Read Online Magnolia by Kristi Cook - Free Book Online Page A

puts an arm awkwardly around my shoulders. “C’mon, Jemma, please don’t.”
    Somehow, I find myself leaning in to him, soaking the front of his T-shirt. He doesn’t say a word. He just sits there quietly, stroking my hair as I cry it out. Five, maybe ten minutes pass before the tears dry up and my sobs are reduced to sniffles.
    â€œI’m . . . sorry about that,” I finally manage to choke out as I pull away, my cheeks burning with humiliation.
    â€œDon’t be.” He trails a hand across my cheek, wiping away my tears.
    I shiver in response. Without warning, he pulls me closerinto an embrace. His arms encircle me, holding me tightly as I lay my cheek against his chest, inhaling his clean scent. I can hear his heart thumping noisily against my ear, keeping time with my own.
    Being this close to him is both oddly familiar and completely foreign, all at once. It’s totally right and yet all wrong. My head is spinning, my mind trying to make sense of the conflicting feelings swirling inside of me, making me dizzy.
    Just as abruptly, he releases me. “C’mon,” he says, rising and reaching down to help me to my feet. “I should get you home now.”
    Wordlessly, I follow him to his truck. We remain silent throughout the short drive to my house. The windows are rolled all the way down, the night air cooling my skin and making conversation virtually impossible. When we pull up, he cuts the engine and hops out, hurrying around to open my door for me.
    I step onto the driveway, trying to smooth down my wind-whipped hair. “Thanks,” I murmur. “For the ride, and for . . . you know . . . everything.”
    Leaning against the truck with his hands thrust into his pockets, he just nods.
    I know that I should walk away, but something holds me there. He leans toward me, reaching for my shoulder. For a split second, I actually think he’s going to kiss me.
    Instead, he gives my shoulder a little squeeze.
    As I’m still puzzling this out, my mom comes barreling out the front door. “There you are! Oh, thank God. We were worried sick!”
    â€œI—I’m fine,” I stammer.
    Mama shoots me a deadly glare. “Daddy’s been looking all over for you! The barn, the creek . . .” She trails off, shaking her head. “Thanks for bringing her home, Ryder. I really appreciate it, hon.”
    â€œNo problem, Miss Shelby,” Ryder answers with a shrug, then climbs back inside his truck.
    Mama turns to watch him drive off, her mouth curving into a smile. “That boy is such a gentleman.”
    I roll my eyes as I follow her into the house. As soon as I step inside, my cell buzzes. Stopping to lean against the door, I pull it from my pocket and glance down at the screen. It’s a message from Ryder. He must have pulled over at the end of the driveway to send it. My heart does a weird little flip-flop—until I read what he’s written, that is.
    Don’t cancel on Patrick.

ACT I
Scene 7
    Y ou’re not eating much,” Patrick says with a frown. His tousled blond hair is still wet from his postgame shower, and he’s changed into jeans and a blue-and-white-checked button-down shirt. He looks nice. Handsome, in a lean, Abercrombie & Fitch model kind of way.
    â€œSorry. I’m not all that hungry, I guess.” I pick at the crust on my plate, ripping it into little doughy pieces.
    â€œI’m glad you’re here, though. I figured you were going to back out on me. You know, because of this stuff with your sister and all.”
    â€œNo, I . . . The distraction is good for me. Helps keep my mind off it.” I force myself to smile even though I’m not feeling it. I’m not feeling much of anything, really—it’s like I’m numb inside.
    Nan’s coming home tomorrow. Just a matter of hours . . .
    â€œIt was a good game tonight,” I