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“You remind me of her, you know,” Keene murmured out of nowhere, jerking me back to the present.

I looked up at him in surprise, but he couldn’t seem to look back at me.

“My mom,” he said, lifting a helpless hand as he gazed around the stacks.

“The mere fact that you work here, where she did. Then, there’s your hair.

” He finally looked at me, and stark pain filled his eyes.

He lifted his fingers to barely touch a piece of my hair, and I held my breath until my chest ached.

“She wore her hair long and straight, just like this, and she liked to hide behind a curtain of it, the same way you do.” His lips twitched with amusement before he gently tugged on a lock of my bangs.

“Or did before you went and chopped it off, anyway.”

When I merely blinked at him, he shook his head and pointed at my nose. “And sometimes, you look at me the same way she did. Like you’re trying to climb into my head and understand why I do the shit I do.”

I shrugged because it was true; I did spend a lot of time trying to understand his brain and his motives.

His smile grew bigger as he watched my face. “You’re blunt and direct, like she was. Yet there’s this…tranquility about you, just as there was about her.” Then he fell somber as he admitted, “Sometimes, it hurts to be around you because it makes me miss her so much.”

My mouth fell open. “I—I’m sorry.”

He lifted one shoulder, dismissing that, then turned back to me again.

“The first time I came in here and saw you standing behind the counter where she used to stand, looking so much like her, even moving like her, it was a punch in the gut. So yeah, you’re right.

I never hit on you, I never flirted with you like I do with every other girl out there.

It didn’t matter if I thought you were pretty—which I do; you’re fucking beautiful, Waverly—but you’re just—you’re so much like her. ”

And finally, I got it.

“Oh,” I said softly.

What kind of messed-up Oedipus complex would he have if he wanted to hook up with someone who reminded him of his mom ?

With a wince, he leaned close and asked, “Are you finally catching on now? Do you see why I always kept it purely platonic with you?”

I nodded, swallowing thickly. “I do, yeah,” I whispered.

And I did. I understood his motive, and I—well, it honestly did make me feel better. About myself and him.

Dammit, he’d been right. He fixed everything between us with a couple of words.

After swiping a hand over his hair, he motioned vaguely in my direction, still looking nervous because he obviously had no idea that he’d already made everything fine between us.

“So what I’m trying to say here,” he went on, “is that I’m sorry for ever making you feel slighted or unattractive or undesirable in any way.

I promise I never intended that. I was honestly attempting to do the opposite and show you a little more respect than I do other girls. ”

With a self-derisive chuckle, he shook his head at himself in bewilderment. “Usually girls are relieved when I leave them alone; this is probably the first time I’ve offended one when I did leave her alone. But wanting you in any way just felt…forbidden.”

“I…” I shook my head, gaping at him. “I’m sorry; I had no idea.”

“How could you?” he murmured as he touched my hair again and grew fascinated with running strands of it through his fingers. “I never told you. Just like you never told me you had a thing for me.”

Flushing hot, I muttered, “I never said I had a thing for you.”

But Keene with his healthy ego and intuitive brain lifted his eyebrows knowingly. “Then why did you pretend to be someone else just to hook up with me?”

“I didn’t—” Grinding my teeth, I glanced away and wished I could escape this extremely awkward, uncomfortable, and terrifying moment.

“I’m not mad,” Keene assured. I glanced up in surprise. And he shrugged. “Not anymore, anyway. I genuinely just want to know why.”

Not sure what to say—and feeling that glue that usually filled my mouth when I talked to people, the glue that kept me from speaking words—I shrugged and sent him an apologetic look. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Worry entered his eyes. “Shit, you’re not one of those people who can never say no, and I basically forced you into everything we did, are you?”

“No.” I shook my head, unable to let him feel culpable in any way. “I only wanted to know what it’d be like. I—I knew you had to be pretty good at it since you’re always bragging about how many girls you’ve been with.”

“I mean—” He cringed, suddenly looking pained. “I wouldn’t call it bragging . And the number of girls you’ve probably seen me hit on is not the number I actually sleep with.” Making a face, he thought it through. “I probably have a fifteen to twenty percent success rate. If that.”

I sent him a dry look. “That still means you’re sleeping with one or two new women each week if you only hit on ten.”

His eyes darted as his gaze went thoughtful before he returned his attention to me and began to nod. “Yeah. Okay, that sounds about right.”

Oh, geesh. In my book, that still made him a total player who expertly knew his way around sex.

Pointing at me, he frowned in dawning comprehension. “So… You just wanted to experience sex in general ? And I happened to be there, ripe for the plucking at that moment? It didn’t have anything to do with me specifically ?”

I didn’t answer because that wasn’t quite true. It was the very opposite of true, in fact.

“So what? You’re a virgin ?” he blurted, still looking completely baffled. “You didn’t give head like someone who’s never done it before.”

All warmth and feeling drained from my face. Suddenly, I was ten again and Director Sprout was stroking my hair, telling me what a good girl I was.

“ Just a little more suction. Less teeth, dear. Gentle with the testicles. There. That’s it now. Perfect …”

Nausea swirled up my throat like a javelin toss wanting to pierce its way from my body, stinging my eyes and nose.

“I—I’m not a virgin,” I managed to choke out as everything went dark at the corners, and I suddenly didn’t know if I was standing upright or falling.

“Hey.” A hand grabbed my arm, grounding me. “What—Waverly?”

I shuddered and blinked my vision clear before looking into his swampy, brown-green eyes full of worry.

“What the fuck just happened?” he demanded. “Where did you go? Are you okay?”

I nodded slowly, focusing on his face and growing more and more settled with each second I studied his features.

“I’m fine,” I said as if I hadn’t just been triggered into a near-insentient state. “Just a strange twinge.” I pressed a hand to my stomach to make the lie look more authentic. “But it’s gone.”

Keene still searched my face uncertainly, so I managed a trembling smile. “I’m fine now.”

He nodded, still watching me but beginning to relax.

And I exhaled purposely through my nose to keep my expression placid.

But wow. I hadn’t experienced a trigger like that once during the whole night we’d hooked up on the gazebo.

Not when I’d knelt before him or taken him into my mouth.

Not when I’d climbed onto his face or when he’d pushed his fingers inside me.

I’d been so focused on Keene and wanting to make him burn I hadn’t thought back to the origin of how I’d learned to do what I was doing.

But now that he’d reminded me he hadn’t been my first and I’d only been able to please him because of the monster from my past, I felt slightly sick.

My night with Keene was supposed to wash it all away so I could replace those plaguing memories with good ones. And Keene had given me new, better things to remember.

So why could I still recall everything else too? How could I feel so dirty, yet also cleaned and revived at the same time?

“Waverly?” Keene asked.

I glanced up. There was so much concern and confusion in his eyes, I wanted to make it better for him. Like he had for me.

“You were right,” I told him, nodding soberly. “As much as it annoys me to admit it, you really did make everything better with your explanation.”

He grinned suddenly, and relief filled his features. He lifted his hands in his cocky, Keene way. “Hey, that’s what I do. I make life better. Now bring it in, Frank.” Grasping my wrist, he jerked me toward him until I bumped into his chest. Then he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me.

Shuddering out a dreamy sigh, I sank against him and rested my cheek on his shoulder as I hugged him as well.

“So we’re still friends?” he asked as he palmed the back of my head gently.

Closing my eyes, I murmured, “Yeah.” Even though he’d always be more than a friend to me. I’d love Keene Dugger to my dying breath. But from him, I’d take whatever I could get. “We’re friends.”

He exhaled heavily in relief. “Good.”