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Poor Granny. At least I changed the names.
I spot Ender easily, at the table reserved for the James family, hands clasped in front of him with his elbows on his knees, head hung.
I’m ignoring him and looking for Eddie, but I haven’t actually moved from the table Arya sat me at after the wedding.
“Here.” Arya hands me a cup of coffee. “This should help.”
And then she leaves to dance with her new husband.
Husband? I laugh to myself thinking little Arya Londyn James, the girl who couldn’t remember what her first time was like and couldn’t wait to get boobies, is married now.
When I look back at Ender’s table, he’s looking at Eddie who is dancing with his mom, loosening his tie. He looks at me, and then Eddie again, and I don’t need to tell him. He knows. There’s a stillness between us and it’s like everything else fades around us. I see the bloodshot eyes and the bleary stare, and I hurt for him not knowing what he’s been through. I hurt for Eddie, and me, and her having to live the first five years of her life without him. As my eyes rise to his, in that moment, I see something I never thought I would never see from Ender James.
Tears.
43
WHEN HE ASKED ME TO DANCE
Country music flows from a live band to my right, friends and family all celebrating the joining of two great people. Tiny twinkle lights are all around, setting a peaceful mood, aside from a sprinkle of rain and it feeling like a sauna outside.
Ender is walking to me now, a slow stride set by his indecisiveness. I can hear my heart in my ears when he approaches. His jacket has been removed, white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and looking every bit as sexy as I remember.
Nerves runs up my spine and he bends down, one hand on the table, the other on the back of my chair. “Dance with me,” he whispers, leaning in, his lips at my ear.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to drown out that Southern rasp of his voice as it works its way through every nerve in my body. It’s not a question, but damn does that tickle of his breath hit right between my legs.
I slide my eyes to his and he glances over at my mom on the dance floor with Eddie before looking back at me. As if to say, I know, bitch, and you better explain. Even with the low lighting, it’s clear he’s nervous. Fuck,I’mnervous.
I draw in another careful breath. “I don’t think I can. I might fall.”
Swallowing, his lips twitch and he regards me again. “Please, Hads.” His eyes,God, those eyes. I want to crawl inside their storm and find cover.
The band starts up again and plays “Whiskey Lullaby” and I’m not sure if it’s planned, or perfect timing, but it’s fitting don’t you think?
When I don’t get up, Ender’s temper surfaces and he slides his hand that’s on the back of my chair and to the back of my neck, gripping my hair. It’s not forceful or aggressive, but it’s sure as shit sexy. My damn nipples harden as he fists my hair in his hand and pulls lightly. “I know who she is. Now get up, and dance with me,” he growls, his eyes smoldering. It’s the sexiest way he’s ever regarded me, and I realize Ender is not a boy anymore. Oh fuck no. He’s a man, and the things he can do with his hands I desperately want to find out.
Pathetic. Freaking pathetic I’m going down this fast. I blame the Fireball.
Resisting against his hold, I scowl at him. “Why? What makes you deserve to dance with me?” I’m careful what I say about Eddie. I don’t tell him his theory’s right, but I also don’t correct him.
He releases his hold on my hair and straightens his posture, his jaw flexing. “Because you wrote a fucking book about us and didn’t bother to ask me how I’d feel about it.” His head tips to Eddie. “Or tell mesheexisted.”
“You know, that’s really funny, because you fucked me and left without saying anything. And news flash, you changed your phone number and made it pretty damn clear you didn’t want to be found.” I pause and gesture to his Granny still reading it. “I wonder if she’s gotten tothatpart yet.”
Ender’s eyes dart to his granny and then back to mine. “Why’d you give that to her?”
“I didn’t. She took it.” I sigh and take a sip of water.
Ender growls out a breath, shifting toward me once more. He leans in. “Did you even read what I wrote in it?”
“Nope.”
Pushing out a breath, he takes my hand and forces me to stand, his arm around my waist. “Get up.”
“Wow, since you asked so fucking nicely,” I spit spitefully, placing my hand in his, our fingers curling around each other, fitting together perfectly. It reminds me of the first time I took his hand when I was thirteen on his uncle’s boat and everything about it felt natural.
Yanking me with him, he finds a place on the dance floor, and I regretfully wrap my arms around his broad chest. He’s so different. A thick course beard covers his sharp jaw and when the twinkle lights hit it at the right angle, there’s red tones in it, like Arya’s hair.