Games We Play (Thistle Cove 2)

16

Kenley

I leave Finn’s before either of our parents get home from the rally and walk up the stairs to my room. “Walk” isn’t the right word. Floated may be better. Finn didn’t quite finish all fifty of those math problems, but he gave it a shot.

A quick glance in the mirror confirms my puffy, abused-looking lips, while my cheeks are flushed, just like every other inch of my body. All it takes is a good kiss to light my skin on fire, and Finn is a very good kisser.

I close the curtains and undress, sliding into bed. I hear the notification alert vibrate the iPod in the bedside table drawer. I’d avoided it as long as possible. I open the drawer and pull it out.

Again, there are dozens of messages from sugar daddies trying for a meet up. I delete them all, swiping them all in the trash. My heart pounds when I get to a new one from BD. He must have liked my last message. I know I need to stop this, but I can’t. He may be the only one with answers.

BD: It was a nice surprise to hear back from you—wasn’t sure if you’d reply. Punctuality is important to me. I hate hearing that you think paradise is lost. Maybe you just haven’t had the right guide. I have a feeling that you may find what you’re looking for in my world. I take care of my girls, in every way. Those bills, the loans, I can make all of that disappear, leaving you time to enjoy yourself and for us to enjoy one another. You’ve just got to open yourself up to opportunity, princess.

I read over the message several times, the same icky feeling washing over me each time. I can’t help but think that if I was really struggling this guy would be a lifeline—a life saver.

I reply back:

Eden: Sorry for keeping you waiting. Things are chaotic in my life right now. The idea of being able to enjoy myself, someone else, has been so far out of reach that I can’t imagine it. But talking to you makes me realize there’s hope out there. Maybe a little bit of paradise. Your girls are really lucky.

I take a deep breath and press submit, the little heart appearing to show me it went through. I turn it off, shoving the device back in the drawer. My heart beats, knowing I’m doing something potentially dangerous—something risky and wrong.

I turn off the light and pull up the covers, realizing that this is where Rose and I may have been the same; looking for trouble and not being able to walk away.

One of the perks of being the yearbook editor is the ability to leave school during our work period under the guise of “selling ads.” To be honest, we do sell ads, but since I’m the one in charge I can take off whenever I want. That’s what Ozzy and I do, both dressed in our best '90s grunge for the theme day, and head to the Thistle Cove Diner.

I’m halfway through a bacon and egg sandwich when the bells over the door jingle. I kick Ozzy under the table.

“Jesus,” he says, frowning and rubbing his shin. “What was that about?”

“Sorry,” I nod toward the front to the diner. Chief McMichael just walked in. He eases onto one of the red stools at the counter. The waitress walks over and automatically hands him a cup of coffee.

I wipe my mouth. “I’m going over.”

“To do what?”

“Ask him about Jacqueline.”

“KK…”

“Oz, I have questions and he may have answers. I’m not going to waste an opportunity.”

I slide out of my seat and walk over, taking a quick look back at Ozzy. He tugs nervously at his cap, eyes urging me to abort, but I keep going

, and hop onto the stool next to him.

He glances over, and his eyebrow raises. “Kenley Keene. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Oh, I’m out on official yearbook business.” I smile. “Would you or the police station like to buy an ad? Red Ribbon Day? DUI classes? Scared straight.”

He shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee. “I’ll ask the boss.”

I frown. “Aren’t you the boss?”

“Why do I get the feeling you want something other than an ad?”

I lean my elbow on the counter. “Fine. I want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.” He dumps another packet of sweetener in his cup.