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I let myself get lost in Jess’s eyes for a heartbeat, but now isn’t the time for me to show her what she means to me. She won’t listen to me here, in front of everyone. And I have to think things through first. Plan what I’m going to say to her the same way I plan out my renovations.
I let go of Jess’s arm, even though my body and heart are begging me not to. I don’t stop her when she slips away. I level my gaze at Katelyn.
I’m vaguely aware of Emily saying something, but I’m too focused to hear what she says. She hurries after Jess, leaving me alone with Katelyn.
“I didn’t have sex with you, did I?” My voice is dark and dangerous, masking the fear simmering inside me. Fear I’ll never be able to repair what Katelyn helped me destroy.
“Sure, you did.” She smiles at me, but the curve of her mouth lacks sincerity. The corners flicker like they’re battling to stay in position, but the weight of her regret is pulling them down. The same regret and uncertainty wars in her eyes.
“If that’s true, then why don’t I remember having sex with you? Unless I somehow banged my head, giving myself amnesia, there’s no way I would forget something like that.”
The regret and uncertainty vanish from her eyes, replaced with a steely resolve. “You were drunk, I guess.”
“I was drunk,” I echo, the words sounding empty. “If a man has sex with a woman who’s too inebriated to remember it the next day, it means she was too drunk to consent. And that makes it rape.”
Katelyn’s eyes widen. “Are you saying I raped you?”
“No, I’m saying it never happened. If I was too drunk to remember having sex, it means I was too drunk to get it up. Which means nothing happened. I don’t know why you were naked in my bed. Or even why I was naked. But I do know we never had sex.” I fold my arms across my chest.
Mascara-darkened lashes lower over narrowed eyes and her body goes rigid-straight. “Are you calling me a liar now?”
“Which is it, Katelyn? Did you take advantage of me while I was drunk? Or are you lying to everyone about what really happened Thursday night?”
She huffs, her body remaining stiff.
“Look, I don’t care what your reasons are for lying. I just care that you’re hurting someone who means a lot to me. I agreed to be your date because you said you would convince your father to change his mind about the festival sponsorship.” Which I’m beginning to believe was a lie. She wasn’t going to do that. And even if she did try, she won’t be able to convince him. “I’ve made it clear nothing is going to happen between you and me.” I take a step back. “Keep away from Jess. And you’re going to tell everyone the truth. You and I. Never. Had. Sex.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault people assumed we did.” She lifts her shoulders in a weak shrug. “I didn’t actually start the rumor.”
“But you also didn’t stop it. You were the one who started the rumor we’re dating, weren’t you?”
Another shrug, but she has the decency to look somewhat contrite.
Shit. I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a relationship I need to figure out how to fix.
I turn on my heel and stalk toward the tent.
50
Angelique
September 1943
France
* * *
A stifling silence surrounds us as the four men and I creep towards our target: a tunnel, through which a railway track connecting Germany with the Atlantic Ocean passes through. Explosives weigh down the knapsacks on our backs.
Two of the men split off from the group. Their job is to dispose of the guards should the Germans return to the area sooner than scheduled. Or if it takes me longer than planned to execute my task.
Laurent, Philip, and I arrive at the grassy slope that hides the tunnel from above, and we listen for signs of danger. The next train isn’t due to arrive for several more hours, but that’s not what has me the most concerned.
I glance to where the German soldier, with his eyes on the ventilation shaft, should be standing. Standing as if nothing has changed since Laurent and his sabotage team came up with the plan for attacking the tunnel.
The German is stationed twenty yards away, barely visible in the dark. I hope Laurent and Philip are right about the German’s inability to see what we’re up to once I am swinging from the parachute harness—a deadly spider dangling from her web. I doubt I’ll survive the fall if the ropes are cut.
I remove my knapsack and put it on the ground by my feet. Then I step into the harness, fasten the straps, and check the secureness of the rope. I’d rather not plummet to my death if I can avoid it.
