by S. E. Hall
I cup both her cheeks and kiss her, long and slow, softly, then speak against her lips. “Thank you, for believing me. And I gotta say, Miss Morgan, you continue to amaze me. This fight was sweet, the lack of slapping particularly sexy.”
“I told you, I’ll never slap you again, but I was just as mad.” She’s dead serious, seriously precious, and it takes everything in me not to laugh at what she perceives as her ‘lay down the law’ voice.
“I know, baby. You were fierce. I was scared for a minute.”
“Good, that was my intention.” She bobs her head adamantly, continuing with the ‘grumpy’ tone.
So. Damn. Cute. This girl…I’m already well past screwed.
I take another kiss before finally forcing myself to pull away and stand. “It’s late. I’m gonna get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Nope,” she shakes her head and rises to see me to the door. “I promised Brynn a girl’s day tomorrow, just me and her.”
An angry grumble in my chest causes her to laugh and she playfully pushes my shoulder. “Oh stop, one day not spent rearranging my life and wardrobe won’t kill you. But yes, I might miss you a little bit too.”
“She gets you until seven, that’s it. Lock your door behind me.” I lean in for one last taste of her lips then leave. I pretend to leave anyway. I wait until I hear the lock and deadbolt latch immediately and smile. “Good girl,” I praise through the door and start down the stairs.
I climb in my car and just sit there for a minute, summing up the night and our discussion in my head. I need to review while I’m alone since I’m rarely able to think straight if Bellamy’s anywhere near me. She’s bewildering. The most confusing yet fascinating girl I’ve ever met. She almost never says what I’m expecting, and shocked the shit right out of me with how calm and objectively she just handled that “fight.” Way too harsh a term for what actually happened—a rational, open and honest discussion.
I said I wasn’t sure what this thing was between us. That was the only lie I may have told her. Because as shocking as it may be, I’m starting to think I know exactly what it is.
I’ll be damned.
Twenty-Two
Bellamy
“I’M SO GLAD we got to do this today,” Brynn sighs happily, laid back on a floatie, iced tea in hand.
“Me too,” I agree from my similar pose, lemonade instead of tea though. “I’m sorry for neglecting girl time. Everything’s just been so…hectic.”
“Hectic?” She snorts a laugh. “I guess that’s as good a word as any. My brother, who I swore we weren’t gonna talk about today, has been on you like a blanket. Every day, there he is, taking your time. And let’s not forget, already moved you into a new place he deems fit and sent you a box full of gifts.”
I feel my cheeks flame. If she only knew about the other gifts he gave me last night.
“He’s actually way ahead of schedule,” she laughs again. “Don’t think even my dad and Uncle Sawyer moved this fast. You okay with it all?” She peers over at me and slides down her sunglasses, a seriousness in her eyes. “Honestly Bellamy, are you? I know the men around here can be overwhelming, and if JT’s pushing too hard or fast, you can tell me. I’ll gladly kick his butt.”
Now it’s my turn to snicker—picturing the two of them going at it. I’ve seen a glimpse, the night Brynn hurled herself onto Jefferson’s back and kicked him in the ball, only the one. It was purely accidental but it was quite the show nevertheless.
“I’m fine, but thanks, bodyguard,” I smile. “Brynn,” I pause, inhaling a puff of bravery, “I really like your brother. A lot. Are you okay with that?”
She puckers her lips and twists them from side-to-side, as if she’s swishing mouthwash, then answers calmly. “Yeah, I am. And I don’t blame you. I mean, no icky incest scandal or anything, but I can totally see his appeal, even if he is my brother. JT’s smart, driven, funny, and from what every girl who’s ever met him has told me, hot as hell. Their words, not mine. Wait a second!” She’s apparently pretty excited about whatever thought just hit her because she flips clear off her floaty and into the pool.
When she surfaces, pushing her hair out of her face, I’m being given a playful glare. “Not every girl. You,” she points at me, “haven’t bored me with any talk of his hotness. Not a peep.” Her eyes narrow to slits. “Bellamy Morgan, do you not think my brother’s handsome?”
Good God. I immediately start laughing, loud and hard, until my sides ache.
She splashes me right in the face, shocking me into silence. “What is so funny?” She clips in a voice hedged with defensiveness.
“You are,” I hold in my giggle. “You’re also either bipolar or plain ol’ bat-shit crazy.”
“I am the most level-headed, sane person in my entire family! What are you talking about?”
“Okay, first of all, Emmett is by far the sanest of your clan. I would’ve said you were next…until, well, right about now. Ah, let me finish.” I hold up a finger to stop her interruption and she snaps her mouth closed. “Brynn, you have gone from not wanting your brother anywhere near me, to silent acceptance, and finally, vocal acceptance… within seconds of saying you didn’t want to talk about him today. And for the grand finale, you’re ready to claw my eyes out because I haven’t talked about him enough.”
I shake my head and do release my laugh this time. “Could you make up your mind? I’m getting dizzy.”
“Maybe you have a valid point,” she mutters, “but my brother is not ugly!”
“Never said he was, crazy lady.”
“But you didn’t say he wasn’t either.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze, trying to get ahead of the mounting headache I feel coming on, all while secretly hoping her “cuckoo” isn’t contagious. And then, I get a brilliant idea that has my mouth twitching in mischievous satisfaction. She asked for it, and what kind of shitty friend would I be to not fully deliver?
“Let’s see,” I tap a fingertip on my chin. “He’s at least six feet of tan, lean muscle. Dark, soft hair. Deep, sexy voice with a tiny Southern twang. A wink and smirk that melt my panties, the best damn kisser alive, and from what I can tell from the few hints I’ve felt, he’s more than hung. Oh, and last night, he gave me see-through lingerie and a coupon to use him as my personal sex toy any time or way I want.”
I affix an expressionless expression, tipping my chin just a tad in proud delight.
Her reaction is immediate…and absolutely priceless!
Her brows damn near fly clean off her forehead and the blank stare she’s sporting goes perfectly with her gaping mouth and scarlet cheeks. The way everyone babies her—I very well may have just given Brynn her first lesson on “the birds and the bees.”
“So yeah, I think your brother’s all kinds of hot,” I simply must tack on dryly.
Brynn still hasn’t recovered, or spoken, when her mom yells at us from the deck. “You girls want a snack?”
“Brynn,” I splash her after a few seconds, “your mom’s talking to us.”
“Huh?” She blinks several, rapid times and shakes her head before turning in her mom’s direction. “What?” she has to ask, because truly, she didn’t hear a thing through her shell-shock.
“I asked if you girls wanted a snack,” Mrs. Kendrick repeats herself.
“Um, that’d be a no,” Brynn groans her loud response. “In fact, I may never eat again.” She cuts a glare at me.
“Why? Are you okay? Maybe you should get out of the sun for a while,” her mom suggests, face twisted in worried confusion. “Your brother’s here, come on in and say hello, drink some water at least.”
Jefferson’s here? I look away, hiding the smile I’m already wearing. I wonder if he took a peek outside to check out my bikini?
“JT’s here?” Brynn huffs. “Why?”
Laney, I mean Mrs. Kendrick, rolls her eyes so dramatically I can see it from here. “I’d like to say it’s because he adores his mother and wa
nted to see me, but I’d lay my money on it being due to the fact that Bellamy’s here, in a bikini. What do you think?”
“Tell him to leave! It’s girl’s day.”
“I will do no such thing, young lady. I don’t care why he’s here any more than I care that you don’t want him here. He’s my son and you know I would never kick one of my babies out of my house. Now get your spoiled little ass in here and hydrate because you obviously have sunstroke!” Her mom stomps back inside, shaking her head as she goes.
“Brynn, I told him it was our day, I promise. Do you wanna go hang out at my place? We can lock him out of there.” I smile, reaching over to rub her arm.
“Yeah,” she perks right up. “Come on, let’s go change and get out of here. Perfect plan. It’ll chap JT’s butt and I still get my time with you.”
We wrap up in towels and I follow her toward the house, more anxious with each step, for several reasons. On one hand, I can’t deny I’m excited to see Jefferson, if only for a moment. On the other hand, I’m dreading any confrontation between siblings because of me. And last, but really, really far from least, my stomach’s uneasy and my hands are twitchy, because I highly suspect, more so dread, that I’ll be put on the spot to choose between them.
I promised Brynn, my best friend, my time today, and I won’t break a promise to her. But if I have to look Jefferson in the eyes and refuse him, that will hurt me as much as it might him.
Brynn slides the glass door open like she means it and marches toward him where he’s propped on a stool at the kitchen island.
I, however, stop short and hide behind the wall between the kitchen and living room.
“Bellamy said she told you this was our day together,” I hear Brynn snip.
“And?” he asks, his deep, rich voice floating its way to my ear, earning my grin.
“And, you’re here, interrupting. Lemme guess, you forgot?”
“Are you sure ‘interrupting’ was the word you meant? I’m no linguistic expert, but I’m pretty sure you used it wrong,” he chuckles, another sound of his I love.
Brynn sighs loudly. “Quit dodging. You know what I meant.”
“No, I really don’t. At all. I didn’t interrupt a damn thing. You. Found. Me. And not to critique too harshly, but I see no Bellamy. Think ya may have lost her all by yourself.”
“What?” There’s a pause, I’m guessing for her to look around. “Swear to God, JT, if she left because she felt uncomfortable, I’m gonna kick you in your other nut.”
“She didn’t leave. She’s hiding right over there, behind the wall. Aren’t ya, babe?” he calls out with an easy laugh. “You can come out, she’s not mad at you.”
I peek my head around the corner, abruptly met by two Kendrick stares.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he winks at me and I give him a tiny smile and even smaller wave.
“Of course you’d know exactly where she was,” Brynn crosses her arms and glowers at him. “Tell me you didn’t drug her and implant a tracking chip in her! Lord knows I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“No need. I’ve always got at least one eye on Bellamy. And I didn’t interrupt,” he quips smugly, tapping her on the end of her nose.
“And you’re not going to. We’re leaving.” Brynn snarls with a vicious curl to her lip, teeth bared.
“Where ya going?” He looks at me as he asks, but Brynn reaches up and grabs his chin, turning his face to her.
“We haven’t decided yet. It’s a toss-up between the male strip club, a frat party and this cool sounding rave we got invited to.”
A warning rumble vibrates from deep in Jefferson’s chest and his brown eyes taper piercingly. “That shit’s not fucking funny, Brynn. And neither of you are old enough to get in a strip club. But nice try, brat.”
“Laney!” Holy shit, Mr. Kendrick pops out of nowhere and shakes the ceiling beams with his shattering bellow.
I jump at least an inch off the floor with a terrified squeak and haul my ass right back around the corner behind the wall.
“I barely heard you, Caveman. Why the whispering?” Mrs. Kendrick deadpans as she joins her family in the kitchen.
I kinda love her.
“Is a ‘grip rub’ or ‘clip glove’ anything Brynn would need for softball?” he asks in that chillingly calm way only he can, raising the hairs on my arms even with me way over here.
“No,” she snickers. “Neither of those are a thing in any sport, or the English language. Why?”
I don’t know how, even scarier to me than Mr. Kendrick’s outburst, but I can somehow, over all the ruckus, pick up the sound of Jefferson’s muffled laughter—as crisp and clear as if he were standing right beside me. Not gonna lie, that strong of a connection, this early in our “us,” freaks me the hell out.
“Thought I’d check, foolishly holding out hope that I was losing my hearing before losing my shit,” the man of the house grumbles. “Which means, I did, in fact, just overhear your daughter say she might go to a strip club.”
“My daughter, you say?”
“Yes, that one.” I can only assume he’s pointing at Brynn. “Unless of course, she chooses the rave instead.”
“Brynn,” her mom gasps, “seriously honey, what is wrong with you today? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Four,” Brynn answers patronizingly, “and I was only kidding, trying to piss JT off for Bellamy-blocking me.”
“Poor girl, what she must think of this family. Where is she? Running for the hills?” Mrs. Kendrick asks.
“Nope. She’s over there, back to hiding behind the wall,” Jefferson rats me out again with a chuckle. “Bellamy, come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sing-songs.
I slowly start to emerge, just in time for Mr. Kendrick to catch my gaze and give me an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry my heathen offspring have traumatized you into hiding. I was sure we got them back from the wolves in time to raise them right. Seems I was wrong. If you choose to seek counseling, please, send me the bill. Which I’ll pay out of their trust funds. Laney,” he turns to her, “going to my office. Ha-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she cuts him off, “handle my children.”
He leans in and kisses her like nobody’s watching, then pulls back with a with a smile I dare not inappropriately think of words to describe. “I’ll take you out to dinner tonight. Wear the ‘no need for imagination’ dress I like. You know the one.”
“Daddy-”
“Zip it,” he sternly shuts Brynn up. “Can’t play the ‘fragile ears’ card now, Miss Strip Club.”
Out he walks and frozen I stand, tucked as far in the corner as I can get while still being in the kitchen, debating his offer for free counseling while I wait for whatever’s coming next.
Twenty-Three
JT
SURE ENOUGH, RIGHT after Mom finishes her short, obligatory “lecture,” Brynn and Bellamy get changed and head for the door. Brynn shoots me a victorious sneer while Bellamy sneaks me an apologetic frown over her shoulder—and out they go.
So, I do what any well-adjusted, independent grown man who doesn’t even want a clingy, “spend all your time together” relationship in the first damn place would do. I slide up to my mom’s side and throw my arm around her shoulder.
“Wanna do something together, just you and your favorite kid? We could watch old movies, your pick. I know, how about that one you love with the hot redhead swimming around singin’ about having legs?”
“Son,” she clutches her chest and literally pales. “You wound me. May have to pick a new favorite child now,” she tsks. “It’s The Little Mermaid, and it’s so much bigger than her wanting legs. She wants to grow, see new things, experience-”
I hold up a hand to stop her short of the hour long dissertation, which I’ve heard however many times we’ve watched the damn thing, sure to include the usual tears, over a fucking cartoon. “Got it Mom, my bad. So, you wanna watch it or not?”
“Always,” she wisps out, “
but I can’t. I’m expecting-”
The doorbell cuts her off and she runs to answer it, letting in the entire “insane train”—loud, giggly and hyper as ever.
Before I can sneak out, they descend upon the kitchen in full force, trapping me. Every Crew and Squad female, minus Brynn. Joy. I survey the situation and try to connect the dots of the pandemonium before me. There’s lots of wine, shocker, picture albums, baskets…and maybe some yarn? Can’t be sure.
They finally get all their shit set down and notice me.
“JT, hey sweetheart. Are you joining us?” Aunt Emmett hugs me and asks.
“In what, I haven’t a clue, but whatever it is, that’d be a hard pass,” I answer while hugging her back.
“Poo,” she releases me and pouts, patting my cheek. “We’d love to have you, wouldn’t we ladies?”
“I’m a no,” Skylar votes.
“Be nice,” Aunt B whacks her on the arm. “JT,” I know that look, “what’s new? Anything you want to share with your Auntie Coolness?”
“Bennett, stop,” Whitley steps in. “Don’t embarrass him. We have high hopes for this, um, thing. Don’t ruin it.”
“Good to see the gossip mill isn’t broken,” I grouse and edge my way closer to an exit. “You ladies have fun with…whatever it is you’re gonna be doing.”
“It’s a scrapbook party!” Whitley chirps and claps her hands. “So fun!”
I’m laughing before I can stop it. “Scrapbooking? And what night is Bingo at the Senior Center? I’ll swing by and visit.”
“Honey,” my mom screams down the hall, “your son just called me old!”
“Did I hear someone say you’re having a scrapbook party?” he yells back.
“Yes!”