Page 82 of The Kiss Keeper
“There’s more,” he said in a pained breath.
She threw up her hands. “What more could there be?”
He held her gaze. “Remember that night when you were thirteen and went to the Kiss Keeper’s well?”
“What about it?”
He swallowed hard. “It was me, at the well. I was the boy. I’m your kiss keeper.”
She shook her head. “No, no, you can’t be him. You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“How can I believe you?” she whispered, sounding as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
He closed the distance between them and set his hand on her shoulder, then brushed his thumb across her collarbone, and she gasped, remembering when he’d done the same thing fifteen years ago.
“Because, before I left you and ran back to my cabin, I told you that kissing you was better than sailing across the lake.”
The breath caught in Natalie’s throat, and she was that blindfolded girl, again—her heart beating like a drum just as it had after she’d had her first kiss. She’d never told a soul about what her kiss keeper had said to her before he disappeared into the night. It hadn’t made much sense at the time, and she’d been reeling from not only the most perfect first kiss but from evading the night patrol.
“It’s you,” she said on a tight whisper.
A flash of hope shined in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I screwed up. I never wanted to hurt you, Natalie. I—”
She stepped back, and the tangle of humiliation, shame, and astonishment inside her went numb as one truth made itself known loud and clear.
The Kiss Keeper Curse hadn’t been broken.
She pushed past him and ran out into the rain.
“Natalie, please, stop! We need to talk. I never wanted it to be like this,” he called, coming after her, but she had to get away from him.
Her cowgirl hat flew off as she sprinted toward the waterfront with Jake close on her heels.
Heels.
Tears ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. She should have known this would happen. She should have been smarter than to trust a man she’d know for less than a week. And more than that, she should have remembered the curse.
Her boots clapped against the worn wooden dock as she snagged a lifejacket from a hook and spied her escape. Strapping on the jacket, she stepped into the small Sunfish sailboat and slid in the centerboard.
“Natalie, what are you doing?”
“Not flying,” she bit out as she rigged the small two-person boat, preparing to sail.
“It’s raining,” he said, his voice shaking.
“I’m going to Woolwich Island. I need to be alone,” she said, securing the mask and pulling up the sail.
With his toes edged up to the end of the dock, he ran his hands down his face. “I’m sorry, so damn sorry, Heels. Don’t go!”
Her heart shattered, but she waved off his words. “Don’t apologize. It’s easier this way.”
“Why would it be easier?” he asked, anguish lacing his words.
She untied the boat from the rusty cleat, freeing it from the dock, then pushed off as inches of water between them became feet then yards.
She swallowed back a sob. “Because now, all you are is just another Jake who broke my heart.”
