The Fear of Letting Go (2 page)

So why am I feeling restless? I don't want to take any of it for granted. I know how lucky I am to have the things I have. But at the same time, something is missing. Something big.

And I'm not going to find it sitting across from me tonight at dinner.

I glance up and she smiles, but it looks forced and I feel guilty. “I'm sorry I'm not great company tonight,” I say. “I think maybe I'm coming down with something. I haven't been feeling right all day, to be honest.”

Her shoulders fall and she sets her fork down. “It's okay,” she says. “If you want to get out of here, I'll totally understand. Maybe we can do this again some other time?”

“Finish your dinner,” I say, not wanting to be a complete jerk and ask for a to-go box. “Tell me again about that beach in Aruba.”

**

I drop Iris off at her apartment by nine-thirty. That has to be some kind of record for the fastest I've ever gotten out of a date, and I know I should head back to my place or maybe see what Penny and Mason are up to. But instead, I find myself driving to Rob's. I tell myself I'm only going there because I want to catch up with Leigh Anne and see how things are going with the trial preparations, but I know there's more to it than that.

I'm hoping Jenna might be there tonight.

I'd overheard them the other day, saying they both had the weekend off from work over at the restaurant, and even though I told myself it was none of my business, I immediately regretted already having a date set up with Iris.

Had I really expected this date to be any different from the dozens of others I'd gone on since I broke things off with Bailey? She and I had been going out, off and on, for almost four years. I finally cut ties with her around Christmas, knowing I was only holding her back from finding someone who would really appreciate her. Someone who would fall head over heels in love with her. Which is exactly what happened, as it turns out.

But I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't have an ulterior motive in wanting to be single for a while.

So, why haven't I gotten up the nerve to ask Jenna out? I would much rather have been out with her tonight instead of yet another girl who cares more about my money and my name than she does about me.

But there's something about Jenna that makes me nervous, for the first time in as long as I can remember.

Probably because there is a very real possibility that if I ask her out, she'll laugh and say hell no. Out of all the girls I know, she's the only one who might actually like me less because of my money.

Still, as I park my car and walk into Rob's, I can't help but search for her among the crowd. I stand by the door, my eyes scanning the bar and then the dance floor.

I catch sight of a wisp of blond hair and a pale, creamy shoulder. The dark ink of a tattoo peeks out from the top of her shirt as she moves. Her eyes are closed and she's completely in the moment, not caring what anyone else in this room thinks of her. What would it feel like to be so free?

“You just gonna stand there by the door or are you gonna come on in and buy a drink,” Knox shouts, and I realize he's talking to me.

I smile and nod, reluctantly pulling my eyes away from the dance floor. Leigh Anne is sitting down at the other end of the bar, and I walk over to her. She's got a glass of water in front of her, but I don't miss the fact that there's a half-empty beer bottle sitting next to it. I leave an empty stool between us and sit down.

“What can I get for you?” Knox asks.

“I'll take a Jack and coke,” I say. “Anything to erase the memory of yet another bad date.”

Leigh Anne pats my shoulder. “I thought you were going out with Iris tonight?” she says. “She seems so sweet.”

“Sweet and practically ready to elope in Aruba,” I say. “I feel like it's getting to the point where I can count the minutes until my dates start talking about how to spend my father's money.”

“Oh, poor little rich boy and his hard life.” Jenna reaches for her beer and laughs. She's out of breath from dancing and sits down hard on the stool beside me. “I can't imagine what a hardship that must be,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “All the pretty girls clamoring for your attention, hoping you'll whisk them away to some exotic resort and make mad love to them all week. Poor you.”

“Trust me, it gets old,” I say, already feeling stupid for complaining about it. I probably sound like a spoiled child.

“Oh, I don't doubt it,” she says. “Yet you keep right on trying, don't you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Ignore her,” Leigh Anne says. “She's working on her sixth beer at this point.”

Jenna laughs. “I think I'm done after this one,” she says. “What other trouble you think we can get ourselves into tonight?”

My stomach does a weird flip. Man, I could think of about a hundred things I'd like to get into with her right now.

“Don't look at me like that, Preston Wright,” she says. “I wasn't talking to you.”

“What? I wasn't looking,” I say.

Knox sets my drink in front of me, and I down it in practically one gulp. Liquid courage, so they say. Maybe one more of these and I'll finally get up the nerve to ask Jenna out.

“Well, don't look at me,” Leigh Anne says, standing. “I promised Mom I'd go to church with them in the morning, and I have got to get home and study for a couple of hours before I go to bed. All this travel has put me way behind.”

“You're going to church with your parents?” Jenna asks. “I don't see how you can be so nice to them after the way they've treated you.”

Leigh Anne gives a sad smile. “I know, but they're trying. That's got to count for something, right?”

My heart aches for her, and I hate that I've been a part of her sadness. Leigh Anne and I dated all through high school. We were one of those perfect golden couples everyone expected to get married and have babies. Long story short, I cheated with Bailey, one of Leigh Anne's best friends, and Leigh Anne left for Boston the following fall.

Just goes to show she's one of the nicest, most forgiving people in the world for not hating me still, after what I did to her.

If I could take it back, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

“Girl, you are a way better person than I could ever be,” Jenna says. “You're such a marshmallow. If I were you, I would have told my mother what I thought of her a long damned time ago.”

Leigh Anne turns her head to the side. “Come on, it's my mom,” she says. “Yes, she's a bitch, but she's blood, you know? You can't turn your back on family.”

Knox pulls Leigh Anne into a kiss, but I notice a strange expression on Jenna's face as she turns away. I want to ask her about it, but it scares me a little. I've never seen her look that sad before. Her eyes fill with tears and she looks away for a moment.

“I'm going to head out. I'll talk to you guys later.” Leigh Anne gives Jenna a quick hug. “Don't drive home, okay? Get a cab or have Knox or Preston take you home.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Jenna raises her beer in a salute, all signs of sadness quickly wiped away. “Maybe I should get going, too. There's not a single guy in here worth sleeping with.”

“I beg to differ,” Leigh Anne says as she gives Knox a wink and heads for the door.

Jenna rolls her eyes. “Save it for your private time,” she says, with a laugh. She starts to stand, but I put my hand on hers and her eyes widen.

“Don't go,” I say. “Come on, have one more drink with me. I'll call my driver to come take us both home later.”

“Your driver? What? He's just going to drop everything on a Saturday night to come pick you up and drive you home from the bar?” she says. She sounds amused, and she sits back down.

“That's his job,” I say.

“Exciting life,” she says. “Can you imagine what it must be like for him? I mean, let's fast forward a couple of hours and say it's midnight on a Saturday night. What do you think he's doing?”

I shrug. “I guess I never thought about it.”

“Do you think he's just sitting around his house with his uniform on, waiting by the phone? Hoping you'll call? No. He's probably been sitting in his recliner, watching some TV, snacking on some chips or whatever,” she says. “Then, just when he's sure no one's going to need him, he strips down to his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed, all snuggly and warm. And then, dammit, the phone rings. Or maybe it's a text? The young master summons him to the bar downtown for a ride home. He has to get his ass up out of bed, throw on his work clothes and try to look presentable, all because the rich boy couldn't bring himself to pay for a cab.”

“Hey, that's not really fair,” I say, hurt. “It's not like he's a slave. He gets paid good money to get out of bed and drive me around.”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how incredibly snobby I sound. How childish and annoyingly privileged.

“Your dad pays him to drive him to work and important business meetings,” she says. “You're just taking advantage of the situation.”

“He really doesn't mind.”

“How do you know?” she says. “Did you ever ask him?”

“No,” I say.

“Then you don't know,” she says. “Hell, I don't know, either. Maybe he loves getting out of bed to be at your beck and call. If it were me, though, I would hate it. I'd show up and smile and take you where you needed to go. But I would hate it.”

I love the way she's not afraid to tell me what she really thinks. She's never scared to speak her mind or bring me down a peg if I deserve it. To be honest, I never really thought about Jameson's feelings on the matter. And lately, I've been calling him a lot later than midnight.

“Well, damn, now I felt like an asshole for the second time tonight.”

“Don't look so beat up,” Jenna says. “I'm not trying to bring you down. I'm just saying I have some experience with this, and maybe you shouldn't be so casual about waking someone out of their beds in the middle of the night to drive you all around Fairhope.”

“You do?” I ask. This is new. “What kind of experience?”

She looks away, like I've caught on to some secret information she didn't mean for me to have. “Oh, that? It's nothing, really. Just that my momma used to work for a rich family back where I grew up,” she says.

“And where's that?” I know almost nothing about where Jenna comes from or who her family is. She doesn't talk about them much. Or at all.

“Nowhere you want to be,” she says. She takes another long sip of her beer and sets the empty bottle down on the bar. “Okay, if we're going to stick around for a little while, you're going to dance with me.”

My jaw drops open, and I hold my hands up. “No way,” I say. “I am not a dancer.”

“Everyone's a dancer,” she says. “Now stop being a pussy and come show me your moves.”

The moment her hand closes over mine, my heart begins to race. I let her lead me toward the dance floor and pRob like hell for a slow song.

Jenna

Dancing with Preston is exactly the opposite of what I should be doing. I should be staying as far away from this rich boy as I can, but God, there's just something about him that I cannot seem to resist. And resisting someone this hot is not my strong point. Especially when I've been drinking.

Typical Jenna.

Whatever is going to get me in the most trouble at any given moment is what I usually end up doing.

And Preston Wright is trouble with a capital T.

Not only is he my best friend's ex—and a cheater at that—but he's the son of the wealthiest, most influential couple in Fairhope, if not the entire state of Georgia. What business does a girl like me have with a guy like that?

But as the music plays on, I dare to move a little bit closer.

His eyes are locked on my face, and when my hips grind against his, he moves his hands up to the waist of my jeans. My entire body lights up like a Christmas tree. One that's on fire.

I am terrified to raise my eyes to his, because I have a feeling I know what I'm going to see there. Desire. Something more dangerous than fire or volcanoes or diving head-first into a pot of boiling water. To a guy like him, I am forbidden fruit. I'm exactly the kind of girl his parents will hate, because I'm exactly the opposite of all those other girls he's been going out with.

It's the only reason he wants me.

I know full well that the most there would ever be between us would be a month or two of hot, sweaty sex. The kind that leaves your knees weak and your heart thumping, simply because you know it won't last.

Usually, I'm ready to sign up for that kind of action from a handsome guy. No strings attached and all that. But Preston is different. He's part of my social circle, no matter how hard I've tried to avoid being mixed up with the rich kids. I still don't understand how the hell that happened, but here I am, friends with the elite crowd in Fairhope.

Friends to lovers might work out in the movies, but my life has never been a fairytale. I'm all too aware of the realities of what it means to get in bed with a guy who has money. Lord knows, I watched my momma fall for that dream, and I'm not about to start repeating her mistakes.

I'd end up with a heart full of sorrow and he'd go on his merry way, feeling good about his month in the slums, like he'd been on some grand rebellious adventure. Then, of course, he'd go right back to those rich girls with their fancy clothes and fancy tastes.

Aruba? I wouldn't even know what to do with myself at a five-star resort in Aruba. My whole life, I've never once stepped foot out of the state of Georgia.

I turn around, wiggling out of his hold on me, but after a few moments, he pulls me in again, his fingertips dancing dangerously along the edge of my waistband, brushing against bare skin. He presses his body close to mine, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck and shoulder. I tell myself not to lean in to him, but I can't help it. He feels so damned good.

My heart races and I'm so aware of my lips and my tingling skin, the heat of his body against mine, that I can hardly breathe.

I turn to face him and as my eyes meet his, it's electric. Magnetic.

Trouble.

I swallow, and put my hands on top of his, scared to touch him anywhere more intimate. Afraid I won't be able to stop myself.