“Christmas and Thanksgiving?”

“Lord, no. They spend the holidays on their private island in the Bahamas. No way am I marooning myself in their company when I’m supposed to be feeling good will toward man and thankful for my gifts. I see my father for a week in April. He reviews my financial situation with his tax attorney. It’s great fun. And I also get the pleasure of their company at the family reunion each year in July. That’s when they all get together and talk about which politician they’re currently courting and who has the most expensive yacht.”

“Can’t even begin to relate to that.”

She chuckled. “Me neither.”

“Didn’t you grow up in that environment?”

“Not really. I had a piano teacher and a variety of tutors, a housekeeper who made sure I was fed and clean, but mostly I had me.”

“You must have been lonely. I can relate to that. My grandfather owns a piece of land outside Austin. He lived in one trailer, and my mom and I lived in another. I made sure Mom was fed and clean, and grandpa tried to teach me how to find peace through connecting with the earth. I learned a lot from him before he died. He was half-Comanche and had a unique way of seeing things. When he passed, he left everything to my mom, so she started buying top-shelf vodka. Then my senior year in high school, she met some guy and left me on my own. I was eighteen, and she decided I’d rather finish school in Austin than follow her and Henry to Florida.”

“Did she ask you how you felt about that?”

“Nope, but she was right. I preferred to stay on my own. But her not giving me the choice made me feel unwelcome and unwanted.”

She squeezed his arm reassuringly. She’d never felt wanted either. But she wanted him and hoped that he wanted her too.

“I’ve never admitted that to anyone,” he said. “Not even Owen. When my mom moved out, he and I made it out like it was a huge party. I guess I needed that lie, that I was glad Mom left. Owen tends to dwell on the good and pretend the bad doesn’t exist. He keeps me going most days.”

“I think I’d like to meet him. It’s hard to find a good optimist.”

He laughed. “Yeah, Owen wears optimism like a shield.”

“Do you know who your father is?”

“Yeah. I never met him though. He contacted me when I was sixteen. Sent cards and letters, but I didn’t want to have anything to do with him. I was too angry at him for abandoning me.”

“You’ve never met him? Not even once?”

“No. He got killed in a car wreck before I could allow myself to forgive him. And then it was too late. I didn’t even find out about his death until a week after the funeral. I’m not sure if I would have gone had I known.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Before Sara was diagnosed, that was my sole regret in life,” he said. “Not getting to know my father when I had the chance. When Sara got sick, my list of regrets grew exponentially.”

“You don’t regret knowing her, do you?”

“Never. I regret not making her last months more about living and less about dying. I regret letting her convince me that the lump I found in her breast was probably nothing. Did you know that when breast cancer is caught early, it has a near one hundred percent cure rate?”

Dawn hated that he carried that guilt. How was he supposed to know what was going on inside her body?

“They didn’t catch it early, did they?”

He shook his head. “It had already metastasized into her lungs. Breast cancer doesn’t even run in her family. She didn’t smoke. She ate healthy and took care of her body. So why did it happen to her?”

“It was just chance,” Dawn said.

“I don’t believe in chance.”

“You believe in destiny,” she said.

He nodded slightly.

“So you think she was destined to die at… how old was she?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Jesus,” Dawn said, sudden tears springing to her eyes. No one should die that young. “Does it make it easier or more difficult thinking she died because it was her destiny?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just really can’t bring myself to believe that she suffered like that for no reason. But even though I’ve tried rationalizing her death, I can’t come up with any sound reason for her to be taken so young.”

Dawn didn’t believe in destiny or fate. She believed in chance. So it was hard for her to understand where he was coming from. In her mind, there was no reason for Sara to die other than her cells had become cancerous, due to some chance event that would never be identified, and she’d died. She knew Kellen wouldn’t find that any more comforting than not having the sound reason he sought. And Dawn’s beliefs weren’t important here. She didn’t want to convince him that she was right and he was wrong. All she wanted was for him to find that comfort he needed, even if she wasn’t the one who gave it to him.

“Maybe you’re not meant to know the reason she died so young,” Dawn said.

“I’m sure I’m not supposed to understand it,” he said, “but that doesn’t stop me from trying.”

They sat silently, and Dawn found herself missing the sound of the storm raging outside. She could use a distraction from her thoughts and was certain Kellen’s thoughts were equally as turbulent.

“So how many men have you slept with?” he asked.

Or maybe he was thinking about her vagina.

“Why?” she asked.

“You seem a little inexperienced.”

“I do?”

“You’re great at what you do,” he said. “That trick with the candle wax had me ready to explode.”

“I made that up on the fly,” she said.

“Nice.”

She chuckled. “But to answer your question, four. Including you. You count, right?”

“I’m hoping by the end of the night, I’ll count double.”

That sounded promising. Was he thinking of getting intimate with her again? Yes, please. She’d never known a guy to come twice in one night, so if Kellen managed it three times, she’d definitely count him double.

“How many woman have you slept with?” she asked. It was only fair that he share the same information. Then she remembered he was a rock star. She’d probably have a stroke when he spouted some astronomical figure.

“Actual sex or fooling around and foreplay?”

“Actual sex.”

“Four,” he said. “Including you.”

She gaped at him for what felt like five minutes and then sputtered, “Liar!”

“I didn’t call you a liar. Why do you think I’m one?”

“Because. Because you’re a gorgeous rock star. You must have women hanging all over you.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have sex with them. I only have sex when I feel a connection with a woman, and that doesn’t happen very often.”

So was he saying he felt a connection with her?

“I have fooled around a lot,” he said. “I’m not a saint.”

“Then why did you tell me you’ve only been with three other women?”

“Because I place a certain emphasis on being inside a woman. It’s important to me and I thought maybe it was important to you too. If it’s not, that’s okay. I just wanted to know what kind of woman destiny insists I feel a connection with.”

There he went with that destiny stuff again. Couldn’t they have just met by chance, had a few things in common—most notably music—found each other attractive and decided that a little pleasure would go well with their newfound compatibility?

“Tell me about your other lovers,” he said. “I want to know what I’m up against.”

Her eyes widened. This was like taboo stuff to talk about so early in a relationship. But wait—was this even a relationship yet? Hardly. But she found herself telling him anyway.

“I lost my virginity on prom night.”

“Cliché,” he said with a soft smile. “Was it good for you?”

“No. It was awkward and it hurt and I didn’t even like the guy. I hadn’t ever been on a date before. My dad somehow talked one of his colleague’s sons into taking me to his prom, since I was homeschooled and would have missed out on all the fun. I didn’t know anyone there. I was so socially awkward and apparently naive. He gave me my first kiss. First tongue kiss. First boob fondle. First touch down below. First penetration. All in the same night. I didn’t know how to stop him. I wanted him to stop, but I was scared and confused, so I just let it happen. I never saw him again after that night, and I’m glad. I’d probably have thrown up if I ever had to be in the same room with him again.” Just thinking about that night so many years ago made her feel queasy.

“What a scum-sucking son-of-a-bitch,” he said. “You don’t count that one, Dawn. That’s called date rape.”

She shook her head. “Except I never told him no. I just thought it. And thought it. And thought it. But I never said it.”

“If you didn’t want to do it, it was rape. I’ve had a lot of women who can’t take no for an answer. It’s never progressed to actual intercourse, but even being touched when you don’t want to be touched doesn’t feel right. It bothers me every time it happens.”

Dawn’s belly flipped over. “But I touched you when you didn’t want to be touched. I’m sorry if it bothered you.” She hadn’t even thought that her coming on so strong to Kellen might have made him feel the way that Jonathan Kingsley had made her feel. How wretched of her.

He chuckled. “Are you kidding? The only kind of bothered you caused was hot and bothered. I wanted you to touch me so badly I thought I was going to rip those boxer shorts in half with my boner. There is a difference between reluctance and rejection. That asshole stole something from you that he had no right to take.”

Not many people knew what had happened to her on prom night. It wasn’t like she could have told her parents. She didn’t have close friends until college, and they’d thought losing her virginity behind a Dairy Queen was funny, because she usually told it as a humorous story. She didn’t know why she’d expressed her true feelings when she’d told Kellen about it. And Kellen’s understanding about why it had been so mortifying made her feel better.