“Sounds like you know her schedule well.” A little too well.
“There was a time when I thought she’d come back, so I made it my business to know. I imagine you would too.” Their eyes met for moment, and Cooper’s shoulders sagged. It was the only sign of weakness he’d probably ever let Chad see. “Anyway, you have my blessing or whatever you think you need. But don’t fool yourself like I did. The girl you’re looking for no longer exists.”
Chad didn’t doubt any of Cooper’s conviction, even if it was skewed by heartbreak. The difference was that Chad didn’t have romance clouding his judgment or heightening his emotion. Whatever change she’d made, it wasn’t significant enough to erase a twenty-two-year friendship.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He pushed to a stand and watched as his friend went back to his sprawled position on the couch. “Thanks again for the ride.”
Cooper nodded dismissively, and Chad knew that was all his friend could give at that moment.
He wasn’t being a stalker, although staring at the exit door of Fairfield Fellowship for the last thirty minutes had certainly made him feel like one.
The building looked different through sober lenses. More commanding, more intimidating, for some reason. Maybe it was because two more structures now crowded the campus, or maybe it was because the fiercest person he knew was behind those glass doors.
With a groan, Chad lightly hit the steering wheel. Cooper’s warning had messed with his head. Made him question too many things about seeing Katie again.
Another five seconds ticked by, and he beat the seat with the back of his head. This was so stupid, his waiting here just for a glimpse. Knowing his luck, she’d see him, storm up to the truck, and they’d end five years of silence in front of an audience. With all the resentment and anticipation he was feeling, he doubted anything that came out of his mouth would be appropriate for the Sunday morning crowd.
But even that thought brought a shiver of doubt. Katie Stone attended church. Not just any church. The same church they’d vandalized at least twice in high school. He was pretty sure it had also been the victim of a drive-by egging on Katie’s twenty-first birthday, but his memory of that night was a little fuzzy.
A flash of color through the glass doors had him straightening. A few couples and some families with small kids straggled out. Then the crowd thickened, and soon the exit doors were propped wide open as a stream of people in ties and dresses and fancy shoes began their rush to the parking lot.
His heart galloped every time he spotted a dark head of hair. Katie had been dying hers since junior high, and the jet-black color was as distinctive as her eyes. But none of the passing figures were the girl he’d known most of his life, and soon only a small crowd remained, talking just outside the doors. He turned the key in the ignition, feeling like an idiot. She wasn’t here. Of course, she wasn’t here.
Hand on the gearshift, Chad glanced over his left shoulder to check for pedestrians, and suddenly every muscle in his body locked up.
Katie had walked right by him, and he hadn’t even noticed.
With hair to her shoulders in a soft brown color he barely remembered, she stood by an SUV, hand in hand with Asher Powell. The guy had filled out since high school, Chad could give him that, but still the picture of them together was . . . well, it wasn’t her. Katie didn’t do public displays of affection, and she certainly didn’t wear . . . he squinted for a closer look . . . pantyhose? She’d morphed into one of them—an exact replica of the people they’d vowed to hate.
But worse than the hair and the clothes and the nauseating sweetness was her smile. She radiated joy.
Suddenly all he saw was red. A livid anger. It rushed to his fingertips, trapped just beneath his skin. He clenched the steering wheel, and in a flash the last night they’d spoken to each other came hurling toward him like a fatally placed spear.
The third bottle clanks against the other two in the trash bag, and I tie it up, knowing I’ll need to drive the evidence to the dump before Laila gets home.
She already found one bottle, but I managed to convince her it was from before. If she finds out I lied to her again, she’ll leave me for good. I know it, and I can’t live without her. With a new wave of panic, I grab my keys and pull the door open.
Katie stands there, staring at me like I appeared out of thin air.
I drop the garbage bag and hear a bottle shatter within. “What are you doing here?” I ask with a cringe. I don’t want Katie to know I’m drinking again either. But a closer inspection of my best friend makes me forget my planned diversion.
Her face is white, her hands are trembling, and her eyes? Good night, her eyes look as wild as the Mad Hatter’s, the Johnny Depp version.
She’s tripping, and it’s on something I’m not familiar with.
“I left him. I left Cooper.” She glances over her shoulder like she’s being chased. “I can’t do this anymore.” Tears stain her face, and I’m frozen for two seconds, because in all the years I’ve known her, I’ve only seen her cry twice. At my wedding and now.
“Where’s Laila?” Katie begs. “I need Laila.”
“She’s at Joe’s.”
Katie spins around, like I’m going to let her leave in this condition. She can hardly stand without swaying, let alone drive.
I grab her hand and wrestle the keys out of it. Her other one is fisted too, but I don’t bother to find out why.
“What did you take?”
“Just leave me alone.” She fights me, but I pull her inside. She starts pacing, talking like there’s some imaginary person in the room and pulling at her hair. Its normally sleek black strands are tangled at the nape of her neck.
She’s obviously been this way for a while.
“Take a deep breath.” I pull her hands from her hair and force her to look at me. “Tell me what happened.”
“Slim gave me something new.” She rubs her hands over her face, then over her arms and legs. “I feel ants all over. They won’t get off. I want them off. Get them off!” She’s losing it.
I grip her shoulders and shake her until she’s back from crazy town. “Calm down, now! Or I’m taking you to the hospital myself.”
The shaking works a little too well, I think, because she collapses into the chair in front of me, sobbing. For the first time, I see what Laila must see when I’m strung out, and the picture disgusts me.
“You have to stop this,” I say, harsher than I intend. “We can’t keep doing this to her. She’s stressed and tired all the time, and she can’t take care of you anymore.” My words are not just for Katie, but for me. Laila deserves better than both of us. I know it. Katie knows it. “Laila will be home soon, and she doesn’t need to deal with you. Not like this.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She’s bawling now, and I can’t stand it. I shouldn’t blame her for the mess I’m in, but I do. I’ve followed her over a cliff, and now we’re both dangling.
“Sorry isn’t enough, Katie. You’re twenty-two. You have to grow up and stop relying on Laila for so much.”
“I know.” She’s finally calm, but it’s a hollow kind. The kind that can change in a finger snap.
“How much do you have left?” I ask because I need to know what I’m dealing with. If she has more at home, this madness will only happen again.
She loosens her hand and sets a half-empty vial on the table. The white powder coats the side, and I feel my nose twitch the minute I look at it.
“How could you bring this here?” I grab her arms again, pulling her out of the chair. I want to throttle her, but my eyes keep returning to the cocaine.
“I’m sorry. I just had to leave. I wasn’t thinking.” Her runny nose and bloodshot eyes make me shove her away. She stumbles slightly but finds the edge of the table.
I pick up the container and roll it back and forth. I messed up with the drinking, but it’s been four months since I indulged in drugs. Four amazing months of clarity, yet my mouth salivate
s. Katie knows the drugs are always my final slide into oblivion. She knows Laila will never forgive me if I use again.
“Let me have it,” Katie slurs. I see her eyes droop. They flutter shut and open again. She’s coming down, and the fall is going to be catastrophic. “I’ll throw it out. I promise.”
I’ve heard promises from addicts. I’ve made those promises. I know they’re worthless. “You won’t throw it out. But I will.” I look her in the eye—my best friend, my wife’s anchor—and all I feel is hatred. “The only thing you’re capable of right now is finding a way to ruin my life.”
I barely make it five steps into the bedroom when I hear the front door slam.
Katie’s gone, and I’m left with a vial of kryptonite in my hand.
Chad blinked, as if waking up from a bad dream. In a way he was, because the Katie he didn’t recognize stared right at him, her eyes narrowing. He knew she couldn’t see him through Betsy’s tinted windows, but she would remember Cooper’s old truck.
With a quick check of the rearview mirror, Chad backed out of his parking space and spun the wheels toward the exit, the resounding squeal of his tires as brash as the puncture wound in his heart.
CHAPTER 16
Laila twisted the screwdriver to the left, and once again, the metal refused to budge. She grunted, used her other hand for leverage, and to her total frustration, the driver only managed to slip off the screw for the third time. Changing an air filter should not be this difficult. Then again, she’d let Cooper replace it last time, which was why it felt as though it were imbedded in concrete. The man didn’t know his own strength.
Why she felt so determined to change it at eight o’clock on a Sunday night, Laila still didn’t know. Maybe she just wanted control over something in her life. Nothing in the last few days had gone according to plan. Her date last night had ended up feeling edgy and uncomfortable, even with Ben’s attempts to shake off his frustration.
Worse, she’d told him she’d be going to the early service at church, and he hadn’t come. She tried to think up excuses for why—he was tired, he picked up Caden early, he got called back into work—but none could erase the depressing truth in the back of her mind. For the first time since they met, Ben hadn’t gone out of his way to spend time with her. Not that she blamed him. As far as girlfriends went, she was pretty lousy.
A knock echoed from her front door, and once again, she wanted to bang her head against the wall. Joe had threatened to send his wife over with some chicken soup for Laila’s nonexistent cold. Now, she’d have to lie right to the woman’s face.
A perfect end to a perfect weekend, she thought, with more than a little bitterness.
With an aggravated huff, Laila dropped the useless tool at her feet and stood, brushing off the residual vent dust that had settled on her thighs.
The knock came again, louder this time.
“Chill out. I’m coming,” she mumbled as she wove around the two corners necessary to get to the entry.
Lifting on her tiptoes, Laila peeked out the tiny hole in her door and realized her weekend was about to get a whole lot worse.
With two turns, one to the dead bolt and the other to the knob, she opened the door and stared right into the eyes of the man who’d jacked up her entire past and now, it seemed, her future. Worse, he held a bag from her favorite café, and the smell of hot, rich chocolate immediately made her mouth salivate.
“What do you want?” she asked, trying to look at him and not the bag of treats. The jerk knew she’d never turn down a homemade brownie.
In his other hand, Chad lifted a cardboard tray containing two coffees, as if the answer were obvious. “You said I should come by and get my stuff.” He smiled, all innocent and unassuming. “The coffee is for sustenance, and the brownies are my way of saying thank you for not burning all my clothes.”
“Well, now is not a good time.”
He tilted his head, letting his gaze sweep over her loose T-shirt and faded striped pajama shorts. “Why’s that? Do you have company? Your boyfriend?”
She would never let Ben see her in this state. Her hair was a tangled mess piled on top of her head, and she’d taken her makeup off an hour ago. “Maybe.”
“Good. I wouldn’t mind meeting the guy.” Without an invitation, Chad was inside the door and close enough that she had to step away or their chests would collide.
“Sure, come right on in.” Her sarcasm rang through the house almost as loud as the warning signals blaring in her head.
He paused in the entry, not at all fazed by the bite in her voice, and stretched his neck to peek around the corner. “Your boyfriend appears to be missing.”
“Your point?”
“No point. I just find it interesting that you’re avoiding being alone with me.”
“I’m not avoiding anything.”
“Really? I came by this morning, but you were gone. Odd, especially since word on the street is that you’re deathly ill with the flu.”
“I went to early service at church,” she said defensively.
He seemed to stand a little taller. “Good. It’s settled then. You’re here, I’m here. And I even brought boxes. They’re in the back of my truck.”
She peeked outside and saw Cooper’s old truck gleaming in the residual porch light. Ugh. When she saw that man again, he’d better plan to run. He’d started this mess and now seemed determined to keep her ex-husband in town.
Chad wandered to the living room, and part of her was relieved to have some distance. The other part was furious that his presence in her home felt more natural than it did foreign.
“I like what you’ve done with the place.” He didn’t bother to look up, too busy setting down the brownie bag and drink tray on the coffee table.
“I haven’t done anything with the place.”
He smirked. “I know. That’s what I like about it.”
With an audible sigh, he plopped down on the couch and spread his arms out wide. “Oh, man, I forgot how comfortable this thing is.”
“It should be. We spent an entire month’s paycheck on it, remember?”
“Of course I do. I remember a lot about that night on this couch.” He peeked over his shoulder with a wink, and for a fraction of a second, it felt like she’d been transported back in time. To days when they’d laugh over silly, mindless things that eighteen-year-old newlyweds laugh over. To when he’d tickle her until she gave up and then kiss her until they were both running toward the bedroom. Or the times when they didn’t bother to leave the living room at all.
“You hungry?” Chad pulled the first brownie out of the paper bag and set it on a napkin. He held it out to her like a peace offering. Either he didn’t notice how flushed her cheeks had become, or he was considerate enough not to mention it. When she continued to stare, his hand dipped a little. “Or do you want me to just get started packing?”
She scowled and took the offered dessert, annoyed at something, though she wasn’t sure exactly what.
He patted the space next to him, but instead of sitting there, she leaned against the wall in childish defiance, slowly picking at the brownie in her hand.
“You’re more stubborn than I remember.” Chad chuckled, looking amused. “I like it. It’s kinda sexy.”
“I’m not trying to be sexy.”
“Then sit with me. If you really don’t care anymore. If my being here has absolutely no effect on you, what’s the harm?”
The question stung more than she wanted it to because she did still care, and his presence absolutely did have an effect on her. So, what did that make her, then? Stupid? Naïve? A masochist?
“No harm. I just feel like standing.” His grin widened, but she ignored it and went on. “So, what kind of things were you thinking you wanted?”
“I don’t know. CDs, movies. I probably need to get the rest of my clothes.” He was being so nonchalant. So accepting. It put her off guard. Her Chad, or the Chad who used to live here, would have already star
ted manipulating her in some way.
“Okay, we’ll start in here, then.” She tried to sound just as unaffected, but the words came out stilted.
He took a bite of his own brownie, eating half of it in one swallow. “I missed Lucy’s.” Eyes closed, the man practically moaned. “I swear it wasn’t this good before. She’s added magic cocoa or something.”
Laila couldn’t pull her eyes away. He was still so achingly handsome, all six feet of him. He wore a tight-fitting T-shirt and loose jeans, and she found herself staring at his newly formed muscles again. Her gaze wandered up his left arm, then across his chest, until it landed on the sharp line of his jaw.
He opened his eyes, all too aware that she’d been checking him out.
She expected him to call her out on it, or make a move toward her, but he simply smiled. “I guess it’s time to get to work.” Leaning over the coffee table, he brushed the crumbs into his hand, then into the bag. “Trash still under the sink?”
“Yeah.” She could hardly breathe as he put the coffees on the table, grabbed the empty tray and bag, then strolled to their kitchen—her kitchen.
Shaking her head, Laila pulled out the decorative wicker baskets filled with years of shared music and memories and set it down on the floor. Her mind was too foggy, and she needed to keep her senses clear. Beautiful or not, that man in her kitchen was the same one who’d lied to her and broken her heart for years.
Plus, she was dating someone. Ben. A great guy who’d probably hate that Chad was over here collecting his stuff. She’d call and tell him first thing tomorrow.
No secrets.
“So, how was your weekend?” Chad asked.
She jumped when he spoke, too lost in her head to notice he’d returned to the living room.
“It was fine. Yours?”
“Odd, actually.” He lowered to the floor, kneeling in front of the container.
Laila joined him, careful to keep the basket as a barricade between them. “Why’s that?”
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