Because Forever

by B. Cranford

Except he was right in front of her. “Odie, tell me what I did. Please?”

  “Why the hell are you hard?” She reached out to touch him, pulling her hand back at the last moment. He groaned at the near miss and she had to wonder if she’d done it out of habit and need—or to tease him.

  “Seriously? You’re magnificent when you’re mad and I don’t know, the socks flying was oddly kind of sexy.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t think you get how pissed off I actually am.”

  “And again, I’ll ask, what about? Help me please, so I can fix it.” He leveled a smile at her that typically made her knees weak, so she locked those traitorous joints in place and shook her head. “Fine. But you know you can’t stay mad at me.”

  Can’t stay mad? Is he joking?

  Her mouth opened to let loose a storm of words, but something in her face must have given her away so he held up his hands to stop her and apologized.

  Sort of.

  “Okay, no, I know. You can stay mad. You’re good at the mad thing. The best, even.” He blinked his deliberately widened eyes at her, playing up the poor, goofy Austin angle, but something else was hidden behind that playfulness.

  Regret, perhaps?

  Whatever, she thought as she shoved him just hard enough to move him out of the way.

  “Odie, wait.”

  “No. Fuck you. You said, and I quote, ‘Forget a night with two of my favorite girls? As if.’ And yet, here we are.” She huffed out an irritated breath, then drew in a fresh one. She had more to say. “For years, years, you’d forget things and I’d let it slide. I’d defend you. ‘That’s just Austin, haha.’ But you’re supposed to be better. We agreed. When we sat down and decided to do this thing we agreed. You’d tell me I’m pretty and take this seriously and do all the little things that show that this is more than the same old friendship.”

  “I tell you you’re pretty all the time.”

  “Yeah, ’cause right now that’s the point.”

  “Nice sarcasm but I have no idea what the point is. I forgot. I’m sorry. We’re babysitting Finn and Kennedy tomorrow. Okay? I don’t get it.”

  “I told you I was nervous. I told you I wanted to do a good job; that babysitting Kennedy was the first time I’d really been around a little baby.” She frowned, adding, “And you said we were in it together. And then, guess what”—she paused for drama’s sake, something her boyfriend probably would approve of if he wasn’t on the receiving end of it—“Austin forgot. Just. Like. Always.”

  “Odet—”

  “Nope. Not interested. It was fine to forget when you were my best friend. Annoying but fine. But come on—I told you this was important. I saved it to your phone. And you still forgot. And before you say anything, I know it’ll be fine. They’re good kids. But it’s the principle of it and now I’m leaving because I’m angry and you can take care of that”—she point to his dick, still hard but clearly starting to realize he wasn’t going to get lucky—“yourself.”

  And with that, she stormed out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  What had he done? He stood there, watching the door slam closed behind Odie—his girl, the love of his life—and he couldn’t even chase after her because he was buck-ass naked and hard.

  Well, not so hard anymore.

  She was stunning when she was mad—her fiery red-hair as short as her temper—and it was a biological impossibility to not react to her in all her fuming glory.

  Except . . . now she was gone and he was left alone and seriously regretting his mistakes.

  All of them.

  Every single one, from not claiming her as his the second he realized he wanted her when he was a kid, to kissing her in reaction to stupid, fucking, idiotic Meatball McGee, to forgetting again something that was important to or about her.

  He shoved shaking hands into his hair, pulling on the strands as they fisted in frustration.

  I love you but I am so, so fucking angry with you.

  The highlights—no, lowlights—of their argument drifted in as if he wasn’t already torturing himself enough.

  I don’t think you get how pissed off I actually am.

  No, he didn’t. But now he did.

  Fuck you.

  God, but that one hurt.

  You know you can’t stay mad at me.

  Why, why, why had he said that? Memories of the interminable weeks when she’d refused to talk to him replaced the replay of the argument they’d just had, and he thought of the endless voicemail messages he’d left.

  The begging.

  The helpless apologies.

  Her righteous anger that boiled over quickly, but lowered to a simmer that left him wondering if he’d ever get her back.

  And now he was wondering the same thing.

  She’s right, you are an idiot, he thought, finally lowering his hands from his hair, unsurprised to see he’d brought some strands along for the ride.

  He couldn’t just stand there; he had to do something.

  And to do something, he had to be dressed.

  The music playing on the radio was grating on his last nerve.

  Love songs reminding him that his Garfield was beyond angry at him—that he was quite possibly at the start of another Odette Ice Age, where she froze him out for being a dickhead.

  “Shut the fuck up.” He slammed a finger on the power button of his car’s radio and settled into the silence. Except the silence came with memories.

  Odette standing in his bedroom, the day after her eighteenth birthday, crying because he’d gotten the date wrong.

  Odette staring at the fish tank in her bedroom, filled with water and rocks and plastic plants, but no fish.

  Odette calling him two hours after he had been supposed to call her, asking if he was okay and hanging up when his then-girlfriend said something bitchy about her neediness.

  “God, could she be any more needy and desperate?” Erin rolled her eyes at him, as if expecting him to agree.

  He hadn’t.

  Narrowing his eyes at her and making a slash across his throat in the universal cut it out gesture, he tried to apologize. “Odie, I’m so sorr—”

  But she cut him off. “Whatever, you get back to Erin, who’s as lovely as ever, and I’ll get back to my books. Lots of studying to do.”

  Though she talked good talk, he could hear the underlying anger in her voice, and her comment about Erin just confirmed it, to say the least. He hated that she was so far away—that with her in New York City and him in Madison, he couldn’t just ditch Erin and go see her and make it right.

  “No, wait, O—”

  She was gone before he could finish, and he dropped the phone on the sofa beside him, shaking his head at his stupidity.

  They always talked on Friday nights, and always at the same time. And he’d gotten distracted—not by Erin, though he was sure that’s what Odie thought, but by the movie he’d been watching—and hadn’t made the call on time.

  “Good, she’s gone, so we can get back to where we left off.” Erin likely thought she sounded sexy and seductive, but to Austin, her voice was nails on a chalkboard.

  Besides, if that was the plan, they were sitting themselves at opposite ends of the sofa in his small apartment and watching the last ten minutes of the superhero movie that had caused the issue in the first place.

  “You need to leave,” he said in return, not looking at her. He grabbed his phone and opened the last text from his brother.

  A: Dunk said you can come stay whenever. Just let him know.

  Below it, Duncan’s phone number, which Austin quickly saved before opening a new text message.

  Austin: Hey, man, it’s Austin Andrews. Aaron’s brother?

  Austin: He said you’d be willing to put me up if I came to the city to visit my girl and I’m really hoping tomorrow isn’t too soon.

  Duncan: Fuck up?

 
; Austin: Majorly.

  Duncan: You need a ride from the train station or airport?

  Austin: Nah, I got it. I’m going to go straight to see her.

  Austin: Okay if I bring her by? She has a few roommates, I think.

  Duncan: Sure. Kennedy will be there to let you in, if I’m not.

  Austin: Thanks, man. Owe you one.

  Erin hovered over him as he sent the last text message and set his phone aside again. She huffed. “Come on, Dundee, I thought tonight was the night.”

  He shook his head, both at her words and at her use of the silly nickname his friends had bestowed upon him. They’d been on a few dates and she’d started calling herself his girlfriend, which wasn’t necessarily true, but he didn’t really care. He’d thought he liked her, until she’d call his best friend—his best girl—“needy and desperate”.

  She was just like the others that didn’t get that Odie wasn’t a hanger-on or needy for it, for him.

  It was the other way around, and it always had been.

  “Don’t call me that. And it’s not. It might’ve been”—he looked up where she still stood over him—“but I’m sorry, I can’t be with someone who talks about Odie like that.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm down.

  He didn’t want to be rude or mean or an asshole to Erin, although he thought she deserved it. He just wanted her gone so he could haul ass to his room, pack some shit and leave.

  New York City—and hopefully Odette—were waiting for him.

  Austin thought back to how much he’d apologized on that rainy afternoon in New York.

  He remembered how easily Odie had accepted it then, just like she’d accepted his other apologies over the years.

  Until Meatball McGee and that stupid voicemail.

  That was when things had changed between them, like a tipping point activated by one more act of brazen idiocy on his behalf.

  On the seat next to him, his phone rang. It was Ashton, and he briefly contemplated ignoring it, before realizing that she might be able to help him.

  “Little,” he answered after tapping the button on his steering wheel to connect the call.

  “You are an idiot,” his sister began. He groaned, but Ashton wasn’t deterred. “Tiny, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but you owe me.”

  “I do? Why?” He didn’t doubt it was true, he just needed to know what he owed so he could make it right.

  “She called me, and asked if I would bring Kennedy to her tomorrow night instead of to your place. Something about a misunderstanding with babysitting Finn?”

  “Honest mistake.”

  “It’s honestly annoying that you still do this, but whatever. I told her I’d rather have you both there for the kids, and that keeping them together was a great idea.” Her accompanying laugh had a tinge of evil about it, and with her next words, he knew why. “I told her I trusted her more than you, so I wanted to make sure there was a mature adult around for Finn and Kennedy, and then thanked her profusely.”

  “She couldn’t say no,” he surmised.

  “Exactly. By my calculation, you have around twenty hours to find a way to fix whatever you fucked up. Don’t waste them.”

  And with that, Ashton was gone, though it didn’t stop him from saying, “Thank you, Little” to her.

  The rest of his drive was spent on planning and figuring out what he was going to say.

  Odie would be back at his apartment the following night. He hadn’t had that opportunity last time. He’d waited weeks for the chance to talk to her and even then, she wouldn’t discuss it with him, curtly telling him to leave her alone when she’d come back to The Avenue to work.

  He’d had to wait weeks more.

  And though it had been worth it to finally have her—not just back in his life as his friend, but to get her, win her heart and make her his—he didn’t want to wait this time.

  Which is why, when he knocked on the door, he squared his shoulders and got to ready to beg.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He was on the other side of that door. Of course he was, it was his apartment, and his niece and nephew were there with him, waiting for her to join them.

  At least, she assumed they were waiting for her. Ashton surely had told Austin that she’d agreed to still come and help out.

  But what if she hadn’t? What if she knocked and he didn’t care she was there?

  What if he wasn’t waiting for her, to apologize and to hear her apology in return?

  Because, yeah, she knew she needed to give him one.

  Not because she was wrong—she wasn’t and she was confident about that—but because her reaction left no room for them to figure it out. To work through it. To be the couple she knew they could be; the couple that talked about their mistakes and their problems and their hurts.

  She was quick to anger, and she always had been. But she’d also been on a knife’s edge for weeks, her subconscious doubting what she and Austin had.

  Why? Because she’d waited so long for it. Had wanted it so much. And then to have it and have it be so perfect seemed . . . too easy.

  Too right.

  Too fallible.

  Steeling herself, she knocked and took a small step back, not wanting to crowd the door.

  At least, that’s what she told herself. In reality, she wanted to be ready to run if he didn’t act like he wanted her there.

  God, she was so confused.

  The door opened and she looked directly at . . . nothing.

  Sliding her gaze down, she smiled at Finn as he said, “Wonder Woman!” and dashed back into the apartment, leaving the door wide open.

  “Hey, pumpkin,” her mother said, making Odie double-take at the sight of her mother in her boyfriend’s apartment. “I was watching him, but he asked so nicely if he could open the door and once I checked it was you, I said okay.”

  “Mom? What are you doing here?” She stepped over for a hug, drawing comfort from the feel of her mom’s arms around her.

  “Helping,” came the response as her mother let her go, the “Duh, what do you think I’m doing here” going unsaid but lingering between them nonetheless.

  “But?”

  “But nothing. Austin came out to our place yesterday and asked if I’d come along since he was nervous and he also needed time with you.”

  “He did?”

  The glint in her mom’s eyes was both cheerful and cheeky. “He did. He explained his mistake—and it was a mistake, you know that, don’t you?—and asked for help.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Her mom patted her arm. “He’s just changing a diaper, and then I’m going to take those kids while you two talk, okay?”

  Nodding, Odie led the way further into Austin’s apartment, stopping when she saw him walking in from the laundry area with a sleepy Kennedy cradled against him.

  Sweet baby Jesus on a Christmas cake, he shouldn’t look that good holding a baby.

  But he did. With one big hand laid gently on the back of Kennedy’s head, supporting her neck, and the other engulfing the diaper-clad baby bum, Odie was pretty sure she could get pregnant just from staring at him.

  She couldn’t have moved her eyes if a parade of naked Avengers walked past. All the Chrises in their birthday suits had nothing on Austin Andrews sweetly holding his niece against his chest like she was the most precious thing in the world.

  “Odie, hi.” His eyes roved over her and she felt exposed. “I just need to find her something to wear and then . . .” He trailed off, but she knew what he was saying.

  They were going to talk.

  “Here you go, you left it on the sofa.” Odie’s mom draped a small white onesie over his shoulder and patted it in place. “Need some help?”

  “Ahh, maybe?” He sounded adorably unsure, and Odette hid her laugh behind her hand. “I can see you laughing over there, Odette. Your eyes give you away.”

  She lowered her hand and let him see the smile he
r little laugh had left behind. Things were going to be fine, she could feel it. Which is why she said, “I’ll help,” and shooed him back in the direction of the laundry room, where she could see a changing pad set-up.

  She watched as he lowered Kennedy to the pad, supporting her head the entire time, and placing a feather-light kiss on the baby’s forehead—she wasn’t jealous, not really, not at all, okay, a little bit—before turning to Odie with a helpless expression.

  “Your mom got her undressed. The snaps on these things are so small and”—he held up one hand, the other securely on Kennedy’s belly so she couldn’t roll away—“my hands are kinda big.”

  Odie leaned in and kissed the center of his palm. “I love your big hands,” she said, flushing as the implications of that statement struck her.

  But then again, they were true, so she held her ground and forced back her bite of embarrassment.

  He was her boyfriend, and she was allowed to love his big hands for many reasons, sweet and dirty alike.

  “Your mom also showed me how to change the diaper earlier, and it was easier than I thought.” A self-deprecating half-grin. “Didn’t stop her from peeing while I was getting it on her though. It bubbled out like I don’t know what. What bubbles?”

  “A brook?”

  “A soda stream?”

  “A bubble-machine?”

  “Obviously a bubble-machine, Odie. Jeez.” He looked ready to add something else, but Kennedy’s sudden squawk reminded them that she was still only partially dressed, and they had other things to worry about before they worried about themselves or their banter.

  “Here, let me”—she reached around his shoulders to grab the baby’s outfit—“and you just hold her still.”

  “On it,” he said with a mini-salute, and together they got Kennedy dressed, then swaddled. “We are a good fuc–I mean, we work well together, do we not?” He corrected his near-slip of language and added a British accent for no reason whatsoever that Odie could imagine.

  Just Aussie being Aussie, she assumed.

  “We do.”