Last First Kiss: A Second Chance Standalone Romance Read online

  LAST FIRST KISS

  JANE ANTHONY

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Jane Anthony

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHT

  Last First Kiss

  Copyright © Jane Anthony 2019

  All rights reserved

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without proper written permission from the author.

  Cover Design by:

  Lori Jackson, Lori Jackson Designs

  Editing by:

  Candice Royer

  Proofreading by:

  Jenny Sims, Editing4Indies

  Allison Irwin, Allison Literary

  DEDICATION

  For

  JMK

  Wherever you are, you’re always in my heart.

  PROLOGUE

  Wren

  I’M SUFFOCATING.

  Right here in the park, with the warm breeze lifting the tips of Jesse’s dirty blond hair, and the Canadian geese honking near the lake. This is the spot. Our spot. The lonely edge of the park where the swings lazily sway in the summer wind, and the sun sets behind the trees, slashing the sky in marble colors of pink, purple, and blue.

  This is where I’ll take my last breath and blow away into nothingness.

  “Please don’t cry. It’s only one state over.”

  “Can’t help it,” I reply, digging a piece of mulch from the dirt with the white toe of my Converse sneaker. “Cooperstown may as well be in another country. I’ll never see you again.”

  When he shifts, I try not to notice the knot forming between his brows as the swing curves around his hips. He wouldn’t want me to ask, so I don’t. He clutches the skateboard between his thighs, his ink-stained fingers curling over the worn wood.

  “It’s not far enough that it will keep us apart. Two years goes by fast.”

  The thought of not seeing him for two whole years hurts my heart in a way that makes it hard to breathe. It feels like a weight is sitting on my chest, constricting my lungs until I can barely pull in enough air.

  Jesse pushes from the swing and lets it float away from his body as he stands. “I gotta go, Bird. If my parents know I snuck out . . .”

  “Stay . . . please . . . just a little longer?” I beg, stealing his hand in mine.

  His lips press into a thin pink line. He reaches over to dry my tears, his fingertip caressing my cheek with small, sweet brushes of tenderness. He’s my best friend, my everything. I can’t remember a single day before him, and I can’t imagine one without.

  “Don’t cry for me, Bird. I’m not worth all these tears.”

  “You are to me,” I whisper on broken words, raising my face to bask in the warmth of his gaze.

  Emotion stings my eyes and claws at my throat.

  He leans in closer, the combined scents of laundry detergent and paint bringing me into his embrace. “I’m not gonna say goodbye because I know we’ll be together again someday.”

  “Yeah.” It’s the only raspy word I can muster at the moment. The wounded whine of the lie burns my tongue, making me feel so helpless and alone. His hard body absorbs the unrelenting waves of sadness crashing against us as he holds me close. Tighter than he ever has. Almost as if he’s afraid to let go.

  His hand finds my cheek again, his fingers sinking in the strawberry tendrils blowing around my ears seconds before his lips touch mine.

  I gasp. My mouth fumbles against his, my knees turning to jelly as he flicks across my lips with tangy little licks that tease them apart. The sweet hint of orange Tic Tacs will always bring me back to this moment.

  His taste.

  His touch.

  The feel of his chest pressed against mine.

  All of it new and exciting and over far too soon for my liking.

  “I’ll call you once I’m settled,” he promises.

  Blinking back tears, I nod as I watch him roll away, knowing full well that our first kiss will also be our last.

  CHAPTER 1

  Wren

  “CAN I HAVE MORE COFFEE, MA’AM?”

  Inwardly cringing, I swing toward the request, freshening up the childlike girl’s empty mug.

  When did teenagers start looking so . . . young?

  At twenty-one years old, I’m certainly nowhere near ma’am status, yet the girl sitting in the booth with her equally fresh-faced friends looks like a toddler. At some point, I cross the line between child and adult and no one gave me the memo. It seems like only yesterday I was the girl in the booth throwing back burnt coffee and stale French fries, ma’aming the waitresses to death with my friends.

  Now I roam these antiquated aisles with a black carafe in one hand and an orange one in the other. Decaf or regular? Fake a smile, collect a tip, and do it all again. Sunup to sundown — Welcome to The Grind, what can I get ya?

  I swear, I say that shit in my sleep.

  “Thank you,” she singsongs, turning her attention back to her friends as my gaze sweeps the room. High school kids fill the pink pleather booths and worn wooden tables this time of night. In a small town like Creek Falls, there isn’t much else to do until you turn twenty-one and start spending all your nights at The High Hat.

  But I don’t mind really. At least they’re polite. At the stroke of two a.m., the twentysomethings will stumble in here from the bar down the road and fill their beer-soaked gullets with greasy burgers and eggs over-easy. I’d take teenagers over those leering idiots any day. Thankfully, my shift ends in thirty minutes, and I have Asher already waiting for me in bed.

  “Cheer up, doll. It’s almost ten o’clock!” Linda clicks the corner of her mouth and winks as she backs out of the kitchen, carrying two orders of gravy fries in each hand and a plate of chicken fingers balanced on her wrinkled forearm.

  “Let me help you with that,” I offer, but she doesn’t slow her steady pace.

  “I got this!” I hear her say as she rushes to the waiting table in the back. Linda’s what’s known as a Grind Lifer. She’s been here since as far back as I can remember, and she’ll probably remain long after I’ve left.

  The smiling faces of her grandkids are perpetually pinned to her uniform, her tight perm dyed lilac-gray. She’s teeming wit
h piss and vinegar from the moment she arrives until the time she leaves. I have no idea where she gets the energy.

  “How many Red Bulls has Linda had tonight?” I question, bursting through the kitchen doors. They smack open, then shut immediately behind me, swaying a bit before coming to a dead stop.

  Allison glances over her shoulder and grins. “Knowing her? Probably about three, but the night is young. We’re almost out of coffee. Can you start another pot?” She snatches a cloth from the edge of the counter and uses it to carefully pull a plate from beneath the heat lamps. “Five kids at a table, and they’re sharing one plate of fries. Unbelievable.”

  “Suck it up, babe. Part of the job.”

  “All I have to say is, thank God I can buy shampoo and condoms at the dollar store now.”

  Following her out, I duck behind the counter and head to the industrial-sized coffee machine that sits at the end. The bold aroma smacks me in the face as I pop the seal on the gigantic can of grinds and begin to fill the filter basket.

  “I’ll have another cup when it’s ready.” Deep and rich as the coffee itself, the smooth baritone seeps across the counter and slinks up my spine.

  “Five minutes,” I answer, jamming my thumb on the button. The machine lets out a labored hiss as steam rises from the bowels below. I replace the coffee can and swipe my hands over my apron before turning my face toward the dining room.

  “Bird?”

  The sound of my past wipes away the low din of chatter buzzing around me. For a split second, I’m sixteen again, sitting on the curb watching my best friend do skate jumps in the park. I shake my head back into the present. My gaze shifts across the various faces at the bar. An old man, two young boys . . . and the one who got away.

  “Jesse.” The whispered sound of his name permeates my ears and soaks into my chest. It’s been five years since I’ve seen him. Five long years since I watched the boy I love walk away with my heart. Now here he is, picking me apart with the same intense blue gaze.

  Only this time, he's a man.

  Dark blond hair curls out from beneath the brim of the Baseball Hall of Fame cap pulled low over his forehead. It gently kisses the tips of his ears and gives way for a light smattering of stubble on his jaw. A jaw that’s grown angular and hard—nothing like the soft, round face I remember—but when he looks up and smiles, the same lines crease across the bridge of his nose, making my heart dance in my chest.

  “Been a long time, Bird.” His gaze cuts across my features, making me uncomfortable at his appraisal. “You cut your hair. Looks good.”

  My lips part in an attempt to speak, but my voice sticks in my throat. When he moved away, I was sure I’d never see him again. He walked away, leaving me with nothing but the phantom feeling of his lips on mine, a broken heart, and a head full of unanswered questions.

  “Thanks,” I reply after a beat, subconsciously fingering the hair at my shoulders. “I see you were finally able to grow that beard you wanted.”

  “Oh.” Splashes of white cover his hands as he reaches up and strokes his chin. “I’m just too lazy to shave.”

  “Always were an underachiever.”

  “And you always reached for the stars.” He gestures toward me, making me even more self-conscious than I was moments ago.

  I stand like a fool, taking him in like he’s a work of art. I mean, it’s an astute comparison, I guess. Splotches of paint seep into the grimy, graying fabric of his tattered tee. I want to jump across the counter and take him in my arms to see if he smells the same as I remember, but I also want to throw this burning pot of coffee in his face for leaving me as if I didn’t matter. He was everything to me, and I thought I meant something to him too.

  Turns out, I was wrong.

  Indignance chases my befuddlement, and I snap from my stupor. “What are you doing here?”

  He shrugs. “Working days doing drywall doesn’t leave me with a lot of time for art, so I paint at night, but nothing was coming to me. Figured I may as well take a coffee break.”

  My pulse jumps when he mentions painting. So many nights I stayed up long past the setting sun wondering what happened to the gifted artist who took his talent for granted. I pictured him in fancy New York galleries as people paid top dollar for his work. Surely, he must have run toward something great, or he would have come home like he promised.

  I take a breath to calm my racing nerves. “No. I mean here. In Creek Falls.”

  Another smile. Another row of delightful crinkles.

  My body reacts on its own accord. He’s still so fucking cute, and I hate myself for feeling this way after all these years.

  “Mom isn’t doing well. Her health . . .” When he lifts the brim of his hat and scratches under it, the pendant lights catch on the silver ring around his thumb, and for some reason, I find it mesmerizing. “When my stepdad died a few months ago, I thought it was time to come back and help Erika with some of the burden. She’s still finishing up high school. Ya know?”

  “Erika’s in high school? Wow. I can’t believe that.” Images of the little blond rat who used to follow us around making kissy noises pop into my head. She was a sweet kid, but she drove Jesse up the wall.

  “Yeah. And she’s beautiful now; you should see her. Truthfully, I’m glad I’m here to keep the boys away.”

  I nod slowly, my mind playing more tricks than my mouth can keep up with. “She was always a pretty girl. I’m sorry about your mom, though.”

  Jesse shrugs as Allison rushes down behind counter, pulling my attention toward her. “You okay?”

  Furrowing my brow, I respond, “Yeah?” It’s more of a question than a statement. “Why?”

  “I dunno. You’re all red in the face.”

  Heat burns the tips of my ears. I touch my cheek, flaming with embarrassment. Being a redhead has its downside. Every emotion shows on my face, no matter how small. The crimson flush darkening my pale, freckled skin at the drop of a hat.

  “I should probably get back to work,” Jesse cuts in, rising from the stool. Much like his shirt, his torn jeans wear the same rainbow splashes of color. Fingerprints smear across the thighs, but my gaze settles on the bare skin of his knees poking through the frayed holes. “Come gimme a hug.” He beckons me over with two fingers. The way they crook elegantly in midair makes my stomach twist.

  I’m not sure if I hesitate, or if my knees are just too rigid to move, but I stand for a beat, contemplating the ramifications of rushing around this counter and folding into his arms.

  It’s stupid.

  I’m holding on to a childhood crush like a love-sick puppy. He’s nothing to me now. Just another stranger at the counter. One hug, then he’ll be on his way again.

  Despite the warnings whispering from my heart, my feet propel me forward. I round the counter to the other side, sliding my arms around his thick torso.

  A thousand hugs passed between us over the course of our friendship. I’d remember his body in my sleep, but in all my memories, it never felt like this. Strong and wide. A wall of a man who smells exactly the same as the boy who left me. Like freedom and asphalt, paint and cotton, with a sweet spice that only belongs to him. I’ve spent the past five years of my life chasing that smell and here it is, pressed up against my nose in the form of a sturdy pectoral muscle.

  “It was great to see you, Bird,” he says, pulling away.

  For the second time, I stand stunned, watching his back move farther away until he disappears through the door.

  “Who was that?” Allison’s question rings through my mind.

  That was my heart.

  “An old friend.” I lick my lips, trying to calm my racing pulse.

  “Old friend? Or old flame?” she asks. With a knowing look, she lifts a manicured brow, pursing her lips.

  “Just a friend,” I answer, but the sheepish edge in my tone does not go unnoticed. Jesse and I were friends and nothing more, but that didn’t stop my heart from bursting every time he’d skate up to my door.
I was a silly girl pining for a boy who had his sights set on a future that didn’t include her.

  Allison whistles through her teeth. “I wish I had friends that hot. Did you see his butt? It was like a magazine ad for Jordache.”

  I turn a sarcastic smirk at my friend. “You’re so bad.”

  She grabs what’s left of Jesse on the counter—a coffee cup, a napkin doodle, and two empty sugar packets—and drops them onto the bus tray behind it. “Not nearly as bad as you, my friend.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re over here beaming like the sun over your old friend,” she says, using finger quotes. “Meanwhile, don’t you have a boyfriend? A very nice man named Asher.”

  Fuck.

  Asher.

  Any residual thoughts of him flew from my mind the second I saw Jesse sitting across from me.

  Asher and I have been together all year. He’s amazing and smart, and God, he’s so sexy. Best of all, he doesn’t play games. He knows what he wants and doesn’t fret over going after it. He’s a real man.

  Yet standing at the end of Allison’s stare down, the guilt is damn near chewing its way through my gut as we speak.

  “He is waiting for me. You’re right. And I’m leaving.” I sigh with an air of nonchalance as I breeze past my glaring friend and head to the kitchen to clock out.

  CHAPTER 2

  Jesse

  DRIVING BACK TO MY HOUSE, I’m thankful that The Grind isn’t that far. I can’t pay attention to the road. My mind keeps wandering back to Wren. I’ve been in town for a handful of months, simultaneously hoping and dreading the possibility of running into her.

  Leaving town was easy, but leaving her was the hardest choice I ever had to make. I stayed away far longer than I should have because I couldn’t bear to be without her, but in the end, self-preservation trumped friendship. I guess that’s why I never called her after I was gone. It was easier for me to just cut bait and run. I can fight with fists, but I’m a coward when it comes to my own feelings. It’s always been my greatest flaw.