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I turned to face him, and a cold breeze whipped my way. “Why does she keep trying to set us up?” When he didn’t respond, I added, “Rory’s my best friend. She knows you’ve rejected me on a few occasions, so I don’t know why she keeps pressing the idea we’ll end up together. You obviously don’t see me that way.”
“Reject you?” He scoffed as if offended. “When did I . . .” He cupped his jaw as if he truly didn’t know, working through his memories to latch on to the two times his rejection had shattered me into pieces. Little fractured bits of glass. Finally, his brows snapped together.
Annnd you remember.
“You talking about the kiss, and, well, the other thing?”
All I could do was nod. My eyes landed on his big hand moving along his strong jawline. He was referring to my virginity.
“That wasn’t rejection.” His brows remained tight. A defensive look crossing his face.
“I asked you to be my first kiss. You said no,” I spat out, being a tad “defensive” right back, but I couldn’t help it. The man could be frustrating at times. So much for the fairy tale night.
He winced as if I’d slapped him. “Ella, I hardly call that rejection. I mean,” he said while holding a hand up between us, “you were fifteen, and I was eighteen. I was about to join the Army, and you were also drunk on Beckett’s secret stash of Tennessee moonshine. What’d you expect me to say? Me saying no was the right thing to do, and you know it. That’s not rejection.”
“It sure felt like rejection to me.” I shrugged. “And by the way, I was drunk because you were enlisting.” That was the honest-to-God truth, too.
His only response was to mutter, “You were still too young. And also, a Hawkins.”
“Is that how you’ll always see me? A Hawkins?”
“Ella.” His tone was gritty. Real texture there. It slid right under my skin. Hell, between my legs. Probably not his intention.
And my stubborn self wasn’t about to give up, so I pushed further. “Okay, what about when I was in college, then? And I asked you to take my virginity? I was of age. That was rejection.”
He took a step back and grabbed the back of his neck. “Tequila. Still a Hawkins.”
There was a third something to that short list. I could feel it. But he obviously wasn’t going to share.
“So no, that doesn’t qualify as rejection. And any man that would have said yes to you after you’d been shooting tequila should be dragged behind one of your daddy’s horses for a good mile. Maybe more.”
“I didn’t have that much tequila that night.” At least I don’t think I did.
“Regardless, there were a lot of reasons for me to behave. But it wasn’t that I didn’t want you. That I rejected you.” He went quiet for a moment. I could see the emotional turmoil in his eyes. Feel the tension vibrating in his voice. A conflict of some kind. “But also . . . Iraq,” he admitted. “I’d just come home after a bad deployment.”
The third reason. You’re giving it to me? And now that I knew . . . “Is there such a thing as a good deployment?”
“The ones where everyone comes home alive, yes.”
“Oh.” I looked up at the sky, unsure what to say. Writing him letters to express my emotions over the years was so much easier than actually speaking the words out loud. And if I’d never even sent those, how could I share what I was thinking now?
“Listen, I really can’t stand here and have a conversation about this. I don’t want to know who gave you your first kiss. Or who took your . . .”
My virginity? It was awful. Because it wasn’t with you.
“But I don’t need you thinking I rejected you in the past because I didn’t want you. That’s the furthest thing from the truth.”
It is? “Okay,” I whispered. “I think I’d like to go back to the hotel. I’m tired.” I gave him one of my smiles. The fake kind. Hoping he wouldn’t see through me. “I didn’t have a nap like you did.”
“Ella,” he called out, but I was already on the move. He yelled my name once more, then caught up with me. Matched my steps.
At the feel of tears on my cheeks, I murmured, “It’s the cold air making them water.” A lie.
“Don’t be sad. Why are you sad?” He reached for my hand. Another surprise.
“It’s nothing. Please.” Do not ugly cry. Do not ugly cry.
He let go of my hand and kept quiet the rest of the walk back to the hotel.
