Page 70 of Tangled Up In You
“Doesn’t that get lonely? Or at least boring?”
Ren shrugged under the water’s surface. “If you’re raised with lots of things—people, money, games, distractions—it’s hard to live without them. But if you’re raised simply, the way I was, that’s all you know. That’s all there is.”
The reality of her life back home suddenly pressed down like a rain cloud.
“You haven’t talked about them much the last couple days,” he said quietly. “But I know you’re thinking about your parents a lot.”
Ren looked up at him. She was, and she wasn’t. Edward seemed to take up every corner of her mind these days, but the silent, pulsing heartbeat in the background was her parents, Christopher Koning, the mystery of it all, the truth she hoped to find.
“I know my parents will always be there for me. Or I hope they will, even if I don’t always do things the way they would want me to. But being away from home has made me realize how much more there is for me out here. That I can love being out in the world and love being on our land, too.” She felt his attention on her as she tilted her face to the sky, closing her eyes. “But, wow, do I love our land. During the summer, I swim at night, and I’ll float on my back, just staring up at the stars. You wouldn’t believe how many you can see out there, where there’s no city lights. I spend all day working my tail off, just so excited for the reward of getting into the pond and staring up at the stars.”
“Is that why you draw fireworks around everything?”
She looked at him in surprise, having forgotten he’d seen her drawings. “No. I’ve always drawn those. My earliest memory is standing in a field, and there’s a big crowd of people. I’m holding a sparkler in one hand, and it feels overwhelming until a big hand comes around mine and all of my worries go away. I hold my sparkler up and stare at the sky behind it, exploding in fireworks.”
“Whose hand was it?”
“I don’t know. I always assumed it was Steve’s, but we’ve never set off fireworks. To him, it would be like lighting your money on fire. Also, I can’t remember him ever holding my hand.” She inhaled slowly as hope seemed to balloon in her throat. Another life unfolding. “When I got those results back…”
“You thought it might be a memory. With Christopher Koning.”
“Yeah. That night…It was magical. The flowerworks seemed to go on forever. It’s like I can still see them when I close my eyes. I dream the sky is full of them.”
“They’re beautiful, Ren.”
Her stomach warmed with the compliment. “Thank you.” She stepped forward, setting a hand on his chest. “I think you’re beautiful.”
Edward frowned, glancing down at the water lapping gently against her fingers, his chest. He seemed to sense the transition in her, the suggestion that they could stop talking for a little while.
“You know, what we were talking about back there,” he said, tilting his head closer to shore. “About how I stopped us from going too far last night…”
She waited, but her heart did an uncomfortable stutter, watching him piece together the words.
“I don’t want you to regret anything after this trip,” he said, finally, and the intensity seeped back into his eyes. “From blackmail to a sort of truce to hot-tub kissing to voluntarily sharing a bed…It’s been a wild ride for me—I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”
“Wild is one word for it,” she agreed, laughing.
“I don’t want you to jump into anything you’d look back on and wish you hadn’t done.”
“Like what?”
“Having sex with me,” he said bluntly, and heat flashed across her skin.
“What about falling for you?”
“Oh.” He swallowed, wincing. “That too, I guess.”
She made herself maintain eye contact, even though her hand was trembling on his skin. “I won’t deny that I have feelings for you. And I don’t know how they compare to what’s normal because I’ve never done this before. But I know my heart well enough to know that I won’t fall in love with someone I don’t know very well. And I barely know anything about you yet.” She blinked down, distracted by the bob of his throat when he swallowed. “I do know that we’re from very different worlds. You were raised in a rich family, and I—”
“About that,” he said, cutting in gently. “I think you have the wrong idea about me. I think,” he amended in a rush, “I’ve let you have the wrong idea.”
“What do you mean?”
He pushed away, swimming backward and then returning, but still staying several feet from where he’d been. Keeping some distance. He tilted his face to the sky. “I’m at Corona on a scholarship, just like you.”
“A scholarship? Why do you need a scholarship?”
“I’m not the biological child of Robert Fitzsimmons.” Finally, he looked at her again. “I didn’t even meet him until I was fourteen. I was fifteen when he adopted me.”