Page 14 of Easy Reunion
No wonder why there was that moment of recognition when I first saw her. I’m gasping for breath as flashes of Kee—no, Kelsey—rising above me tumble through my mind. Her beautiful face, her smile, her fucking perfect gray eyes.
Eyes I remember shining in excitement as she squealed when I hoisted her under her arms and spun her around the empty classroom the day I told her I got into college. Eyes that took my breath away when her long dark lashes lowered over them as I hoarsely told her she was beautiful. A face that looked at me with such devastation when I called out that name, the name she was tormented by her entire high school career.
“Oh, God. What just happened?” I brace myself against the table. The hole is still open and burning in my soul. I never got the chance to tell her why I did it; I never got the opportunity to tell her I was sorry before she left Savannah for college herself not long after. I can still hear her grandfather snapping at me, “Get off my land, you nasty son of a bitch.”
“But Mr. Bardo,” I pleaded. My father stood behind me, supportive but silent.
“She’s gone! And she ain’t comin’ back—all ’cause of the likes of kids like you. And what’s worse? She helped you get your dream. What did you give her but nightmares?” Right before he slammed the door in our faces.
But I don’t know what to think about the fact she knew who I was last night without giving me the chance to apologize for fifteen years’ worth of misconceptions before sleeping with me.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as I run my hand through my hair. Leaving the food untouched, I stumble to the couch as I’m lost in painful memories. Ones I never shared with anyone but my father and the president of Forsyth. But not before Kelsey left the state. She left Georgia behind, and no one heard about her ever again since her grandparents moved shortly after that.
Shaking, I come out of my stupor when I hear the alarm on my cell ringing. Shit. I have less than three hours to make my flight back to New Orleans.
Clutching both the note and her badge in my hand, I put them on top of my laptop so I don’t lose them. Now that I have an idea on how to contact her, I need to think of the right words to say.
Me, the lawyer, trying to think of the right words.
All the pain from the last fifteen years coalesces into my laugh as I begin packing to make my flight.
