"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Lakes said, but she winked. "Actually, I just wanted to say hello and tell you..." She leaned in again. "You are practically all he ever talks about."
The guilt in Kylie's chest doubled, but this time she couldn't stop herself from looking over the woman's shoulder at Derek. He made a face at her as if he was worried about what his mom might be saying.
"I think my son is sweet on you," Mrs. Lakes said.
Kylie shifted her focus back to Mrs. Lakes but she didn't know how to answer. "I..."
The woman smiled. "I'm so glad he found nice friends here." She looked down at her glass. "Now, I'll leave and stop embarrassing you. Thank you for the water."
As Kylie watched the woman walk away, she muttered, "I'm sweet on him, too." And she was. What wasn't to like about Derek? She liked him for his easygoing ways, she liked the way he was nice to everyone and didn't think he was better than anyone else. She liked him in other ways, too.
The vision of him standing naked in the shower filled her mind. She was really, really sweet on Derek.
So, why hadn't she barged into his dreams? Why wasn't Derek the one whom her subconscious went to for fulfilling some kind of naughty fantasy? Feeling her face heat up just thinking about this in public, she looked back down at the glasses of ice water.
"Hi, Pumpkin."
Thoughts of fantasies immediately took flight. Hi, Pumpkin. Hi, Pumpkin. Realizing who stood right behind her, she froze. Even if she hadn't recognized the voice, only one person called her pumpkin.
She turned and lifted her eyes to her dad ... stepdad. "What are you doing here?" she blurted out, and damn it if she didn't want to drop to the floor, curl up in a ball, and start to cry.
"What do you think I'm doing? I came to see my girl." He smiled and looked at her the way he used to when she did something cute, or when she showed him a good report card.
Yup, she wanted to cry all right. The tightness in her throat made that crystal clear. "You didn't tell me you were coming." Was that enough of a reason to walk away? "You should have told me."
The loving father look on his face quickly changed to an unhappy father look. "I would have told you if you'd taken my calls," he said in a disgruntled voice. It was a voice he didn't use a lot, because her mom had always been the heavy.
"I've been busy," she answered.
His eyes tightened. "We both know I left you about seven voicemails, two texts, and a couple of e-mails. And I don't think you've been so busy that you couldn't have returned just one of them. I even called your camp leader."
The tears she didn't want to come started filling her eyes just as anger started filling her chest. But she welcomed the anger, because it crowded out the hurt. She looked into his eyes. He had no right getting angry at her. No right to tell her what she'd done wrong when his wrongs had totally ruined her life. Ruined her mother's life, too.
"Do you really want to talk about right and wrong?" she asked.
To his credit, his expression went from annoyed to ashamed in zero flat. "I guess your mom's been talking to you. Damn it! She really shouldn't have told you about our problems."
"What? Are you kidding me? Are you seriously going to stand here and blame this on Mom?"
He blinked. "I just ... I don't think she should have said any-"
"Stop." Kylie gripped her hands to keep them from trembling ... or from punching him in the nose. Right then, she wasn't sure which was more likely to happen. "Mom didn't tell me anything." Tears spilled down her face. "Mom didn't have to tell me anything. You told me. No, wait.
I misspoke. You didn't tell me anything. You showed me."
"What are talking about, Kylie?" He leaned in and lowered his voice as if hinting she should do the same.
But she was too mad, too hurt to care who heard their argument. He'd left her. He'd left her and her mom for some bimbo. The vision of him and his slutty little intern making out in front of the downtown B&B filled her head.
"Well, first you hit on Holiday when you came to visit me," she said. "That was embarrassing enough, but then I saw you in town later that day. You hadn't come alone. And I saw you and your intern standing in the middle of downtown Fallen. You want to know why I remember it so well, Dad?"
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. So she continued, "Because you had your tongue shoved down her throat while she had her hand jammed down your pants." Kylie blinked and felt more tears spilling over onto her cheeks. "Lovely," she seethed.
"It was such a lovely sight, seeing your dad practically get a hand job in public."
Instantly, she realized that the entire room had gone deadly silent. Damn! Had she really screamed that out in the middle of the entire camp and their parents?
She glanced out at the crowd. Staring at her and her father. And from the look on everyone's face, yeah, she had.
Okay, now she really, really wished she'd taken her dad's hint about lowering her voice. Turning around, not looking at her dad, not looking at the crowd, she walked out of the dining room, hoping she could get outside before she started crying in earnest.
She would have run, but exhibiting her superfast supernatural running skills would have caused even more of a scene.
So she walked slowly toward the exit and pretended she didn't feel the tears gliding down her cheeks.
She pretended her heart wasn't breaking.
She pretended that she didn't know that about one hundred pairs of eyes were watching her go.
But pretending could only take her so far.
This ... this was too damn real, and it hurt her too much.
Chapter Twenty-one
The knock sounded on her bedroom door not three minutes after she crawled into her bed and pulled the covers over her face and continued to cry. "Go away," Kylie called out.
The door opened. She yanked the cover from her face, expecting to see Holiday. But nope, Derek stood there with a heck of a lot concern for her shimmering in his eyes.
Seeing it only made her start crying harder. She cried because of her dad, and she cried because she felt bad about the dreams she'd had about Lucas. Derek rushed over to the bed and pulled her against him. If he read any of her emotions about guilt, he didn't say it. He just held her. And she loved him for doing that, too.
She buried her head on his shoulder and continued to sob in his arms. She didn't care that she was getting tears and snot all over his shirt. His arms felt so good wrapped around her and while he didn't say it, the way he held her said he didn't care about his shirt, either. Good thing, because when she got through crying, it was really going to be a mess.