So many years ago, I'd lobbied for a small library in Dennville and helped it become a reality. How surreal that the school I'd lobbied for would be built on the same lot. And yet so perfectly fitting.
I stood next to my car for a minute, picturing the building that was planned. I had a drawing of it back at the trailer and I looked at it when I needed to remind myself why this was going to be worth the emotional hardship I might have to endure. I took a deep, fortifying breath. This wasn't about me. This was about the kids who might have more choices because of this school. This was about giving someone else the same opportunities I'd been given when I won the Tyton Coal Scholarship. This was about remembering that, although it was hard for me to be here now, and it had been hard for me to grow up here, because of that scholarship, I had choices. I could do anything I wanted with my life—I could go anywhere I wanted to go. That scholarship had set me free—from poverty, from hopelessness, from the limited opportunities of the life I'd been born into.
I walked into the library, a box in hand and stood there for a minute, gathering myself, breathing in the smell of dust and old paperback books. I had a vision of myself sitting at the desk right there at the back of the room, dressed in old, worn clothes, homework spread out . . . I walked to the back wall and ran my hand along the books, almost expecting to see a small piece of white paper sticking out of one. Memories bombarded me and I shut my eyes, holding back the tears that threatened.
"This place still smells the same," I heard behind me in a low voice.
I whirled around and sucked in a breath. Kyland. My heart practically jumped out of my chest.
Our gazes held for several long beats.
"H-Hello," I finally said.
Hello! That's what you come up with after all this time? Hello? Pitiful.
Kyland just lifted his chin, something dark and unreadable in his expression as he leaned indifferently against the doorframe. And God, why? How did someone evil and cruel get to be so beautiful? It didn't seem like karma should work that way. Had he always been this gorgeous? He had been a boy the last time I'd seen him and it was easy to see that he was a man now, all chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw. His hair was shorter, almost a buzz cut, and his frame seemed even bigger, taller and more muscular. His jaw ticked. I stood up straighter. I was a woman now, and I could handle this. I dropped the box onto the floor without looking down and crossed my arms under my breasts.
"You're back," he finally said.
"It appears so."
"Why?" he rasped out as if he was in pain. "What the fuck are you thinking, Tenleigh?"
Hurt slammed into me and I flinched slightly before I quickly got control of myself. Kyland stared back unapologetically.
"What business is it of yours?" I asked, turning and pulling a stack of books from the shelf and dropping them into the box sitting on the floor at my feet.
Just as quick as that, he was behind me and his hand was on my arm. I looked down at it, anger rising in me just as quickly as the hurt had. I turned slightly and shook him off me violently, hissing out, "Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me."
For the briefest second, shock and what looked like hurt flashed in his eyes, but then he squinted them again. Something filled with power sizzled in the air between us, making my blood pump furiously through my veins as my skin prickled. Kyland flinched and took a step backward as if he felt it, too, and it pained him in some way.
"I saw you the other day," I said. "With Shelly and your son." I wanted to kick myself for the way my voice hitched on the final word. "Congratulations."
Kyland froze and something faltered in his expression, but he didn't say anything.
I waited, but when he remained silent, I sighed. I turned to him fully. "Is there something you want, Kyland? Why are you here?"
"I want you to turn around and drive back out of town."
I tilted my chin up, determined not to cry. Asshole. What had I ever done to him except give him my whole heart? I'd also given him my body—let's not forget that small fact. And he was treating me this way? "What? This town isn't big enough for the both of us? Why don't you leave?"
He leaned in toward me and I had a brief flash of him leaning in to kiss me, right here, right where we were now standing. I drew in a quick breath. "Because I can't," he gritted out.
I leaned back against the bookshelf behind me, trying to create space between us. "Right." Your son. Your family. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Which brings us back to the reason why what I do with my life has zero to do with you. Go to hell, Kyland," I hissed.
His eyes flared and he leaned in closer. I smelled clean breath and salty, masculine skin and I sucked in a big breath of his air as if the oxygen I'd been breathing for the last four years had only barely sustained me—lacking the one element that filled me with actual life. He smelled delicious and achingly familiar.
He stared down at me for several long beats before he rasped, "I do go to hell. Every day. For you." And then he whirled around and stalked out of the library, leaving me trembling and confused, angry and hurt. But I didn't cry. I refused to cry another tear over Kyland Barrett.
**********
"Hey, Al," I said, entering the smoky bar a few days later. "You know there's a smoking ban in bars in Kentucky, right?" I gave him a small smirk.
"Yeah, I know, smartass," Al said. "But this is my bar. They can come cite me if they want."
I stood next to my car for a minute, picturing the building that was planned. I had a drawing of it back at the trailer and I looked at it when I needed to remind myself why this was going to be worth the emotional hardship I might have to endure. I took a deep, fortifying breath. This wasn't about me. This was about the kids who might have more choices because of this school. This was about giving someone else the same opportunities I'd been given when I won the Tyton Coal Scholarship. This was about remembering that, although it was hard for me to be here now, and it had been hard for me to grow up here, because of that scholarship, I had choices. I could do anything I wanted with my life—I could go anywhere I wanted to go. That scholarship had set me free—from poverty, from hopelessness, from the limited opportunities of the life I'd been born into.
I walked into the library, a box in hand and stood there for a minute, gathering myself, breathing in the smell of dust and old paperback books. I had a vision of myself sitting at the desk right there at the back of the room, dressed in old, worn clothes, homework spread out . . . I walked to the back wall and ran my hand along the books, almost expecting to see a small piece of white paper sticking out of one. Memories bombarded me and I shut my eyes, holding back the tears that threatened.
"This place still smells the same," I heard behind me in a low voice.
I whirled around and sucked in a breath. Kyland. My heart practically jumped out of my chest.
Our gazes held for several long beats.
"H-Hello," I finally said.
Hello! That's what you come up with after all this time? Hello? Pitiful.
Kyland just lifted his chin, something dark and unreadable in his expression as he leaned indifferently against the doorframe. And God, why? How did someone evil and cruel get to be so beautiful? It didn't seem like karma should work that way. Had he always been this gorgeous? He had been a boy the last time I'd seen him and it was easy to see that he was a man now, all chiseled cheekbones and strong jaw. His hair was shorter, almost a buzz cut, and his frame seemed even bigger, taller and more muscular. His jaw ticked. I stood up straighter. I was a woman now, and I could handle this. I dropped the box onto the floor without looking down and crossed my arms under my breasts.
"You're back," he finally said.
"It appears so."
"Why?" he rasped out as if he was in pain. "What the fuck are you thinking, Tenleigh?"
Hurt slammed into me and I flinched slightly before I quickly got control of myself. Kyland stared back unapologetically.
"What business is it of yours?" I asked, turning and pulling a stack of books from the shelf and dropping them into the box sitting on the floor at my feet.
Just as quick as that, he was behind me and his hand was on my arm. I looked down at it, anger rising in me just as quickly as the hurt had. I turned slightly and shook him off me violently, hissing out, "Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me."
For the briefest second, shock and what looked like hurt flashed in his eyes, but then he squinted them again. Something filled with power sizzled in the air between us, making my blood pump furiously through my veins as my skin prickled. Kyland flinched and took a step backward as if he felt it, too, and it pained him in some way.
"I saw you the other day," I said. "With Shelly and your son." I wanted to kick myself for the way my voice hitched on the final word. "Congratulations."
Kyland froze and something faltered in his expression, but he didn't say anything.
I waited, but when he remained silent, I sighed. I turned to him fully. "Is there something you want, Kyland? Why are you here?"
"I want you to turn around and drive back out of town."
I tilted my chin up, determined not to cry. Asshole. What had I ever done to him except give him my whole heart? I'd also given him my body—let's not forget that small fact. And he was treating me this way? "What? This town isn't big enough for the both of us? Why don't you leave?"
He leaned in toward me and I had a brief flash of him leaning in to kiss me, right here, right where we were now standing. I drew in a quick breath. "Because I can't," he gritted out.
I leaned back against the bookshelf behind me, trying to create space between us. "Right." Your son. Your family. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Which brings us back to the reason why what I do with my life has zero to do with you. Go to hell, Kyland," I hissed.
His eyes flared and he leaned in closer. I smelled clean breath and salty, masculine skin and I sucked in a big breath of his air as if the oxygen I'd been breathing for the last four years had only barely sustained me—lacking the one element that filled me with actual life. He smelled delicious and achingly familiar.
He stared down at me for several long beats before he rasped, "I do go to hell. Every day. For you." And then he whirled around and stalked out of the library, leaving me trembling and confused, angry and hurt. But I didn't cry. I refused to cry another tear over Kyland Barrett.
**********
"Hey, Al," I said, entering the smoky bar a few days later. "You know there's a smoking ban in bars in Kentucky, right?" I gave him a small smirk.
"Yeah, I know, smartass," Al said. "But this is my bar. They can come cite me if they want."
