by Linda Kage
When I realized Parker was merely watching me, I flushed. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing,” he answered, only to smile. “I’m just looking at you and seeing a very different woman from the one I met a year ago. Maybe you are doing okay with just my help.”
“I better be,” I said. “Because I don’t want to pay anyone else to fix my messed-up self.” I couldn’t afford it, anyway, and no way was I going to beg my parents for a therapist. They’d want to know why I needed one, and I wasn’t going down that road with them. Not ever.
With a roll of his eyes, Parker glanced back down at his notebook. “You’re not messed up. And I’m going to mark last night’s objective as a win.” He wrote something down. “Even if you didn’t tell the first man to buzz off like you wanted to, you went to the theater by yourself, you stayed through the duration, and even interacted with someone of the male gender while you were there.” Lifting his pen as if to stop me before I could disagree, he added, “Even if you knew, or felt, or whatever that it was safe with him, I’m going to mark it down as a new meet. Which means, you not only hit your goals, but you went above them. Score one for El.” He grinned encouragingly. “Now let’s move on to the professional, boring side of things. Did you apply anywhere new?”
I bit my lip and nodded. I had a temp job now. But it wasn’t what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, which had caused Parker to press me into chasing my dream and apply at new places, even if I thought I had no chance of getting a position.
And I’d actually followed his advice. “I got a bite from this one agency,” I admitted, blushing again. “We had a short phone interview. If my references check out, I think I’ll get an in-person meeting with them next.”
“Really? Wow.” My life coach whistled in awe. “Way to go, El. I’m impressed.” He wrote that in his notebook as well.
Now came the part where we discussed new goals to reach for. My stomach always swirled during this time. I feared he’d want me to do something I wasn’t capable of or ready for. But Parker was a pro at reading his clients. He never made things too hard, just stretched it enough to make you feel a bit of an uncomfortable sweat and yet still close enough to think, “I can do this.” You always reached higher and higher for him.
After we came up with a few new objectives to meet, we started to pack our bags and walk from the gym together.
“So I’ll see you next week. Same time,” he added, arching his eyebrows at me. “Expect to lose by way more than two points, though.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” I flipped back, only to point and say, “And please wear your hat next week. Your head looks weird without one on.”
His hand immediately sought his hair, where he winced. “Don’t even get me started on that. But yeah, I’m supposed to get it back tonight if my asshole buddy doesn’t forget it.”
“I honestly had no idea you had so much hair,” I told him, shaking my head slowly and unable to stop staring. “I always figured you had to be going bald because you hid your head so much.”
“Pfft,” he sniffed. “Of course, I have hair. But I gots to hide my luscious mane from the rest of the world, you see. Only my Bea is allowed to handle all this awesomeness.”
As he grinned and drew a halo around his head with his hand, I smiled. I loved it when he mentioned his girlfriend. Men who openly adored their partners were the cream of the crop.
He only ever called her Bea when he was talking about her, but I figured that was probably just the first letter of her name—since he talked about everyone in his family and friends’ group as well as anyone I mentioned in code to preserve privacy. But I kind of always like to spell it in my head as B-E-A, just to make her feel more like a real person to me.
“Smart thinking,” I told him with a smile and a salute before I turned away and started off.
But a second later, he called, “Hey, El.”
Pausing, I glanced back.
“I know our session is up,” he told me, looking concerned, “but I don’t want you to stress about any of the reactions you had last night, okay? You are making progress. Concentrate on that. Think about all the things you can do now that you couldn’t do a month ago. Don’t let one little setback get you down. You’re doing great.”
And he wondered why I didn’t want to go to anyone else with my problems.
It was because I already had the best help, right here.
“Okay,” I said with a nod. “Thanks, Parker.”
Chapter Six
Fox
FIVE DAYS LATER, WITH HIS HAT BACK WHERE IT BELONGED
After working late with a client, I drove home, changed out of the suit and tie I usually wore to the office, and I started to browse my cupboards for food, only to pause and decide, screw it, I’d just see what there was to eat at Bella’s.
So I grabbed my phone, keys, and wallet, and I headed out the door again within five minutes of walking through it. I knew she didn’t have other plans, so I didn’t even bother to call.
After the first time Bella and I had hooked up, exactly what I feared would happen had happened.
Shit got awkward.
She avoided me.
I might’ve avoided her too because I was freaked out and worried as hell that she’d regret it. So I stepped back a minute and gave her a chance to make the next move.
Except she never did, and then five weeks passed—yes, I counted them. Exactly thirty-eight days rolled by with nothing from either of us. But then a big group in the family got together, and she didn’t show. Gracen even made an appearance. And if he came to an event, she pretty much did too.
When I asked her brother where she was, he just kind of shrugged it off, saying she’d felt like staying in that night.
Right, uh-huh. Staying in, my ass. I knew better. She was avoiding me.
I left the party early and stormed my way to her house. After pounding on her door unnecessarily loud until she ripped it open with a scowl and a “what the hell?” I found her standing there in a T-shirt, pajama pants, and that same damn jelly-stained bathrobe I’d peeled off her the first night we’d been together.
It made me hard as hell.
Which pissed me off more. Pointing, I growled, “You…” and I stepped into her house, slamming the door behind me. “Liar.”
Eyebrows lifting, she set her hands on her hips and glared back. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I charged. “I called you a liar.”
“I –”
“You said you wouldn’t freak out and start avoiding me. Well, where the fuck were you tonight?”
“I didn’t feel like—”
“Bullshit!”
“Oh my God. Will you stop interrupting me.”
“Sure. When you stop avoiding me.”
“I’m not—” This time, she cut herself off to glance skyward for assistance as she mumbled curses about me. Once she was calmer, she looked me in the eye. “I’m not avoiding you, Fox. The reason I didn’t go tonight had nothing to do with you whatsoever.”
I stepped closer to her, my eyes flaring. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
She gulped unsteadily—totally freaked out by my proximity—and then she jerked a step back.
I think that broke something inside me. Bella should never be too scared of getting close to me. It felt like the beginning of the end. I was going to fucking lose her.
But once she had her space, she shot fire at me with her eyes, totally not intimidated at all. “Prove what?” she cried with a disbelieving snort. “That I didn’t go tonight because of—”
“Prove that you aren’t avoiding me,” I clarified.
She gurgled out an incredulous laugh. “How the hell does someone prove something like that?”
I shrugged. “Not my problem. Just get it done. Right now.”
Her eyes widened. “Right—”
“Now. Yes.”
“Right now?” she repeated, blinking at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Oh my God,” she exploded. She gave another dubious laugh. I couldn’t tell if she was getting a kick out of my stubbornness or if she was seriously annoyed by it. “You are such a pain in the ass.”
“Yeah,” I countered. “A pain in the ass that you’re avoiding.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This is getting ridiculous.” Darting her gaze around the room, probably looking for something heavy to hit me with, she groused, “I can’t believe you’re really making me do this.”
I yawned and reported, “Not convinced yet.”
“Oh, that’s it,” she snarled, fed up with my antics. Stepping close, she grabbed the front of my shirt. “You want to be convinced that I liked being with you, fine! I’ll convince you.”
I opened my mouth to tell her, no, I hadn’t mentioned anything about needing performance feedback. I just didn’t want her to hate me now. But she pulled me into her before I could say anything, and she plastered her mouth to mine.
From that point on, I lost my train of thought as well as all the anger I’d been feeling.
And then I lost all my clothes.
I ended up fucking her again. That night. Right there against her front door.
Three days later, she texted me.
BELLA: This is Bella, that girl you recently slept with. Just checking in to assure your irritating, insecure self that I regret nothing and that I am NOT avoiding you, asshole.
I grinned.
Twenty minutes later, I knocked on her front door.
As soon as she answered, I lifted an eyebrow with condemnation. “Asshole, huh?”
Stepping inside, I shut the door behind me, and we immediately attacked each other without saying another word.
And so, it continued. At first, I’d show up at her doorstep two or three times a month when I knew she’d be home alone. And she always let me stay.
About three months in, I finally got the balls to ask, “So are we dating?”
She’d sent me a look that told me she thought that was the stupidest question ever, before answering with a very clear, succinct, “No.”
Alrighty then.
I hadn’t brought the issue up again.
Some nights, I would close her refrigerator on a pout and say, “There’s nothing to eat here. Let’s go out and grab some food.”
But she’d counter with, “Let’s just order something in, instead.”
She made sure to never do anything with me that could be construed as a real date, never went out in public with me, alone, never told me how she felt about me, never let the family in on the fact that we’d become exclusive fuck buddies. Never made it official.
She didn’t even tell Gracen about us. And I’m not sure why; he was her best friend and confidant. She told him everything. At least, she used to. I didn’t think he’d get all macho, big brother on me or anything. I mean, there would be teasing if he knew. Lots of teasing. But that would’ve been no big deal. So honestly, why wouldn’t she even tell him?
I knew her breakup with Ethan had been pretty sour. It had left her not trusting men and relationships in general, so I decided not to push or take it personally. She had issues to work through and wasn’t ready for anything more. But it still kind of stung that she wasn’t able to trust me. I should’ve been different. We’d known each other our whole lives.
If all she needed was time, though, I could give her time. She was worth the wait.
For Bella, I could be patient.
Meanwhile, the sex was awesome. Which meant, these days, I went over pretty much every free chance there was between us. That meant I could go from a week straight of staying over nightly to not being able to see her for almost two weeks. But we texted daily, either way, so I already knew she had no plans tonight.
Whenever she started to complain that I was eating her out of house and home, I would show up the next time with groceries, and we’d usually eat push pops off each other in bed the rest of the night.
I was wondering if I should pull into a drive-through somewhere when my phone rang.
That was probably her, wondering where the hell I was.
Yeah, my woman was demanding because she could never get enough of me. It was epic.
But I got a surprise when I discovered it was my brother-in-law on the other end of the line, though.
“Hey, do you think you could come over and stay with Braiden for the next couple of hours? Bentley’s not feeling so well, and we’re just going to get her checked out, okay?”
His voice sounded off, and he was being evasive. Beau was never evasive. He was usually a little too direct. So I was immediately on alert.
“Of course,” I said, already turning at the next intersection to change my course and head toward their place. “What’s going on?”
It was too late for any regular doctor’s office to be open. That meant they had to be going to some emergency care, which also meant...
My sister needed immediate help.
“Just—” Beau let out an aggravated sound, like he was stressed, worried, and annoyed all in one. “Everything will be okay,” he added. “But don’t ask her any questions or tell anyone else about this just yet. She’s not ready for that, alright?”
“Um…” That did not help ease my worries in the least.
What the fuck was wrong with Bentley?
But all I said was, “Okay,” and I stepped on the gas, driving a little faster to get there.
When I arrived, I dashed up the front walk and rang the bell. Footsteps sounded on the other side, and I heard Beau’s muffled voice through the door. “…Ectopic pregnancy, yes, that’s right. But I think it’s too late to save…”
The door opened. Beau looked like hell as he talked on the phone and waved me in.
“Come in through the east door? Okay, got it. We’ll be there in a bit. Thanks.”
He barely spared me a glance as he hung up and turned toward the opening of the hallway.
“Babe,” he called. “Fox is here.” Then he finally turned back to address me. “It should be smooth sailing for you, man. Braiden’s already asleep, and we hope to be back before he wakes in the morning, so you shouldn’t actually have to do anything.”
They hoped to be back by morning?
Goddamn, what the hell was going on?
Bentley came limping into the living room then, her purse slung over her shoulder. Face drained white with pain, eyes ringed red with tears, and a hand plastered to her stomach, she looked like death.
“Bent?” I stepped toward her, but Beau rushed past me to reach her first, taking her arm so she could lean heavily on him as she walked.
Questions rose on my tongue, but Beau had warned me not to ask, plus Bentley was still kind of crying, and I’m pretty sure I’d already overheard enough through the door from Beau’s telephone conversation to understand the situation, so I swallowed whatever I was going to say and simply opened the door for them.
“Thank you, bubba,” Bentley managed to rasp. She paused when the two of them reached me as if she wanted to say more.
I pulled her close and gave her a gentle hug so she wouldn’t have to talk. “Go get better,” I urged softly.
She choked out a sob and squeezed me harder. “Okay. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I murmured, pulling away.
When I met Beau’s gaze, he looked like he was going to start bawling. Fisting a hand, he nudged my shoulder and nodded his respect. “Thanks again.”
After they were gone, I closed the door behind them, and stood there a moment, trying to control my concern. Then, I went and checked on the little man.
My six-year-old nephew was passed out on his bed, safe and sound, sleeping on his stomach with one leg hanging out of his covers.
I smiled softly and backed out of the doorway, where I retreated to the living room, pulled up my phone, and immed
iately googled as many details as I could find about ectopic pregnancies.
So apparently, a fertilized egg hadn’t made it all the way into the uterus like it was supposed to.
Stubborn kid already sounded like its dad.
But what was this?
“Oh motherfucker,” I whispered, my skin growing cold.
Life-threatening bleeding may occur to the mother.
Miscarriage was extremely common.
“No…” I murmured, remembering Beau saying I think it’s too late.
No wonder why they’d wanted to keep this quiet and hadn’t even told the family she was pregnant. There hadn’t been any babies born in our group after Braiden until recently. Then Teagan and JB had Harper a few months back, and after that, it was like a seal had been broken. Our group turned into baby-making central.
Julian and Nia were expecting their first, as were Skylar and Dominic. Then Rory and Tucker were about to enter their third trimester, while Beau’s sister, Lucy Olivia, had shocked everyone last week when she announced she was knocked up too. No one had a clue who the father of that baby was, and she hadn’t dated anyone in forever, so honestly, it was anyone’s guess.
With four kids on the way in our big conglomerate of loved ones, I could maybe understand why Beau and Bentley hadn’t wanted to freak any of the others out with their tale of woe. Besides, it’d probably be hard to talk about if they were already pretty sure the baby wasn’t going to make it.
Still…
If my sister’s life was in danger, I’d like to freaking know.
Before I could click out of the disturbing things I was reading, a notification of an incoming text dropped down from the top of my screen.
BELLA: where R u?
She followed the question with a picture of a shoe next to a phone.
I exited from my research and called her.
“Shoe phone?” I asked, squinting in confusion as soon as she picked up.
“It’s a boot!” she corrected. “And the phone is supposed to be for call, not phone.”