Page 66 of Unbroken

So, I gave up a half-truth: that reacclimating to real life was harder than I expected, and when things weren’t perfect, it made me want to turn into myself and push people away.

But the real reason for my mood was six-foot-five, covered in tattoos with red hair, and had a knack for changing his goddamn mind.

Devon had called me like he said he would after I’d left his house and after he’d returned from his mom’s appointments. But our conversation was brief. We stuck to discussing his mom’s appointments and an upcoming work trip he had planned. Before I’d had the opportunity to bring up the kiss—or better yet, kisses—we’d shared, he made an excuse to hang up.

Otherwise, we’d texted a little here and there, but his responses were vague and uninterested.

I didn’t want to regret that kiss we shared, but his reaction was making it hard not to. It was the old Blakely that acted on impulse, and even she was irritated with the way I’d gone about everything.

Everything that happened that night made me believe we wanted the same thing. Across the kitchen table from me, even with his mom and sister right there, he couldn’t stop looking at me. I caught him more than once staring longingly at my lips like he was remembering how they felt against his.

And the idea that his confession in the garage was anythingbut the truth was an impossibility. Devon wasn’t a good enough liar to fake that kind of emotion. I couldn’t have made it up. The intensity and the sincerity in every touch and every word—I wasn’t that delusional.

“Blake?” Amanda asked, and I sighed.

“I kissed Devon,” I said, the words tumbling from my mouth before I could think twice. “Well, we kissed each other. It was pretty mutual, but it happened two weeks ago, and he promised we would talk, but he’s avoiding me. And it’s really fucking with my head.”

It felt good to get the words off my chest, but when I looked at Amanda, I couldn’t read her expression. I expected shock or confusion, but what was written across her face was something completely different.

“I..umm…” she stuttered.

“I know,” I said. “It was stupid and reckless, and honestly, it just kind of happened, but?—”

“No, no, Blakely,” she said, straightening and pushing to sit on her knees. I stopped talking as she glanced down at her hands and winced as she continued. “I may have had something to do with that.”

“What?” I asked in disbelief.

She nodded, and finally I understood her unreadable expression: guilt and regret. “Devon told me about your kiss after he got back from Houston. It had been his intention to call and talk to you, but I—I told him it was probably better that he didn’t.”

“Why?” was the only question I could think to ask. All my other thoughts were too jumbled to form a cohesive, complex question.

She tossed her hands in the air in exasperation and slid off the bed. “I was worried that it was all too much too quick. You just came back into our lives, and I know you’re still dealing with a lot, so I wanted to make sure he wasn’t pushing you to do something you weren’t ready for.”

I shook my head and grabbed a handful of dresses from mybed and off the chair where they’d collected. “That was not your decision to make, Amanda.”

I walked into the closet and shoved them back onto the bar. When I reentered the room, Amanda stopped me with a hand on each of my arms. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have meddled or said anything to him. I genuinely was just worried about you. I could not feel worse about it. And I only think he listened to me because he wants so badly to make you happy.”

Her apology was sincere, but I would have never questioned that. Amanda had always been a bit of a meddler, and it was almost endearing that she felt we were again close enough that she could meddle in my life.

“Will you forgive me?” she asked, and I nodded automatically. There wasn’t a world in which I wouldn’t forgive her. She hugged me tightly and sighed in relief. “I’ll talk to him this weekend and straighten everything out.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I told her, eyeing the rest of the dresses laid out on the bed. “I’ll talk to him and figure it out.”

She still looked upset with her actions, but instead of apologizing again, she turned back to the bed, too, and we both contemplated my options. After a minute or two, Amanda pushed a black dress and one that had an awkward cut out in the back aside and pulled out a dark green satin dress.

It was still new with the tags, and I couldn’t even remember what occasion I’d bought it for.

“I think this is the one,” she said confidently, holding it up to me and focusing with one eye closed. It was a little shorter, coming just above mid-thigh, and hanging a little lower in the back than I was comfortable with. But my hair would cover up any exposed skin if I left it down, so I couldn’t completely rule it out.

“Is it appropriate?”

Amanda scoffed and rolled her eyes, shoving the dress into my hands. “Yes, and it’s perfect if you want to wow Devon. Greenishis favorite color.”

I knew that, and the thought had crossed my mind. To make him a little crazy and give him a taste of his own medicine. I twirled around and held the dress up to my body while I looked in the full-length mirror. If it still fit right, it would hug my curves and leave just enough to the imagination.

A wicked smile split my face, and Amanda jumped and clapped behind me. “He’s not going to have any idea what hit him.”

THIRTY

---