Lithium Tides: A Lithium Springs Novel

by Carmel Rhodes

  Kensie plopped down next to Jam, snuggling into her side. “I’m sorry,” she said, without any real remorse. “At least the bed is nice.”

  Nice was an understatement. Magnificent was more appropriate. Everything in the small, sixty-room luxury hotel screamed understated elegance and romance. It was the perfect place for a wedding. Soft lighting, subtle rustic charm, and a view to die for. The back wall in the two-room suite was made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling mirrored glass windows that framed the beauty of Napa Valley. Vineyards stretched out as far as the eye could see, lush and green and vast.

  “At least,” Jamie grumbled.

  Kensie ignored Jam’s attitude and, instead, opted for a change of subject. “It’s kind of romantic isn’t it? I could totally see myself getting married here.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jamie yawned an incoherent response and snuggled further into Kensie’s side.

  Strange, Kensie thought. Jamie had strong opinions on marriage, and jet lag aside, the fact that she didn’t launch into her usual tirade about marriage being a business deal struck Ken as odd. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “You, Ryder, wine country?” Her implications hung thick in the air between them. Jamie inhaled, then exhaled deeply, shifting her focus from Kensie to a spot on the wall behind her. Alarm bells rang out in Kensie’s mind. Kensie knew Jamie better than she knew herself and she could practically hear the be patient. Be mindful. Be kind, playing on a loop in Jamie’s brain. “James Michelle Manning, what is it that you aren’t telling me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Jam, spill.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you but you have to promise you won’t get mad?” Jamie asked, lifting up on her elbow.

  Kensie’s chest huffed up and down. “I promise,” she said, though she had no intention of keeping said promise. How could she possibly predict her reaction to news that would probably make her upset? People don’t say, “promise you won’t get mad” when they have good news, only when they are about to throat punch you with their words.

  Jamie sighed and scrambled off the bed. Their luggage lay discarded by the door. By the time they convinced—bribed—the man at the front desk to let them check in early, neither of them had much energy left for unpacking. “I kind of did a thing,” Jamie began as she rummaged through her suitcase.

  “What kind of thing?”

  Jamie pulled a small velvet bag from the mesh pocket inside her case and ambled back over to the bed. “Hold out your hand,” she instructed and Kensie complied. Her heart beat wildly as Jamie dumped the contents onto her palm. Water leaked from her big brown eyes as she stared at two diamond and gold rings. “Two,” she whispered. Her voice garbled and broken. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

  “You promised not to get mad.”

  This was worse than a throat punch. It felt as if Jamie had reached inside Kensie’s chest and ripped out her heart. “I would be pissed if you got engaged and didn’t tell me, but this—you getting married,” she lifted the dainty gold eternity band, “this fucking hurts. I’m your best friend.”

  “I know.” Jamie slipped the rings on her finger. Her gaze dropped to her lap, a shy blush crept up her neck. “If it makes you feel any better, aside from our mothers, you’re the only one who knows. We just sort of did it.”

  “When?”

  “Remember when you were sick and CT had to come and take care of you?”

  “You’re a heartless bitch,” Kensie sniffled. Was she being dramatic? Possibly, but Kensie had been there for every major milestone in Jamie’s life, and vice versa. First periods, first crushes, first heartbreaks, you name it and they had endured it together. Jamie was Kensie’s heart. At the end of the day, when boys with tattoos and overbearing parents let her down, Jamie was there to pick her back up. Kensie wanted to be that for Jam—she thought she was, but now…

  “Stop looking at me with your big Bambi eyes, Ken. I swear I didn’t think you would react this way. It’s really no big deal.”

  A pillow lay to Kensie’s left. It wasn’t a brick, but she could use it to smother Jamie—maybe then she’d get it. “I know things were off with us last year, but we were both to blame for that,” Kensie growled. She wasn’t going to let Jamie talk her way out of this one. They were bonding if it killed her. Hell, Kensie hadn’t completely abandoned the pillow idea, anyway. “You can’t keep pushing me away. I’m trying to fix it, but you’re still keeping shit from me—big—life-changing shit. It isn’t fair.” Kensie hit Jamie in the head with the pillow. “I should have been there.” She enunciated the words with another whack. “I hate that I wasn’t. Also, I’m telling your brother.”

  Kensie lifted the pillow again, but Jamie yanked it from her hands. “Kensington, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…I just…I don’t know…I don’t want him to regret it,” Jamie breathed.

  Kensie hadn’t expected those words. Jamie was the strong one. The self-assured one. “Regret what?”

  Tears shined in Jam’s greens. “Loving me.”

  “Jamie, do you know how amazing you are?”

  “I thought I was a heartless bitch?” she chuckled sadly.

  “Where’s the pillow? I’m being serious. You’re smart and funny and one of the bravest people I know. You inspire me every day. Ryder is lucky to have you, cold heart and all.”

  Jamie sniffled. “Fuck you for making me cry, Roth.”

  “You’re welcome,” Kensie said, brushing away Jamie’s tears with the pads of her thumbs. “Now, let’s take a nap, and when we wake up, you can tell me how you got your mother to agree to attending a shotgun wedding.”

  “Oh God, you have no idea,” Jam groaned, snuggling back onto the bed. Kensie wrapped her arms and legs around her friend, clinging onto their past, their present, and their future with everything she had. They lay in silence for a few minutes. Kensie had already begun to drift to the land between sleep and wake when Jamie’s voice pulled her back to reality. “I suppose now would be a good time to tell you I’m late.”

  It took a full sixty seconds for Kensie to process her words. “You’re…late? Like late-late? Like pregnant-late?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t taken a test or anything. You know after everything happened, I’m kind of scared shitless…”

  “Oh my God.” Kensie jumped up on her knees.

  “Kensie,” Jam said, holding her arms out, “don’t make this a big deal.”

  “Oh. My. God.”

  “Calm down.”

  “OH. MY. GOD.”

  “You can’t say anything. I haven’t told Ry yet.” Without another word, Kensie snatched the pillow from the bed and threw it at her friend. “I know, heartless bitch; now can we please take a nap?”

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Startled, Kensie’s eyes popped open. “What?” she mumbled sleepily. It took a few seconds before she registered what was happening. Fists reigned blows on the door of their suite. Muffled voices yelled in the distance, voices she’d know anywhere.

  “OPEN UP!”

  “OPEN THE DOOR!”

  “LET US IN!”

  “God, they’re so immature,” Kensie groaned. She threw the covers back, rolling her eyes at a still sleeping Jamie as she shuffled to her feet. Their voices got louder the closer she got to the door. It was a wonder no one called security.

  “Party’s here,” Javi exclaimed the moment she swung the door open. The guys spilled into their room and headed straight for the mini bar, slamming down not one, but two liters of Jack Daniel’s on the wooden tabletop. “Who’s ready for shots?”

  “Dude, we just got here,” CT chuckled, pulling his girlfriend into his arms and kissing her sweetly on the nose. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  “Hey yourself.” Kensie wrapped her arms around his neck, her ire at their rude awakening long forgotten. Lifting up on the tips of her toes, she pressed her lips to his. “I missed you.”

  “I missed
you more, Friend.”

  “Where’s my girl?” Ryder asked glancing around the suite in confusion.

  “Don’t you mean wife?” Kensie couldn’t help the venom in her tone. She was still pissed about the secret wedding. Though judging by the looks on CT and Javi’s faces, Jamie was telling the truth, they really hadn’t told a soul.

  “Wife?” the drummer and bassist said in unison.

  “She told you?” Ry asked. He ran his fingers through his curly blond hair, a shy grin plastered on his lips.

  “Wait…what?” CT released his hold on Kensie, and he and Javi cornered their friend. “Married? When?”

  “A couple of weeks ago.” Ry shrugged as if it were no big deal. Like marrying her best friend in secret and then knocking her up was just another day in Lithium Land. He and Jamie really were made for each other. Kensie would have found it adorable if she didn’t want to rip his fucking head off.

  Javi made a face at CT before turning back to Ry, his signature smirk in place. “How the fuck did you convince her to marry your broke ass?”

  CT nodded. “What he said.”

  Ryder responded by lifting a middle finger into his friends’ faces. “Where is she?”

  “Bedroom.” Kensie tilted her head in the direction of the room. Apparently, she was the only one bothered by this little revelation.

  “Go get her. We need celebratory shots,” Javi said, lifting up a handle of whiskey.

  “Umm…I…don’t think she’s feeling well.”

  Concern creased Ryder’s brow as he made his way to the bedroom. Blurting out the secret marriage was one thing, but the baby news was on Jam.

  “I still can’t believe he got a ring on that finger,” CT said to no one in particular.

  “SHOTS,” Javi repeated, a little more forcefully this time.

  “Fine, one,” CT huffed, dropping his arm from around Kensie’s shoulder. The three of them made their way over to the mini bar while Javi poured three shots into tumblers with the name of the hotel etched in the glass.

  “Don’t fine me,” Javi said, handing them each a shot. “It’s the least you could do considering we could have been sipping Dom on a PJ, but noooooo, because you couldn’t keep the peace for two fucking hours, we flew Southwest.”

  “What’s wrong with Southwest?”

  “Nothing, but who turns down a private jet?” Kensie almost raised her hand but thought better of it. “Whatever, dude. It’s shot time. ¡Arriba, abajo, al centro, pa’ dentro!” Javi raised his glass up, then down, then out, before tipping it back and swallowing the liquid in one gulp. Kensie and Carter followed suit. The whiskey burned away any remaining tension and apprehension in the air.

  The three of them spent the next two hours drinking and laughing and watching HBO. Jamie and Ryder eventually emerged from the bedroom to join the party. Judging by the way Ryder kept at least one of his hands on Jam’s stomach at all times, it was safe to say the cat was out of the bag. For a moment, locked away in her suite with her friends, Kensie felt at ease, almost as if they weren’t in the eye of the storm.

  A phone buzzed in the distance, a harsh reminder of the hurricane that brewed outside. Wiggling off Carter’s lap, Kensie went to retrieve her cell. There was a message from Reagan.

  Reagan: We’re going to meet in the lobby for dinner around eight, Jamie is more than welcome to join us if she’d like, and don’t forget to wear red!

  Kensie: Awesome. See you soon, Mrs. Knight. ;)

  Mrs. Knight.

  There was a time when she’d wanted nothing more than to be that person. It seemed like so long ago. Hard to believe how many things could change within a month. Boyfriends. Blowjobs. Babies. Life sped forward down a bumpy highway and Kensie barely had time to strap in. Mrs. Knight. Mrs. Thayer. Miss Roth? Who knew where she’d be this time next year. She hoped she would be with Carter. Playing house maybe? Babysitting for Jam and Ry. Kicking ass at work and taking names.

  “Everything okay, Friend?” Carter asked, coming up behind her. His hands ran up the length of her torso, his breath, lightly scented with whiskey, warm on her neck. Heat radiated off his body. The way he said Friend made every muscle in her body clench.

  “Yeah,” she gulped, swallowing back her desire, “your sister.”

  “What did she want?” he asked, inhaling her scent. His right hand continued its journey up and between her breasts, settling around her neck. He tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder while his left hand slipped down the front of her yoga pants.

  “Babe,” Kensie protested, vaguely aware their friends were just a few feet away.

  “Yes, Friend,” he said again in that voice that made her knees weak. Slipping two fingers inside her panties, he moaned in her ear, “Always so wet for me.” All the fight drained from her body as he pumped in and out of her slowly. “You want to see what my room looks like?”

  It was too risky. The rest of the bridal party had arrived, which meant Trey was lurking around somewhere, but the whiskey and his fingers and Jam getting married was all too much. She needed the release. “Yes, please.”

  “Yo, we’ll be back,” Carter called over his shoulder as he pushed Kensie out the door in front of him.

  “Which way?” she panted. Would she ever get used to the effect this man had on her?

  “Down the hall, room 200,” he said, grabbing her by the hand and tugging her in the right direction. Desperation and need and lust guided them. They practically tripped over each other en route to their destination.

  “Shit, I forgot my phone,” she hissed, stopping in her tracks.

  Carter tugged her forward. “Leave it.”

  “I can’t. I’m officially on bridesmaid duty so as much as I’d like to hide away with you all night, I’m on a tight schedule. You’ll need to make this quick,” she teased. “I’ll run back and grab it and I’ll meet you there. Room 200, right?” Carter’s lips jutted out into a pout. “I’ll be right there.” She swatted him on the behind.

  Kensie turned and headed back to her room. They’d left in such a rush she’d even forgotten the key card. Knocking, she waited for one of the drunken idiots to let her in.

  “Hey,” Ryder’s lips tugged up into a lopsided grin, “I almost didn’t recognize you without CT’s mouth attached to some part of your body.”

  Kensie blushed. “I could say the same thing about your hand and Jam’s belly.”

  Ry beamed. “Still a little pissed that she told you first.”

  “Still a little pissed that I wasn’t invited to the wedding,” she retorted.

  “Touché.” He shrugged, opening the door wider so she could slip past. She grabbed her phone, rubbed Jam’s tummy, and was back out the door in seconds. There was a text from Carter.

  Peter Pan: Hurry up or I’m coming to get you.

  He was such an asshole, but she loved him hard. Grinning at the screen, she began tapping out a reply, when her arm hit something. “Oh, I’m sor—”

  “Baby, there you are.” Everything about Trey—his tone, his eyes, his posture—begged for her to listen. Dropping his duffel, he pulled her into his arms.

  “Stop,” she said, pushing him back. “We don’t have anything to talk about. I can’t believe you’d ambush me like that.”

  “What the fuck was I supposed to do? You stopped answering my phone calls and text messages. You just cut me out without so much as a goodbye.” His face was inches from hers. He was so close she was forced to take a step back and then another, and another, until she felt her back hit the wall behind her.

  “We broke up.”

  “That’s bullshit, Kensington. The last time we were together, we almost made love,” he reminded her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What changed?”

  “Everything.”

  “It doesn’t have to. I still love you. I still want you.” He brushed his fingers over her lips. The longing in his gaze nearly broke her. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”

  Carter. Carter. Carte
r. She reminded herself. It wasn’t that she wanted Trey, but she couldn’t turn off her emotions. She’d loved him once, and seeing him so broken was gut-wrenching, but she couldn’t lead him on. “I can’t do this with you anymore,” she said, wiggling out of his grasp. “I’ve got to go.”

  Kensie made it all of three steps before Trey wrapped his hand around her bicep. “Will you fucking stop running away and talk to me?”

  “Let go.”

  “Not until you talk to me.” His grip on her tightened. He was frantic, desperate.

  “You’re hurting me,” she hissed. She didn’t want to cause a scene, but she didn’t want this either. Her decisions brought them here. Her impulsiveness and immaturity were to blame, she knew that, but she didn’t know how to fix it. “Trey, please, let me go. Maybe we can talk when you calm down.”

  “She said let go,” Carter growled, appearing from nowhere. He shoved Trey, hard, pulling Kensie away from him.

  “This is between me and my girl,” Trey roared, pushing him back, “mind your fucking business.”

  Rage boiled in Carter’s eyes. “Your girl?” They were face-to-face, nose-to-nose.

  “My girl,” Trey repeated, “mine. I don’t know what your obsession is with her but get the fuck over it.”

  “Stop it.” Kensie panicked, stepping between them. “Both of you, just stop.” She could feel the tension rolling off Carter’s shoulders. He was about to say something they’d all regret. “Trey, I’m not yours. We broke up, so you need to stop this. Thank you, Carter,” she said, her eyes pleaded for him to let it go, “but I’m fine. You can go.”

  “Him first.” Carter’s face was set in a hard line, his jaw locked. His hands hung by his sides as his fists clenched and unclenched with each ragged breath he took. He wasn’t budging.

  Kensie turned to look at Trey. “Please, just go.”

  “Fine, I’ll be the bigger man. I’m staying right down the hall, room 210, whenever you’re ready to talk.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, and Carter yanked her back. Trey’s eyes narrowed, but he continued down the hall. They didn’t speak again until Trey disappeared behind the door of his room.