Always been You

by Mia Scott

  "Dammit, Russell!" she hissed after him before turning her eyes on James, who was now super interested in the lights on the Christmas tree. She already knew the answer to her next question. "You know, too, don't you?"

  James focused guilty brown eyes on her and her own eyes welled up in response. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly.

  Maggie's head drooped, and she scrutinized the pattern on the rug Beneath her feet. She couldn't believe her own boyfriend kept this from her. This night fucking blew. "How long?"

  He smoothed a hand over her hair, rested it on the back of her neck. "I had my suspicions a few weeks ago, but Big told me over the weekend that they'd been sleeping together since the night of the reunion show."

  Her eyes snapped up to his. "So they're just screwing?"

  "That's what he says, but he's full of shit—they both are."

  "Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

  "He bought her Colts tickets for Hanukkah and she got him tickets to some concert. And when I teased him about her being his girlfriend he got fifty kinds of weird about it before throwing his controller at my head. Pretty much confirmed it for me."

  Maggie pressed her lips together tightly, thinking back over her friend's behavior these last couple of months. Hindsight really was 20/20 because all of the little things added up and made perfect sense now.

  Didn't lessen the hurt she felt from being kept in the dark though.

  "Babe, please don't be mad at me. Big asked me not to say anything for a little while and it wasn't my place to tell."

  Maggie nodded her head and expelled a heavy sigh. "I know," she said, leaving it at that for now.

  After the last of the guests had gone home, Maggie put James on cleanup duty (a task he jumped to complete trying to get back into her good graces) and she opened the door to the guest bedroom to find Alisha curled into a ball on the bed facing the window; Adam stroked her hair and Russell paced the room trying to offer suggestions.

  Russell stopped when he saw her enter the room and he motioned to Adam that they should leave. He paused in front of her. "I know you're mad, but go easy on her," he warned.

  She was a little tired of everyone thinking she was some sort of monster. (Okay, she was a little intense at times, but it was out of love—honest)

  Alisha sat up and faced her blonde friend, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Hi," she said hoarsely, swiping at the newly fallen tears.

  Maggie sighed again and walked over to sit next to her on the bed. "I'm mad, you know," she said without malice.

  "I know," Alisha nodded, picking at the blanket in her lap.

  "You hurt my feelings, Alisha," Maggie said honestly, her eyes watering.

  The brunette scrubbed her hands over her face and nodded as another wave of guilt washed through her. "I seem to be doing a lot of that today," she choked out before the sobs took over.

  Brushing aside her own hurt feelings, she folded her arms around Alisha and let her cry.

  "I'm sorry," Alisha sniffled as the crying jag came to a slow end.

  "I know," Maggie murmured against her hair. "Tell me what happened."

  So she did.

  She told her everything—starting with the tambourine and the kiss in the snow all the way through to him walking away from her tonight. And when she was done, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. (Though she still had the weight of an elephant on her chest over her fight with Big—and that fucking hurt so badly she could barely breathe.)

  Once Alisha was finished, Maggie took a minute to let everything soak in before tipping Alisha's chin up until her eyes met hers. "You really like him," she said, more as a statement than a question.

  "I do," Alisha said, nodding meekly.

  Maggie answered her nod with one of her own. "Okay then. Let's figure out how to fix this."

  "I love you, Maggie," Alisha told her sincerely, hugging her best friend.

  "Love you, too, brat."

  Big staggered up the stairs to his apartment (whiskey at the corner bar hadn't made him feel any better, in case you were wondering) and fumbled with the keys in the lock. As he struggled to see one row of locks instead of three, he was reminded of a better time when he had Alisha pressed between him and the door while he hurried to get the locks undone.

  Fuck.

  He walked into the apartment (finally) and slammed the door closed behind him. The TV was on (had he forgotten to turn it off?) and he took two steps before tripping over a suitcase he sure as shit didn't leave in the middle of the goddamn floor. "Ow! Motherfucker!" he swore heatedly.

  Footsteps sounded across the floor and laughter soon followed.

  "Hey, bro," she greeted casually, licking ice cream from her spoon.

  Big lifted his bleary eyes into the amused face of his sister. "Sarah—what the fuck?"

  "Surprise!" She extended a hand to help him up off the floor. (Hey, it was the least she could do seeing as he tripped over her suitcase that she'd forgotten to move—oops!) "Up you go, fat ass," she grunted.

  "I hate you," he groused, pulling her into a hug once he was upright.

  "Same goes," she grinned, patting his cheek and taking in the bloodshot eyes and the stench of whiskey. "Rough night?"

  He flashed a murderous look that explicitly told her they were not talking about it. "What are you doing here?"

  "I needed to get the hell out of New York for a while," Sarah informed him. "Guy trouble," she shrugged.

  "Fair enough," Big grumbled, reminded of his own fucking problems. He scrubbed a hand over his face, "How the fuck did you get in here?"

  Sarah shrugged carelessly, spooning another huge bite of ice cream into her mouth. "Boobs and tears."

  Big rolled his eyes. "Jesus," he muttered. "Does Ma know you're here?"

  "Sure," she said, not meeting his eyes.

  "Goddammit, Sarah, I'm not in the mood for this shit right now. You're calling her tomorrow," he snapped. "I'm going to bed."

  "Nice to see you, too, brother," she retorted sourly, wondering why he was being an even bigger asshole than usual.

  Big crossed the apartment to his bedroom and kicked the door closed behind him.

  He just wanted to forget this fucking day ever happened. (He didn't think there was enough whiskey in the world to accomplish that task though.) And now his sister (whom he loved, no really) was here running from God knows which loser boyfriend and—fuck—it made his brain hurt.

  Stripping down to his boxers, he collapsed face down on his bed as his phone beeped with a new message. Groaning, he rolled over and saw Shorty on the ID.

  He almost deleted it. (And almost threw it against the brick wall in his room.)

  Instead he sighed and opened the message. (Because he was a fucking glutton for punishment. Obviously.)

  It's not just sex to me, Jake.

  I'm sorry.

  Please call me.

  Well, fuck.

  That was unexpected.

  The ache in his chest lessened instantly, though the throbbing in his brain was like a goddamned freight train. Stupid whiskey. He decided he was better off just going to sleep right now; he'd talk to her tomorrow.

  Then they could hopefully figure this shit out.

  Chapter 18

  Alisha woke up the next morning and was temporarily confused by her surroundings. She wasn't at home; that much she deduced immediately. After rubbing her eyes and blinking the sleep away, she realized she was in Maggie's guest room; the same room that she'd occupied for a while after her apartment building caught fire. The same fire that brought Big into her life.

  She grabbed her phone and felt a twinge of pain deep in her chest when she saw that he hadn't responded to her text. As she sat up and rubbed her hands over her face, she had no recollection of even getting into bed. Granted it had been an emotional rollercoaster the night before, but the last thing she remembered was Maggie bringing her some tea and tossing some pajamas at her while she worried (and cried) over whethe
r she'd messed things up irrevocably.

  All she knew right now was that she needed to talk to Jake and attempt to fix this mess they were in (because of her stupid mouth). She had some time to spare before rehearsals, so she decided she'd grab breakfast on the way to his apartment to bring as a small peace offering.

  After pulling on the spare outfit she kept at Maggie's place (just in case), she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and cleared the smudges from last night's makeup before hurrying out of the room.

  Maggie and James were making breakfast when she heard Alisha turning the locks on the front door. "Hold it!" she barked, stepping out of the kitchen.

  Alisha stopped and whirled to face her friend. She felt an enormous amount of guilt over the secret she'd kept from her for so long; and she knew she hadn't deserved the comfort her friend gave her the night before. But that's why Maggie was her best friend—she was amazing and forgiving. "Hi," Alisha said sheepishly.

  "Where are you going?" Maggie asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  "Jake's," Alisha answered, slipping her coat over her shoulders.

  Maggie arched a perfectly shaped brow. "Did he call?"

  Alisha's face fell into a frown. "No," she muttered. "But I'm going over there to apologize."

  The blonde nodded and toyed with the tie on her robe. In all honesty, she was still upset over everyone keeping the truth from her, but it wouldn't do any good to hold on to that. She loved her friend and wanted her to be happy. If Big made her happy, then who was she to judge? "Good luck," she said finally, lifting her eyes to look at her friend, offering a tiny smile.

  A grateful smile washed over Alisha's face; she walked over and threw her arms around Maggie. "Thanks, Maggie. I will make this up to you somehow."

  "I know," Maggie sighed dramatically, earning a giggle from her friend. "Hey, Keller," she called into the kitchen.

  James poked his head out and smiled at the two. "Yeah?"

  "Is your friend going to be an idiot or is he going to do the right thing and forgive my friend?" Maggie asked him.

  He scratched his face and looked between the two, uncomfortable at having been put on the spot. "I, uh, well…" he trailed off, noticing the way Alisha's face fell when he did so; Maggie scowled at him. "Look, you're…you know…hot, and he doesn't really stay mad for long. I'm sure if you just go over…well, everything will…you know…blow over." Casting his eyes to Maggie, his lips twitched at her approving nod.

  The girls exchanged amused looks before Alisha smiled at him. "Thanks, James. Okay, I'm going to go," she announced, heading for the door.

  "Call me," Maggie yelled after her.

  She took the stairs two at a time, being careful with the cups of hot coffee in her hands. Tucked under her arm was a bag of fresh bagels and cream cheese from a bakery down the street she knew he liked.

  The entire trip to his apartment she practiced her speech (in a thousand different ways) and she hoped that he had cooled off enough from the night before to at least hear her out. Uncertainty over which version of the speech she was going to give niggled in her brain and stressed her out as she rounded the final flight of stairs to his floor. You can do this, Alisha, she assured herself. All she had to do was tell him the truth. And that truth was that she had real feelings for him and she wanted to see where this thing (relationship…she needed to get used to that word) between them could go.

  Simple enough.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth a few times in a vain attempt to calm the nerves raging manically in her stomach. With one last you can do it in her head, she lifted a fisted hand and knocked.

  The incessant knocking on the door woke a sleeping Sarah Biggerman and that annoyed the shit out of her. Didn't whoever was on the other side of that door realize that she was in the middle of an emotional crisis and had come to New York to escape? That 7:45am was way too fucking early to show up at someone's apartment unannounced and disturb her? (so what if it wasn't her apartment) She snuggled back into the couch and pulled the blanket up over her head, deciding to let her brother deal with the disturbance. Hearing the water running in the shower and another knock at the door, she kicked off the blanket in a huff and stomped over to the door, muttering under her breath the ways in which she planned to annihilate the person on the other side.

  Jerking open the door, she came face to face with a very pretty and petite brunette, whose facial expression dropped into a frown the moment she laid eyes on someone who was clearly not who she'd expected. Poor girl, Sarah thought. She'd seen this a hundred times—a girl gets a taste of the Biggerman special and then she wants more, not realizing that the diner's closed to her forever. Normally she'd let the girl down easy, but this chick was turning on some crazy, mean eyes at her and the knocking had cruelly and rudely ripped her from sleep.

  "Who are you?" Sarah asked, her husky voice extra gravelly due to a lack of sleep.

  Alisha gawped at the stunning woman in the doorway, noting the mussed hair, raspy voice and long, bare legs poking out Beneath the FDNY t-shirt (the same shirt she had once worn when she spent the night) "Who are you?" Alisha snapped back, her eyes narrowing as her heart begged her head to be wrong about this scene in front of her.

  Sarah laughed and combed her hair back out of her face. "Honey, I'm the one that spent last night here—not you. I get to ask the questions when you come knocking on the door first thing in the morning disturbing the peace."

  The woman confirmed Alisha's worst fears and the sudden urge to vomit was overwhelming. One fight. That was all it took for him to throw everything away. One fucking fight.

  "If you're looking for Big, he's in the shower," Sarah told her, a wicked smile flirting over her lips. "I can tell him you stopped by, though we don't talk much. You know?" (She wasn't technically lying—she and her brother didn't talk much last night.)

  Tears prickled behind her eyes, but she willed them back. She would not cry in front of this…this harlot. "Here," she bit out, tossing the bag of bagels at the woman. "You can give him those and tell him he can go to hell."

  Sarah caught the bag before it hit her in the face and smirked. "Thanks. I'm sure we'll both enjoy these after we work up an appetite." (EW! This was wrong on so many levels.)

  Alisha bit down hard on the inside of her lip and shook her head. "Well, by all means, don't let me keep you. Take the coffee, too," she insisted, pushing the cups into her hands. "I hope you both choke on it." She spun on her heel and fled down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Sarah sighed and shut the door. The dirty work she did for her big bro. This wasn't the first time she'd run this scam on a girl her brother wanted nothing more to do with. It had been his idea in the first place and it was just as fucked up now as it was then. Though the minute she opened the bag and inhaled the delicious smell of raisin bagels, her guilt evaporated. Hell, she knew Jake would probably throw her a damn party when he found out what she'd done. (And scored free breakfast!)

  Big dressed quickly after his shower, thankful that the hot spray had alleviated the worst of his hangover. (fucking whiskey) He grabbed his cell phone off the night stand and read her text again.

  It's not just sex to me, Jake.

  I'm sorry.

  Please call me.

  His thumb hovered over the call button on his phone, but he put it in his pocket instead. He decided that working this out face to face would be better.

  Walking out of his bedroom, he found his sister (he'd almost forgotten about her) at the kitchen table smearing cream cheese on a bagel. "Where'd the food come from?" he asked.

  "Morning, brother," Sarah smirked, pushing a cup of coffee across the table towards him. "You are going to buy me a present after you hear about the solid I did for you a few minutes ago," she teased in a sing-song voice.

  Big smirked back; his interest was piqued. "Breakfast doesn't warrant presents—especially after you show up
here unannounced." When she rolled her eyes he picked up the coffee and drank. "If it's not breakfast, then what is this solid that you did for me?" he inquired.

  Sarah chewed thoughtfully, taking her time in answering simply because she knew it drove him crazy. "Some chick stopped by and I got rid of her for ya. Ran #47 in the ol' Biggerone Playbook. She looked appropriately shocked and even handed—okay tossed these bagels at me. That's better than most; at least I didn't get my hair pulled this time. Though she did say she hoped we choke on this coffee. Oh, and that you can go to hell," she finished with a tart smile. "You're still an asshole, bro." She eyed him lazily, wondering why he wasn't laughing but rather looked like he wanted to beat her ass. Uh oh.

  "What the fuck did you do, Sarah? What did she look like?" he glowered. (He didn't need her to tell him—there was only one person it could have possibly been)

  "Really pretty, actually. Classy. Way better than the skanks you usually bang. She had really long, dark hair, big brown eyes, full lips." She glanced at the coffee cup in her hand and saw Alisha written on the side; she turned it around for him to see. "Guessing it was Alisha," she supplied, wondering why that name sounded so familiar where he was concerned. Alisha…Alisha, she kept repeating in her head. Oh. Crap. "Is this—Jewish Alisha that Mom won't stop yammering on and on about?"

  "Fuck!" he bellowed, throwing his cup of coffee at the cabinets full throttle, spraying it everywhere. He pulled out his phone and dialed her phone number, immediately getting her voicemail. (he wasn't surprised) "Goddammit! Sarah, what the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing," she cried, pushing to her feet and slapping her hands on the table. "I just did what you've had me do way too many times in my life. How the hell was I supposed to know that you went and got yourself a girlfriend?"

  "She's not—just—fuck, Sarah! Things were already a mess and you made it about a thousand times worse. Jesus fucking Christ!" he spat, dragging a hand through his hair.