Page 66 of View With Your Heart

Take 22

Scene: A Memory in the Barn

[Britton]

Being inside the barn brought on a wave of memories. I was only sixteen when Gavin brought me here one night. We’d been hot and heavy since the moment of our first kiss at Duke’s party and spent every minute outside Gavin’s work schedule together. We’d covered every base in my baseball training minus crossing home plate, but the night Gavin brought me to the old red barn was the night I gave my virginity to him.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” We were already naked on top of an old sleeping bag, open and spread on the floor in the heat of a summer evening.

“You’re giving me something special,” Gavin said, swiping back my hair, sweaty at the edges as we’d been kissing, touching, and removing clothing. Gavin was already half over me, his leg between my thighs. His mouth had already prepared me, bringing me to a release like only he had ever done. He’d been my first in that manner.

“I’m sure,” I replied, my voice quiet with hesitation.

“I love you,” he said to me, and I felt the same. I loved him with my teenage heart. I nodded to answer him, but he shifted between my thighs.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, spreading my legs even wider.

“Just do it fast.” I’d been told it would hurt. I wasn’t in a rush to lose my virginity like some of my friends back home, but I also wasn’t saving it for marriage. I just knew I’d do it when I met a boy I trusted with my body and my heart. I trusted Gavin.

He was already covered with a condom before giving me one last chance to back out. He stilled at my entrance. “Kiss me,” he demanded, and I did, focusing on our mouths fused together as he thrust forward. Instantly, I broke from his mouth as I cried out at the sharp intrusion.

“Is that it?” My voice strained with the pain.

“Only about halfway,” Gavin said, kissing away a tear leaking down my cheek. “A little more.” He rocked forward, filling me, and stilled again. “Just breathe, baby.”

I did as he said, taking short, quick breaths as he stroked over my face. He kissed my cheeks, my nose, and my eyelids.

“Gotta move, baby. You feel too good.” Gavin had had sex before. He knew what he was doing. I didn’t want to be one of his other girls. I wanted this to be special for him, too, so I nodded to signal he could do what he needed to do. Pulling back, he almost left my body before rushing forward again. Repeating the motion, taking his time to fill me, I slowly stretched and relaxed under his patience.

“Gonna be quick.” His voice strained as he slipped into me over and over. It started to feel better, and I followed his lead, rocking with him as we moved as one. He broke first, collapsing over me and breathing heavily into my neck. He pressed kisses up my sweating skin, under my ear, and along my jaw.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered at my mouth before kissing me sweet and tender.

“Oh? We’ll be doing this again?” I teased after he pulled back.

“Definitely.” He smiled down at me. “I’ll never have enough of you.”

“I love you, Gavin.” I said it to remind him. I said it to remind me. I loved him for what he’d given me that summer. “I’ll always love you.”

I always have loved him, but I knew this moment would come between us. It wouldn’t be the end of a summer or the end of a weekend that would burn all the memories of us, but this secret that’s been eating at me for all these years.

I’m left standing in the gravel drive on a warm August night with Gavin’s parents, and I don’t know what to say.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, unable to meet their eyes.

“I don’t understand,” his mother addresses me with her soft accent.

“What’s to understand? He got her pregnant,” Gavin’s dad sharply snaps.

“Jack,” Sarah Scott warns her husband. “Tell us everything, lovie.” The endearment almost breaks me. I don’t want to expose Gavin, but it hardly seems to matter.

“Thirteen years ago, Gavin came to Traverse City with a bunch of single team members. We ran into each other when I was visiting my uncle Leo. We spent the weekend together.” I don’t think I need to clarify the fine details. “We never exchanged phone numbers.”

“You’re Leo and Gertie’s niece.” Gavin’s mother speaks fondly as she remembers them.

“Yes.”

When Sarah first came into the tea shop, we quickly established how I’d known her son all those years ago and who I was related to in the community. She was sorry for my loss. I was sorry for hers. Gavin hadn’t been home in more than a decade. As Gertie died from breast cancer, I had additional sympathies for Sarah.