He’d protected her by wearing condoms. Of course, this wasn’t the right time or place, and she would never share that with them anyway. She wanted to tell them, though, that it was more than sex, even more than the way it felt when he’d filled her and held her as if he would never let her go. It was his confession that she made him feel good about himself for the first time. Made him feel valuable. That was the greatest gift she’d given him, and, considering that he regarded her virginity as precious, that was saying something.
But she swallowed it, as she’d done all her life, and walked away to find Pax. To ask him about Raleigh, request that he pass on her regards in a safe, third-party way, because she needed to do at least that.
Then she saw him. Not Pax but Raleigh. All the breath left her again, and a tremble shimmered through her body. He knelt some distance away in front of a small, thin tombstone, his face somber. His fingers grazed the top curve of the stone. Behind her, she heard the director invite everyone back to the funeral home for libations. She knew Raleigh wouldn’t be there, that this might be her only chance to talk to him…about what?
She didn’t know, but her body was already heading his way. Shaky legs taking one step, then another. As she had when she walked up to the speaker earlier, she followed the impulse. Knowing it was the right thing to do.
Tell him you’re not angry with him. That you’re not so wrecked that you can’t even talk to him.
Yes, she needed to exonerate him in person after that last time they’d talked. He had no doubt taken her rejection of his call as anger. She picked up her pace, knowing her parents would spot her any minute and intervene for “her own friggin’ good.” Well, they wouldn’t use the word “friggin’ ” but still.
Raleigh looked up, and his eyes softened in a way she knew, and felt, right down to her bones. He didn’t smile, but he stood, his body tensing as he took in her approach. Friendly or hostile? He was no doubt trying to figure it out. She tried to smile, to let him know that she wasn’t here to yell at him, but her face felt frozen. Paralyzed. Hell, was she going to freeze up again?
She tried to utter a greeting, but her dry throat prevented the words from emerging. She waved instead.
Raleigh stepped out from behind the stone, coming toward her. His eyes hungrily roamed over her, skipping from her face down her body, then quickly back again. Not lustily but as if sating a deep thirst. And there, beneath the question in his eyes, lay a hint of a smile. Suddenly she was transported back to that first time she’d gone into the garage just to see him. To ask him more about the races. He’d looked both pleased and surprised.
“Mia,” he said, her name loaded with more than she could interpret.
For a moment, she forgot about the scars that would be visible in the bright sunlight. She forgot to breathe. “Raleigh,” she said. She thought she was smiling, but it might look more like a grimace. Gawd, get hold of yourself. You’re just here to let him know you don’t hate him. “I—”
“Mia! We have to go!” Her mother’s voice pounded harshly from behind her.
Mia turned, spotting her mother duck-walking over in spiked heels that kept sinking into the earth, hands fisted at her sides. She turned back to Raleigh. “I just wanted to say…I don’t—”
“Mia,” her mother ground out.
“Blame you,” Mia managed, and quickly walked toward her mother, not wanting her anywhere near Raleigh. He would probably think she was still that timid seventeen-year-old who was afraid her parents would find out that she was sneaking out at night. But she wanted to protect him from all the angry, imprudent things that would gush from her mother’s mouth.
“What are you doing?” she hissed as Mia hooked her arm through hers and spun her back toward the casket.
“It’s called closure, Mother. The last time we spoke, he’d called to see how I was doing, and I hung up on him.”
“Well, he deserved it,” she shot back, flicking a glance backward.
Mia fought not to do the same. She didn’t want to see what expression he might have. Disgust. Sympathy. Regret. Or, even worse, just dismissal. “No, he didn’t.”
“She was talking to