The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1) (57 page)

“
Seriously?
”
I huff.

“
What?
”
asks Daphne, who stops at my side and follows my gaze.

“
What
is it
with her?
”

In the last couple of hours, I have watched that girl flirt with Trevor, Beckham, and now Sonny. I
’
d bet my right
arm
that she was flirting with Jackson while Daphne and I were in the bathroom. Knowing what I do now about Trevor
’
s complicated relationship with Daphne
—
albeit my knowledge is very, very slim and vague
—
it makes me even more mad that she kept touching him and laughing at his jokes all throughout dinner.
Granted, I was laughing at his jokes too, but that was
so
not the same thing
. Then, of course, seeing her throw herself at Hammy was no walk in the park, either
—
even though it did up my corn hole game
—
but now
this?!
She
knows
he has a girlfriend!

“
Are you talking about Logan?
”
asks Daphne with a furrowed brow of confusion.

“
Yeah
. She practically flirts with anything that
breathes!
”

Daphne laughs and continues walking, tugging me along by my elbow.
“
Actually, she only flirts with anything that breathes
and
has a dick. It
’
s just in her nature. You get used to it.
”

“
It
’
s
rude!
”

She grins at me from over her shoulder.
“
Feisty Avery! I like it.
”

Suddenly incredibly anxious to reach Sonny, I quicken my pace. Daphne has to let go of my elbow as I take advantage of my small size and force my way through the crowd that separates me from my man. Sonny spots me just as I make my way around the last obstacle between us and as our eyes meet, I forget about Logan almost entirely. He turns to address her, saying something I don
’
t hear while he keeps his eyes trained on me, and then his arms are around my waist and his lips are pressed against the side of my neck just below my ear.

“
Hey, Shorty.
”
His voice rumbles against my skin and I have to hold onto his arms to keep myself upright as my knees grow weak.

“
Hey, Hottie,
”
I say with a grin.
“
I
’
m so glad you
’
re here.
”

“
Me too. I missed you.
”
As he speaks, he kisses his way down my neck and then back up again, mapping a trail of affection all the way across my cheek.

“
I missed
you
.
”
My stomach starts dancing when his lips finally meet mine.

“
Looks like you win,
”
Daphne whispers in my ear. I turn to look in her direction and she offers me a wink before she goes to occupy the space beside Trevor.

The band is announced and the music starts immediately. I can tell right away that I like their sound
—
mostly because they've managed to incorporate a banjo that adds a bit of twang to their rock and roll. I turn to face the stage, which is far enough away that I can actually see the musicians, and Sonny wraps his arms around my shoulders as he hugs me back against his chest.
Here is my favorite place to be,
I think to myself as I enjoy the moment and everything that
’
s in it
—
the music, the majestic setting that is the end of dusk, the warm night air, the crowd, my friends, and the man that I love.

This is my summer.

Part way through the set, my eyes wander and I see Trevor has his arm wrapped comfortably around Daphne
’
s waist. I watch as they bob their heads in unison to the music. Then he speaks into her ear and she laughs at something only she can hear. I think back to our previous conversation and wonder about them
—
about what makes them broken. I know that I can
’
t fix them, but my heart aches for the hurt that I assume exists in the realm of
complicated
. I
’
ve seen it first hand, with Addie and Hammy; their story may be different, but it gives me a really good idea of what
complicated
looks like. Even though I know I can
’
t fix Daphne and Trevor, I believe that I can help them by praying for them. It might not be much and it might not be enough, but it
’
s something and my heart is begging for me to do at least that, so I promise myself that I will.

Singing on the praise team at Calvary Hill is usually such a blessing. I love that I can use my voice to help create an atmosphere of worship for people to enter into on Sunday mornings. In my opinion, the praise and worship part of service is the
best
part
—
it
’
s a chance for everyone to love on Jesus as they sing or dance or clap or lift their hands in honor of Him. Being on the platform, I can look out and see the congregation as they lose themselves in their own personal and intimate moments with God. Not everyone feels free or comfortable to worship and the sight of the stiff or uninterested always elicits a prayer from me that God might move in such a way that would break their resolve. But for those who aren
’
t afraid to participate wholeheartedly, I rejoice with them and I feed off of their praise. Except for today.

Today was a struggle for me.

It
’
s been four weeks since Beck and I broke up. When I woke up to get ready for church this morning, I didn
’
t really think about it. That
’
s how quickly our separation has become a part of my everyday reality. A month. I didn
’
t dawn on me, though, how
crazy
that is until I was on the platform and we were in the middle of a worship song. I looked out into the congregation and I saw him lost in his own moment; his head was bowed, his hands were clasped together and pressed against his lips, and he was swaying slowly with the beat from side to side. Seeing him like that
—
looking vulnerable and
clearly
immersed in a moment of prayer
—
my love for him unleashed my
longing
for him that I have been trying to cover up with my
understanding
. Needless to say, my worship shifted then; shifted from a time of worshiping God to a time of pleading with Him to hurry this whole breakup crap along
—
to do whatever it is that He needs to do in Beckham so that I can have him back.

I was distracted for the rest of service. I didn
’
t cry, which I am proud of, but I didn
’
t pay attention to a single thing Pastor Doug said. Instead, I pulled out my journal and wrote an entry to Beck, pouring out my heart in that moment. I thought the hardest part about being friends with him would be the lack of our physical connection
—
holding hands, hugging, kissing
—
just the little things that we got so used to doing without thinking. Turns out, that
’
s not the hardest part for me at all. Yes, I get to still see him
—
not as often as I
’
d like, but I
’
ll take what I can get
—
it
’
s just that I never get to be alone with him. Our conversations over the last four weeks have been far from intimate. I miss talking about our future or about things that we
’
re experiencing as we continue to grow up and live life. I miss discussing things that we might be struggling with. I miss our
wordless
conversations that we'd have with just a look or a sigh. I hate that he
’
s on this journey that I
’
m not allowed to be a part of
—
a journey that he feels he needs to do on his own. Plus, I don
’
t like being on my own journey by myself.

When service ended, even with the pages of my journal I unloaded on, I didn
’
t feel up for a lunch outing with everyone. Luckily, Beck had to get to work and Sarah felt like a nap, which left only Ave and Gray
—
and they
’
re so crazy in love they wouldn
’
t notice if we all decided to join them for lunch or not. That
’
s how I find myself alone on this Sunday afternoon, sprawled across my bed with a novel in one hand and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the other. I grumble only slightly when my phone begins to ring and I have to set down my book and reach over to grab it from off of my nightstand.

My heart drops when I see who
’
s trying to reach me. I haven
’
t spoken to her since Beck and I broke up, and I suddenly feel like an awful person for it.

“
Hello?
”
I answer as I sit up.

“
So you
are
alive! Good grief, woman! Just because you and my brother are broken up, or whatever, doesn
’
t mean you
’
re allowed to break up with
me.
”

I smile, because I can
’
t help myself. I
’
ve missed the sound of her voice.
“
I know, Kenz. I
’
m sorry. I
’
ve been a terrible friend. Will you forgive me?
”

“
A terrible
sister
, which is even worse by the way
…
but yes. You
’
re forgiven.
”

“
So, how have you been?
”

“
Me? Hunky-dory
—
aside from the fact that I feel like my brother has gone temporarily
insane
and I
’
m too far away to smack any sense into him. Now he
’
s ignoring most of my calls because he
’
s sick of having to explain himself. Just wait until he comes down for his next visit.
”