Kingston’s cell rings again. I cringe at the sound as I carry my easel to the porch, old paint still on my hands.
Logan’s cell begins vibrating on the counter, distracting me. It’s the same area code.
“Hello?” I answer
“Hey, I’m looking for Logan or Kingston,” a rough, smoke torn voice replies.
“Umm they’re out at the moment. Can I take a message?”
“Yeah. It’s Paul from Gears Mechanics in Spokane. Wondering when the bike’s getting collected.”
I pick the paint from the back of my hand, phone squished between my shoulder and ear. “Oh! Yeah! Kingston’s. Is it fixed?”
“Fixed?”
“Yeah, it was having issues.”
“No issues with it. We’ve been storing it here like he asked.”
“There was nothing wrong with it?”
“Yeah. Like I said - he asked for it to be stored.”
“You’re 100% sure about this?”
“Until my dying day, kiddo.”
“Ok. Thanks Paul. I’ll let them know you called.”
◆◆◆
I haven’t been able to sit still for the past hour. I can’t send angry messages to demand they come home, or stomp down and scream at them to their faces, because I don’t know which nets they went to.
I proceed to sit and stand, sit and stand, and pace. I consider calling Sammy, but this isn’t her battle to fight.
A grossly slow twenty minutes later I hear the front door open and close, then footsteps and talking.
I stand in the middle of the living room and wait. They come to a halt when they see me, concern registers on both their faces at my scowl.
“Paul from Gears-fucking-Mechanics in Spokane called.”
The room feels eerily quiet all of a sudden.
Logan’s mood doesn’t shift, but Kingston’s face pales.
“Oh, yeah,” Logan says casually. “What’d he want?”
I cannot believe he’s still trying to play me.
“What did he want?” I ask in disbelief. “I don’t know, Logan. What did he want? Oh. That’s right. He wanted to know when Kingston’s perfectly working, perfectly functioning bike is getting picked up from storage.” I feel close to breaking point.
“Mae …” Kingston begins.
“I haven’t finished!” I state. “And I checked and double checked.” I laugh without humor. “Because, Paul must have got it wrong, you see - because if Paul hasn’t got it wrong that means you two lied and have been lying to my face this whole time.”
“Mae …” Logan seems to have picked up a conscience.
I continue ignoring him. “Because I asked you both numerous times - did you or did you not, Logan, set this whole thing with Kingston up - and I was met with actual questioning of my sanity.”
“When I called Kingston he was close to Seattle. It made sense,” Logan responds.
“No. None of this makes sense.” I throw my arms in the air and turn my attention to Kingston. “You booked a fucking show in Kansas City! Was that to make the whole plan a little more believable?”
“No! That was the original gig booked. I was meant to fly. But Logan called and it … changed.”
“Oh. Yes. Logan called. Poor Mae needed a chaperone to drive across the fucking country because supposedly, or at least in both of your opinions, she is completely incompetent.”
“It turned out to be good for me!” Kingston defends.
“That’s not the point, Kingston. You. Lied. To. My. Face.” I choke on the words as I force them out. “Remember when I said - don’t lie to me?”
“All right, Mae, it’s not that big of - ” Logan begins, but he can’t understand the extent of it, because for him to understand I’d have to tell him that Kingston and I are - were - are - I don’t even know anymore - sleeping together.
It makes everything a whole lot messier.
“ - do not finish that sentence,” I warn him, pointing my finger at his chest. “Don’t even think about it. I cannot believe this. Are you lying to me about anything else? Have you got a set of cameramen following me? Have you possibly, completely, lost your minds?”
“Mae. Fuck. We’re sorry.” Kingston steps into my personal space and tries to take my hand. I pull it away. “We never wanted to hurt you.”
“No, you never do,” I say. “But you always find a way to make me feel like a joke.”
“You’re not a joke,” Logan says.
“I’m talking to Kingston,” I say with distaste.
“Mae. Not here,” Kingston mumbles under his breath as the front door opens.
“Hello!” Sammy chimes, wandering in. She stops, taking in the energy. “What’s wrong?” She looks at me.
“Oh! No biggie. Just found out that Kingston’s bike was never broken and the reason he was in Spokane was to chaperone me back to Maine. So I was lied to.”
Sammy’s eyes widen like a cartoon cat. If I weren’t so angry, I’d laugh.
“You two did what?” She turns to Kingston and Logan.
“Well - ” Logan begins.
“ - have you lost your fucking minds?” she demands.
“That’s what I asked.” I lean my elbows on the kitchen counter and rub my face in frustration.
“This is getting made into a bigger problem that it needs to be. Kingston was already playing in Kansas and Toronto. It was easy for him to set up other gigs along the way. It made sense. And you had fun, right, Mae? You were less lonely?” Logan asks.
“Again - that’s not the point, Logan. The point is … I told you what I needed. I told you I was fine. I told you that I had everything under control, but as usual you couldn’t let me deal with it by myself. You had to try to fix everything and lie to me while you did it.”
“I can’t believe you,” Sammy hisses at Kingston.
“Ok, leave him alone Sammy. He was helping me out!” Logan huffs.
I choke out a laugh. “Oh! Helping you out? I thought this was about me? I’m sorry. I’m awfully fucking confused because your excuses keep changing!”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t, Logan. I have no idea what you mean.”
“Kingston was helping everyone out,” Logan states.
“Oh. Yes, yes he was.” I give Kingston three slow, passionate claps. “In so many ways. Well done, Kingston. We’re all successfully ashamed and embarrassed at getting played.”
“I wasn’t playing a game.” Kingston is trying to be careful with his words, but I get what he’s trying to say. “Everything. I meant it all. I was trying to help. I care about you.”
“I have to go.” I grab my things as Kingston places his hand on my arm. “Don’t touch me,” I say.
“Mae,” he pleads.
“Let her cool off,” Logan says.
I follow Sammy to the front door. “And I don’t want to see your face again any time soon. So, please, stay out of my way.”
“Oh. Give him a break, Mae. This was me!” Logan yells.
“I meant the both of you!” I reply, slamming the door.
“I cannot believe them,” I cry as I slump in the passenger seat of Sammy’s car.
“Mae, I’m so sorry.” Sammy places her hand on my knee.
“Did you know about it?” I ask, suddenly. Sammy gives me a pointed look - seriously? “See. Their actions have made me ask my best friend if she’s been part of some weird chaperoning lie.”
“No. You’re right, it’s understandable. I had no idea. And I can usually read Logan like a book.” She mulls over her thoughts.
The front door opens and Kingston steps out.
“Please, let’s go,” I say, slumping down further in the seat.
◆◆◆
The next day I’m determined to lose myself in painting when there’s a knock at Sammy’s door. She’s out on a run and left it unlocked, so I know it won’t be her.
Peeking through the stained glass windows to the left, I see Kingston
with his hands in his pockets.
“I know you’re there, Mae," he says, eyes on the door.
I lean my head against the wood and take a deep breath.
“Hey,” I say, opening it. He seems shocked I’ve given in so easily.
“Hey.” He watches me with interest, looking for any clues to how this conversation could go.
“Did you want to come in?” I stand back, allowing him to move past me.
“I’m so sorry, Mae. I can see how it looks.” I hold the silence, and he continues. “I hated lying. Every single day. Every single time you asked me. But it felt like I was in too deep.”
“It wasn’t because Logan asked you to lie and you didn’t want to break his trust? But you were happy to break mine?” I ask.
“No. That’s not it.”
“Am I a joke to you?” I ask. Kingston stands across from me, hands on his hips, concern on his face. “Honestly. Whatever happened between us, was it all a joke to you?”
“No, Mae. Logan and I had been talking and I told him I had gigs in Kansas and Toronto. He asked me to book smaller ones along the way and meet you in Spokane. I thought the whole idea was fucking stupid, too. I told him that. But, you know Logan, when he has an idea in his head he won’t budge.”
“So you went along with it?”
“I wanted to help him out,” Kingston’s voice is steady and deep, keeping his cool. “Mae, I was sitting on my ass in Vancouver, doing fuck all. I felt like crap about my shoulder and I was a two hour flight from where you were going to be. In the end, I figured it would be good for me.”
“So it was about you?” I ask.
“It was about getting off my couch and driving across the country with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a long time.”
“Because her brother asked you to look after her.”
“That was a tiny detail.”
I’m sitting on the couch in front of him, trying to process this information.
“So. Logan booked my car in for a service to give you time to get to Spokane …” I confirm. Kingston nods. “And you saunter out of that motel, telling me you have no idea what I’m talking about when I ask you if Logan set this up?” Kingston nods, again. “I can’t believe I never wondered why you were staying at a crappy motel that night and then went on to book us expensive houses and hotels afterwards …” I say to myself. “I got caught up in your bullshit fake story so damn quickly.” I shake my head.
“It wasn’t fake. Booking those shows and spending time with you was what gave me the space to deal with my injury.” Kingston sits beside me on the couch. “You gave me that. I didn’t plan on it. I didn’t expect it. And then you were there in front of me, and it didn’t feel like I thought it would. I thought I’d be looking at you in the same way I did back then, infatuated, but from afar. But none of it felt far. I wanted you closer and closer. Being with you was not a joke, it is not a joke.” I focus my eyes on the ground, shaking my head. “I’m not lying.” He finishes.
“You said you weren’t lying the whole trip. Multiple times. Even after I told you that lying was a dealbreaker for me - you proceeded to lie to my face, Kingston. Don’t you see how hurtful that is?” I ask. My voice breaks. “I don’t want to cry,” I confess, before tears spill down my cheeks. “Dale lied for most of our relationship. You and I are trying to keep this friendship, but where does it go from here?”
“I hate that I’ve done this to you.” Kingston pulls me into him, he softly kisses the salty tears along my cheeks, all the way to my mouth. “I’m sorry,” He says against my lips. I give in and kiss him back, remembering the calm his presence gives me. The smell of him engulfs my senses, my eyes flutter open to meet his.
I pull away from kissing him. “You were the one who wanted this to be over once we got here.”
“You agreed with me,” Kingston replies.
“What was I meant to do? Beg you to want to be with me? Beg you for more? Your mind was made up.”
“I thought you wanted it. But that was history. After New York. After Lily’s wedding … I wanted to tell Logan. I want to tell Logan. Tell me what I can do to fix this ...”
“I wanted the truth. I didn’t want you and my brother to organize a bodyguard for me, a bodyguard who just ended up fucking me in the end … everything my brother was set on not happening.” More tears fall. “Well, that and me not getting murdered.”
“Don’t say it like that.” Kingston shakes his head, unimpressed.
“Like what?”
“That I ended up fucking you …” He grabs my hands. “Those days. That trip. It meant more to me than I could ever explain in words. It kills me that you’re Logan’s sister.” He lets go of my hands and rubs his face. “I love you,” he says, his tone desperate and somber. My mouth falls open, utter shock coursing through me. I’m sorry what? “I love you, Mae. I’ve loved you from afar, and I’ve loved you up close and in the greatest ways imaginable. The fact that loving you puts in jeopardy a friendship with someone who is practically like a brother to me eats me up inside.” I stare at him. “My Grandfather all but told you that I love you. He knows me better than I know myself. I wanted to tell you at the wedding. I’ve wanted to tell you so many things …” I close my eyes. “Say something,” he urges.
“I need time to sort through this in my head,” I admit.
“I just told you I love you.” Kingston looks confused.
“I’m trying to process it,” I say. “A lot has happened. You telling me you love me, now, after everything …”
“I’ve loved you this whole time,” he says.
“Your relationship with Logan is important to you. I - we - need time to work through what we’re going to do from here …” I hold his hands.
“Okay. I can give you time. I can give us time.” His words don’t fit his actions because he pulls me back into his chest.
“Logan can’t know that there is added tension between us. It feels pointless now,” I say.
“Now?” he asks.
I choose to ignore his question. “I want things to go back to the way they were.”
And that’s saying something, because things between us were already in chaos and confusion before this.
CHAPTER seventeen
I spend the next week at Sammy’s, sorting through my thoughts, and painting pieces for the exorbitant home Sammy is working on.
“Let’s go out tonight,” Sammy cries, dramatically flopping onto the couch. It’s Friday night and we’ve been in serious work-mode all week.
I glance up from the canvas I'm working on, hair shooting every which way. “Mmmm, you’re right.”
“The Pines?” Sammy asks. She’s now lying upside down, head nearly on the floor.
“Nah. Kingston and Logan always go there.”
“I spoke to Logan today. He said they were staying in,” Sammy casually mentions.
“Did you tell him we were thinking of going out?” I query. She frowns, nods. “Twenty bucks they’ll be there.” I let my hair out of the loose excuse for a bun and head for the shower.
A night out was a damn good idea. I hadn’t realized how stuffy the house was until I was sitting in the open air with a beer, fairy lights in the trees, and Sammy by my side.
For this reason and this reason alone - Kingston’s possible attendance not featuring - I went all out in the tightness department with my outfit of choice. My tightest pair of high-waisted-ass-hugging jeans, tortoiseshell strappy block heels and my vintage Seattle Seahawks tee that my friend back in Seattle gave me. We were never sure if it was an extra small women’s shirt, or part of the kids range.
“I can’t believe you bet me twenty dollars Kingston would show up, and then wore that,” Sammy laughs. She chomps down hungrily on a handful of fries.
“It’s snugger than I remember.” I cringe, and adjust my bra.
“They look perky.”
“It was childish of me,” I admit.
“The only thing childish around her
e is your t-shirt size.” Sammy winks at me.
“Seahawks?” A guy approaches from behind Sammy, she eyes him when he stops at our table. “What does Kingston James think about that?” He asks. I narrow my eyes at him, confused. “It’s hard to miss you two around town together,” he explains further.
“He’s a childhood friend,” I confirm. “I don’t think he’d care.”
“I’m messing with you.” He offers me a charming smile. “Louis.” He extends his hand.
“Mae.” I shake his hand, albeit still confused.
“I’m Sammy.” Sammy offers her hand for him to shake, a wide grin on her face.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Louis. It’s kind of creepy knowing things about a girl - like who she’s been hanging around with - before you meet her ... and then to just tell her straight out,” I say.
Louis lifts his head back, juts out a laugh. “A straight shooter. I like it.” I raise an eyebrow at Sammy. “I used to work with Logan,” He says.
“Gunston Carpentry?” I ask.
“Louis Gunston.” He offers me a single nod.
Sammy laughs loudly beside us, then clamps her hand over her mouth. We peer at her.
“Sorry,” she says. She looks at me. “He’s kicked himself in the foot.”
I roll my eyes at her.
“What is she talking about?” he asks me.
“She’s being presumptuous,” I tell him.
“Dude, if you want to get her in bed … telling her you know Logan is a very dumb idea. Maybe he never mentioned it, but she’s off limits to everyone he knows. And everyone he doesn’t, but that’s another story.”
“That’s controlling,” Louis points out.
“It is,” Sammy says. “He thinks he’s her bodyguard.”
“Okay. Enough, enough.” I raise my hands in mock surrender. “Can we talk about something else, please.”
“He must hate the rumours about her and Kingston,” Louis states to Sammy. Sammy nods, her brow pinched in a serious expression.
I click my fingers in-between them, snapping them back to reality.
“You’re so fun to talk about,” Sammy teases.
I grin at her, both knowing how boring I truly am.
When I Was Yours, When You Were Mine Page 14