Page 22 of Whatever Will Be

He breathes deeply and lowers his head. “They’re confused. They’re heartbroken.”

“They told you that?”

He pauses and I get the impression he’s wondering if he should share this next part. “Caitlin asked if I might be their father. I could tell she was hoping I’d say yes.”

That’s difficult to hear.

Hot needles prick my throat. I hold my breath for five seconds and try to will the tears away.

I can’t.

Trent sighs, a lonely sound that reminds me he knows a thing or two about grief. I have clear memories of his mother. She had waist length black hair, an unmistakable New York accent and a contagious laugh. She adored her only child. Trent ran from the cemetery on the day of her funeral. He climbed to the top of the town hall tower and refused to move even when snow began to fall. Danny was allowed to climb up there after him. Danny persuaded him to come down when no one else could.

Trent has suffered loss. Trent has suffered a lot of things.

We were never friends before. However, we do have a long connection and in the midst of all this pain that counts for something.

I don’t intentionally reach for him.

Yet I find myself doing exactly that.

My cheek rests against his heart and I don’t mind when his arms swiftly trap me. I also don’t mind when he rubs my back and then gathers a fistful of my long hair. Trent is all hard muscle and strength.

And sex.

He’s definitely that too.

I can’t stop the sudden ache, low in my belly, and I won’t think about the fact that this is TRENT CASSINI, a boy I used to know and didn’t have much reason to like. He’s been a friend on this terrible day and right now he’s holding me in a moment when I desperately want to be held.

His heartbeat is an inch away and it speeds up when I shift my body. He exhales in a thick hiss and I like this power so I take more of it. I hook my arms around his shoulders and press close.

Extremely close.

Close enough so he can feel my breasts and realize that I’m no longer timid little Gretchen. I’m all grown up and I like sex.

I like sex a lot.

But I should have known Trent wouldn’t tolerate being teased.

What’s more, Trent has never hesitated to do what he wants.

He shoves my dress up to my hips, flattens me against the wall and lifts my legs around his waist an instant before he demands my mouth. Trent is not a gentle kisser and there’s no reluctance, no apology, in the claim his tongue makes on mine.

He’s not exactly acting alone. I’m kissing him back just as hungrily. I’m glad to feel something other than loss and desolation. Our only witness is the moon. This will make it easier to do whatever we didn’t plan on doing but are going to do anyway.

The wall is cold at my back but his hands are hot on my skin and they explore at will. They are on my back and then inside my bra. They are between my thighs and threatening to erase my panties. Trent’s hands are everywhere.

And then, suddenly, they aren’t.

He breaks the kiss with the suddenness of a gunshot. He unwraps my legs from his waist. He holds me by the shoulders before taking a step back.

“Good night,” he says with no hint of passion in his voice while I’m practically panting.

“Wait,” I manage to gasp but he’s already leaving.

He takes long strides across the yard and doesn’t look back.

What the fuck just happened?

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