Page 34 of Blue Moon Love

The second he got the words out, I spun on my heels and beelined it to the booth. It was sort of poetic that he was there. Ever since he joined the force and began to volunteer at the freaking kissing booth, he’d teased me about never visiting him. The truth was I wanted to. I’d always been tempted. But my pride, or maybe self-protection, had stopped me from patronizing it and kissing him because I felt like that would be a can of worms I wasn’t prepared to open. Even before I consciously acknowledged my feelings, my subconscious was looking out for me.

I made it across the park to the booth in record time. People moved to the sides for me like parting of the Red Sea. When Sam saw me coming, his first reaction was to smile. But with each step I took closer to him, that smile diminished until he was staring at me with concern.

“We need to talk. Now,” I stated calmly, but without any room for discussion.

He glanced at Brady Calhoun beside him. “Can you hold things down?”

“Sure can.” Brady nodded.

Without waiting for him, I turned and walked as fast as my feet would carry me towards the civic building. Around the back was the only place I could think of where there was privacy, and I did not want an audience for this conversation.

16

SAM

“Who licked the red off your candy?” ~ Archie “Witty” Whitlock

I’d seen Kenna mad quite a few times over all the years I’d known her. But I’d never seen her look homicidal before. If looks could kill, I’d be lying on a cold slab in the mortuary.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her when I finally caught up with her after she speed-walked to the back of the civic building. “What happened?”

She pulled her journal out of her bag and held it up in the air between us. “This happened.”

“Oh, that.” Fuck. I’d overslept this morning for my PT appointment because I’d been up all night thinking about what I’d read, and we had to rush out of the house. I planned on coming back to the house and figuring out how to put it back wherever Winnie found it, but once I was cleared to work and drive, I went directly to the station to let them know. I’d spent the afternoon catching up on cases, and before I knew it, I had to report for my shift at the kissing booth.

“What the fuck, Sam?!” Kenna swatted me across the upper arm with the book. “I can’t believe you went into my room and?—”

“No! No, no, no,” I cut her off, holding my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t go into your room. Winnie brought it to me.”

My statement took a little steam out of her anger train. I could see her taking in what I was saying. But just when I saw a glimmer of light at the end of the calm-down tunnel, it was blocked out as she demanded, “Did you read it?!”

I could lie. I could tell her that I hadn’t.

No, I couldn’t. I’d never lied to her, and I wasn’t going to start now.

“Yes,” I admitted.

She slapped me with the diary again, but this time, I saw tears forming in her eyes. She was hurt. Betrayed. And she should be. I was totally in the wrong.

“But only one page,” I explained quickly. “I was reading it when you came home, and I shoved it under my pillow. I was going to put it back in your room, but I overslept for my PT appointment, and I had to go to the station and then straight here for my shift.”

“What did you read?”

I might be tempted to fib on this one, but I couldn’t. The problem was, since I’d only read one page, I didn’t have any other material I could reference. I’d really backed myself into an honesty corner here.

“Um… I read the page you wrote on the 21st. The one about your birthday.”

She nodded, and a tear slid down her face. My heart broke for her as she tried to sniff back the emotion, straightening her shoulders and holding her head high.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did mean to, but not at first. When Winnie brought it to me, I didn’t even know what it was. I gave her a treat and went to set it on the coffee table, and I dropped it. It fell open to that page, I swear. When I reached down to pick it up, I saw some keywords that caught my attention. I closed it and put it on the table. I told myself that it was wrong to read it, but?—"

“What words.” She wiped the tear that fell from her cheek.

Triple fuck. Why did I keep painting myself into these corners?

“Birthday. Virgin. Sex.”

Her lip quivered as she closed her eyes, and her head fell back. I wanted to comfort her. I meant to comfort her, but instead, when I opened my mouth, I asked, “How is it possible that you are?—"

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