Powerful (The Driven World) - Kathleen Kelly Page 0,38
eyebrows draw together in concern. “Athena?”
I take the picture and the paper and put them back in the cupboard.
With my back to him and my hand frozen on the closed door, I mentally shake myself and say, “It was a long time ago.”
“You looked happy.”
“How did you know it was taken in New York?”
Slowly, I turn around, and he shakes his head. “The name, the name of the company, was on the piece of paper. Their offices are in New York.”
Cocking my head to the side, my lips turn down. “They have offices all over the country.”
Kris crosses his arms. “But their head office is in New York. Athena, why are you being this way?”
“Sorry, not all the memories from New York are good ones.”
Kris walks toward me and places his hands on my hips. “Babe, you can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
Anything?
No.
This man still sees the girl he fell in love with at seventeen—the girl who was only his.
She doesn’t exist anymore.
I plaster the fake smile on my face that I’ve gotten so good at showing everyone and nod. Reaching up, I place my hand on the back of his neck and run my fingers up and down it.
“I know that, lover.” Mechanically, I kiss him then pull back slightly. “Mom and Ashlea are waiting. We should go.”
“You never talk about it.”
“About what?”
“New York. I know you did well there and then came home? I know you were attacked. What happened?”
I push on his chest and walk around him to grab my bag. “Now is not the time.”
Kris turns around. “When?”
“Never. It’s not important. Can we go? I’m already late.”
Kris nods. “Okay, babe. But one day, we are going to have to talk about it.”
Somehow, I manage to smile and nod while I head for the front door. Briskly, I walk down the path to his car, not paying attention to my surroundings. When I stand beside his Audi, a flash goes off, and I realize there’s a man with a camera standing there.
“Care to comment on your relationship with Kris Livingston?”
Kris appears beside me and gives me my forgotten tea as he opens the car door, then holds out a hand to the man in a stopping gesture. “No comment.”
“She’s pretty, Kris, and the locals tell me you two used to be an item. It’s Athena Boswell, isn’t it?”
“Get in the car,” orders Kris, then he looks back at the man. “I told you, no comment.”
Kris slams my car door and stalks around the hood of the car, staring daggers at the man who’s still taking photographs. When he gets into the car, Kris starts it, revs the engine and peels out of my driveway in a hail of gravel.
“Was that necessary?”
His jaw is clenched, and a nerve is jumping in his neck. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know everything.”
“What are you talking about?”
“New York, Athena, I’m talking about New York.”
Throwing my hands in the air, I say, “There’s nothing to know. I had a job there. That’s it!”
Kris accelerates and has me at my parents’ house in half the time it usually takes. He comes to a screaming halt and turns and looks at me.
“You’ve built this little world here, Athena, but that guy and more like him are going to put you under a microscope. Just by being with me you—”
I open the car door. “Well, that’s easily fixed,” I shout.
Getting out of the car, I’m on the top step when Kris reaches me, grabbing my hand.
“Stop,” orders Kris.
Dad opens the front door and comes out. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Dad.” I look down at Kris and wrench my hand out of his. “Absolutely nothing.”
Then I turn and walk into the house.
I can hear Dad and Kris talking outside, but I keep going, heading for Mom’s sewing room. She and Ashlea are sitting down talking. When I enter, they both look at me, smiling, but whatever they see causes them both to stand.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” asks Mom.
“Are you okay?” Ashlea moves to put an arm around me.
“Kris, he, I mean…” words fail me, and before I understand what’s happening, the tears fall.
“What has he done now?” asks Mom with venom in her voice.
Unable to speak, I shake my head. Mom squeezes my arm and stalks out of the room.
“Oh, dear,” whispers Ashlea as she watches Mom leave. “What happened?”
I shake my head. “N-Nothing. I’m fine, really.”
“This is not what fine looks like, Athena. Tell me.”
I can’t.
I can’t.
I can’t.
This is my mantra that I’m