Love Scars - 4: Exposed Read Free

be okay.
    I was extremely glad J.D. shut up after he said that. One more word, just one, and I was going to lose it. I was hyperaware of him so close to me in the kitchen. If Lisa hadn’t come in right then, I swear I’d be doing him on the floor right now.
    He rinsed off the few dishes and put them in the dishwasher, and I put away the leftovers and wiped down the counter. We worked in silence, but my emotions were a chaotic mess.
    Frank had taken Lisa to work. Brad and Stacey were out riding the bikes. J.D. and I were alone in the house. Everything in me wanted to press against his lean muscled body, to slip my arms around his waist and lay my head against his chest. I couldn’t do it.
    What was wrong with me? Wasn’t that what I wanted? Planned for? I’d made myself ready with clean hair, showing lots of skin and put on jewelry and makeup. I was ready to bat my eyelashes and laugh at his jokes and lead him down the hall to my bed. With one sentence he’d brought it all to a screeching halt.
    It’s going to be okay.
    I wasn’t used having a guy care about me. My dad and my brother Danny loved me, but that was so long ago I’d forgotten the sound of their voices. And they were never around much even before they died.
    It’s going to be okay. J.D.’s voice was so gentle and kind. I wasn’t prepared for it, and his words slipped through my defenses like a warm sweet unexpected kiss. The feeling was strange and wonderful and terrifying.
    I had to get away. I couldn’t handle thinking about J.D. while all these feelings about Stacey churned inside me.  
    “I’ll be right back.” I laid the kitchen cloth on the counter. “I need to turn off the fountain.” I slipped outside and jogged to the flower garden. It felt good to move, to get my heart pumping from something other than J.D. Reider.
    The fountain was indeed on. The roses in the garden were gorgeous and fragrant. Half the peonies were blooming, and the unopened buds were covered by ants going after their nectar. I patted the iron fairy’s head for good luck and sat down on the bench. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the water.
    Stanford. I was truly thrilled for Stacey and truly pissed she felt she couldn’t tell me about it. And if I was honest with myself, I had to admit I was jealous. Stanford. My Stanford was an old dream, an almost-was, a fading memory of foregone opportunity.
    Stacey’s Stanford was going to be real.
    God. How could I be so dig-in-the-dirt green with envy, yet so happy for her at the same time? And J.D…. That was all wrong in the kitchen just now. I’d started to fall back into an old habit, one I thought I’d purged in fire. I wanted to use him. Throw him on the floor and ride him hard, drive every feeling out of my body until there was nothing left to feel.
    “How are you doing?” J.D.’s velvet voice rumbled beside me, and I opened my eyes.
    He was at the other end of the bench with two cold beers, and he handed me one with a sympathetic smile that made me shiver. I didn’t trust my sense of things. I couldn’t be sure his concern was real or a product of my own longing. My crazy experience with relationships had me screwed up.
    I couldn’t—didn’t want to—remember how many guys I’d slept with in my year of living dangerously. One or two of them actually might have liked me, but I was so messed up then. Beyond reach.
    Then I fled to the other end of the spectrum. Virtual celibacy. I buried myself in school and taking care of Stacey and my friendship with Lisa and a semi-satisfying relationship with my hand-held showerhead. I’d become pretty much stuck here at the Carolinda convent.  
    J.D. looked so good. His loose brown hair fell forward, framing his face. I loved his muscular cheekbones and his Goldilocks lips—not too thin, not too thick, but just right. He was wearing his Mephisto sandals again and jeans that looked expensive and new. His sky blue sleeveless tank had BlueMagick embroidered