Page 136 of Secret Obsession
Her cheeks flame, and her gaze shifts. Like she’s seeing him in a new light. “I haven’t been on the ice since we crashed your practice.” A new smile lifts her features. “Maybe you should give me some more lessons.”
“Absolutely,” Knox agrees. “Anything for a beautiful girl like you.”
He drops his arm from my shoulders and holds out his hand to her.
She doesn’t even glance at me—she just fucking goes.
And that’s when I realize I’ve lost her.
For the first time anyway. But not the last.
41
WILLOW
My parents aren’t home. I know that as soon as the taxi pulls up to the curb in front of their house. There are no lights on, no cars in the driveway, and the place seems sealed up tight. There’s even a layer of snow dusting the pavement, with no tracks to be seen.
I pay the man and climb out, ignoring the stiffness in my limbs and my numb ass. The backseat was the opposite of comfortable for the hour car ride. He speeds away before I’ve made it halfway up the walkway, but that’s okay. He tried to make conversation for some of it. I couldn’t come up with answers fast enough.
So we lapsed into silence.
I have a key to the house in my purse, and I stand on the porch and frantically search for them for a minute. It’s dark out, and my phone died about fifteen minutes into the drive. But then my fingers graze the collection of keys, and I lift it out with triumph.
Once I’m inside, I kick off my shoes and flip the lights on.
“Hello? Anyone home?” I wander farther into the house. Wishful thinking that I’ll get an answer. “Surprise! I’m back…”
Nothing.
Even upstairs, everything is cool and dark and still.
Where did they go? Out to dinner, maybe? It’s Saturday night, after all. They can’t be working.
My bones ache. I step into my room and inhale. I’m wrapped in nostalgia and homesickness, but I’m reminded painfully of the last time I was here, when I spent most of my time crying myself to sleep over one Whiteshaw brother. Now my instinct is to do the same for the other?
Fuck that.
I grind my teeth together. I plug my phone in and sit on my bed, pulling my legs up. What I would love to do is have a drink and drown myself in it, until I forget that today even fucking happened.
Instead, I dig through my bag for a pack of gum. Because it’s that or grind my teeth to nubs, and I happen to like my molars.
And what I find instead is Miles’ phone.
But even more surprising, is that the thing unlocks with my face.
First of all. When did Miles set up his phone to recognize my face? And second,why? But then it’s open, and I quickly set it down.
Snooping is wrong. Especially after I just…
I shudder.
Stare at the wall, which has a corkboard of memories front and center. I rise and drift toward it, my attention snagging on one photo in particular. It’s from the dance competition my sophomore year. One of the first that I had a solo, and I was so fucking nervous… until I peeked out from behind the black curtains and spotted Miles in the crowd.
The photo is of Violet, me, Amanda, Michelle, Jess… and Miles. He’s on the end, his smile big and bright.
My stomach rolls.
All the times he found me in the quiet come flashing back to me. At the competition. On the ice, when the dance team decided to go to one of the hockey practices, and then Paris led us down to the benches. And from there, onto the ice.
