That first week, I also couldn’t help running my fingers over the damn hickey on my stomach that she gave me before leaving my room. I imagined her lips there and wished it would stay on my skin forever.
And now, as I thought about Rachel’s smile, her struggles and determination, the blood rushed through my ears with a thunderous roar. Fuck. It was time, goddamn it. To be brave and present in my own body.
I needed to go after what I wanted and not let some other guy have her. Maybe my goals were shit compared to goals someone like Andrew had. Maybe she wouldn’t think I’d measure up. Hell, even I wasn’t sure if I measured up, but fuck, I needed to at least try.
If I professed my feelings for Rachel and the moment fell flat, then at least I would have given it my all.
So while I worked on my strategy, I kept texting her, in an effort to send her daily reminders that she was still in my thoughts, even though I was a whole world away.
Me: Got to sit in with a new band today.
Rachel: On bass?
Me: Yeah.
Rachel: Very cool.
Me: So . . . those upstanding college boys keeping you on your toes?
Rachel: Ha ha. Bet there are enough Dutch woman to keep you busy over there.
Me: The only woman I’ve been busy with recently has been you.
Holy shit, I had actually confessed something over text. My heart was bouncing inside my chest. My fingers shook on the keyboard.
It seemed to take her forever to respond. Had I professed too much? Suddenly I was doubting myself. Again.
Rachel: Yeah? Been working too many hours at the studio? Not enough play time?
Me: IDK, something like that.
As soon as I sent that dismissive response I wanted to take it back.
So I followed it up with one more text.
The night before I left was intense, Rachel. And despite what you may think, I’m not jumping from bed to bed. Anyway, gotta run. Talk more, soon.
Her response back had been a vague Okay and came way late, like maybe she’d had no clue what to say. The following day we resumed texting normal, friendly stuff about our days.
***
Before long, I was sitting in my parent’s office at the casino. I’d been home a couple of days and had sworn Dakota to secrecy. But I knew that wouldn’t last long. She’d already informed Shane, which I’d been cool about. He was my best friend, after all.
And despite giving my sister and best friend my blessing, I still wasn’t ready to hear the nitty-gritty. Just like I was sure Dakota wouldn’t want to hear how I couldn’t get Rachel’s beautiful body, soft voice, and warm lips out of my head.
I’d shocked the shit out of my sister by returning and asking if I could stay at her place for a while longer, until I got my life in order. I didn’t tell her about Rachel, not yet. I wanted to reserve that information for Rachel’s ears alone.
If she wanted me, then we could tell everybody, together.
I was afraid she was either already in deep with Andrew or still wanted to remain unattached, but given the personal nature of our recent texts, I was hoping my intuition had been right. That maybe she was missing me as much as I was missing her and would be willing to take it to the next level. To give us a fair chance.
But I needed to be looking her in the eye when I said everything I wanted to say.
I needed to see deep inside her heart—inside her soul. Even if fear, uncertainty, or guilt was hiding beneath those emerald irises.
If I had to—no matter how hard it would be—I’d walk away.
As I made my way into my father’s office that morning, Stuart spotted me near the lobby. Eyebrows raised, he asked, “You okay, son?”
“Yep. Just back in town. . . . to make my own peace,” I said, throwing his famous quote back at him. “To live with the choices I’ve made.”
A gigantic smile draped his cheeks right before he gave me two good clunks on my back. “Make Chief Red Hawk proud. And your father.”
Something that felt a lot like pride bubbled inside my chest as I stepped inside my father’s office. Only to have it be deflated instantly.
“Have a seat, son.” My father’s voice was biting, stern. Disappointment was mapped across his face. My mother stood to the side of his desk, worry etching her brow.
He waited until I was seated before he said, “What happened in Amsterdam this time?”
“Honey . . .” my mother began, but my father held up his hand.
“No,” he said. “I’m not going to go easy on him.”
My stomach was all twisted up in knots. I had this desperate need for my parents to see me navigate my life without being such a fuckup. To show them that I had a real plan, one that I was excited about. But it would take some convincing.
“Mom and Dad,” I said. I felt like I was giving the speech of my life. “I know I’ve really screwed up the past few years. Please know that you’re really great parents.”
My mother made the motion to move closer to me, but my father cut his eyes at her and she stayed put. He was fuming mad, and she knew how to pick her battles. She was sure to give him an earful later.
“It wasn’t so much that I chose to mess up,” I said. “It was more that I just didn’t care about anything.”
My father’s head sloped into his hands. I knew that would disappoint him most of all. The fact that I’d been handed opportunities and had squandered them. That’s not who he was or how he’d raised me. But sometimes you couldn’t be told something—you needed to be shown. By falling down on your own damn face and experiencing gut-wrenching emotions.
“I’ve finally figured out what I’m passionate about. What makes me truly feel alive. Happy,” I said, trying to meet my father’s gaze. “But I might need your help.”
The color had drained from my father’s face. He was on the verge of disowning me and I was asking for more help. Fuck.
“Only on the front end, as a loan,” I said. “I’ll pay back every cent.”
My father straightened up. That got his attention. I’d never had an actual proposal before.
“Go on,” he said, giving my mother a cursory glance. She seemed stunned into silence.
“I didn’t love living in Amsterdam,” I said. “But the experience did help me realize that I was good at something. Something I’d like to do as a career.”
“If this is about going on tour . . .” my father began, but this time Mom cut him off.
“Let him finish, echtgenoot.” That was the Dutch word for husband. But when my mother used it with my dad, it was as a term of endearment that meant something like my man, and he instantly softened.
“I . . .” I took a deep breath. “I want to start my own recording studio.”
Eyebrows raised, my father’s gaze flicked quickly to mine. My mother’s eyes were glassy and her hand tightened on my father’s shoulder.
“I’ve been told I’m a great sound man and, God, I . . . I love it.” The words rushed from my mouth, as emotions burst in my chest. “Taking a band’s music and creating . . . magic.”
My parents silently stared at me.
“I know you want me to finish school . . . and I can do that at the Music Conservatory here in town,” I said, to show them I’d done my research. “In the meantime, I want to start building my studio. I’ll need to rent a space and all the equipment. Johan even offered to spread the word with his American contacts.”
My dad no longer looked on the verge of rolling his eyes. He actually seemed impressed. “Where?”
“I scouted out a space in the Commons.” It was the same artsy part of town where Pure was located. “I made an appointment to see it in person.”
My father tapped his finger against his lips, as if thinking it through.
“I can still help around here if you need me,” I said. “You know, with your taste in music.”
My father cracked a smile. “Smartass.”
“Admit it, echtgenoot. You liked having your son around,” my mother said.
My father nodded. “Those acts you booked before you left town were impressive. Stuart said the crowd has changed a bit in the evenings. That’s a good thing.”
I smiled at the compliment, the tightness in my chest loosening.
“One more thing.” I shifted in my seat, feeling like I could finally breathe again. “I’d like to organize a benefit concert here for Micah.”
“Micah?” My father’s eyebrows bunched together.
“Sam’s grandson,” I said. I’d kept in contact with Micah while I was overseas. He’d download the links to cool music I’d text him. “They’re struggling with medical bills. I can bring in good acts and we could charge a cover—which would go directly to helping the family.”
In two strides my mother was in front of me and she threw her arms around me. “I’m so proud of you.”
My father came around his desk, and I stood to shake his hand. Then he gave me a few slaps on the back, which was his version of a hug. “Your mother and I will discuss what you’ve proposed. We’ll need to see some sort of a business plan.”
“Of course,” I said, backing away toward the door. I figured he’d treat this like a business proposition and I’d be ready for him. “I appreciate it, Dad.”
As I twisted the doorknob, I heard my mother’s voice. “Kai?”
I looked back at her. A sly smile draped her lips. “Are you gonna get the girl?”
I grinned. “I’m sure gonna try.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Rachel
I’d been moping around for days, and I needed to cut that shit out already. Maybe my texts with Kai needed to end, because I’d begun to hang on his every damn word.
Each time my phone vibrated with a new message, my heart would squeeze painfully, hoping there’d be something written there to give me a better clue as to how he was feeling. What he was thinking.
The other day I’d sent him the selfie of us from the summer concert. Our hair was stuck to our foreheads, our skin was damp, and our faces plastered with huge smiles. We looked so happy and carefree. I remembered how I’d felt that night—completely alive and positively on fire for him.
He texted back that he missed me and would always remember that night.
He hadn’t come right out and asked me about Andrew or about dating anybody else. So I never offered the information that, to my relief, Andrew had changed his mind about attending this university.
Kai had begun texting me at all hours and had even called me in the middle of the night last week. I thought maybe it was a drunk dial until I realized he was telling me about his long day. It felt so intimate lying in my bed and listening to his drowsy, sexy voice.
He also let it slip during that conversation that he hadn’t been with anybody else while we were together this past summer.
That had shocked the hell out of me. He’d only been with me, just like I’d only been with him. What did that mean?
“It means you made quite an impact on him, dickhead,” Avery said.
“Little that helps, with him being on the other side of the world,” I said.
“Why don’t you just ask him exactly what he’s feeling?” Ella said.
“No way,” I said. “Who knows how he’d respond. I don’t want to be crushed. Texting can kill, you know.”
Avery laughed. “That’s driving and texting, you ass.”
Avery, Ella, and I were in the campus coffee shop having lunch between classes. And they were giving off weird vibes, like they were about to have another heart-to-heart with me.
Since returning to campus, I’d had enough one-on-ones to last a lifetime. But I also felt closer to them than ever before and was thankful to have them in my life. Dakota was coming up for a visit next month, and I couldn’t wait to have all of my best girlfriends in one place.
I figured that would be the time to finally tell Dakota what had happened over the summer between Kai and me. I’d discussed it with Kai, and he said I didn’t have to keep the secret anymore if it made me more comfortable.
My phone vibrated with a text and my stomach instantly tightened.
Kai: Hey, Turtle. How are you?
Me: Good. Got some studying to do today. How about you?
Kai: Well . . . I’ve been thinking.
Me: About?
I wondered if he could feel the tension through the phone.
Kai: Remember when you told me about your crazy dreams the last time you were in the hospital? And you asked if I’d said some stuff to you?
Me: Yeah? I thought we’d determined that I was hallucinating.
My heart was straining against my rib cage.
Where was he going with this? C’mon, type faster.
Avery looked up from her book as I rapped my knuckles on the table. “Text from Lover Boy?”
She shot a look at Ella, who grinned.
“Who else?” I said, exasperated.
Kai: I wondered if you were remembering your hospital stay three years ago.
Grrr . . . he was so frustrating—just come out with it. But I suppose I wasn’t much better.
Me: Why would I?
My mind went through a series of memories as I waited on him.
Kai: Because we were alone a lot and I did . . . whisper to you.
My breath caught in the back of my throat. I practically choked on my own saliva. Avery and Ella looked at me cautiously, and I was about to tell them about my text conversation when my phone buzzed again.
Kai: Where are you right now?
Was he seriously about to change the fucking subject? This boy was giving me whiplash.
Me: Um, in the coffee shop on campus.
“What did he say?” Ella was acting as if she were bursting at the seams.