Real Regrets (Kensingtons Book 2) by C.W. Farnsworth

Author:C.W. Farnsworth [Farnsworth, C.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.W. Farnsworth LLC
Published: 2023-06-14T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HANNAH

“So six a.m.?” Eddie says, as we walk through the parking lot.

Oliver winces, but it’s infinitesimal. I don’t think anyone else notices. Or has registered that it’s already the middle of the night for him. “Yep,” he replies. “See you then.”

“Awesome. Night, man.” As an afterthought, Eddie calls out a goodbye to me too. April and Rachel wave before heading for the car. Since Rachel lives closer to them than to me, they’re driving her home.

My brother has tons of friends. One of the bonuses of growing up in southern California is people tend to stay here. Most of my friends from elementary, middle, and high school still live locally, and the same is true for Eddie. He’s not desperate for male company. And he’s never made an effort to hang out with any guy I’ve dated beyond polite chitchat before.

I assumed my mom and Rachel would be friendly toward Oliver. April too. But I thought my dad and Eddie would be reticent. Instead, my brother is making private plans and my dad invited Oliver to a baseball game. In the year I dated Declan, he didn’t get a single invite outside the events I brought him to.

“What’s happening at six?” I ask.

“He invited me surfing.” Oliver doesn’t look at me as he responds. He hasn’t looked at me since I suggested he watch me have sex with someone else and then shoved a secret he trusted me with back in his face.

“You surf?”

“No.”

“Eddie’s a good teacher. He taught me.”

“Great.” His tone is flat as he climbs into the passenger seat.

I click my seatbelt into place, gnawing the inside of my cheek.

Earlier, I wished Oliver would act exactly how he is right now—distant and cold.

He was too charming at dinner, patiently answering my mom’s questions. Too daring at croquet, making me enjoy it more than if I’d won. And then his phone had to keep ringing on the drive to Canyon, reminding me that he’s busy and important and had plans for this weekend that didn’t involve entertaining my family.

But now that he’s staring out the window like he’d love to be anywhere else, I’m hit with the persistent ache of regret.

I clear my throat. “My family liked you.”

“Sorry.” His voice is dry, no trace of apology.

I exhale. “I’m sorry, Oliver.”

“For what?”

“Earlier. I shouldn’t have brought up…that.”

“If exhibitionism is your thing—”

An unexpected laugh spills out. “It’s not.”

“If it is, though…” There’s a teasing note to his tone, and the rush of relief is dizzying. I didn’t realize how worried I was the harm I did was irreparable until there’s a sign it wasn’t.

I bite my bottom lip to hold in another laugh. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. You can trust me. And that probably means nothing to you, after what I said earlier. But you can.”

When I glance over, any amusement in Oliver’s expression is gone. He’s back to looking stoic.

Once he realizes my eyes are on him, he nods. “Okay.”

I swallow, nod back, and then tighten my hands around the steering wheel.

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