When I Was Yours(29)

“What about your family?” she asks. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I’m an only child.”

Don’t ask about my parents, I silently wish.

I don’t want to tell her who my mother is. People always change toward me the instant they know, and I want to keep things with Evie just the way they are. I want her to stay looking at me the way she is right now, like she sees only me and not my mother.

“What about your folks? What do they do?”

Fuck.

No getting out of it now. I’m not going to lie to her.

I blow a breath out. “My mother…she’s an actress.”

“Cool. Stage or TV? Although, I don’t get a chance to watch TV, and I don’t go to the theater, like ever, so I might not know her. I apologize in advance for my ignorance.” She smiles at me, wide, and it’s the most beautiful thing.

She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Keep looking at me like that, Evie. Please don’t ever stop.

“My mother is Ava Gunner.”

I keep my eyes on her for as long as I can. I see the recognition of my mother’s name flicker in her eyes.

Then, I wait for it—the change.

But it doesn’t come.

“So, does that make you Adam Gunner?”

Huh?

“Well, I’m not James Bond.” I laugh, a little unsure of what to do in this moment.

“Hey, smart-ass!” She gives me a light jab in the arm. “I meant, I didn’t know your surname, and I know actresses can have stage names, so I wondered if that was your surname or if you have a different one. What’s wrong—”

It’s at this point that I’ve slammed on the brakes. Luckily, the road is clear of cars behind me.

I lean over and grab her face, and I kiss her, hard.

I kiss her because she doesn’t care who my mother is. She cares who I am.

And to me, that is everything.

When I break away, I’m breathing heavily. Evie’s breaths are coming out in sharp, short little gasps, and her cheeks are flushed.

“Wow. Okay,” she murmurs. “Not that I’m complaining—because…holy kiss—but…what was that for?”

I press my forehead to hers and stare deep into her eyes.

“I just told you that my mother was Ava Gunner, and you didn’t care.”

Her eyes soften on me. “Do people always care?”

I curl my fingers around her ears, taking her hair behind them. “Mmhmm.”

“I do know your mom is really famous, but I’m not a big movie person. I don’t really get time to watch films, except for Disney movies with Casey. Now, if you’d told me your mom was Stephen King—well, not your mom because that would be weird if your mom was a dude, but you know what I mean. But, yeah, if she’d been him, then it would have been a different story. I would have jumped your bones for sure.”

“You’d have jumped my bones?” I raise a brow.

A stain appears on her cheeks. “Well, maybe not jumped your bones, but I’d have definitely been excited.”

“Good to know.”

She presses her small hands to my face. “Sure, it’s cool that your mom is Ava Gunner, and I’m sure she’s a really nice person. But, honestly, all I care about is who you are. And from what I know already, I really, really like you.”

I brush my thumb over her lips. “I think you’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

“I remember you once telling me that, yeah.” She bites her lower lip.

“And she’s not.”

“Who’s not, what?” Her eyes are on my mouth.

“My mother. She’s not nice.”

Her eyes lift to mine. “Oh.”

“But that’s a story for another day.” I give her another gentle kiss before putting the truck back in drive and pull out onto the empty road, feeling a lot lighter than I did a few minutes ago.




We decide to go to Surfrider Beach, which is not far from my house, so I take the car back home where we change into our wet suits. Knowing that Evie is changing in the next room from me, that she is naked in there…it does all kinds of crazy things to me.

Then, we walk down the beach, and Evie tells me all about how Grady taught her how to surf and that he was a pro surfer in his day.

I can’t wait to get out on the waves with her and see what she can do.

She’s so different compared to the girls back home. I can’t imagine one of them getting out on a surfboard. They might break a nail or something.

“Here good for you?” I ask her. Stopping, I assess the waves, which are looking good.

“Yeah.” She puts her bag on the sand, standing up her board. “Could you fasten my wet suit up for me?” she asks.