Friend Zone Series Box Set

by Nicole Blanchard

It was almost comforting how predictable he could be, even when his mind-reading crap creeped the shit out of me.

  But he wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, much as I liked the woman doing the distracting.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ember

  “But I don’t want to go to the grocey store,” Tillie complained, dragging her feet and making me grit my teeth. “I want to stay home and watch princess movies.”

  I gave myself three long, deep breaths before I answered. After a long shift and an even longer day of classes, the last thing I wanted to do was drag the girls to a busy store and spend another endless hour slogging through the aisles with them running around me like a pack of snarling werewolves. But our pantry was looking sparse, and the social worker was due for a visit, so I had no other choice.

  “Grocery store,” I corrected. Feeling calmer, I brushed her hair away from her face. “I would rather watch princess movies, too, sweetheart. But if we don’t get groceries, we’re gonna have to eat your sister for dinner.” I dug my finger into Tillie’s neck and was rewarded with a giggle.

  “We can’t eat Molly,” Tillie protested once her giggles subsided. “She wouldn’t taste very good. Besides, I’d rather have beef stew.”

  Taking both of their hands, I said, “Beef stew sounds good, but let’s see how it goes.”

  “Beef stew, beef stew, beef stew,” they chanted as I guided them inside the sliding doors. Their laughter was a welcome respite from the cranky mess they’d both been in since I had picked them up from Tripp’s mother’s house. I couldn’t blame them. I’d been cranky, too.

  My mother’s voice had been in my head all day during classes. Telling me how irresponsible I was being, giving up being with the girls to further my education. I could be working to provide them with a better life instead of wasting time at school. It didn’t make sense, I knew that intellectually, but the guilt was very real. It had been a tight ball in my stomach each day I left the girls.

  The only time I could ignore it was when I was with Tripp.

  Hell.

  Nothing about my life was simple right now.

  Nothing about my life made sense.

  Except the girls.

  And…perhaps not so surprisingly, Tripp, in a weird way.

  But maybe weird was exactly what I needed when everything was going down the drain.

  Maybe he was exactly what I needed.

  I shook my head and focused on gathering the items on my shopping list. Milk, eggs, bread. The basics. I couldn’t afford much more, at least not until the social worker came through with the government assistance I had been able to apply for—at least temporarily—until we got everything sorted legally. Which was another thing on my never-ending to-do list.

  The thought of getting food stamps and WIC didn’t fill me with pride, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do for my sisters, and we had to eat. As soon as I finished my paramedic’s program in May, I’d be able to apply for the paramedic’s position at work, which would nearly double my salary and give the girls and me some cushion room instead of working paycheck-to-paycheck, like I was right now. Maybe if I also applied for custody, there’d be some sort of benefits, but I didn’t want to think about that too closely either.

  The thought of being the twinkies’ legal guardian scared the crap out of me. For one thing, it was a lifetime commitment in a way that being their sister wasn’t. For another, it meant choosing to kick my mom out of my life—and by extension theirs—in a more permanent way than I’d ever done.

  Change might be necessary, but it didn’t come easy.

  I filled my basket with the necessities and caved on the beef stew for dinner to appease the monsters. As I was weighing my options for the meat selection, I sighed and chose the more expensive one. The girls needed to eat, and I needed leftovers for lunches. I’d simply have to ask work for more hours or find another area to skimp on.

  I placed the stew meat in the buggy and looked up. There was nothing in sight save for the small pile of groceries, which I hoped would stretch to last a few days, maybe even until my next paycheck. The girls weren’t hovering by the cart where I’d left them.

  They were nowhere to be found.

  I didn’t panic—at first. I generally didn’t panic when it came to emergency situations. You’d think I would because of the sheer amount of anxiety that plagued me on a day-to-day basis, but when it mattered, really mattered, my brain hyper-focused on everything around me. It almost slowed the world down so that I could process the information I was receiving.

  The meat aisle was barren except for me. It was a weekday afternoon, so most people were probably still at work or school. There were no displays in the aisle for them to hide behind, and the only door was to the butcher, which only opened from the inside.

  “Girls?” I called out, almost hesitantly at first. Afraid that if I voiced my fears, it would breathe life to them. “Molly? Tillie?”

  When they didn’t appear, I felt the first whispers of panic. Surely, they were just playing hide-and-seek. If I wasn’t so freaking worried, I’d be annoyed. Except the girls knew better than to run off when we were in public. We’d had the stranger-danger conversation on more than one occasion.

  I couldn’t breathe. The thought of them being taken…No. I wasn’t going to think about that. Images of my mother stalking us and taking the twins out of spite ran through my head as I abandoned the cart and began dashing to each aisle, finding each one empty.

  “Molly! Tillie!”

  I heard a giggle and thought I had imagined it. Spinning around, I followed the sound to the dairy aisle, where the girls were hiding behind a stack of milk crates. My brain didn’t process their mischievous grins or cheeks pink with laughter.

  “Ta-da!” Tillie shouted. “You found us. We were playing hide-and-seek.”

  I fell to my knees in front of them, my heart in my throat. It would make sense to yell at them and berate them for running off in a public place, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was so grateful they were safe that it obliterated any anger I may have felt that they were playing games.

  “Emmy?” Molly asked. “Why are you crying?”

  “You scared me. I thought you were lost.” Or worse. But I didn’t say that out loud for fear of scaring them, too. “Haven’t I told you not to run off when we’re in the grocery store? It’s not safe.”

  “We wanted to make you laugh. You’ve been so busy lately that we thought you’d think it was fun,” Tillie said, tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, babies,” I choked out. God, sometimes it felt like I couldn’t ever do anything right. Was it even fair to them to keep them with me? Would they be better off with a real family, even if that meant they weren’t with me?

  One thing at a time.

  At the moment, that was all I could handle.

  “I’m hungry,” Molly whispered, her lips wobbling. “Can we go home?”

  Swallowing hard, I took their hands in mine and led them back to our buggy. “Sure, we can. Let’s finish shopping, and we’ll go home, and I’ll make my favorite sisters some beef stew. Deal?”

  The two of them climbed up in the buggy and stared up at me with identical smiles. “Deal,” they both said at the same time.

  I finished my shopping with their chatter in the background. Having them back didn’t assuage the fear clutching my heart.

  Because I realized how easy it would be to lose them.

  While the twins played in the bath, I tidied up from dinner, moving on autopilot. I packed away the leftovers into containers for their lunches, loaded the dishwasher, and wiped down the counters. Big Bang Theory played in the background, even though I’d watched all the episodes at least a thousand times. I didn’t care how many times Charlie and Layla made fun of me for watching the same movies and shows over and over: it was one of the only things that gave me comfort.

  At least the people in the shows never let me down. Sure, one may get canceled, or an acto
r or actress might leave, but I could roll back to season one at any time and relive all of my favorite memories. They didn’t abandon or neglect me as my family did.

  After I got Tillie and Molly home, they helped me make the beef stew and gobbled up two bowls each before I herded them to the bath. They were old enough to take care of themselves while they bathed, for the most part, which allowed me some time to clean up and maybe even do a little homework, but not much.

  Sheldon and Leonard were arguing as I worked on a few notes that I was required to make. Next semester, there wouldn’t be so much bookwork, but for now, they were dumping as much information on us as they could. It was almost as though they wanted to see which students got overwhelmed and, I had to admit, I was getting close.

  Not because of the work—because I could do the work. It was everything else.

  The twins.

  Work.

  School.

  Chris.

  …Tripp.

  Maybe it was too much.

  It took being scared half to death when the twins ran off at the grocery store for me to take a step back. I couldn’t let this thing with Tripp distract me. The next time I saw him, I’d have to reiterate the whole casual aspect of the friends-with-benefits thing. Just to make sure we were clear.

  I was packing my bag for the next day when there was a soft knock at the door. Despite my firm resolve to keep things casual, heat washed over me at the mere thought of it being Tripp on the other side. Apparently, my body didn’t care about keeping it casual.

  “Hey,” he said when I opened the door. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  When his body brushed against mine, the heat concentrated in my sex, and I gulped. No matter how much I tried to tell myself we needed to talk, I couldn’t seem to make the words come out of my suddenly-dry mouth.

  “Emmy,” came a call from the bathroom. “We’re done.”

  “Do you mind?” I asked.

  “No, of course not. Take your time.”

  “Make yourself at home.”

  The girls were covered head to toe in bubbles—and so was the floor—but I couldn’t find the energy to be mad. They were safe. Tripp was here. I’d figure the rest of it out.

  I always did.

  “Is Tripp here?” Tillie asked as I helped the two of them get dressed and ready for bed.

  The scent of the lavender baby soap I’d been using since they were babies wafted up from their skin and downy hair. They endured me sniffing their heads and giving them a tight hug as they both climbed into the bottom bunk for their story and settled underneath the blankets.

  I decided not to lie to them. They were too smart for me, anyway. “He came by to talk.”

  “After the story, will he tell us good night?”

  At this, I hesitated. It was such a fine line between benefits and family where they were concerned. But Tripp was Tripp, and he’d known these girls practically their whole lives. “Of course, sweeties.”

  He could be a part of our lives as long as I was crystal clear on which parts.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tripp

  Junior Year

  The stadium was packed with people, their screams and cheers filling the air. The sun beamed down, relentless and bright. The sky was as blue as I’d ever seen it, without a single cloud marring its surface. I couldn’t have asked for better weather.

  I should have been excited.

  This was the moment I’d been working for my whole life. Countless weeks of nonstop practice. Giving up opportunities to be with my friends in order to play travel ball. Missing milestones like my sixteenth birthday to play away games. Having a normal life—whatever that was—to devote it to living my dream.

  After today, either I’d move on to the next level of the game, or I wouldn’t.

  Either prospect was terrifying.

  Alex swung an arm around my shoulder and joined me at the entrance to the field. We were still in the shadows, so the fans in the stadium couldn’t see us from their vantage point.

  “Don’t you love it? They’re here for us, man.”

  “Showboater,” I said automatically. Alex always got off on the spectacle of it all. He loved being in the spotlight. He was the type of player who enjoyed being a player. Alex ate up all the attention from the fans—the female fans in particular.

  “You know it,” he answered. “You ready for this?”

  “Born ready.”

  Alex whooped and punched me in the arm. “Let’s do this!”

  By this time, the rest of our team had joined us. We were about to run out on the field for warmups. It was the first game of the year, and spirits were high. Our summer practices had been rigorous, but we were more prepared than ever. This was what I’d been waiting for.

  The din of the crowd kicked up several notches as we ran out on the field and took our places to warm up. I’d thrown some to warm up, but I always liked to get a feel for the mound before we started the game. All eyes were on me, but my focus was solely for our catcher and the plate.

  We were going to dominate.

  It was the bottom of the sixth. We were up by two and had one on second. I wasn’t a genius at bat, but I was competent. While I was on deck, I took a moment to scan the crowds, looking for my parents. The game had been head-to-head until now, so I hadn’t had the chance before.

  I found them behind third, a few rows up. They both waved enthusiastically when I lifted a hand in greeting. Then my gaze found Ember, who was sitting in the row immediately behind them. She had her friends, Layla and Charlie, next to her, each with a twin on her lap. They were about to turn five, and no doubt Em needed her friends to help wrangle them because they’d taken the “eff you fours” to the next level.

  The three girls waved, and the twins copied them. I saw their mouths move as they cupped their hands and shouted. They were too far away for me to hear what they were saying, but I didn’t need to hear it. The twins were holding a sign that said, “WE <3 #9!”

  I pointed my bat at the lot of them, and the twins began jumping up and down. With a grin, I turned to do some practice swings while our shortstop was up at bat. He hit a single, and I brought them both in with a triple. The next person up at bat struck out, which ended the inning and put us back on the field.

  I walked the first two, and the second got a single to right field. Sweat poured down my face, and my uniform was already soaked. My focus was so absolute it was as though no one else in the stadium existed but the players on the field.

  Alex signaled a fastball, and I nodded. I wound up, and the ball torpedoed past the player at bat. Strike. Once I got the ball back, I checked the players on either base out of the corner of my eye. Their coach liked to play it safe, but it didn’t hurt to make sure neither was trying to pull anything.

  The second fastball made my shoulder twinge a little. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, so I rolled it and gave my arms a quick stretch to shake it off. It wasn’t abnormal to experience some muscle exhaustion this far into the game, so I didn’t think much of it.

  Stress on the muscles and ligaments is why we did so much conditioning and strengthening. It’s also why Coach Taylor wanted us to give a sign if we were reaching the point of putting ourselves through too much. Injuries could end a career.

  A curveball took out the player at bat, and I gave my shoulders another roll as we set up for the next one. A quick glance at the coach showed him focused on the player at bat. We only needed two more outs. I could get through them, no problem.

  It was when the final player came up to bat that I realized the pain in my shoulder wasn’t merely soreness from routine throwing. It had increased from a normal ache to a persistent burn. I was going to have to ice down for hours once the game was over.

  The first fastball tore through my arm like a hot knife stabbing into my shoulder and ripping through my bicep and down to my wrist. I stumbled a little off the mound and had to breathe heavily in my mouth and through m
y nose to deal with the searing pain.

  It wasn’t the first time I had had shoulder pain—it was common among most pitchers. The repetitive strain of throwing over and over again caused wear and tear in the muscles that attached the arm to the socket. I’d had my fair deal of sore muscles, but I’d never felt anything like this.

  I gave a passing thought to signal Coach, but then I remembered my family in the stands, and the potential employers watching. Giving up now would mean losing so much. I could make it through the rest of the game and get it looked at after.

  Alex signaled for another fastball, but I shook him off. I’d have to play it safe, but smart, for the rest of the game. The change-up that got the last player on base gave me a twinge that I ignored. Since I hadn’t struck him out, it brought another player to bat with one on first.

  I threw a curveball, and the moment my arm reached the follow-through and released the ball, I knew I’d fucked up. White pain tore through me with violent intensity. I let out a hoarse cry, and then the pain reached a peak so intense that my arm went numb. Black flashed in front of my eyes, and white noise blotted out the screams and cheers from the crowd.

  Once I could hear again, I heard Coach calling for a time out. I didn’t know who was on base or what happened to the ball after the batter had made connection. Sweat poured down my face, and my cheeks were twitching from the intensity of my grimace.

  “Get Collins,” Coach shouted when he reached my side. I barely paid any attention as the backup pitcher took my place and Coach herded me back to the dugout. “Take him to the team doc and get him checked out.”

  Someone guided me to the locker rooms where our field medic was waiting. “Can you lift your arm for me?” he asked. I couldn’t remember the dude’s name.

  I did as he asked but could barely lift it over shoulder-height. He repeated the directions, asking me to turn my arm wrist-up and move my arm back and forth, but I couldn’t fully do as he asked. He palpated the shoulder, and I nearly punched him in his face.