Andi and Niro

by Gadziala, Jessica

  I had no business using pet names with her.

  Especially not that one.

  But I couldn't seem to stop myself either.

  "I, ah, they... they grabbed me," she said, swallowing hard, shaking her head like she was trying to brush away the memory. "And put me in the trunk. When we got out, I was led into a house because one of their men was shot."

  "You had scrubs on," I remembered. "They thought you were a doctor."

  "Yeah."

  "Then what happened?" I asked, watching as she winced, her gaze moving downward, studying my shirt. "Andi, anything that happened, you can tell me. If they hurt you..."

  "No, well," she said, sighing.

  "How did they hurt you?"

  "They didn't. I mean not intentionally. I, ah, I had bruises from them, you know, handling me. On my stomach and my forearms."

  I had a flash of a memory of the day in the parking lot where she'd pulled her long sleeve tee further down on her arm. Because she knew if I saw a bruise, I'd have questions.

  "I can cut off the hands that did it," I offered, keeping my tone light, even playful, even if I was having fantasies of doing it in my mind.

  "Niro," she said, shaking her head. "I'm alright."

  "You're not alright," I objected. "You're not sleeping," I reminded her, reaching outward, hand framing her face, the tip of my finger tracing under her eyes at the purple smudges there. "What happened after you got to the house?"

  "I, ah, I pulled a bullet out of a man. And stitched him. On the kitchen table," she told me, grimacing, going a bit gray at the memory.

  "Did he live?"

  "I think so? I'm not sure. No one has, you know, said anything to me about it."

  "Said anything. You've spoken to them since."

  "Just once. Um. They're watching me, I guess. Or they were. I don't know."

  "When did you talk to them?"

  At that, her head ducked down, as a flush moved across her cheeks. "Andi?"

  "The day in the parking lot at my work," she explained, refusing to meet my gaze. "After you ran up. I, ah, I guess they thought I'd called you. So he started to get out of the car. And I, um, I needed to distract..." she trailed off there.

  But I didn't need her to finish.

  Fuck.

  "I see," I said, untangling my limbs from her.

  I did.

  I saw.

  She needed to distract me from seeing the guy watching her.

  She needed for me not to know he existed.

  Because if this guy found out that she was talking to her people, he would have to kill them all. Me included.

  All this time I spent analyzing that situation in my head, I'd always assumed that she'd never meant those words she said back to me in that bathroom, that she'd said them to protect herself, that she did want me.

  Because, otherwise, she wouldn't have kissed me, wouldn't have let me touch her.

  It was a comfort of sorts. A tortuous one, but one nonetheless.

  But that wasn't how it was.

  She'd kissed me, had let me put my hands on her not because she necessarily wanted me, but because she needed to distract me.

  The fact that she was wet, that she came, that was just a physical reaction. It didn't mean anything.

  "Niro," she said, reaching out, her hand closing around my arm even as I surged off the bed, needing space, needing to get my head together.

  I didn't think it was possible anymore, what with all the work I'd done to beat my feelings down, but pain ricocheted through my hollow rib cage, so sharp it made me suck in my breath as I took a few steps from the bed.

  "Where are you going?" she asked, voice a sad, small thing. I should have cared. I always cared. But I was too consumed in my own problems right then to worry about why her voice sounded upset.

  "I need space," I admitted, moving out into the main area of her apartment. The space was dominated by more houseplants than I had ever seen, some of them arranged in such a way that their leaves trailed along the walls like art. She had natural-toned area rugs in the small living room area and through the kitchen where I could still see the box for her new coffee pot sitting on the island.

  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said, following me out, Nugget's little nails clicking on the floor as he came out as well.

  "Once upon a time, Andi, you never would have hesitated. No matter what those bastards said to you," I told her, turning to find her standing several feet away, looking beat up from life. And I was just going to keep throwing punches, apparently.

  "He told me what he was going to do to you."

  "You would have trusted me to protect you."

  "I wasn't worried about me," she said, voice rising, getting squeaky. She never handled confrontation well. We had about two more minutes before she started angry-crying, if things still worked how they once did for her in that department.

  "I don't need you to look out for me," I told her, shrugging, resisting the urge to rub at the ache in my chest.

  "Gee, I'm sorry I care about you. How dare I, right?"

  "Enough, Andi," I demanded, raking my hands down my face, not sure the last time I felt quite so fucking tired.

  "Enough what?"

  "Enough pretending. Clinging to the past and trying to make it work in the present. Enough."

  "I don't know what you are talking about."

  What was I talking about?

  A lifetime of love for someone who only ever saw me as a friend. The fact that I needed to turn myself into another person just to ease the hopelessness of it. And still, fucking still, when she came back and seemed the least bit interested, a part of me managed to feel hope and possibility.

  But I couldn't tell her that.

  Because I knew Andi.

  I knew a part of her would feel almost obligated to give it a shot just because of my feelings, completely disregarding her own.

  So telling her that seemed a hell of a lot like passing a loaded gun into her trembling fingers and aiming it at my chest.

  I wasn't sure I was brave enough to play Russian Roulette with her uncertainty.

  I'd been dealing with this for long enough.

  I just needed to handle her problem.

  Then move the fuck on with my life.

  Maybe if I was lucky, I could see if Reign and Fallon would transfer me down to our sister chapter in Golden Glades, Florida. Maybe if I got far enough away from it all, I could start to move on.

  "Niro."

  "What?" I asked, keeping my back to her, trying to pull myself together.

  This was my problem after all.

  I didn't need to pull her into it, make her feel like shit over it.

  "Turn around," she demanded, voice soft, and damn her if that didn't still have an effect on me. So I did.

  "What?"

  There was a long pause as she took a deep breath, clearly not knowing what she was going to say, just needing my attention.

  Finally, she decided on it.

  "Tell me something happy."

  "I can't think of anything," I told her truthfully.

  To that, she chewed on her lower lip for a second, looking for some kind of courage.

  "I can."

  I didn't have time for this.

  I needed to get the information I needed from her about the cartel. And then I needed to get as far away from her as fast as possible.

  "Andi, we need to focus on this cartel shit. We don't have time for games."

  "You always used to play."

  "I always used to do a lot of things I don't do anymore," I told her, watching as she started to move closer. "What are you doing?"

  "I can think of something happy," she repeated as she stepped in front of me, hand reaching out to take mine, her smooth fingers gliding over my work-hardened ones. I'd spent too much time in my youth thinking about how much smaller, how much more fragile her hand looked when it was in mine since Andi was a hand-holding sort of friend.

  "What are you
..." I started as she turned my hand, sliding it down her belly, slipping it lower.

  "Like when your hands are on me," she admitted in a whisper-soft voice. Her gaze flickered up, but shot back down during the admission. Shy. Unsure.

  "Andi, don't," I demanded just as softly, trying to focus past the warm of her I could feel even through the layers of her clothes, trying not to remember the feel of her, the sounds of her. "You don't have to do this," I added through gritted teeth.

  Her gaze shot up as her hand dropped mine like I'd burned her. Pink bloomed across her cheeks as her eyes widened, went glassy.

  "Why do you hate me so much now?" she asked, tears spilling over. "What did I do? I don't understand."

  Fuck.

  Of course she would think it was something she did.

  It wasn't.

  It was just everything she was.

  And the fact that all of that was something I wanted but knew I didn't deserve to have.

  It was about me, about this self-loathing mingled with self-denial, all the years of love mingled with the knowledge that I couldn't have her.

  "I could never hate you," I told her, reaching down to lift her chin, waiting for her gaze to find me. "Do you understand me? Never."

  "Is it because I took Nugget away from you?" she asked, sniffling. "We can share him if it will make things better."

  "No. But yes. But no again."

  "It can't be both."

  "It can," I told her.

  I had no business explaining this. Not only was it not the place or time, but there would never be an appropriate place and time. This was shit I was supposed to take to my grave with me.

  Still, the words didn't stop coming.

  "He was the only piece of you I had left. And when he was gone," I said, searching for a way to explain it that made any sense at all outside of my own head. "And when he was gone, I knew it was time to fully let go of you too."

  "You never had to let go of me. I never asked you to do that."

  "I had to."

  "But why?"

  "Because it hurt too much, Andi. It fucking hurt too much. It had been hurting for years. And I just needed it to stop."

  "I... I never meant to hurt you," she said, voice small.

  "I know that. You've never intentionally hurt anyone in your life," I added. "It wasn't your fault. It was my problem."

  "What was your problem?" she asked, and I didn't know if she was genuinely that clueless about it, if I had been that good at covering it up, or if she needed her hunch validated.

  At this point, I wasn't sure how much else there was to lose. Or how much worse I could feel.

  Besides, she was bound to find out the truth someday.

  And it was my confession to make.

  Still, I found the words stuck at the back of my throat for a long moment. Habit and fear keeping them from coming out until I took a deep breath, releasing it.

  "I've loved you since we were babies, Andi."

  "I've loved you back," she said, giving me a little eye roll like that went without saying.

  "No," I said, sighing. "I mean, yes. You've loved me. But I've been in love with you. My whole fucking life."

  There.

  That was it.

  After all these years, it was out.

  Maybe I should have felt some sort of relief, but all I could seem to feel was a sort of panic. It was a quicksand at my feet, pulling me down faster and faster as I tried to fight it.

  "No."

  "No?" I repeated, brows furrowing.

  "No, that's not possible."

  "Why not?"

  "Because...because you would have told me. You tell me everything. Even the embarrassing things. Like the time you were caught watching—"

  "Don't. We don't need to relive that memory," I said, cringing inwardly.

  "My point is, you never kept anything from me."

  "Nothing but this."

  "But why?"

  "Because you didn't feel the same. Because I didn't want to make it awkward. Because I didn't want you to feel like you needed to date me because of obligation. It didn't seem worth fucking up what we had. It was easier to keep it to myself."

  "It was easy to keep it to yourself?" she repeated, brow quirking up.

  "Not easy, no. But it was easier. Then your rejection. Or losing you."

  "You never had to lose me."

  "I was always going to lose you," I corrected. "I had been losing you little by little for a long time before I let go entirely. You went away, you started a new life, you dated other guys. I knew, eventually, you'd find your forever guy. And I just couldn't be around for that."

  "Is that why you..." she started, then thought better of asking.

  But I knew what she wanted to know.

  "Yeah, it's why I became such a miserable prick," I said, giving her a small smile. "It was easier to accept I would never have you if I became so much of a dick that you would never want me."

  "That's... God, that is such guy-logic," she said, huffing. "Meaning completely illogical. And in the end, wrong," she told me.

  "I wasn't wrong. You don't look at me like you used to, Andi. And you shouldn't. I'm not who I was anymore."

  "That's ridiculous," she insisted, shaking her head. "Let me finish," she added when I tried to say something. "On the surface, yeah, you're kind of..."

  "An ass?" I suggested.

  "Yeah, that. But who ran like on foot, to my work when he thought I was missing? Who came here to ask me what happened that night? Who climbed into bed with me like he used to do all the time in the past? You're still you, Niro. Even if you are a little moodier than usual."

  "It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything."

  "Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I didn't know how I felt about you? We were kids, Niro. And I lived a very sheltered life. I didn't have a serious date until college. All I knew was that you were the only person I ever really wanted to be around."

  "You would have known if it was more than friendly feelings toward me, Andi," I insisted.

  "I never considered the possibility of something else," she admitted. "But then I came back here and... I don't know. I guess all that life experience I've gotten since leaving kind of cleared some things up for me."

  "Don't."

  "Don't what? Tell you how I feel? I think we both know that's not how I operate," she said, giving me a smile. "Things feel different now. I don't know why. And now that I am aware of it, I am starting to see some times in the past that, you know, I did feel some things that I didn't recognize them for what they were at the time."

  "Like what?" I asked, feeling something dangerously close to hope start building in my system.

  "Like you on the beach and your board shorts were wet from the water so they were hanging kind of low and... yeah," she said, glancing away. "I had felt things. But I don't think they registered until, well, the bathroom. And the parking lot."

  "Responding when I touch you isn't the same thing as being in love with me, Andi," I reminded her, even if a part of me wanted to believe it.

  "Well, listen," she said, trying for some levity. "This is all new to me. We don't know anything until we give it a shot. Right?"

  I did.

  I always knew.

  But I guess it wasn't fair to expect her to have always known as well.

  "I don't know," I admitted.

  She had been the brightest part of my life.

  But that light came with its own special kind of pain.

  It had left wounds.

  I was a burnt forest trying to learn to trust the sun again.

  "Niro?" she called, voice honey-sweet, dragging me out of my thoughts, drawing my gaze down to her.

  "Yeah?"

  Her hand moved to grab mine again, this time slipping her fingers between mine as her other hand rose, resting on my chest right over my heart, settling there for a moment, then slipping up, going to the back of my neck, pulling me downward.

 
I knew what she wanted.

  But I needed to hear it.

  "Say it," I demanded, pressing my forehead to hers. "I've waited years to hear you say it, sure I never would."

  Her head angled up a bit so her gaze could hold mine.

  "Take me to bed, Niro," she demanded softly.

  It sounded a fuck of a lot better than I'd ever imagined.

  And I was about to find out how much better it was going to feel, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Andi

  Niro's lips crashed down on mine. Hard. Hungry. Full of all the years he'd been wanting, but never having.

  The desperation of it, the utter relief of it, seemed to vibrate off of him and into me, making me feel tingly as his hands slid down my spine, slipping over my backside, sinking into the flesh, dragging me up to my tiptoes, then off of them.

  I dangled there just above the ground for a moment as his tongue moved inside to claim mine before he lifted me higher, his pelvis flush with mine.

  My legs responded to the silent order, my thighs parting, sliding around his hips to cross over his lower back as my arms did the same to his neck.

  A growling noise escaped Niro as he turned us, lowering down onto my couch, his fingers massaging my butt as his teeth nipped my lower lip, drawing little mewling noises out of me.

  My hips shifted further up on his lap, feeling his hardness press against me, making me jerk back with a hiss as a tingle of need skittered across my nerve endings.

  Niro's eyes opened, heavy-lidded, full of the desire that was blooming through my core, spreading outward, little tendrils of heat that made my skin feel overly sensitive, my clothes scratchy and uncomfortable.

  My hands settled on his shoulders, steadying me, as I lifted up slightly, repositioning so that his need met mine, then sliding along his length.

  "Fuck," Niro hissed as a whimper escaped me. His hand lifted, then fell limply at his side. "We can stop," he told me, voice tight.

  "No, we can't," I objected, reaching for his hand, sliding it up my hip, my belly, then over the swell of my breast. As his palm slid over the swell, his breath hissed out between his teeth, making the pressure on my lower stomach become painful.

  Niro's gaze slipped to mine, watching me as his thumb found my nipple, circling it until it hardened before rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.