On His Face - Tabatha Kiss Page 0,91

throw her over my shoulder, and she’d laugh as I carried her to her bedroom and there we’d stay until sunrise.

I reach into my jacket pocket, letting my thumb caress the velvet box deep inside. An orange topaz necklace to celebrate our first of her birthdays together seemed like a good idea at the time. Like an idiot, I thought this would be a new tradition for us. Next year, I’d get her earrings. The next, a bracelet. Someday, a ring. Eventually, she’d shine in all her orange golden glory like she deserves.

The front door opens suddenly.

Jenna steps outside, discreetly closing the door behind her. “You look like shit,” she says.

“Well, I feel like a million bucks, so...” I shrug at the unfunny joke.

She arches a brow and crosses her arms, standing like a knight guarding a fortress. As she should. She’s protecting the most precious thing in the world to me.

“You should move it along, big guy,” she says. “No boys allowed tonight.”

I glance at the house. “Is she okay?” I ask.

“No, she’s not okay,” Jenna spits. “No one’s okay. Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Good. I hope you die.”

I bow my head. That’s fair.

“But she will be okay. Eventually,” she says, offering some comfort. “So, get the fuck off my lawn and let me do my job.”

“I will, just...” I take the velvet box out of my pocket. “Would you give this to her for me? Please?”

Jenna eyes the box with suspicion. “I doubt she wants anything from you, Drew.”

“Tell her it’s from you, then. It’s hers. I want her to have it.”

After a moment, Jenna extends her arm. I step forward and drop the box in her palm.

She opens the box to peek inside and gives it a sincere nod of approval before snapping it closed. “I’ll think about it,” she says.

“Thank you.”

“Now, shoo,” she says, brushing me away. “Before she finds out you’re here.”

I step back, giving the house one last glance before I turn away. “See you around, Jenna,” I say.

She smiles. “You, too, Drew.”

Chapter 49

Heidi

I sob. I sob hard.

I really thought my days of crying in the shower were long behind me. You can take the girl out of high school, as they say. Fortunately, this extended time beneath the showerhead has given me a chance to think long and hard about what my new vision board will be.

Five Goals for a Perfect Freshman Year, Part 2.

1. No dating. Spend absolutely no time with men. Check locally for a nice convent to join.

2. Find a recipe for homemade chocolate fudge. Eat a lot of it. Daily.

3. Read more books. The horrible, violent kind. Lots of blood. No romance.

4. Join a gym. (Jenna will insist on this once the fudge addiction kicks in.)

5. Floss more?

And there you have it. A perfect freshman year with more chocolate, fewer boys, and I might even get to wear one of those cute habit thingies by the end.

I hop out of the shower, wrap my hair in a towel, and throw on my robe.

“Good morning! Well, afternoon, actually...” Jenna sits at the kitchen table as I stride in. She’s bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as always with her feet propped up on the table’s edge. “There’s coffee,” she says as she sips from her own mug.

“Thanks,” I say, absolutely needing it after last night.

“And doughnuts,” she adds.

I glance at the open white box on the countertop. Not homemade chocolate fudge, but it’ll do for now.

I fix myself a mug and grab a glazed before plopping down in the empty chair across from her.

“It’s about time you got up,” Jenna says. “I was about to come kick the door in and yank you out of there myself.”

I chuckle at the imagery. “Well, I would still be there, but I then I remembered I have that birthday lunch with my parents... and Seth.”

She frowns. “Surely he’s not still coming to that, right?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” I munch on my doughnut. “I’m just going to go, throw on a smile, and fake my way through it until it’s over.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Then, I’ll come right back here and... I don’t know. Maybe cry some more.” I pout. “Hey, do you have to be super religious to be a nun?” I ask.

“My god,” Jenna says, gawking at me beneath her strawberry blonde bangs. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“I should buy a bible.”

“May I make a better suggestion?”

“If it involves getting dressed up and going to a party of some sort, no,” I say. “Anything other than that will