by Kelley York
Vivian leaned into him, cheek against his shoulder. “We’ll see.”
“All right.” He settled an arm around her, coaxing her away from the dolphins. “Come on, we both need some rest.” In a few hours, the sun would be up. He felt terrible for Evan having to drive back home and still get up for classes.
Vivian went along to her room, which was much more familiar to Archer. It hadn’t changed a bit since Viv left for college. Black and pink everywhere. She still had a boy-band poster on the back of her door from her middle-school days, and said she liked to keep it for nostalgia’s sake.
Archer pulled down the covers and flicked on the bedside lamp. When he turned around, Vivian had her back to him, undressing by her closet. He saw the pale, smooth curve of her hips as she pulled off her shirt and he tore his eyes away, focusing them on the window instead. For all the good it did; he could still see her reflection in the glass.
Vivian dropped her shirt on the floor along with her jeans. If she had any shame, she damned well wasn’t expressing it with the way she turned around and stared right at him. Like she was willing him to turn and look at her. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He kept his eyes on the window, staring through the glass instead of at it.
A moment later, Vivian’s arms snaked around his middle, and he sucked in a breath. She was dressed, thank God, but he could still feel the curve of her breasts against his back. It didn’t help get the image of her out of his head.
“Archer?”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Turn around,” she said. He was helpless to do anything but exactly that. A finger touched to his cheek, traced down to the corner of his mouth and across his lower lip.
“Look at me?”
I can’t, I can’t.
This wasn’t right. She was acting strange, and strange from Vivian was never a good thing. His insides did acrobatics and Vivian sounded so calm, so controlled. Wasn’t it usually the other way around?
But he opened his eyes, staring down into her face. No girl could ever be as beautiful. Not when she looked at him the way he’d always wanted her to. Like he was more than the Best Friend. Like he might be a guy she would want.
So why was he thinking of a hundred excuses to run out of the room?
Vivian brushed the dark hair back from his face. Her hands were slightly chilled, but soft. “I owe you a thank-you.”
Archer inhaled. “No you don’t, you–” She silenced him with a finger against his lips, nudging him back to the bed.
“I do.” Her prompting got him to sink down onto the mattress. Her fingers against his cheeks sent anxious little sparks across his skin. “You’re always there for me. Always coming to my rescue. I don’t know what I would’ve done tonight without you.”
“You would’ve been fine.” Damn his voice for coming out hoarser than he would’ve liked. Marissa was important to me, too. I wasn’t there for just you, he wanted to say, but it seemed cruel. He kept his eyes glued to Vivian’s face. Sitting as he was, if he dropped his gaze, he’d be eye-level with her chest.
She solved that problem a moment later and gave him an entirely new one. Vivian’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, her long legs straddled his lap and, a moment later, her mouth crushed against his.
There’d been brief kisses over the years. On the cheek, on his hands, his forehead, even fleeting ones on his mouth. But not like this. Never this insistent and eager, her hands in his hair and her tongue coaxing his into play because, damn it all, he was kissing her back. Despite his better judgment, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to ask himself Why? Why now, after all this time?
Vivian’s hands slid through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back, dragging his shirt up so she could touch him, skin on skin. Her fingertips on his spine, tickling their way up and—
He froze.
The room seemed so deathly silent where seconds before it’d been filled with the eager sound of their breaths.
Vivian drew back with her brows knitted together, face flushed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She sounded so far away.
Because he was back in the hotel room, with Evan’s mouth against his ear, murmuring soothing words and tracing his fingers up and down Archer’s spine. Remembering the way he’d wanted to know what it would feel like to turn his head just those few inches and kiss Evan, to lose himself in those eyes. The peace Evan brought to him. The calm. Not this frantic, frightening sensation of being with Vivian, wanting her so badly because he knew if he so much as blinked wrong, he would lose her all over again.
“Archer, you’re shaking. What’s wrong?” Vivian gathered his hands up in her own, holding them against her chest.
He stared at her, trying to gather his thoughts. What did he want? What was he doing? What was she doing? Through all the years he tried to be everything he thought she wanted, why now did she show interest? He didn’t understand.
Archer lifted his hands—they were shaking, yes—and cupped her face. Wishing he could pick her apart and figure her out. Vivian bit her lip. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he breathed. “No, it’s not you. It’s entirely me. This day has just been…”
Vivian lowered her gaze, long lashes brushing against her fine cheekbones. When she looked up again, her eyes were glassy. “I know. It’s…I know.” She sniffed and he did the only thing he could think to do—he held her. She buried her face against the junction of neck and shoulder, lips brushing his skin. He wanted to kiss her again.
“Stay in here tonight. Please?”
Also a bad idea. She was vulnerable. Hell, he was vulnerable. Vivian held more power over him now than ever.
Archer took a deep breath. “Just for tonight.”
She slipped beneath the covers while he stripped down to his pants. No more than that, because there was a difference between a bad idea and a downright stupid one. Pants stayed on. He joined her after flicking off the lights.
Vivian molded herself against his side, arm over his middle, one smooth leg hiked across his hip. Lucky for her—or maybe for him—he had too many years of experience in dealing with self-restraint around her. But it didn’t mean he enjoyed having her sprawled all over him when all he could do was lay there stiffly and stare at the ceiling.
“You know I love you, Archer,” Vivian mumbled from where her cheek rested on his shoulder.
Archer sighed. “I know you do.”
It was a lie. He didn’t know anything anymore.
§
Marissa had a music box of a dolphin leaping over a rainbow made of red, blue, and yellow. Missing a few colors, obviously. Archer wound and rewound it, letting it repeat its lazy rendition of Over the Rainbow. As he sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the music box in his hands, he remembered brief flashes of Marissa flitting about her room. Doing her hair, her makeup, putting on earrings. All while the music box played, and she hummed along with it in a soft, soft voice that made his heart ache.
His own mother never sang or hummed. It was something so small, so normal. What will Mom say about all this when I see her?
Marissa had been his mother’s friend long before Vivian’s dad ran out on them and his own father had died, but they didn’t grow truly close until after all of that. Within their loss, they bonded, two women trying to adjust to life raising their kids alone. But they couldn’t have been more different in everything from their mannerisms to their style of parenting.
Vivian’s shadow spilled across the floor in the patch of light coming in from the hall. He didn’t look up. “Barring any screwups with the paperwork, everything should be set to go for Wednesday,” he said. His morning had been spent on the phone, dealing with funeral homes and the hospital. Making the decisions Vivian should’ve made but couldn’t compose herself enough to do.
Roxy had also called, having heard the news. He felt a little bad not telling her himself. She wasn’t as close to Marissa as he had been, but she was still upset. “What ca
n I do?” she’d asked. Archer answered honestly, “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”
Vivian nodded slowly. “You know, I don’t understand it.”
Archer didn’t look up. “Understand what?”
“Her. Wanting to be buried. Shoved in a box and stuck six feet under.” From his periphery, he could see Vivian looking around the room, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to come in or not. “She spent so much of her time stuck in this house, and then stuck in a hospital…”
“What were her alternatives?” he sighed. “Be cremated, stuck in an urn?”
“Could scatter her ashes. That’s what I would want.” She swiped at her eyes. “Let them float over the ocean…free.”
Archer lifted his head. Watched her. Didn’t say anything. Vivian’s wishes were not Marissa’s, and Marissa’s were the ones that mattered right now.
Viv sighed and pushed the subject aside. “You’re really not going to stay again? Not even one more night?”
“No.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over the dolphin’s nose. “Your aunt and grandma will be here, not to mention whoever else flies in. There’s no room for me.”
“You could sleep in my room.” Vivian wandered over to the dolphins, her back to him. “I’d feel better if you were here.”
Archer felt a little pang of resentment at that remark. Yeah, sure she would. But she also had all her family. What about him? Wasn’t he allowed his own time to hurt? “I want to go home, Vivian. I told you that you were welcome to come back with me, but I can’t stay here.”
She turned. The look on her face was not a happy one, but he met her eyes and refused to let his resolve waver. He could hear Evan’s voice in his head, his personal mantra helping him stay strong and not cave in to Vivian’s wants. ‘You need to think of yourself, too.’
A knock on the front door shattered the silence. Archer sighed. Thank God. He could’ve kissed Evan for giving him an escape out of a conversation he knew he didn’t want to have. Vivian’s expression fell, but she didn’t stop him as he slipped out of the room and headed downstairs.
Evan smiled when Archer answered the door. His eyes darted past Archer to Vivian trailing behind him. “Hey. Um… How are you? Am I too early?”
“Not at all.” He was early. Early enough Archer suspected he’d skipped a class just to get there.
“I was going to make lunch,” Vivian said. “If you want to come in for awhile.”
Archer tensed. “No, that’s–”
“It seems unfair to make him drive all this way just to turn around and drive back.” She grabbed the back of Archer’s shirt and drew him away from the door. Evan looked ready to snatch him up and drag him off, but after a moment, he reluctantly stepped inside.
They followed Vivian into the kitchen. Archer felt a brief brush of Evan’s fingers against his back and willed himself to relax. This won’t be as disastrous as you think it will. He and Evan sat at the dining table while Vivian went through the cabinets and fridge. Archer’s shopping trip that morning resulted in plenty of food to hold her family over for a few days, and a larger bill than he would’ve liked. But at least it meant she wasn’t going to feed them expired lunch meat on stale bread.
Evan folded his hands on the table. Either he wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable, or he was doing a good job hiding it. “I, uh, let Roxy know what happened. She was asking about you this morning.”
Vivian frowned. “Oh. Really? She hasn’t even called.”
“She called me,” Archer pointed out mildly.
Evan glanced at him, so obviously trying to tread carefully. “She was worried you had too much on your plate… But she wanted me to tell you if you need anything taken care of, to let her know.”
That sounded like Roxy. She was a good girl like that. Years ago he had hoped she would be a good influence on Vivian—or rather, Vivian’s taste in guys—but no such luck. Roxy was never a girl who let anyone walk all over her the way Viv did. “You could always see if she wanted to stay for a few nights.”
When she turned to get out plates from the cupboard, Archer couldn’t make out her expression. “If there’s room for her to share a bed with me, why can’t you? You did it fine last night.”
His eyes widened.
Had she really just…? Yes, she had. Whether on purpose or not, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell by the look on Evan’s face if her attempt at striking a nerve had worked.
Evan’s eyes focused on Vivian sharply as she finished making their sandwiches and placed them on the table, along with sodas and a bag of chips. His voice was laced with strained politeness, but Archer could tell his patience was wearing thin. “You can call her if you change your mind. Archer needs some time to sort through all this, too.”
Archer tore off a bit of his sandwich and lowered his eyes. He didn’t want to see what kind of looks the two were exchanging.
“All the more reason,” Vivian pulled her chair out to sit and jerked it back in with more force than was necessary, “for him not to be in his apartment all by himself.”
Evan didn’t skip a beat, but he smiled, almost too sweetly. “Oh, he won’t be alone. I’ll be with him.”
Vivian’s gaze darkened. Just like that, Evan had won. She couldn’t say another word without coming across as a complete bitch. Archer didn’t know whether to laugh or start dreading how this would come back later to bite him on the ass. Perhaps for now, he’d settle for eating his sandwich and smiling to himself.
§
It was dark again by the time Evan got him home. No sooner had Archer haphazardly discarded his jacket and boots than he collapsed into bed, face buried into his pillow. Sleep hadn’t exactly come easy the night before with Vivian plastered all over him.
He could hear Evan moving around in the living room, opening the closet door—hanging up Archer’s jacket, probably—before he came into the bedroom. Archer didn’t move. He wanted to go to sleep and hoped when he woke up, Marissa would be alive. That the cops weren’t hunting for Richter’s killer. And maybe, just maybe, last night with Vivian hadn’t really happened.
The mattress sank a little where Evan sat down beside him. He touched a hand to Archer’s hair. “Do you want me to go?”
Archer didn’t look up, but reached a hand out, fumbling blindly until he found Evan’s shirt. His fingers curled in the fabric, holding him there.
Don’t go. Don’t ever go.
Evan stretched out beside him. After a few minutes, Archer rolled onto his side and opened his eyes.
The room was dark but he’d adjusted to it enough to see the worried lines of Evan’s mouth, the slight crinkle between his brows. How strange it was to have someone worried about him. Going so far out of their way to make his life easier, to blunt the edge of his pain. No one had ever done that before…certainly not the people who should have.
“I would like it,” Archer began, struggling with words that should’ve been simpler, “if you…stayed here with me.”
Some of the concern ebbed away and a small smile replaced it. “You’re such a pain.” He brushed the dark hair from Archer’s face, sliding his fingers through it. “I’m not going anywhere until you kick me out. That’s how it goes.”
He didn’t want Evan to stop petting him. It reminded him of how tired he was, and how such a soft touch could chase away even the worst of situations. “Why…? Why bother?” The hand petting him stilled, cupping the back of his neck.
“Because you’re my friend, Archer.” Evan lowered his lashes. “You’re important to me. And I don’t think enough people in your life pay enough attention to how you feel.”
It made no sense. Evan gave and asked for nothing in return, but gratefully accepted what little Archer could offer. He’d never done anything amazing for Evan. Never gotten rid of someone or something that hurt him. Hadn’t been there for him through any traumatic, life-altering events or whatever.
What was there of interest when his entire world revolved around
Vivian? And yet, somehow, without him noticing it, Evan had slipped beneath his skin. Somewhere along the line, the life he thought he lived for no one but Vivian didn’t seem to exist anymore. There was Vivian, and there was Evan. Winter versus Summer.
“Marissa would have loved you.” He didn’t know why he said it, but there it was. “She had such a big heart. I think…life got too big for her. She didn’t know what to do with her kids, didn’t know what direction to go in. But she loved me. And she would’ve loved you.”
“I wish I’d gotten to meet her,” Evan murmured. Fingers against Archer’s face again, tickling his jaw. Soothing. “I’m glad you had her. Someone to be there for you growing up.”
Archer’s vision blurred. The damned tremors found their way back into his hands, and he curled them tightly against his own chest. Evan’s forehead touched his. So close, they were sharing breath. “I can’t stand it when you look at me like that,” Evan whispered.
Archer curled his hands tighter, nails biting into his palms. “Like what?”
“Like your heart is breaking.”
He couldn’t speak. The words lodged in his throat and stayed there. Didn’t his heart have enough stitches and cracks to last a lifetime? Breaking, healing, breaking. And yet he put his trust in the few people that mattered, set himself up for being struck down again and again. Everyone lets you down, it’s a fact of life, Marissa told him once. The key is to know when they’re doing it because they don’t care enough to try not to. Did Vivian hurt him again and again because she didn’t care enough not to?
Marissa wasn’t there for him to ask.
A soft noise came from Evan’s throat as Archer moved in closer. He slid an arm across Evan’s waist, pressed his face against the warmth of his throat. Tried not to cry. Not over Vivian, not over Marissa. But Evan was right—his heart hurt, and what could he do but wait for the pain to go away?