Bad Girl Reputation by Elle Kennedy

“I’m so sorry,” I admit. It was an open secret that Randall was a creep and a bad cop, but I had no idea it was so bad at home. In a way, I feel worse now. I feel sorry for Kayla and the kids, and what was surely an ugly aftermath that I invited into their home. “I had no right to barge in like that. The way I behaved that night was … I’m so embarrassed.”

“No, it’s okay.”

She squeezes my shoulder, reminding me that for a long time, we were sort of friends. I’d been their babysitter for years. I used to chat with Kayla on the couch after she’d get home from work. I would tell her things I couldn’t share with my mom, about boys and school and teenage stuff. She was like an aunt or a big sister.

“I’m glad it was you,” Kayla adds. “Things weren’t good between me and Rusty for a long time, but my friends were so afraid of, I don’t know, pissing him off or getting involved, they didn’t want to tell me the truth. And the truth was, I needed to get out of there. I needed to get my kids out of that situation. Because of you, I finally did. And we’re much happier for it. Honestly.”

It’s a relief to hear, although unexpected. I’ve spent the better part of the last year tied up in knots over the guilt and remorse for how I behaved. I’d uprooted my entire life to get away from the crippling embarrassment. And this whole time, I was hiding from my own shadow.

I can’t help but think what might’ve been different now if I’d stayed. If I had the courage to get myself cleaned up without having to change zip codes. Did I need to remove temptation to get sober, or had I underestimated myself? Had I left to escape my worst instincts, or because I was afraid how everyone would react?

We both glance behind us at the sound of Kayla’s kids laughing and squealing in delight. Harrison is probably enthralling them with a magic trick. Some more of his world-renowned comedy stylings.

“He’s good with them,” she remarks, putting her sunglasses back on.

Of course he is. Harrison has a natural ease with just about everyone, a sincere goodness that disarms people. Especially with kids, who see everything.

She tips her head curiously. “That your new boyfriend?”

“No. It’s only been a couple dates.”

Watching Harrison with the kids, I suddenly hear Evan’s voice in my head. I flash back to the night at our spot, the two of us naked under the stars while he mused about kids and a family. The preposterous notion of Evan as a stay-at-home dad, his motorcycle rusting in the yard. Sure.

Yet as difficult as that image is to conjure, it’s not entirely unattractive.

As Kayla and I part with a hug and no hard feelings, the mayor of Avalon Bay takes the mic on a small platform in front of the marina to announce the race participants. I half tune him out, at least until a familiar name greets my ears.

“—and Evan Hartley, sailing with Riley Dalton.”

My head jerks up, and I nearly choke on the melted remnants of my lemon slush at the sound of Evan’s name. I would think I’m hallucinating if not for Harrison raising an eyebrow at the same time.

Huh.

I wonder if Evan remembers he can’t sail.





CHAPTER 21

EVAN

“Mistakes were made.”

Riley laughs.

“That much is clear. It may have started when I steered us into another boat coming off the starting line. It may have been when we failed to make the first turn around the buoy. Who’s to say, really?”

A hysterical noise escapes his throat, a cross between a snort and a howl. Riley hasn’t stopped laughing since we rammed the dock. No, not rammed. We nudged the dock. Rammed would suggest a great rate of speed, which I don’t think we achieved during the entire race.

Sopping wet, I wring out my T-shirt over the railing of the boardwalk while the trophy presentation kicks off at the other end of the marina.

“Dude,” he chokes out between giggles. “We failed miserably.”

“Not true,” I protest. “There was a high point there when we managed to right the ship and not entirely capsize.”

He’s still laughing as we make our way to the crowd gathered around the platform, cheering for the winners and politely congratulating all those who placed. I’m just glad we’re not getting stuck with a bill for salvaging the boat off the bottom of the bay.

As it turns out, I can’t sail for shit. It’s hard, actually. So many ropes and pulleys and winches, who the fuck knew. I thought you just put the sail up and steered, but apparently there’s such a thing as oversteering, and steering left to go right for some stupid reason. Almost the second the starting gun went off, we were discombobulated. Came in dead last after tipping the boat and nearly going in the drink.

But Riley’s still laughing, absolutely stoked on the whole ordeal. Mostly at my suffering, I think, but that’s okay. The kid had a great time, which was the whole damn point to begin with.

“There’s my guy.” His aunt Liz, a petite woman with pretty brown eyes and long hair tied in a low ponytail, finds us among the spectators and gives him a hug. “You have fun?”

“It was a blast,” Riley says. “For a minute there, I thought we were goners.”

“Oh,” she says, covering her alarm with a laugh. “Well, I’m glad you both survived.”