The Anniversary Party by Sommer Marsden Read Free Book Online Page A

of laughter escaped Kylie and she quickly covered her mouth. She tried to camouflage it with a cough but her sister knew her too well.
    "Well, when you're all ... presentable again, come on in the house. Mom's having a conniption because she thinks you've run off into the night. Distraught. Shaken. I won't tell her the truth. You can thank me later.” Fawn giggled.
    Kylie started to follow but Wade grabbed her by the arm. “Wait!"
    "We really should get back.” She sighed. She had an obligation to her family. Especially if they were worried about her.
    "Just one second,” he said and turned her so they were facing each other. He smoothed the hair back along her brow and then cradled her face in his hand. He stroked along her jaw with his thumbs as he lowered his head for an almost chaste kiss. “Thank you."
    "Shouldn't I be thanking you?” Kylie laughed.
    "No. Really. Thank you for letting me be close to you. It's all I could think about from the moment I crossed the state line. You've never left my system, Miss Kylie. You're my drug of choice. There are some things I need—"
    A sudden and bright anger flared in Kylie and she fought the urge to slap him. “Well, if that's the truth, Wade Sinclair, you did a hell of a job of detoxing yourself. I'd say eight years is a pretty damn long time to stay away from your drug of choice. I think I'd say that you were cured long ago."
    Kylie walked back to the house without him. Let him mope. She'd moped for a very long time when he had walked away from her. Tonight had been about her accepting what she wanted from him. Taking what she needed. She didn't need to know about his feelings. His feelings didn't matter.
    * * * *
    Wade watched her go with a sigh of frustration. He should have told her the truth the moment he'd gotten her alone. But the fear had won as it always did. It was so much easier to lose himself in her. Try to escape and forget the fact that he owed her an explanation. He knew this in the part of his heart that honored what he and Kylie had once had. What he wished with an aching heart that they could have now. He also knew that truth was stranger than fiction and he didn't think he could take the look of disappointment on her face. The look he was positive would be there if he were to come clean.
    He had spent so much time looking at the world from behind a camera to avoid looking at his own life and what he had lost. It had become so much easier to express himself with pictures. To show the world what was going on inside of him with a digital photo or a matted print.
    He wished he could take a picture for Kylie. A picture that would show her just how much she meant to him. Just how much of his heart and soul she took up. He had to tell her the truth soon. No matter what. Even if the fear felt almost overwhelming when he even thought about it.
    "But hearing the ridiculous truth would probably be a damn sight better than what she thinks now,” he muttered. There was no doubt that Kylie thought he had simply not wanted her. That all of the plans he had made with her, lying in bed with their naked limbs tangled together, had all been a farce. Something to keep her on a leash until he was ready to split. He didn't want her thinking that. Not ever. Those years with Kylie had been the best years of his life.
    And he couldn't forget them. They haunted him whether awake or asleep. They served as an unattainable measuring stick for everything in his life. Women, jobs, happiness. He hadn't truly been happy since the moment he got on that bus and pulled away from Parkville. From Kylie.
    Wade raised all the blinds and extinguished the lantern. He smoothed the chaise cushions and checked his clothes. No use in embarrassing both of them by returning to the house all disheveled and looking guilty.
    With his head down and his feet feeling like cement blocks, he headed back toward the house. His body still hummed from being with Kylie and he could still taste her on his lips.