Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1)

by Faith Andrews

  Now there was no denying it had finally happened. Regardless of what Bryce said back there, I knew the truth. She didn’t love him. She wasn’t moving in with him. And Memphis wasn’t the best match for their mother.

  Memphis. What a fuck-up. I hated holding on to what I knew and not telling London. But I couldn’t. If I wanted to protect her, I had to keep it from her. And even if there wasn’t a legitimate reason why Memphis hadn’t returned any of his sister’s messages, everyone knew he was merely a ghost of the past. He hadn’t been around for years, and no matter how hard Bryce tried to convince the girls that he was the man for the job, he wasn’t.

  In an effort to get Bryce off our backs and give everyone the peace of mind they deserved, I would take matters into my own hands and quash this shit for good. I didn’t have the most recent phone contact for Memphis, but I did have his email. I pulled up the address and started typing, my brain moving faster than my thumbs allowed.

  Subject: Do the right fucking thing for once in your life, man.

  Memphis,

  I hope this email finds you well and if it does, you might consider stopping right here and going back through your inbox to read the most recent emails from your sister. Yeah, London. Remember her? She’s been trying to reach you to no avail, and to cut to the chase . . . time is running out.

  As you probably already know, Ella’s health has taken a turn for the worse. Just to reiterate what I’m sure London has already told you, the doctors have placed your mother on the transplant list. She needs a kidney. Actually, I should rephrase that. She has a perfectly viable kidney at her disposal—I’ve been tested and confirmed as a match, but her doctor wants you to be tested as well before he can go ahead with the surgery she so desperately needs.

  They fucking need you, dude. If it were up to me, they’d forget about you the way you’ve so conveniently forgotten about them. But being that Ella’s risk of rejection would be less of an issue if the kidney comes from a blood relative . . . I’ll say it again in case you didn’t get the picture the first ten times . . . they need you.

  Time to get your head out of your ass. I have no idea how you got yourself into this mess or why you turned your back on your family, but I know what’s going on. I know about Hunter, I know about Vegas, and I know you’re in deeper shit than you’re willing to admit. Don’t worry, I haven’t said a word to your sister or your mother. They don’t need this shit right now; they have enough on their plates. But I want to make myself perfectly clear—my silence isn’t to protect you, my only concern is my girl’s safety.

  On that note, I urge you to step the fuck up. At the very least, give them an answer so they can move forward. Tell them no for all I care, but don’t ignore them. They deserve better than that.

  I went on to include every possible phone number and email where he could reach me, London, Ella, and even that prick of a doctor. I didn’t like him, but Ella’s life was in his hands, and doing right by those girls was first and foremost on my list of priorities.

  A close second on that list was figuring out what the fuck made Bryce so goddamn entitled. He hardly knew London. They’d only been dating for a few months. Doctor or not, there was no way he was qualified to call the shots when it came to what was best for London. Ella, maybe. But not my girl.

  I’d admit, when he dropped the bomb that London was moving in with him I saw red. For a split second, all hope was lost and my pride sank to the earth below my feet. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized Bryce was fucking with me. If London made a decision like that, I’d be the first to know.

  I promised her she would never lose me, even if she didn’t choose me. While it would kill me if she didn’t, I would never go back on my word. She knew that. She knew what we had was unbreakable and she wasn’t a coward. If she truly loved Bryce, if she made the decision to move in with him, she would’ve come to me.

  I could simply go to London and ask her for the truth, but she had her hands full right now. I was dead honest when I told Bryce the only reason I wasn’t putting up a fight was to not make this harder on her. But that didn’t mean I had to go easy on him.

  If I took my last breath proving Bryce wrong, it would be worth it.

  When I got home, I immediately changed and headed out for a run. I pushed myself until sweat soaked my shirt and my calf muscles burned. The entire time my feet pounded the pavement, my brain worked on overdrive, contemplating a way to get Bryce to show his true colors.

  By the time I got home, my head was ready to explode. The pounding headache brought on by my persistent vendetta lasted well into my shower, and long after I settled on the couch with a beer and my laptop.

  I Googled Bryce’s name and searched his recent posts on Facebook, but the throbbing at my temples was too painful to dig as deep as I wanted. Part of me was also pissed because I hadn’t heard from London all afternoon. She hadn’t called or texted to find out why I left without a good-bye. Which left her with Bryce, who probably comforted her by feeding her more lies. God only knew what he told her once I was gone. Bryce now knew where I stood—I wasn’t walking away without a fight. But I understood his desperation to win London for himself, and that meant Bryce would go to any lengths to do so.

  Slamming the computer shut and tossing it to the side, I rested my head against the back of the couch and closed my eyes. When a soft knock sounded at the door, I imagined I’d fallen asleep and was dreaming. But then the knob jiggled and the knock became louder so I was forced to my feet to see who it was.

  Only I knew who it was before opening the door. My heart drummed louder and faster than usual, knowing I would meet London’s honeyed eyes beyond the slab of wood that separated us.

  Like an idiot, I fingered my still damp hair in place and checked the freshness of my breath by cupping my hand over my mouth and exhaling. London had seen me at my best and and at my worst, never failing to accept me for who I was, but now that my heart was on the line, this shit mattered.

  When I was certain I was presentable and could hide my rampant eagerness, I undid the lock and opened the door, only to prove my intuition correct.

  “Hey,” was all she said.

  “Hi.” I smiled back.

  She paused for a moment, looking down at her feet and then back up at me.

  “Can I come in?” That glowing blush that gave her away had already spread to the apples of her cheeks. She was so fucking beautiful. Did she even know?

  My chest deflated with a heavy huff and I rested against the door frame. No, she had no idea. No clue that just the sight of her made me weak. When she was this close, this vulnerable, it took everything in my power not to ravish her.

  But I knew I had to wait. I sensed there was a purpose to this visit. This would be the turning point. I’d been nothing but patient for all these years. I would wait another decade if I knew she’d be mine at the end of it. It would be torture, but I could hold off a little while longer before showing her what my body was built to do to hers.

  THE RIDE FROM the hospital to Sam’s seemed to take a lifetime.

  After leaving Bryce’s office, I went back up to spend a little more time with Mom. Bryce left us be, but Doctor Bronson and one of the newer residents came in to make their rounds.

  The dynamic of Bryce’s team was positively perfect. Together they ran like a well-oiled machine and Mom and I had come to trust that they always did what was best for her.

  It was why I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe Sam and I overreacted after hearing Bryce’s suggestion to wait for Memphis. Maybe he was right. Maybe we needed to take his expert advice. I would do some research about rejection rate to see what I could discover. There were still so many factors to consider, and at the forefront of all of them was Mom’s timeline.

  Every member of the team assured me more than once that we still had a while before we had to panic. No matter how many times they made that clear, I still worried we were running out of it. With Sam’s news that he was a match,
my worries seemed to vanish. It was as if everything fell into place and all my prayers were answered. But once again, adding another unforeseen factor, Bryce threw a monkey wrench into the mix with the mention of the rejection rate.

  In a perfect world Memphis would get tested, be a match, fly back home, and save our mother’s life. But in the current state of my muddled reality, our world was far from perfect.

  I was so damn mad at my brother for leaving all these decisions to me. For leaving me alone. Of course, I knew I wasn’t really alone; I had Sam. And Bryce. But if Memphis would only answer me, we’d be able to finalize our plan of action and work from there.

  This onslaught ran through my head as I drove past the beach and entered our neighborhood. Selfish as it may seem, whom my mother got her kidney from wasn’t the only trouble weighing heavy on my mind.

  I kept replaying how rough Bryce was with me in his office. How bothered he was by Sam’s presence. How enraged he became the other night when he saw the way I reacted to Sam and Patricia together. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I believed.

  It was obvious that Bryce was a passionate man. There was so much to admire in a person like that. But his passion could also be confused with an emotion far more potent than love, more dangerous than desire. I worried Bryce was a little more possessive than he let on, and I wasn’t sure how I’d ever uncover a truth of that magnitude. It wasn’t exactly a question you ask in passing, and the only foreseeable alternative was sticking through it to find out from experience. I was too afraid to do either because truth be told, I’d already survived an unhealthy relationship and I wasn’t sure I could do it again.

  Why should I have to anyway? Love shouldn’t be this hard. Or confusing. I already had someone waiting in the wings, willing to love me without a single risk involved. I had Sam. Did I really need to search any further?

  That was the real question at hand. That was the dilemma haunting my every move. It was what made the twenty-minute drive over to his house seem like a lifetime, and what kept my head and heart in this constant feud.

  My head told me to see it through with Bryce because he was good for me, but my heart begged me to take a chance on Sam because he was right for me.

  It was a lot to absorb. In fact, just thinking about the possibility of being with Sam took my breath away. Maybe tonight I’d find the answers. Or try to, at least.

  I approached his front door as if I hadn’t done this same thing nine million times before.

  When we were kids, we had this on-going game in which we kept score to see who could knock on whose door more. During that first summer, as our friendship blossomed, I won the game by a mile. Every morning after breakfast, I eagerly ran outside and beat Sam to the punch. We hung out together almost every day, so it really didn’t matter who called for whom first, but it became a sort of ritual that lasted well throughout high school.

  On the night Sam left for college, we tallied up the score as best as we could. Of course there was no way to keep an accurate door-knocking count, but when all was said and done, it turned out we were just about even. That didn’t come as much of a surprise to either of us because we gave equal effort to everything we did together.

  Was that the case with our feelings? Did mine match his? Had they always? Was I too busy ignoring them to realize they’d been there all along?

  Those carefree days of calling for each other to come outside and ride bikes or climb trees had dwindled due to after school sports, boyfriends, and growing up. It had been years since I thought about that game, but it seemed poignant that I remembered its significance tonight.

  My nerves were frayed, live wires sparking in every which way.

  Being here under these circumstances made me a pioneer delving into undiscovered territory. The more I thought about the possibility of this new adventure, the more the fear of the unknown got the best of me.

  Somehow, in all of our years as best friends, Sam and I never had the chance to explore the option of more. Technically, that option still wasn’t on the table because I was in a relationship with someone else. But unlike the vows I took with Hunter—promises which were now broken—my ties to Bryce were not as strong. And after everything that went down today, piled on top of all of these complicated feelings, only one thing was clear.

  Sam and I needed to talk things out, the way we always had in the past.

  That part of us would never change. We would forever be able to rely on each other, through thick and thin, across any breadth of time. So why was I nervous? Why was it taking every ounce of strength to lift my arm to knock on his door?

  Because I’m afraid everything will change once I do, that’s why.

  That wasn’t reason enough to walk away and ignore what awaited me inside that house. I raised my fist to knock and then lowered my arm to my side. Retreating once more, I paced his porch with my hands in my hair. If Sam’s mother had security cameras, this would make for some embarrassing footage.

  Get it together, I warned myself. This is Sam, your oldest and best friend. There’s nothing to be scared of. He’ll see you through it.

  Sam was the constant who never ceased to see me through. Through the awkward preteen years and my first kiss, through fitting in and growing up, through making mistakes and celebrating victories, and through the fears of losing everything and the joy of finding it all over again.

  My knocks were soft and timid at first. I wondered if he’d fallen asleep or gone for a run. I knocked harder the second time and then more eagerly—like when we were kids—that final time.

  It didn’t take long for him to answer after that. The door swung open and so many shared memories flashed before my eyes—so many possibilities.

  “Hey,” was all I could think to say.

  “Hi,” he said back.

  I smiled at him before peering down at my feet. Looking at him for too long with all these emotions trying to break free proved too intense. My cheeks heated at the awareness of his eyes soaking me in and my words struggled to escape my throat when I asked, “Can I come in?”

  Something foreign but oh-so-inviting flashed across his features when he widened the opening and gestured for me to walk inside. He closed the door and a whoosh of air floated through my hair and coated my flesh with goose bumps. But the light breeze had nothing to do with the tingle dancing across my skin.

  A strange sensation enveloped us. Everything had changed, just as I suspected. It was a good change. A welcome change. Something I was ready to accept and further explore.

  “Everything okay?” He broke the silence once we stepped into the living room, causing me to turn around and face him.

  It wasn’t. I was overwhelmed, but we had to face this or we’d never know. “Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged.

  Sam’s face contorted with concern. “What do you mean, you guess? Did something happen after I left? Not that I’d know because you didn’t call to see why I was gone.”

  I arched a brow, biting back a snide remark. “Bryce said the realtor called and you had to run. I didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Motherfucker,” Sam mumbled. His arms flew into the air and then slammed back down at his sides. “I was going to let you figure this out on your own, but now’s as good a time as any to tell you that your boyfriend is a fucking liar.”

  No matter what my feelings were toward either of them, this pissing contest between Bryce and Sam had become exhausting. “We’re back to this again? I didn’t come here for this.”

  He stalked straight at me, his eyes searing mine. “Then what did you come here for?”

  In that moment it was clear. The answer was right in front of me. In the familiar curves of his beautiful face, the warmth brimming in his eyes, the security of knowing he was near and always would be.

  I came here to talk to him . . . about a future, about an us. But that meant putting his conflicts and assumptions about Bryce to the side. It wasn’t about choosing the better man. There was no choice. And the soon
er Sam realized that, the sooner we could move on.

  “This isn’t about Bryce.” My voice was shaky, hesitant. If he asked once more, I would be forced to admit it. “It’s about us.” The words fled from my lips as if my brain had commanded them to speak of their own volition.

  At my confession, Sam’s green eyes flickered with an enthusiasm he saved only for me. “What do you mean? Are you saying—”

  “I’m saying we need to talk about some stuff. My head is still jumbled about so many things, but I think if we sit and talk, if we think things through without being hasty or foolish, maybe we’ll realize it’s a lot easier than we thought.”

  Sam released a sharp, breathy laugh through his nose. “Loving you has been far from easy, London.”

  “I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes, feeling the pain he must’ve suppressed for so long. His hands were holding mine before I could blink. At his gentle touch, my lids unclasped and I looked at him, my heart smiling as it beat erratically.

  “Don’t be sorry. You’re here. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. There is nothing I need to talk through. I already have it all figured out, but if that’s what you need, let’s do this.”

  My lungs emptied, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Yes. That’s what I need, Sam.”

  He smiled then, gripping my hands tighter. “And this is what I need.”

  Lost in the serenity of the moment, I did not see it coming when Sam bent lower, stretched forward and gracefully brought his lips to mine.

  THIS KISS WAS nothing like our first time.

  I worried it would be awkward like the first, but for very different reasons. Would we even have chemistry? Would it be weird? We’d been friends for so long, I feared kissing Sam would feel wrong. Like kissing Allie or Emilia . . . or Memphis.

  But there was nothing remotely plutonic or incestuous about the way his lips brushed mine, savoring the taste, molding to the shape, smiling against them and cherishing a union that had taken almost two decades to create.