The Fragile Line: Part Three (The Fine Line #4)

by Alicia Kobishop

  Was I dreaming? I had no idea how much her forgiveness would mean to me. But now that she was offering it, I felt so light I almost started floating.

  “That day—” I replied. “—was a turning point for me. It was the first time I really thought about what a disaster my life had become. For what it’s worth, I’m not that person anymore. And I don’t plan to be like that ever again.”

  “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. But—for what it’s worth—I believe you.”

  I wanted to hug her, but we weren’t close enough for that. We probably never would be. Instead, I said, “I can see why Logan loves you. Thank you so much Liv.”

  She nodded, “Of course, Chloe.”

  “Uh—I’m sorry, you’re probably dying to go see him. Don’t let me keep you, I’ll just wait—”

  “You go,” she interrupted. “Gavin and I paper-rock-scissored it to see who’d go see Logan next and he won. After the way he just ogled you, I think it’s only fair that you take his place.”

  I thanked her. Again. Then awkwardly apologized. Again. Then finally, I made my way to Logan’s room.

  ~~~

  I gently knocked on Logan’s hospital room door, and poked my head in, whispering, “Hey stranger.”

  He turned his head toward me, hazel eyes brightening when he recognized me, “Hey Chloe. Wow, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Uh—ditto,” I teased as I approached his bed. Wanting to clear the air before anything else, I confessed, “I saw Liv in the waiting room. I told her everything. She—”

  “Is she okay?” Worry lined his eyes. “She told me she was, but she took a fucking bullet for chrissake, and did you see that bruise on her head?”

  “Yeah. I mean, she seemed okay. She’s happy you’re okay.”

  He nodded, accepting my answer. “She’s incredible, Chloe. So damn strong. And even through the bruises, she’s fucking beautiful.”

  I smiled. Not only because seeing him so in love made me happy, but because I finally knew exactly how he felt.

  “I really like her, Logan. I hate that I was such a stupid asshole to her.”

  “You two talked, huh?”

  “Yeah. We did. It was good. Awkward. But good. She really is an amazing person. I’m happy for you both.”

  He smiled slightly, his eyes meeting mine. “Thank you, Chloe.”

  I nodded. After a few minutes of cordial small talk, silence rested on us and I realized that there was nothing else left for me to say. Nothing left to do here.

  “I’m really glad you’re okay, Logan. I’m gonna go. You belong with your friends, not—well—not me. I guess I just came because I still care about you.” Realizing how that must’ve sounded to him, I clarified, “I mean, not like that, I don’t love you or anything, I just—”

  He chuckled, amused at my lack of grace, then winced at the pain his laughter caused.

  I gasped, “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

  “Fuck,” he said, mostly to himself. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’ll be nice when these ribs heal, though.” Looking back at me he added, “Hey, do me a favor, will you?” I expected him to ask me to adjust his pillows, or call a nurse for more pain meds, but instead he said, “Talk to Matt, Chloe. Call him. You two need to clear the air. Will you do that for me? By the way, you should say yes to the crippled man.”

  Logan had no idea yet that Matt left filming and came all the way from Vegas here to see him.

  “Already done,” I said, turning to leave. “But he can tell you the details. I’ll send him in.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ~Chloe~

  After our visits with Logan, and after saying goodbye to Liv and Gavin, Matt and I made our way to the hospital lobby. The last couple of hours had been such a whirlwind that I almost forgot about the reporters outside until we approached the glass entrance door and saw them lined up on the sidewalk.

  “Shit,” Matt grumbled, stopping abruptly when he saw them. “I knew signing up for the show could mean being recognized once in a while, but I never expected people to follow me around to this extent. It’s fucking weird.”

  Realizing why he wouldn’t take any further steps forward, I blurted, “You can’t be seen with me, can you?”

  His brows pulled together, a mixture of pain and regret, the look on his face confirming my suspicion.

  “It’s okay,” I continued, trying to mask my disappointment. I knew we wouldn’t have much time together before he had to go back to Vegas, but I didn’t think it would be cut off now. It killed me that this might be our last chance to see each other for a while. “We’ll just have to wait a little longer I guess. Don’t worry, I understand. I know you have your reasons for making it seem like you and Ava are together and I know that you have a responsibility to your show.” Forcing a smile when all I wanted to do was cry, I added, “I’m not going anywhere. You said we’d figure it out and I believe you.”

  He growled in frustration, “Fuck that.” He took my hands, a renewed determination gleaming in his eyes. “I’m fucking proud to be with you Chloe. You’ll never be a secret. And I want the whole damn world to know you come first.” He turned his head, looking out the revolving glass door, then back at me, “Where’s your car?”

  “Parking garage.” I pointed past the paparazzi, to the parking structure behind them.

  “Okay. I’ll get us through the reporters, but they’re going to be brutal. They’re going to ask rude questions and I’ve learned the hard way that even when you want to answer them to set them straight, it’s best to ignore them. Trust me, they’re going to know the truth, Chloe, but it won’t be on their terms. It’ll be on ours. Are you cool with that?”

  I nodded, “I trust you, Matt. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

  “Besides, the only thing I want to do right now is get you to your apartment and rip your clothes off. The quicker we can get through them, to do that, the better.”

  “Uh—yeah—about that. I’ve moved. And, I live with a ten-year-old. My place might not be the best place to get naked.” I thought for a moment. “I mean we could go to my place, but we’d have to be really quiet and I sure as hell don’t like being quiet, and I know you don’t like me being quiet…”

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  “Long story.” I divulged. “We have some catching up to do.”

  He accepted my answer, shrugging it off. “My place it is.”

  Hand in hand we walked toward the cameras. Lights flashed. Microphones were shoved in our faces. Voices asked Matt questions like; Who’s the new girl? Does Ava know you’re with another woman? Are you having an affair? The one question directed at me made my stomach drop; How does it feel to break up America’s favorite couple?

  ~~~

  ~Matt~

  Oh, hell no.

  Whoever asked that question of Chloe was about to get set straight. Going against my own advice, I came to a dead halt.

  “Who the fuck said that?” I demanded in frustration. The reporters’ questions quieted down but only slightly. I scanned the crowd, noticing that one of the cameramen had his finger pointed at the short, older man next to him who wore a white collared shirt and tie and had a mic in his hand. Now that the little guy had my attention, it seemed he had nothing more to ask. Go figure.

  “Alright,” I conceded, addressing not just the small man, but the entire crowd. “You’re all looking for some news, right? Well I’ve got something important to share and I’m ready to make a statement.” All voiced ceased. Microphones extended out toward me. Keeping my fingers laced with Chloe’s, I continued, “As you may or may not know, my best friend is here in the ICU. When I heard about his accident, I jumped on the first flight home to be with him, his family, and our friends. How the media found out about that? I’ll never know. But I’m glad you’re here today because my friend is alive, well, and expected to make a full recovery. And that, my friends, is what we should all be focusing on today. Nothing else. Thank you.”
>
  I led Chloe through the crowd, thankful that once we reached the parking structure’s enclosed elevator entrance, they stopped following us. What I said was true. The fact that these people wanted to create more rumors, or spread gossip about me or any other reality TV personality was beyond me. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for TV. Hell, I know I wasn’t cut out for it.

  I sure did love the shop job, though.

  After a chime, the elevator door opened. We entered the confined space, the door sliding closed behind us, and I could finally focus on the one thing I wanted to focus on the most. Her. My girl. And fuck me, when I looked into her beautiful eyes, all I could see was sadness.

  “Spill it, Chloe,” I urged. “Why so sad?”

  “You need to know that I meant it when I told you how I feel about you—”

  “That you’re madly in love with me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. But—”

  “That you want my body more that you want your left ti—”

  “Matt, stop it! This is serious. I meant it when I said I won’t be anyone’s second best.”

  Fuck. She thought I was ashamed of her? When her eyes met mine, all distress in them had turned into that spunk that had attracted me to her in the first place. God, I loved the fire inside of her. The fire that told the world she wasn’t going to take shit from anyone.

  “What the hell would make you think that?” Oh crap. I knew why. “Is this because I didn’t tell the paparazzi about you?”

  “Well…yeah…I guess. I mean, logically, I get why you didn’t tell them. I really do. I just wasn’t prepared for the way it made me feel that you didn’t.”

  “Hey,” the pads of my fingers trailed down her jaw, and I lifted her chin, forcing her to face me. Her eyes darkened as her cheek leaned into my hand, and Jesus her reaction did things to me. I couldn’t fucking wait to get her home. But first, she needed to know why I said—or didn’t say—what I did to the reporters. “Nobody will ever compare to you; do you hear me? Nobody even comes close. And I meant it when I said you’re not going to be a secret. The only thing I wanted to do back there was tell those assholes that you’re my girl. That I fucking love you and that we’re together. But it’s important that we do it our way. And I promise, we’re not going to have to wait long. This shit’s going to get cleared up today.” I pulled her into my arms. “Please believe me, Chloe. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

  “I do,” she said. Looking up at me with her arms hugging my waist she added, “I do, Matt. I believe in you. I believe in us.”

  ~~~

  ~Chloe~

  Matt had his phone out, dialing before we even reached my car. As we approached it, I clicked the car remote to unlock the doors, its electronic chirp echoing throughout the structure. With Matt’s phone on his ear, waiting for his call to be answered, we walked in silence except for the sound of our footsteps on concrete and the low whistle of the damp spring breeze that chilled me to the bone.

  I had no idea who he was calling. A producer of the show? Dalton Davis? Nor did I have a clue as to how he would clear up this mess we seemed to be in. As I stepped into the driver’s side of my car, and he stepped into the passenger’s, I got my answer.

  “Ava,” Matt said into his phone as we sat down and closed our doors. “Hey. We need to talk.”

  I started the car, a pang of jealously slicing through my heart at the sound of her name on his voice. I knew my reaction was irrational. I trusted Matt. Given my experience on both sides of betrayal, however, being suspicious seemed to come second nature to me.

  As I made a mental note to work harder on my trust issues, Matt made the task easy for me by noticing my tension, taking my hand, and placing two soft kisses on my knuckles. When I looked into his eyes and recognized the respect and adoration behind his, all apprehension melted away.

  Without looking away from me, he said to Ava, “Remember that girl I told you about? Yeah, the one with the pink hair.” He playfully took a handful of my now completely blond hair, and cocked a brow at me. I guess he didn’t approve of the new look I was going for. I rolled my eyes and swatted him away, taking my focus off him, and backed out of the parking spot. “Yeah. We talked. It turns out she couldn’t resist the man-candy—” through my peripheral vision, I caught him taking his left pec muscle in his palm to give it a spirited squeeze. “—that is Matt Langston.”

  Laughter erupted not only from my lips, but also through his phone, followed by words from Ava that I couldn’t make out.

  “Yeah,” he continued in a more serious tone. “I love her, Ava. I know you’ve been wanting to clear the air with your dad. Now is the time to do it…Look, I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this, but I promised my girl the media would know the truth. And it has to be today.”

  Chapter Twelve

  ~Chloe~

  It started in the car.

  After he ended the call with Ava, Matt ditched his phone by tossing it over his shoulder onto the back seat, then made it his mission to distract me all the way to his place.

  As we cruised up Lincoln Avenue, Matt’s warm hand cruised up the inseam of my jeans, squeezing and kneading in all the right spots, making my knees weak and my heart beat strong. When I stopped the car at a red light, he leaned in and pressed his heated, wet lips to my neck, tongue gliding and teeth tenderly nipping. Goosebumps erupted on my skin and just as I turned my head to kiss him back, the light turned green. Fucking light. I stole a kiss anyway, keeping the car at a standstill, ignoring the friendly double-beep from the car behind me.

  Taking his cheeks in my hands, his short stubble prickling my palms, I pulled his face to mine, a hungry moan slipping from my throat as our tongues slid together in a vigorous rendezvous. Only when the horn behind us let out a fierce blare did Matt force us to stop. Resting his forehead on mine, he said in a low gravelly voice that brimmed with longing, “Patience, Chloe. We’re almost there.”

  The rest of the ride was torture as I tried to concentrate on the road while he overwhelmed my senses. His hands caressed my body while his lips continued to trail my neck, tasting a small sample of what was to come. The moment we arrived in his driveway, I promptly put the car in park, unbuckling as I killed the engine, just in time for us to crash into each other and consume ourselves in a kiss so rich in lust and affection that I didn’t think either of us could wait another moment to shred each other’s clothes off. Somehow, instead of opening my door, I ended up on his side of the car, straddling him as we made out, my palm slipping under his shirt and making contact with the hot skin of his abdomen.

  “God, I want you,” I vaguely heard myself whisper through kisses. “I need you now, Matt. It’s been so fucking long.”

  The pads of my fingers trailed lower, under the waistline of his jeans, slipping beneath his boxer briefs, when he let out a growl and mumbled something like, “not here,” just before opening his passenger side car door, letting a blast of cold air inside that momentarily distracted us.

  Disoriented by the contrast of cold air against hot skin, I pulled my lips away, disappointed that we stopped, but refreshed by the fact that according to his expression, he looked just as close to losing control as I felt.

  “Then where?” I asked, remaining on top of him, my voice throatier than I expected it to be.

  One corner of his mouth angled upward, “Exactly where we left off.” Pointing outside, he ordered, “Out.”

  We exited the car, and I followed him to the side-door of his house, impatiently waiting as he found his key in his pocket and unlocked the door. Holding it open for me, he said, “After you.”

  I could feel his eyes on me as I passed through the threshold. I entered the kitchen and took a look around as I let my coat drop off my shoulders, noticing that despite Matt being gone for three months, his house was impeccably clean. Not a speck of dust anywhere. Even the air smelled fresh. As I placed my coat on a chair, I briefly thought of teasing him about his compulsive cleanliness, and how
he must’ve hired someone to keep his place clean while he was gone, but I didn’t give a single fuck about that. All I wanted to think about right now was being with him. Touching him and letting him touch me.

  “Right there, Chloe. Stop,” his deep voice commanded from behind me.

  Right here? What was so special about the middle of his kitchen? I turned around to face him, giving him a questioning look. His eyes shifted to my right, and when I saw what he was looking at, I couldn’t help but smile. The refrigerator.

  “Remember, Chloe?” he said as he walked toward me, his eyes determined. “Our last morning together was cut short. For the last three months, I’ve been thinking about what would’ve happened—” he stepped toward me, and took hold of my face, his fingers at the base of my skull, thumb on my cheek. He moved forward, pressing his body against mine and my back against the fridge. “—right here—if that doorbell hadn’t have rung that morning.”

  “I guess now’s our chance to find out,” I invited, watching him carefully. His jaw clenched, the primal look in his eye only increasing my need for him.

  I stood on my toes to get close enough to press my lips onto his. Lacing my fingers into his belt loops, I pulled him even closer, and he responded in the best way, his hands gripping my ass, a soft hum slipping from his throat as he deepened our kiss and bent his knees just enough to slowly grind into me.

  He slipped his hands under my shirt, warm palms resting on my waist for only a moment before he slid them up my sides, lifting my shirt just like he did the last time he had my back against the fridge. My body reacted in the same delicious way it did during our last encounter in this very spot, my skin burning with anticipation, heart beating wildly in my ears. This time, though, there was nothing stopping him. As he brought my shirt higher and higher, he raised my arms up until my shirt was over my head and thrown to the floor, a move that separated us briefly, giving us both a moment to catch our breaths and lose ourselves in each other’s stares.