Page 30 of Blue Moon Love

“I should?” I asked as I lifted my eyes to his.

“Yeah.” Sam had never looked at me like he was looking at me now. I almost didn’t recognize the man staring back at me.

There was a blankness in his eyes. A coldness. A distance.

When Sam shone his light on you, it felt like the sun, but when he didn’t, it was the coldest, darkest shadows.

“I’ll clean up. You should go,” he emphasized.

I stood, holding back tears. This had always been my greatest fear. That one day, he would shut me out. I’d witnessed him do it to countless other women. He’d go from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. Even though I’d always feared it, until this moment, I never actually thought it would happen to me. I was wrong.

14

SAM

“That boy’s as confused as a mosquito in a mannequin factory.” ~ Archie “Witty” Whitlock

One more night. That’s it. Time was running out.

Tomorrow night, there was a very good possibility I’d be back in my own bed. My PT referred to me as Wolverine because I was healing so rapidly. He’d given me a ninety-five percent chance of getting my brace off at my appointment tomorrow and clearing me for driving and stairs. As much as I wanted to get back to work, there was another part of me that wished I had just a few more weeks before I was cleared so I didn’t have to go home.

Now that I’d lived with Kenna, I didn’t want to go back to living next door to her. I knew that I was being selfish. She’d made it clear what she wanted for her future, and I couldn’t give her that. I needed to let her go and find her happy.

For the past four days, I’d been obsessing over the conversation we’d had last weekend over spaghetti. Every time I thought about it, I wanted to throw up. It made me feel physically ill. Even though I understood her reasoning logically, the illogical side of me wanted to forbid her from pulling away from me.

My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it, hoping it was Kenna. She was working tonight, and I missed her. And, not to be dramatic, but this might be the last night we’d ever be under one roof.

It wasn’t her. It was Betty from the front desk at work.

Betty: You’re on the schedule for the booth tomorrow night at the festival. Just wanted to check in and see if I should find someone to replace you. Are you up for it?

Every year, the police and fire stations had a kissing booth, and all the single firefighters and cops took shifts in it. The proceeds went to the city fund. I’d always enjoyed puckering up for a good cause. But this year, I wasn’t excited at all about the idea of smooching randos, as Kenna had called them, even if it was for charity.

There was only one person I wanted my lips to touch, and she wanted to keep her distance from me. Maybe I was looking at this wrong. Maybe the kissing booth would distract me from how badly I wanted to break the one and only rule I’d ever made for myself and cross lines I had no business crossing with Kenna. Maybe it would take my mind off of how fucking depressing this situation was.

I quickly messaged Betty back.

Me: I’ll be there. Fingers crossed, you’ll be my first customer.

Betty, who was in her late sixties and was happily married, responded with a meme of Bugs Bunny’s girlfriend swooning with hearts floating around her head.

I smiled as I put my phone back on the coffee table. I had just turned on Sport’s Center when Winnie trotted up the doggy stairs beside the couch with a book in her mouth.

“Thank you.” I grabbed a treat from the stash Kenna had provided for me on the side table, and Winnie dropped the book onto the couch cushions beside my thighs.

I gave Winnie the reward for her treasure, then picked it up and leaned forward to set it on the coffee table when it slipped from my hands. It dropped to the floor with a soft thud, falling open as it landed. I looked between my legs where it lay, and as soon as my eyes fell on the open pages, my Shawn Spencer spidey senses kicked into full gear. Like the lead character on Psych, I’d always been extremely perceptive and noticed details around me. In the couple of seconds that my eyes landed on the page, three things stood out to me.

First, the handwriting was Kenna’s. I had enough cards from her to know exactly what her handwriting looked like.

Second, the date at the top of the page was recent; the entry was just a few weeks ago.

Third, several keywords jumped out at me. They were sprinkled across the page.

Birthday.

Virgin.

Sex.

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