“What’s his deal anyway?” Corbin asked. “Your dad has no problem with you hanging around an ex-con?”
I wanted to say he wasn’t an ex-con. And that no, my dad was not okay with it. He still hated Manning and I wasn’t allowed to be alone with him, but none of that meant anything to me. In my eyes, he was just Manning, my Manning.
“He’s a good guy,” I said.
“Then why is Tiffany with him?”
It was a joke, but I didn’t laugh. Why was Tiffany still with him? I’d asked myself over and over. At times, I could read my sister easily, but on this, I wasn’t sure. It had started as a way to piss off Dad, and Manning’s presence still upset him, but not as much. I almost thought Dad was beginning to accept him in our lives. So what would happen if Dad no longer cared that they were dating?
I worried my sister actually thought she loved Manning. Sometimes I caught her watching him the same way I did . . . with stars in her eyes.
Corbin kissed me before I could stop him. “Call me, okay? This doesn’t change anything between us.”
I gave him a close-lipped smile. If Corbin wanted to stay friends, I definitely wanted that, too. “Thanks for a great night,” I said.
I turned away, back to Manning, who watched me through the glass. I crossed the lobby toward him, suddenly aware of how low cut my dress was, of the silky way the fabric whispered around my smooth legs. Aware of Manning’s eyes on me, and of the fact that in a moment, we’d be getting into a car alone for the first time since that night almost two years ago.
15
Lake
Manning didn’t look at me as I exited the hotel lobby and approached the BMW. Leaning against the passenger’s side door, he flicked his cigarette away, but continued staring inside—at Corbin. “Get in the car,” he said.
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I was eager for time with him, something I hadn’t had much of since the night at the lake. Manning didn’t follow right away. It made sense if he had reservations about being alone in a car with me, but he’d picked me up anyway.
When he finally slid behind the wheel, I asked, “Can I come over? I don’t want to go home.”
He started the car and pulled away from the curb. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I just didn’t want to stay.”
“Did he pressure you?” He looked over with a fire I hadn’t gotten from him in the months since I’d nearly fallen at his feet in the foyer. “Did he, Lake?”
“No.”
“Because he’s got it bad for you.”
I gaped at him. “You knew?”
“Of course I know. I’ve got eyeballs.”
The irritation in his voice irritated me. What right did he have to get upset about someone having a crush on me? I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. “He got us a room.”
“And?” he pushed when I didn’t continue.
I stared out the windshield. Everything I’d been holding since the last time we were truly alone flooded over me. He’d given me close to nothing since he’d gotten out, while I hadn’t thought about much other than him. I loved him, and it hurt. Because of that, I let him fill in the blanks. It would be just a taste of what’d been running through my head these last couple years.
“Lake, if he hurt you—”
“He didn’t.”
“If he tried to get you to do anything you didn’t want—”
“Maybe I wanted it.”
He white-knuckled the steering wheel, breathing audibly. Manning’s frustration was better than nothing, but at the same time, our time together was limited. I didn’t want to sit in silence, fire-breathing or otherwise.
“Nothing happened,” I said. I was fairly certain in adult terms, nothing had happened. If I told Manning I’d held Corbin’s penis the way I’d shake his hand, he probably would’ve laughed. “Corbin’s a gentleman.”
“Then why are you here?”
I shifted in my seat, the “V” of my dress gaping. I tucked the fabric back into place. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
He sighed. “You didn’t. I was up.”
“Why?” I smiled a little. “Were you worried about me?”
After a few seconds, he blew out a breath. “So much can go wrong.”
He had been worried. Manning always seemed to be running the worst-case scenario in his mind. Who could blame him? He’d lived it once already with his sister. Then again when he’d gotten picked up for a crime he hadn’t committed. “I’m sorry if you worried,” I said. “It’s hard to tell if you even care.”
He stayed focused on the road.
“You can tell me if you do, Manning.”
“What happened that night in the truck was wrong. I’m not looking for a repeat.”
“Neither am I,” I said quickly, and it was the truth. I didn’t need to make the same mistakes, to deepen my already profound guilt. “I learned my lesson, but . . . what happens next month?”