Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

I thought of the man, the boy really, who was just like Vaughn. I thought of how easily I’d bought his lies, his apparent sincerity, and I knew I couldn’t trust myself with someone like him again.

Vaughn needed to know that this moment wasn’t part of the dance we’d been performing around each other for months. This was the end of the dance.

I stared at him, and suddenly I saw the boy from my past, smiling at me in that boyish way of his that had captured my young heart. “One summer a long time ago, I met a boy.” The words spilled out of my lips before I could stop them. Vaughn seemed to draw closer to hear me, but I was barely cognizant of his movements. I was thrown back into the past.

“Do you love me, Hartwell?”

I laughed. “I told you yesterday that I do. Do you need to hear it every day?”

He stared sadly at me. “Yes. Because up until now no one has ever said it to me before.”

Tenderness rushed over me. I clasped his face in my hands and whispered, “I love you. I love you so much. And I’ll tell you every da

y from now on. I promise.”

“I love you, too.”

“Someone just like you,” I whispered to Vaughn. The hurt was an old hurt, a wound that had healed over time, but I still remembered what it had felt like to be so blindsided by someone I’d loved. “He was handsome and charming and rich, and he told me that he wanted me. I thought it was real and I fell in love with him.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” I stared up at him, the flicker of agony beginning to tighten in my chest.

His expression was embarrassed, annoyed. “This was always just a summer thing.”

“Not to me! You . . . you told me you loved me.”

“I thought . . .” He shook his head, exasperated. “I was confused. Caught up in it. But it was a mistake. We were a mistake.”

That agony was no longer a flicker but a burning, breath-stealing pain. “You’re lying. Why are you saying these things?” I’d brushed impatiently at my tears, desperate to have him hold me and laugh and tell me he was joking.

But he didn’t laugh. He looked away, seeming anxious to get away from me. “We’re not from the same world, Hartwell. Surely you see that. I’m going back to New York and you don’t fit into my world there.”

“I don’t understand.”

“For God’s sake, you’re a townie,” he snapped. “My family would never approve of you.”

Rage mingled with my heartbreak as I tried to make sense of the boy who’d spent all summer saying he loved me with this . . . this pompous, arrogant asshole breaking me into pieces. “The same family who has never told you they love you?”

He had the audacity to wince. “We’re . . . we’re just too young to fall in love. You’re too young.” He tried to reach for me but I stumbled back.

Sighing, he dropped his hand and walked away.

Just . . . walked away.

Like it was that easy.

I blinked out of the memory, of the one that came after, the one where I sobbed in my dad’s arms until tears of helplessness burned in his own.

No.

I would never be that foolish again.

I pinned Vaughn with my determined gaze. “He said he was confused, that our relationship was a mistake, that I didn’t fit into his world. In other words I wasn’t good enough. Sound familiar?”

Vaughn blanched, as he clearly remembered the words he’d said to me after our first night together. “Bailey, when I said that before . . . I just said it because I knew it would keep you at a distance. I lied. I could give a shit that you’re not some elite New York princess. In fact the reason I love you is because you’re not like all those other women.”

“Really?” I was unconvinced. “Then why? Why did you need to keep your distance? Why were you adamant about not being in a relationship with me? And why aren’t you now?”

“Because I love you!” he yelled, frustration darkening his eyes.