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A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep)(73)

Author:Monica Murphy

The ringing stops and I shove the phone back into my pocket. Crew reaches for me, but I dart away from him, suddenly unsure.

About everything.

All of it.

He’s frowning, watching me carefully. “Are you okay?”

“I should go.” I glance back the way we came, hating how dark it looks. Like a scary, fathomless cave to nowhere.

“Birdy, come on…” he starts, but I shake my head and he goes quiet.

“I can’t—I can’t do this.” I’m too conflicted. Having Daddy call right in the middle of the most passionate encounter I’ve ever had totally ruined the mood. Made me doubt myself—and Crew. “I’m not ready.”

“Wren.” He runs a hand through his hair, scrubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t leave. Not yet.”

“I have to. I just—maybe this was a bad idea. I’m not the girl you think I am, Crew. I’m too nervous, too scared. I’ve never done this type of thing.”

“I promised I’d take it as slow as you want me to.”

“And you’ve been perfect.” I offer him a tremulous smile, but I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment, so I look away from him, unable to stand looking at his handsome face any longer. “I need to go.”

I flee the room, my shoes slapping hard against the cement floor as I run into the darkness. I spot the door and I open it, relief flooding me as I find myself in the main library once again. I make my way through the stacks until our table comes into view, and I hurriedly slip on my coat. Grab my backpack.

And hightail it out of the library, the door slamming behind me so loudly I swear I heard Miss Taylor make a shushing noise.

Only when I’m back in my dorm building, do I send my father a quick text.

Me: Sorry was in the library studying for a project. Will call you after I take a shower? It’s snowing here and I got wet on the walk back to my dorm.

Daddy: Not a problem, Pumpkin. Call me when you can. Just checking on you.

Seeing his sweet words, the nickname that he’s called me since I can remember, I promptly burst into tears.

“I have news,” Daddy announces after we’ve talked for a few minutes, going over the usual how are yous and the how’s school questions. I’m sitting on my bed after having taken a shower and changing into warm clothes, just like I told him I would.

“What is it?” I ask warily, bracing myself.

“Your mother and I…we’re going to try and work on our marriage.”

I go quiet, absorbing his words for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“We’re starting couples therapy this week. We want this to work. For you. For each other,” he says. “We can’t just give up now, not after twenty-five years.”

“Don’t do this for me,” I tell him, meaning every word I say. “This isn’t about me. This is about you and Mother.”

“I know, but you’re a part of this family too. Even though you’re getting older and about to go out on your own,” he says.

Why does that part sound like a lie? Oh, I know why.

“A few days ago, you were trying to pair me up with Larsen Van Weller,” I remind him. “In the hopes he’d eventually be my future husband.”

It still sounds so completely ridiculous. Even if Crew hadn’t warned me about Larsen and said all of those horrible things about him, I still would’ve been put off. Resistant. The moment I arrived at the Von Weller house and barely talked to Larsen, he knew his chances were shot. He pretty much left me alone.

Thank goodness.

“I cannot make that choice for you. Your mother and I discussed it. We were panicking at the thought of you being on your own, and what might happen to you.”

Anger slowly spreads through my veins at his words, and the meaning behind them. He still doesn’t trust I know how to take care of myself, believing I’ll do nothing but make the wrong choices, over and over again.

Though he might be right to worry. Look at how easily I gave in to Crew earlier at the library. God, he actually had his fingers inside me, and I let him do it. I enjoyed it.

Shame washes over my body like a hot flood of lava, setting me on fire, and not in a good way.

“I’ll be okay,” I reassure him, dragging in a shaky breath. “I’m almost eighteen. And I want to go to college.”

I’m not one hundred percent sold on that plan yet, but it sounds good, and that’s all that matters.

“I think you would thrive in college,” he says, his voice overly enthusiastic. “You can live in the dorms, and make new friends.”

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