by Jade, Ashley
For the very first time, I tell her an outright lie. “I’m not going to Vegas.”
Maybe that will pacify her enough to let me leave without telling me crap that makes me want to stay.
Maybe if I treat her like every other girl who’s tried to implant themselves into my life…I can trick myself into believing she’s no different than they are.
Her brows knit together. “You’re not? Where else would you—” Her eyes widen and recognition crosses over her face. “Right.”
I’m not sure what’s going on in her head, but I know Kit’s not the type to try and manipulate me into telling her whatever she wants to know by pretending she already knows.
Kit places all her cards on the table for everyone to see. It’s a quality I admire and loathe.
Although with the way she’s glaring at me like she wants to toss me right out of her apartment, maybe it’s best I seize the opportunity. “Right. Take care.”
Evidently that was the wrong move because she turns on her heel and flips me the bird. “Have fun with your whore.”
I have no idea what’s she’s talking about. Or rather, who she’s specifically referring to. “Which one?”
I narrowly dodge the bottle of cream she launches at my head. “Thank goodness I didn’t have sex with you last night. God only knows what you could have given me from the little friend you visit whenever you’re” —she makes air quotes— “in town.”
Record skip. Two important things occur to me at that moment.
One—does this mean she was seriously considering having sex with me?
And two—my little friend in town? That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t have any…
“My little friend in town?” I repeat slowly, trying to process what’s going on.
Irritation flickers in her eyes. “Yeah. I spoke to her this morning while you were sleeping in my bed.”
I blink, still not understanding. “Spoke to her this morning?”
Guilt colors her face. “I went through your phone.”
I no longer have any doubt as to whether my heart works because it stops cold. “Kit, please, give me—”
“It’s in your suit pocket.” She crosses her arms. “And I know, I shouldn’t have. I just wanted to make sure you were telling the truth about not talking to any bookies.”
“I’m not mad.”
That’s another lie. I’m so mad I want to destroy everything in her apartment, light it on fire, and then piss all over it. I have one thing in this world besides gambling that prevents me from putting a bullet in my head… and she just took it from me.
I step closer, preparing to fence her in so she can’t escape. “I need to know exactly what you said to her.”
The look on my face must convey the rage I’m feeling because she turns pale. “I didn’t say anything.”
A black haze clogs my vision and I get so close to her face I can smell those fucking tapas she ate on her breath. “Don’t lie to me. You just said you spoke to her.” The thread I’m barely hanging on to is unraveling. I need to get out of here before I do something I can’t take back. Something I’ll never forgive myself for. “What the fuck did you say?”
“I didn’t talk to her,” Kit screeches. “She picked up the phone before I could get a word in and said since you were in town, you were welcome to spend the night at her place again. Even with her accent, her flirty undertone was undeniable, she obviously thought it was you. I felt stupid so I disconnected the call.”
Accent? Flirty undertone? None of that sounds right. Neither does inviting me to spend the night at her place.
Unless…
Relief slams into me so hard I nearly rock back on my feet. If what she’s saying is true, I just dodged the mother of all bullets.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Her face screws up. “Actually, there was one more thing.”
“What?”
White hot pain steals my breath when her bony knuckles sail into my already bruised ribs.
But it’s nothing compared to the pain I feel when she locks herself in the bathroom and I hear her cry.
I did this. I hurt the only person who’s never demanded anything more of me than I was capable of. The only person who’s taken my side over my brother’s. The only person who’s never treated me like a fuck-up.
I hurt the only true friend I’ve ever had. The one I never deserved.
If I was a good person, I’d leave like I desperately wanted to ten minutes ago.
If I was a good person, I wouldn’t be making my way toward the bathroom.
But I’m not.
I’m a liar. A thief. And I’m selfish.
Because for once, instead of leaving after I’ve destroyed something…I want to try and repair the damage first.
Because the thought of Kit hating me before I let her go again hurts me more than I care to admit.
Because I made a vow to cherish her until the day I die. And even though the wedding was utter bullshit…that part was real.
I don’t bother knocking before I enter.
When I find her on the floor of the shower; hugging her knees to her chest, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane—I want to take a sledgehammer to my cranium.
Unable to resist, I turn the shower off, drape an oversized towel around her, and pick up the mess I made. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve heard that from you before.”
The dull ache in my chest is back with a vengeance. “Yeah, but this time I mean it.”
I feel it.
“You should leave,” she chokes out as I start walking us to her bedroom. “Go hang out with your girlfriend. The one who makes you so happy.”
I have no idea how she’s getting all this from a phone call in which she didn’t even speak to anyone. “I—”
“You must really love her,” she whispers. “I’ve never seen you so furious before…not with me.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “You could have told me about her, Preston. You could have told me you were in love and didn’t want me interfering.” Her tears come faster now. “You could have told me you chose her instead of me. You didn’t have to hurt me like you did. You didn’t have to save me and then leave me like they did.”
Oh, fuck. It’s not so much her words that punch me in the heart. It’s the broken look in her eyes.
She’s not looking at me like Kit—my quirky, lovable, angry girl I’d do anything for. Right now, she’s looking at me like Kit—the little girl who lost everything.
She’s looking at me like I’m another thing she’s going to have to grieve and mourn.
The realization that I have another tough decision to make punches me in the heart.
Lying to her would be the easy choice. The most humane.
But Kit deserves honesty. She deserves someone who will think about what’s best for her.
I sit down on the bed, but I don’t let her go. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“But you want her to be, right?” She sits up on my lap, adjusting the towel around her petite form. “That’s why you were so irate. You didn’t want her to find out about me—”
“No.” I swallow, and it feels like nails going down. “I’d have one hell of an Oedipus complex if that was the case.”
“I don’t—”
“She’s my mother.” I take a breath, inhaling that addicting scent of hers instead of the shame that’s swirling around me like a fog. “But you’re right, I’d rather her not know about you. I don’t need her hounding my rich wife with a heart of gold for money.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know, probably for the same reason you didn’t tell me you went through my phone.”
“I meant to, but Breslin and your brother showed up and everything…I was going to tell you.” Her nose wrinkles. “It was wrong of me to do it.”
I tip her chin. “Why did you?”
“I told myself it was because I wanted to make sure you were safe…b
ut I think my curiosity got the best of me and I just wanted to know more about you.”
I brush the damp tears from her face. “You know more about me than anyone else, Kit.”
“I thought so, too, but…” Her voice trails off and she gives her head a shake.
“But what?” I urge.
On some level, I register it’s probably not fair to demand she tell me given everything I’ve kept from her, but I don’t care. Our relationship has never been symmetrical. Kit gives…and I take.
Because naturally, we both know I have nothing good to contribute.
Her hand goes to her necklace. “I don’t care about your stupid booty calls…but this…I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is she felt like a threat to us…our connection. I didn’t like it.”
Ignoring the sick feeling snaking up my spine, I kiss the top of her head. “And here I thought you were crying because I was an asshole, not jealousy.”
She scowls, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to throw her on the bed and kiss it off her lips…and then do something to put it right back again.
“I wasn’t jealous. Jealousy implies I want something someone else has.” She fiddles with the poker chip. “But I already have it.” Her gaze sharpens. “You can stick your pecker in whoever you want. It doesn’t bother me. Just don’t give someone else the part of you that’s already mine.”
If this wasn’t such a serious moment, I’d tease her about the little green-eyed monster poking out and marking her territory. However, I need her to know that no one will ever take her place or the part of me that belongs to her.
My arms find her waist, tugging her closer. “That will never happen. It’s me and you, angry girl. Until the end.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”
I start to answer, but she places her finger over my lips. “Before you say no, hear me out. If your mom is bad news, you shouldn’t be around her.” She grabs my cheeks. “We don’t have to talk about you zoning out before, your brother, or the fight we had, okay? We don’t have to talk at all…just stay.”
I don’t have it in me to deny her right now. “Just for the night.”
“We’ll take it day by day,” she counters as if she’s already prepared tomorrow’s negotiations as well. “Now turn around so I can put some clothes on. After, we can order pizza and snuggle.”
“I don’t—” I clamp my mouth shut. It doesn’t matter what she calls it—Kit will be in my arms, which is exactly how I want to spend my last night with her.
There’s a crushing weight in my chest as I slide into her bed. A hefty awareness creeping into all the crevices I thought were sealed tight.
Kit deserves every good thing life has to offer. She deserves someone who makes her laugh instead of cry.
Someone who will put their selfish needs aside and think about what’s best for her and only her.
She deserves someone who would never lie to her.
And I hope like hell she finds them one day.
Chapter 15
The tip of Preston’s finger trails down the side of my face. “How old were you when you got your first piercing?”
“You mean professionally?”
When he raises an eyebrow, I lift the hem of my shirt, exposing my belly button piercing. I’m beginning to regret the four slices of pizza I slammed. But then I realize, it’s just Preston. He couldn’t care less about the pizza pouch situation I’ve got going on.
“Technically I did this myself when I was fifteen, but it was a huge mistake.”
“Because it hurt?”
“Because I didn’t know what I was doing and it got infected.” I cringe as I recall the memory. “It worked in my favor though because after it cleared up, she gave me permission to get it pierced legitimately.” I roll my eyes. “She said my scar was abhorrent and she didn’t want people starting rumors about me having a botched plastic surgery.”
Preston doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance. “Christ, she’s really something else.”
“Yeah, but I got her back on my eighteenth birthday.” I grin mischievously. “The look on her face when she saw my first tattoo was priceless.”
“Is that why you got it?” There’s no judgment in his tone, just curiosity.
I shake my head. “No. Don’t get me wrong, it added to the enjoyment. But self-expression was the culprit. Well, that and the adrenaline rush.”
Amusement lines his face. “A fellow adrenaline junkie.”
I have to laugh. “No, I’m absolutely petrified of heights.” Just like that my stomach free falls as the memory slashes through me. “It’s why I proposed to Becca in front of the Eiffel Tower instead of at the top like I originally planned. I wanted it to be special for her, but I freaked everyone out when I had a panic attack, and they made me go back down.” I inwardly shudder. “Have you seen those elevators? They’re no joke.”
Something passes in his gaze, but he shrugs and says, “No, but if you’re planning to ask someone to marry you, it should probably be someplace you both enjoy.”
“Like standing on a curb in Vegas?”
A laugh rumbles out of him and I can’t help but smile.
The fight we had earlier tore me to pieces, and there’s still so much we need to talk about—but I think us agreeing to put it on the backburner for tonight was something we both needed.
Things are so much simpler when it’s just the two of us.
It’s the outside world that screws everything up.
“And they say romance is dead.” I gesture to the pizza box. “I don’t know about you, but I’m enjoying our awesome honeymoon.”
He tucks his arm under his head. “Throw in a few rounds of strip poker and beer and it’s paradise.” He gives me a wry grin. “What do you say, Bishop?”
My laughter dies. “Hard pass. I’m not stripping for you.” I can feel the flush creeping in as thoughts of last night flit through my head. “However, I do have an employee subscription to Porn Rub. If you want me to throw you a bottle of Jergens and buzz off so you can have at it, just say the word.” Incapable of taking the foot out of my mouth, I add, “Or I can hire an escort and you can go to town. If you do her in front of me, it will almost be like we consummated our marriage.”
His mouth tightens. “Do you think I have a problem getting laid?”
The fact that I almost went there with him last night proves he doesn’t.
“Hardly,” I prattle on, brushing off the tiny voice in my head that’s begging me to shut up. “Come on, even your mom sounds like she wants to climb you like a tree. You obv—”
“You’re babbling.”
“Yeah, I know. Bad habit.”
Turning, he props himself up on his elbow. “Relax, angry girl. I suggested strip poker so I wouldn’t wipe out your bank account when I won.” His eyes burn a stormy trail down my body and back up again. “Not because I want to have sex with you.”
“Oh.”
I should be relieved instead of offended…and yet…
I’m about to ask him why I’m not up to par when he has no problem screwing anything in a skirt, but then he says, “I’m not trying to be a dick. You were right yesterday, it’s best we don’t muddle things.”
“Right.” I clear what sounds a whole lot like disappointment instead of relief out of my throat. “Exactly.”
I can feel him studying me. “It’s going to be awkward as hell now when I get up to take a shower, isn’t it?”
“Not at all.” Lord knows I can use a moment or several after that exchange.
When he rises from the bed, I go over to my dresser.
He looks at me like I’ve sprouted three heads when I throw a pair of men’s pajama pants at him.
“I bought these for a girl I used to hook up with.” I pick up the empty pizza box. “You two were around the same size.” I place a finger to my lips. “On second thought, I think her muscles were way bigger.”
“Hilar
ious,” he mutters as I leave the room.
After I throw the pizza box away, I head for the couch, figuring it’s probably a good idea to read over my notes from the one and only workshop I went to. This way, I’ll have some idea of what to expect on Monday.
The second my butt hits the cushion; however, I realize I left my suitcase with my paperwork in my car.
It’s extra chilly when I step outside, the cold air numbing my extremities as I make a mad dash for it.
“Planning to escape?”
Instinctually, my hand goes to the can of pepper spray on my keychain and I spin around.
Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for Asher, I lose my footing on a small patch of ice.
Asher holds his arm out, righting me. “Probably should have knocked on the door, huh?”
I nod, my breathing erratic due to being spooked and almost falling. “Considering you took a decade off my life? Yeah, that would have been preferable. What are you doing here, anyway?” I look around. “Where are Landon and Breslin? How did you get here?”
“That’s a lot of questions.”
“Answer the first one then,” I say through chattered teeth.
He peels off his jacket and hands it to me. “I’m here trying to figure out how to get my brother to talk to me.”
Mayday. Abort mission. Preston’s upstairs and I don’t want to do or expose him to anything that will cause him to go into the horrible state he was in earlier.
I give Asher his jacket back. “Sorry, can’t help you there. Have a good night.”
“What, we’re not friends anymore?” he calls out when I start walking away.
“Of course, we’re still friends.” I pause, scrutinizing the thought. “It’s just kind of...”
“Complicated?” he finishes for me. “Yeah, I know. So is not knowing why your brother—who you’ve always looked out for—disappears for three years and doesn’t want to talk to you when he finally comes back.”
“You really don’t know why?” I can’t help the discrimination in my tone, but if anyone other than Preston should know the reason for their fallout, it should be Asher.
“No, I’ve been wracking my brain, but nothing adds up.”
“What happened the last time you saw him?”