by Erika Kelly
“I don’t know how to say this the right way except to say thank you, but now you’re off the hook. And I know you well enough to know that you won’t walk away until you think you’ve restored my life to the way it was before you guys crashed into it. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, it won’t ever look that way again. I’m on a whole new course, one without Luc, and I’ve made peace with it. I mean, it’s a swerve, but one that’ll still lead me back to the road I’d mapped out.”
He came up close—close enough that he could smell the hint of Funnel cake in her hair. “I hear you, and thank you for letting me off the hook. So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, everything I do from this moment on will be of my own volition, right?”
She gave him a disbelieving look.
“The first suggestion I made—making wedding dresses for my sisters-in-law? That came from them. They saw your dresses and begged me for an introduction. Mrs. Granger? She jumped at the idea of selling your gowns in her store. I hired Zach away from Hugo Rossi, so you can probably guess he’s fuckin’ thrilled to be working on something more than board shorts for a change. I’ve known Amelia a long time, and I’ve never seen her so excited about anything as this project, so stop feeling like we’re doing you a favor. We’re not. We’re all goddamn lucky to be part of this business with you.”
He reached for her—because he couldn’t ever be near her and not need to be close—but her eyes rounded in alarm and her body stiffened. Well, shit. She should know he’d never take anything from her she didn’t want to give—including a touch.
She looked like she wanted to scrape him off. “Oh, Gray.”
Which pissed him off almost as much as her patronizing tone. “Oh, Gray what? Come on, Knox. I’m not a mind reader. You’ve got something to say, just spit it out. Say what’s on your mind.”
“Nothing. Just…this is what you do best.” She gave him a wry smile. “Make me feel like you’re not giving me charity.”
“Charity?” What the hell?
“Yes, Gray. You just told me what Mrs. Granger and Zach and Amelia are getting out of this…arrangement, but you failed to mention yourself. So, tell me. Other than you—once again—riding in on your white horse to save me, what do you get out of it?”
Was she really this clueless? White horse? “Let’s rewind all the way back to middle school. I would’ve shut down any asshole who was barking at someone. Did it make it worse that you were my friend? You bet. But you reamed me out every time I did it, so I quit doing it. The point is that I never needed to do it, because you always took care of the situation in your own way. As for now, today? You want to know what I get out of working with you? Another income stream and the chance to hang out with you again. Both of those are pretty fuckin’ sweet.”
“There’s only ever been one context for us being together, and that’s you saving my ass. You fought my bullies so many times you got suspended. The whole time we hung out I was tormented over Robert. Look, we’re adults now, we can be honest about the past. You’re a nice guy. You looked out for me, and I’ll always be grateful, but let’s not pretend it’s ever been anything other than what it is.”
Nice? He was a nice guy? Awesome. Well, at least that explained it. You’re not attracted to nice guys. You don’t want nice guys to tear off your panties and pound you into next week. “Okay.”
“What? I’m saying that I appreciate all you’ve done for me. I don’t have a lot of people in my corner, and it’s nice that you’ve always been there for me. But we’re adults now, and you’re going after something really important that requires all your focus.” She looked frustrated. “I can see by your expression that I’m saying it all wrong.” She lifted her arms and then dropped them so hard they clapped against her thighs. “You’ve done more than enough this time. I’m ridiculously grateful, but now you’re free.”
“I don’t want to be in your corner, Knox.” I want to be in your heart.
Whoa. Calm down.
But he couldn’t. An avalanche of words he’d never said rumbled and groaned under the pressure. “And I already told you not to be grateful, because I’m right where I want to be.”
She clasped her hands together. “You’re mad, and I don’t know why. I have very few good memories of my childhood. The best ones are with you. But…at the same time…those are the ones that keep me up at night.”
His body went on alert. What was she saying? What had he done wrong?
“I try not to think of them, but when I do, when a memory pops up, my first reaction is just…happiness. You brought me that…” She let out a slow, shaky breath through pursed lips. “But, about a second later, I feel sick to my stomach.”
“Because of me?” Oh, Jesus. He thought he’d done such a bang-up job of keeping his feelings from her, but she’d known. And it had made her sick. He’d made her sick. She’d been in love with his best friend, and there he was stealing private moments with her, letting his completely inappropriate feelings bleed all over her.
He wanted to run. Turn and walk out of this room. Head straight to the airport and not look back. But he couldn’t do that. Not when he’d made her sick to her stomach. He needed to stand here and take it. He’d earned it.
“Gray, don’t feel bad about it. It’s not your fault. It’s just how you’re wired.”
Mortification ripped through him like a flash fire. His palms went clammy.
“But we’re adults now, and I’m done being your pity project. You weren’t driving that car, Amelia was. The only reason you’re here right now is because poor Knox is in trouble yet again. It just…makes me sick. Now, just let me take a bath and go to sleep.”
Whoa—his head was spinning. She’s not pissed because I lusted after my best friend’s girlfriend. She’s upset because… “Nuh uh. No fuckin’ way. You don’t drop shit like that on me and then walk away. You give me a chance.” How the hell did he clear this one up? “Jesus, Knox. all this time, you thought you were my pity project? That is just…” He shook his head. “Fucked up. Did it ever occur to you that I stopped being friends with Robert but stayed friends with you?”
“Yes, to protect me from him and his druggie friends.”
“What? No. I stayed friends with Robert long past when I should have because I felt sorry for him. Because I thought I could help him—not because I liked him anymore. When I figured out I couldn’t, I walked away. It was either that or get sucked into his messed up world. Besides, it’s disrespectful to pretend to be friends with someone when you’re left with nothing but pity.”
Her eyebrows hitched up, as if he’d just proven her point, but he wasn’t done yet. “I hung out with you, because I liked you. I admired you. Do you remember that fire drill when the entire school had to file outside onto the football field? I was one of the last people out of the building, but I watched you climb the bleachers, watched someone shove you so hard you fell on the stairs. Everyone around you stepped aside, and no one did shit to help you. And then I saw Cady Toller laughing her ass off.”
She winced, and he knew she didn’t want him to continue, but it was a story that needed to be told. “Everyone just went on like nothing happened, finding their friends, sitting down, but you just sat there, like you were in so much pain you couldn’t even function.”
“True story. I landed on my tailbone.”
“I hauled ass to get to you, but before I could, I saw you get back up. You kept your eyes on Cady. When you hit her row, you made your way down it until you got to her. You stuck your ass out, forcing your way in between Cady and Melissa. You remember what you did?”
“Of course.” She said it nonchalantly, like it was no big deal.
But it was. “I was racing up the stairs when I saw your expression, watched you lean right into her ear. What’d you say, Knox? Say it to me right now, what you said to the most popular girl in our class who’d just hurt you in front of the whole school.”
“What’s your point? You think I want to rem
ember my past in that town?”
“The point is that you’re a badass. You said, ‘You know the interesting thing about people who have no fucks to give?”
Knox arched a brow and gave him just a hint of a smile. “‘We’re dangerous. Like, really, scary dangerous. Watch your back.’”
That’s right. “And then you sat with them until the drill ended, and we were allowed back into the building.” The best part came afterwards, though. “The entire school talked about what you did for weeks.”
“Yeah, well, the Bible calls for an eye for an eye.”
A smile cut through the tension. After school that day, Cady had been getting into her boyfriend’s truck, when Knox came up from behind and yanked on the waistband of her jeans. Cady had fallen onto the asphalt hard—into a dirty puddle—but Knox had just sashayed away. “I hung out with you because you were fierce. I liked you. I liked hanging out with you, more than with anyone else. I—”
“Bullshit. Don’t feed me—or yourself—some stupid lines. I wasn’t your friend. I was nothing to you.”
“Are you out of your mind? Is this what you’ve been thinking all these years? What the fuck did I ever do to give you that impression?”
“You left me.” It was the flatness in her tone, dead as roadkill, that impacted him way worse than if she’d screeched. “You walked out of that hotel room, and you never looked back. Friends don’t do that. I get it. I’m not angry. You were pissed at me for hanging onto Robert long past the end-date, I got that. But if you cared about me at all, you would’ve contacted me at some point. There are plenty of ways to keep in touch with someone, and you didn’t find one of them.” She reached for the door, like she might close it. “How’s that for the truth?”
Five pellets fired with pure menace. Each one hit the target. His body shook with fear, hurt, and wild frustration. “I did what I had to do.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
“No, you did what you wanted to do. Just like you always do. That’s your MO. You washed your hands of your pity project. And, believe me, I don’t blame you, but we should at least be honest about it.” She took a step back and slammed the door in his face.
His body was on fire. His pulse thundered. “You want honesty?” It was like fighting against the undertow, reaching the surface, and filling his lungs. “I’ll give it to you. I was in love with my best friend’s girlfriend. That’s why I left and never looked back.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Lost in the world of her designs, Knox contemplated the idea of a detachable skirt, so the bride could take it off and wear white satin shorts to the reception. Oh, I like that. Her pencil flew across the page as images came to mind. Yards and yards of organza, cut to look like feathers, big—bigger—ach, so feminine—and then the shock of hot pants underneath. Edgy.
Excitement flooded her, making her fingers shake. This was when she knew she’d come upon a great idea. Her body’s visceral reaction. Wait, what if the shorts weren’t white? What if they were pink? She reached for a different pencil. No, stronger contrast. Purple. And, to give a little hint of what lay beneath the lavish skirt, she’d tie a purple sash around the waist. No, purple petals—two satin flowers at the back. Wait. No. She flipped the page to draw the back of the dress. A bustle, with a row of three purple organza flowers along the seam.
Yes. Love it.
Until fear crept in and clamped its jaws into her heart. What’re you doing? Random sketching wasted precious time, because she wasn’t designing collections anymore. She was making two custom dresses. And, while she might have all these requests, until she spoke with the brides and discussed pricing and specific details, she didn’t have any actual orders.
I’m giving up my dream.
No. You’re not. The pop-up show is at Granger’s. The social media campaign could very well get her the kind of attention she needed. She knew it, because the dress page already had several thousand followers. People seemed to love watching the process, and the camaraderie between the women, too.
Amelia had done an amazing job with it. Each post was clever, the photographs stylish and fun. She’d get that call from Jack Abrams, and this would all lead to a couture show on a Paris runway.
Canned laughter caught her attention, yanking her out of her reverie. She looked up to see that the movie had ended, and the TV was on, which meant she must’ve switched over at some point. She patted the sheets, looking for the remote, and thumbed the power button. The room went dark. Setting the sketchbook on the nightstand, she shoved a pillow between her legs, rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.
You’re going to get in bed, find a good movie, and wind up sketching until you fall asleep.
Gray knew her. He just did. And that made it easier to believe the bomb he’d detonated at her feet. Finally, after losing herself in her sketches—blocking out his confession—she let it come flooding in.
I was in love with my best friend’s girlfriend.
Shock waves rolled through her, slamming into every cell in her body. In love with me? Her brain sorted through snapshots from their childhood, trying to catch a glimpse of his expressions. But what could she make of them? She could mold a memory into anything she wanted.
Gray didn’t lie. He didn’t have to—he had enough confidence and self-possession to own everything he said and did. Which meant…he’d loved her. That’s why he hung around me.
All her life she’d felt less than Gray Bowie. He was handsome and powerful, confident and competent. In high school, he’d walk down the hallway, and people would look up from their conversations, pause while reaching into their lockers, just to watch his easy gait, his infectious smile. He radiated authority. He was that unicorn who seemed to fit perfectly in his own skin, while the rest of them were gangly and awkward and unsure.
Gray’s bombshell opened up a whole new perspective. It made her see just how deeply she’d let the bullies shape her perceptions about herself. Tonight, Gray had removed that lens.
Not that anything could’ve happened between them. Robert would never have let go of her. She’d had to move to New York with no forwarding address in order to free herself.
She kept skimming the edge of the bomb site. It was too bright, too scary to look in. He’d loved her? He’d loved her.
Gray Bowie had loved her.
Now, it almost seemed ridiculous to think of all that time he’d spent with her as anything else. No one spent that much time with a pity project. You invited her to party here and there, you heard of an opportunity and tossed it her way. But you didn’t spend every free moment with your project.
He’d dropped the bomb, and she’d slammed the door in his face. She’d let him tell her a truth so big and horrible—he’d been in love with his best friend’s girlfriend—and then walked away.
Was he still on the couch, watching mindless TV?
She needed to find the guts to go out there and respond. Because what kind of person just closed her eyes and went to sleep with a confession like that hanging in the air?
More, she missed him. She never should have locked him out. He was right—she’d never planned to take a bath in a hotel tub. Ew. Not unless she had an arsenal of cleaning supplies.
Not having a clue what to say to him, she threw back the covers. She hadn’t been in love with him. That had been so far out of the realm of possibility, she hadn’t even contemplated it. But she’d liked him better than anybody. Tell him that.
She flung open the door, ready to talk…only to find the suite dark, the couch empty.
Why did she feel like she’d missed an opportunity? Should she knock on his door? Wake him up?
Yes. Do it. He deserved a response, even if it had taken her an hour to find her lady balls. She pressed her ear to his bedroom door but didn’t hear a sound. Lightly, she knocked. “Gray? You up?”
“Yeah. Yep.” His voice sounded gravelly.
When she opened the door, she saw a flash of white, as he flipped the covers back and swung hi
s legs off the bed. He snatched his boxers off the floor, jamming his legs into them and yanking them up. Scrubbing his face, he stalked towards her. “You all right? What’s going on?”
“I believe you.”
“Sorry?” He looked so adorable, this big mountain of a man, wearing nothing but bright red boxers with a green Grinch printed all over them. His broad, hairy chest, so toned, so fit, those bulging biceps, and rock-hard thighs—my God.
This man had loved her.
“I believe you.” This time she smiled because those were the three most powerful words she’d ever said.
“Still not getting it.”
“I’ve been working through what you said. I started with total dismissal. No way did Gray Bowie have feelings for me. Then I moved on to, okay, yeah, you don’t spend all that time with a pity project. You put on latex gloves and feed her Thanksgiving dinner once a year. You don’t lie on her bed, feet against the wall, and talk about her dreams of being a fashion designer.”
He watched her, like the glitter was settling and the image inside the snow globe was becoming delightfully clear.
“But then, the truth started to sink in. You had a busy life. Not just your competitions, but your brothers, your dad, and uncle. And then—bam—it rose right up out of my subconscious and smacked me in the face.” She came closer to him. “Gray, you chose me over time with your brothers. Well, over a lot of things. And I didn’t see it because of them. Of what assholes like Cady and Melissa trained me to believe. That I was trash. I thought flipping them the bird made me rise above it. I thought my little revenge plots made me invincible. But I didn’t see how my impressions about myself and the world came from them. Gray, the idea that you loved me? It just didn’t compute. A guy like you?”
His eyes softened, and he cracked a shy grin. Oh, Gray Bowie all vulnerable like that? That was hotter than his abs, his medals, and his lazy smile combined.
“I don’t know how it would’ve changed my life if I’d seen the truth,” she said. “But I can tell you it changes me now.”