My Fallen Saint (Fallen Saint # 1) - J. Kenner Page 0,2

the door with a scowl.

“Hello? Waiting the movie on you two. I mean, rude.”

We clapped our hands over our mouths to bite back another flood of laughter, took our seats, and settled in until the pizza came. And even though Alex was the one who delivered it—and even though he stayed to watch the second half of Aliens and sat right next to me—Brandy never said a word. Not then. Not ever.

Which is a big part of why she’s my best friend to this day.

After that, Alex was around a lot. Peter had a home office, but he did most of his work at construction sites or in the offices of the apartments and hotels he owned. He’d hired Alex to do administrative stuff, which meant that Alex was at the house most every day.

I turned down beach and movie offers from my friends, choosing to stay in and fetch Alex water and snacks and coffee. Each time I’d linger a bit, asking what he was doing, and he’d never blow me off. He’d even invite me to stay. Then one day he asked if I wanted to help.

“Not as interesting as spending the summer with your friends,” he’d said, “but I’d love the company.” He smiled then, and that tiny little motion—nothing more than muscles around lips—had melted me.

“Good. Because I’d rather be here.”

“Would you?”

I nodded, my heart pounding with such ferocity I was sure he must be able to hear it.

“That works out great, because I like having you here.”

I met his eyes, and something deep inside me roared. For the first time in my life, I felt the hard punch of true, sexual desire.

“Right.” I swallowed, trying to overcome my desert-dry mouth.

So that’s what I did, helping him when I could, taking up space the rest of the time. And we talked. About anything and everything. I’d never been as comfortable with anyone in all my life, and that was despite the humming, buzzing, crackling in the air whenever we were near each other.

“Have you done anything?” Brandy asked when we were back in school months later.

“No! He works for my uncle, remember? Besides, he’s eighteen. Me, sixteen. And he knows it.”

She waved away my words. “Yeah, but so what? You act older. Ever since … well, my mom says you raised yourself.”

Honestly, Mrs. Bradshaw wasn’t wrong. My uncle may have sheltered and fed and clothed me these last few years, but that was about it. Nurturing, I got at Brandy’s house. And the rest? Well, I guess maybe I did raise myself.

“Eighteen,” I repeated firmly. “Nineteen next week.”

“That’s perfect.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Wrap yourself in a bow, and you can be his present.”

I didn’t give myself to him, of course, but when he turned nineteen, I gave him a leather friendship bracelet with a Celtic knot. “That’s called a love knot,” he said, and I felt my cheeks burn hot.

“I—I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t you? Well, it makes it all the more special to me.”

“Oh.”

He held out his arm to me. “Fasten it?”

I did, lightly stroking my thumb over his wrist as I manipulated the clasp.

“This is fucked up,” he said, so soft I could barely hear him.

“What?”

“Us,” he said, the words like ice.

“I’m sorry. I should—” I turned to go, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. We were alone in Uncle Peter’s study, and he held me in place.

“You’re sixteen.” He practically growled the words. “Why the hell are you only sixteen?”

I shook my head, blinking as I tried to prevent the flood of tears.

“We can’t,” he said, and I didn’t have to ask what he meant.

“I know,” I whispered. I’d been talking to the ground, but I told myself that wasn’t fair. He deserved the words. He deserved to see my heart. I looked up and met his eyes. “But I want to.”

His head tilted in the slightest of nods. “I know,” he said. “I want it, too.”

Chapter Three

For months, being with Alex was both torture and bliss. It was like living in a pressure cooker, and I think we both knew that the day would come when we couldn’t fight it anymore.

Then, right after Christmas break, Brandy’s dad pulled up stakes and moved the whole family to San Diego with barely any notice at all. We’d been devastated, and the day before she left, I helped her pack her room and stayed until her mom said I had to go because the movers were coming at five in the morning. I’d