AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Despite the years of partying, despite the nights spent swaying with guys just like this on dozens of dance floors over the years, I’ve never brought a guy home or ever considered going home with one. I’ve neverwantedto before, never cared enough to do anything after the music stopped.
Nolan makes me want to keep going.
“Is that your creepy way of asking me out on a date, Mr. Crowley?”
“It might be, Keely Something.” He tightens his grip on my hand. “Do you know how many women I’ve juggled for?”
“Dozens. Thousands. I bet you used to juggle on TV all the time. Weren’t you considered a child juggling prodigy? You gave it up when the pressure got to be too much. Too many balls in the air.”
“Only you.” He stops walking. “Give me your number. I’ll juggle again if I have to. I swore off it, but I’ll take up the balls and the pins. Hell, I’ll even do the old fire routine.”
I turn from him, slipping my hand away. My smile fades as I take a few steps away, closer to the water, into the dark, wet sand. It’s cold under my toes. I wrap my arms around myself, staring into the endless sea, toward where black sky meets black ocean, stars glittering on either side, reflections at both ends.
“My nana died this morning.” I don’t know why I blurt it out. Maybe I needed to tell someone. Maybe I just want him to know why I’m going to turn him down.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “That’s really hard.”
“My mom called me. I haven’t spoken to Nana in a while. Haven’t seen her in years. She’s been sick, or at least that’s what Mom said anyway.”
“You’re a good friend to be here for Ash. It can’t be easy.”
I laugh bitterly. “No, that’s the messed-up part. I’m not even upset she’s dead. Honestly, it’s an enormous relief. I hated my nana. That’s pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”
He’s quiet for a second. I’ve said too much. I’m sure he thinks I’m a monster now, since everyone’s supposed to love their grandparents, but everyone doesn’t know my nana.
She was awful. No, notawful, that doesn’t convey the deep, utter loathing I feel for this woman.
She was a sick bitch.
“Depends,” he says, coming up beside me. He shrugs off his jacket and puts it over my shoulders. It smells like him, bright and spicy, with a hint of whiskey. He sips his drink, staring at the ocean. I finish my wine. “I hated my father.”
I smile slightly. “This is fun. We should confess some more awful stuff. Kill anyone?”
“Not recently,” he says.
I cough, clearing my throat. “Right, uh, I forgot. Mafia.”
“That’s Italian.” He glances at me. “I’m sorry you had a complicated relationship with your nana. Family isn’t always kind.”
“No, they’re really not.” Suddenly, a compulsion comes over me, and I can’t stop myself from talking. “This morning, after my mom called, I didn’t cry. But I did remember that I used to have this dream. I guess I still have it. Back when I was little, Nana and I would make donuts together. She was amazing at it. Her donuts always came out perfect, fluffy, delicious, while mine were always lopsided, too sweet, too flat, always wrong. But even though I sucked, and she made sure I knew I was absolutely awful at baking, for a long time I wanted to open a donut shop using her recipes. I wanted to prove that I could do something right. I practiced on my own for years after I moved out. Got pretty good, honestly. But she never had one. She’ll never know.” I stop myself, looking down at my bare feet, covered in sand. What’s the point of feeling this way? Nana’s dead now. I can’t bring her back and prove that I’m not worthless. That I can be something.
I want to tell him more. Make him understand what that woman did to me, what she’s still doing to me. Nana’s voice has been in my head ever since I was a little girl, telling metruthsabout myself, truths which are all her opinions, and none of them good. Her truths still haunt me, still linger in my dreams, still come back to jam their thumbs into my eyes anytime I try to do something bigger and better for myself.
“Why don’t you?” he asks.
I snort, nudging against him. “Do you know how much money waitresses make?”
“Money can’t be holding you back.” He tilts his head, looking at me with that focus again. That attention. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating. I love when he looks at me, but it’s too much. I have to stare at the water, trying to avoid those handsome eyes of his. “I’m sure Ash would help.”
“That’s the whole problem. If I did it, I would want to do it on my own. Well, maybe with Jamila. We’ve talked about giving it a shot a few times.”
His arm wraps around my shoulders as I shiver from the cold. “Then do it,” he says. “I’ve been opening and closing businesses for years now, trying to compete with my brothers, and the one thing I’ve learned is you have to try. Failing is okay, so long as you try.”
“Oh, gee, thanks, you should start a self-help YouTube channel.”
“I’d make a terrible influencer. Much too violent. Not family-friendly.”
I laugh, even though it’s not funny, and it’s not a joke. “Maybe I’ll think about it.”
