Page 16 of Best Laid Plans

Nova

Driving into Sentinel for the first time in seven years, my hands trembled slightly on the wheel of my Mazda3. Anxiety gnawed at me.

As the familiar landscape of rolling hills and dense forests came into view, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, mingling with the trepidation that had been my companion since I'd left.

I remembered the last time I'd driven this road, leaving behind everything I owned, riding in a car with strangers who were kind, and who were not asking the question they wanted to: Have you been raped?

I had not slept during that drive. I had sat in the car, staring into space, letting the blood around my nose dry, letting my face that Carre had punched ache.

My lawyer had suggested a hospital close by, but Emmett's assistant had insisted we see the Bodine family private physician in Savannah to avoid a paper trail.

He had stopped at a 24/7 Walgreens, to get me some bandages and painkillers. The assistant, for all his practical sternness, held my hand as we drove. He didn't ask stupid questions like, "are you okay," because it was obvious I wasn't.

They'd whisked me away as quickly as possible. My physical condition, plus the fact that Sentinel was owned and run by the Larue family, had worried my lawyer, making him want a fast escape.

I couldn't really remember the drive clearly. My heart had been shattered by accusations of theft, and Anson's cold abandonment.

Now, I was back in Sentinel Heights, working on a project for the Larues. The irony wasn't lost on me.

The town itself was a mix of the familiar and the new. The old brick buildings still lined Main Street, their façades a little more polished than before. New shops had sprung up, and the streets seemed busier, buzzing with an energy that hadn't been there when I left.

As I drove past the town square, I noticed the old oak tree in the Sentinel park, where Anson and I shared our first kiss. I’d finished my shift at the diner, and he was patiently waiting for me, just like he had been since the day we met.

We held hands late in the night as he walked me home. It had been so romantic, with a full moon, and me leaning against the tree. I was in my hideous, gray diner uniform. I couldn't imagine how a man who looked like Anson, who was Anson, could be interested in me.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he whispered as he stroked my cheek with a finger, his blue eyes smiling into mine.

No one had ever looked at me the way Anson had. No one had ever seen me as precious. Even Mama, who had loved me in her way, was hard—life had not been kind to her, so, she didn't know how to be kind to anyone. She took responsibility for me and wanted better for me, but had been resigned that I'd end up just like her, working on my back. Memaw had been too ill for most of my life to see me as anything more than a burden or a caregiver.

Then came Anson with his exuberant smile and his affection. It was addictive to have anyone care about me, and I had soaked it in. Even then, at seventeen, I hadn't been stupid enough to think that Anson and I would have more than a summer romance. Men like him used women like me; Mama had taught me that. But I was all alone in the world, struggling to finish high school, having no friends, no family, no one—and Anson had been a reprieve from the universe, a gift for a short moment to soothe some of the wounds.

"I want to kiss you," he whispered, leaning into me. I couldn't even feel the bark of the tree against my back, I was so mesmerized with him, drowning in his eyes that were filled with arousal and warmth. "Will you let me?"

I nodded shyly.

I'd never kissed a boy. It wasn't like I didn't want to, but I was scared. As the daughter of a prostitute, my entire life, since I became aware of that truth, had always been about not being perceived to be like her.

For Anson, I threw caution to the winds and grabbed my happiness with both hands.

He dipped his head and first just brushed his lips against mine. I moaned softly.

"Open, Nova," he coaxed, and I did, giving him entry, letting his tongue slide into my mouth, letting a man inside me for the first time in my life.

His kisses were deep, drugging. He raised his head, his eyes hooded, and a flash of triumph went through me. I aroused him. Me!

I cupped his cheek, madly in love with him. He turned his face so his mouth was hot against the palm of my hand. He licked it and groaned.

"You're so fucking sweet."

He pulled me to him then, away from the tree, away from safety, and into his arms.

"You're delicious, Sugar," he breathed and kissed me again.

Sugar!

When he called me that at Savannah Lace, my body had leaped in recognition of his voice, of that word, and then cringed at his tone, which was equal amounts disgust and malice.

I knew that coming to Sentinel would bring back painful memories. If Anson and I had ended softly, I would've looked back and smiled, happy for that first kiss. Now, I felt used. After taking care of myself for so many years, I'd given up my love, my heart, and my body to a man who'd been careless with me.

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