
He’s roughly twenty-five.
When I was younger, I never gave much thought to adult Kit, but here I am, staring at how hot his ass looks in those ripped blue jeans.Or how both arms—now covered in tattoos—are muscled and appear as if they were carved from granite.
He bends down to reach into the toolbox, and who knew, I’m a fan of a man with some hair on his chest.
Two buttons on his shirt have popped open, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest and neck, covered in ink.A slender silver chain hangs around his throat, accentuating the width of his shoulders.He’s tall, inked, pierced, muscled, and gives off the most alphahole vibes.It’s suffocating, but who needs air when Kit’s eyes meet mine?
“Oh, sorry, Sister!”I don’t understand what he’s apologizing for.
When he turns off the Bluetooth speaker, cutting the music, I realize he thinks I’m staring at him, angered that he’s playing music.
I can’t construct a sentence and continue gawking, which has Kit peering down at his shirt and quickly doing up the remaining buttons.He believes his music and his partial nudity offend me.
If only he knew what I hide beneath this habit.
The sunlight seems to highlight the blond strands in his hair.It’s shorter than I remember.I like it.It complements his chiseled face.I didn’t realize how sharp his jaw was.Or how gorgeous he was.
Now that I’m older, I see why he was described as having an angelic face—he truly is beautiful.But he hides something dark behind those eyes that wasn’t there before.It seems we’ve both changed.
I can’t believe Kit Rivers is here.
Instantly, a sadness weighs heavily on me.All I want to ask is how Dandy is doing.That reminds me that it can never happen because Kit can never know who I am.
