The Good Girl by Jenna Mills

Author:Jenna Mills [Mills, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

I WATCHED HIM, couldn’t stop watching him, couldn’t stop the images from playing, the shadowy ones from my mind, couldn’t stop the two from blurring, fusing…

“How did you know I didn’t go home?” I barely recognized the sound of my own voice. “That I wasn’t with a friend?”

His smile was slow, wide—the one that could touch, and tempt. The one that could strip the breath straight from every cell of my body.

“Because I know you.” He crossed to me, didn’t stop when he should have, when everyone else would have, but took one step closer, bringing him so close I could feel without touching. “I know you don’t like anyone to know when you’re hurting.” So close I had to tilt my face to see his. “And…I drove by your house on my way home. Your car wasn’t there.”

He drove by my house.

On his way home.

To check up on me.

Him.

Coach Grimes.

He was looking down at me now, looking down at me with a glitter in his eyes I’d never seen before, at least not like this. Standing so close. “I can follow you back there, if you want.”

My throat squeezed. My chest squeezed. Everything. Everything inside of me squeezed. Squeezed so tight.

“No.” It was more breath than word, so I tried again. “No…I-I…don’t want to go.”

He smiled. Softer this time, gentle—and handed me the glass of wine. “You’ve been crying.”

I tried to look away, look away before he could see anything more—I hadn’t even glanced in the rearview mirror before coming inside. But he was right. I’d been crying. I could only imagine how I looked—smeared mascara, red nose, stringy hair…

He was faster, lifting a finger to the side of my face and stopping me.

“Emmie, don’t. Don’t pretend. Not with me.”

I felt my throat work.

“He’s not worth it.”

Against the delicate stem, my fingers tightened. “I shouldn’t be here,” I whispered, suddenly, horribly self-conscious.

But he rolled right on. “It’s a good thing I didn’t see him at the hospital after the accident,” he said, and there was a roughness to his voice, a hard edge that made my breath catch.

“Why?” I heard myself ask, but even as the words came out, it was like I was somewhere else, somewhere outside my body, watching, rather than living. Because that wouldn’t have been me. Couldn’t have been me, standing in the soft light, alone with Coach Grimes. “What would you have done?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The quickening was automatic, part thrill, part something I didn’t want to name.

“What matters is what happened today,” he said. “You need to stay away from that boy.”

That boy.

Josh.

“That’s kinda hard with him back in town,” I pointed out. “It’s like he’s everywhere.” Without thinking I turned and crossed to the windows overlooking the beautiful Grecian pool, so still in the moonlight. “Maybe even here…last night.”

“What?” A few steps and he was behind me—through our reflection, I could see the hot burn in his eyes. “Josh was here?”

The words spilled out of me, the feeling of being watched, the lily on my windshield, and with each one, the lines of his face hardened even more.

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