Or they had been.
“What do you think?” Paige asks as she appears next to me and holds up a pretty dark blue blouse.
“It'll look great with the skirt.”
Paige nods and looks at the clothing rack I'm standing in front of. “Find anything?”
I grab the closest pair in my size. “These, I think.”
We head for the dressing room and spend about five minutes trying on clothes before we browse the shop for a shirt to match my pants.
“Have you told Cole?” Paige asks me tentatively.
“No, I haven't heard from him.”
“Typical,” Paige mutters under her breath and I pretend not to have heard her.
Twenty minutes later we leave the shop and Paige slumps down in the passenger seat of my car as we head back to her apartment.
I glance at her as I drive. “Paige, you have to know that Cole's going to want to be there for the funeral, don't you?”
She stares moodily out her window. “Just keep him away from me.”
“I can do that,” I say slowly, “but then I can't be with you.”
“My mom's coming, she's going to work an hour later than normal.”
“I'm glad her boss let her have off for the funeral.”
“Me too.” I see Paige turn toward me out of the corner of my eye. “How can you be with him, Blayre? He destroys people.”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I spend way too much time defending Cole to everyone in my life and that in itself is getting downright exhausting.
“Did he drag you into something too?” She asks me suspiciously.
Damn.
I slow the car down at an intersection. “I love him,” I say as I avoid looking at her and study the stop lights before me.
“You love Cole?” she asks with disbelief.
“Yes.”
It's the only thing I could come up with to throw the conversation off course. I know I'm not in love with Cole. Honestly, I think I am probably falling for Noah instead. What I should really be doing is ending my relationship with Cole but when I think of that, I feel a hint of panic rising within my chest.
Paige falls silent but only for a moment before saying, “He only lets you see the part of him he wants you to see. He's poison beneath that 'bad boy facade' of his.”
“There are parts of him that are good, Paige. Do you really want to be talking about Cole?” I ask as I cruise through the newly turned green light.
“No,” she admits with a sigh.
“Are you hungry? We can stop off somewhere and get something to eat,” I suggest in hopes of lightening the conversation.
“No, thanks.”
My eyes shift to her briefly with concern. “You've barely eaten anything since yesterday.”
“I'm fine, Blayre.”
“Okay.”
“Blake's mom seems to be taking his death better than I am. She called this morning to tell me that I can stop over any time and go through Blake's stuff to see if there is anything I'd like to keep,” she says quietly as I see her picking at her nails from the corner of my eye.
“That's really kind of her.”
“Linda's always been supportive of me and Blake.”
“You'll have each other to lean on in the coming days, so that will help.”
“I don't think I can go back over there. Ever.”
As I pull into the parking lot at the apartment complex, I glance at her before I put the car in park and cut the engine. “What?”
Paige stares dismally out the window. “I don't think I can go over there. There's too many memories.”
“Paige...”
“It's hot in here. I'm going inside. Coming?” She asks abruptly as she opens the passenger door and climbs out of the car.
***
Paige's mom ends up getting off work early, so I'm back home by six-thirty that night. I'm a bit surprised to find Tate home and I have a feeling he is sticking close this weekend to keep an eye on me. I feel awful knowing he's concerned about how I am dealing with Blake's death and Paige's grief.
I don't deserve it.
“Have you eaten?” Tate asks as I make my way into the kitchen.
I shake my head. Paige hadn't been hungry all day and it hadn't felt right to eat in front of her.
“Sit. Pizza?”
“Sure,” I say as I head for the stools at the island counter. As I walk past the patio doors, I catch sight of Noah outside—shirtless as he sprays down the flowers and shrubbery with the garden hose. His back is to me and I look away as I sit down. We had yet to finish the conversation we'd started yesterday morning and I was thankful for that. I don't want to listen to him tell me that he wants more than I can possibly give him.
I try to shove him out of my mind while I watch Tate take a pizza box out of the refrigerator. He piles three slices of pizza on a plate before putting it in the microwave.
I find myself propping my hand on my chin and watching him move about the kitchen. He pours me a glass of lemonade. “You don't have to wait on me.”
“I know.” He looks at me questioningly. “How's Paige?”
“She's doing as well as can be expected.” The microwave beeps and Tate pulls the plate out and sets it in front of me along with the lemonade. “Thanks,” I murmur as pick up a slice.
Tate leans a hip against the counter as he watches me. “The funeral is tomorrow at nine-thirty, right?”
I nod before taking a big bite of pizza. After barely eating today, I was beyond starved.
“Are you planning on going to school tomorrow after the burial service?”
“I'll probably go to Paige's afterwards. Her mom has to go to work right away so I'll spend the day with her.”
“You're going back to school on Tuesday though, right?”
“That's the plan.”
“Try not to deviate from it, I'd hate for you to fall too far behind with school.”
I chew my pizza instead of commenting. Missing even a day of school was probably a bad idea since my grades were so terrible, but I couldn't not go to Blake's funeral.
I hear the patio door slide open and I deliberately study the pizza on my plate as I chew. The last thing I need to deal with right now is a shirtless Noah. I'd had my hands all over that chest and those abs the other night and I don't need the reminder.
“Hey, how's Paige?” Noah asks me and in my peripheral vision I see him amble over to the refrigerator and pull out the pitcher of lemonade.
I have no choice but to look at him so he can read my lips, so I reluctantly lift my head and keep my eyes focused on his face while trying to ignore all that tanned, bare skin. “She's taking it hard.”
He nods, his eyes searching mine. “How are you?”
“I'm fine.”
The doorbell rings, the light flashing above the door and I see Noah's eyes shift to the light briefly as he pours himself a glass of lemonade and then puts the pitcher back in the fridge.
“Who could that be?” Tate mutters as he turns and heads out of the room, leaving me alone with Noah.
I find myself staring at my pizza as if it is the most fascinating thing on earth. I've always enjoyed looking at Noah. It was pretty nice having a hot guy around but now that I've gotten up close and very personal with him...well, things change. I feel a slow burn in the pit of my stomach as I fight back the memories of the other night.
Noah sighs loudly from across the kitchen. “You can't ignore me forever.”
I glance at him so he can read my lips and find he's leaning lazily against the refrigerator, his chest on full display. “I'm not ignoring you.”
“Right. That's why the second your brother leaves the room, you decide there's something ridiculously fascinating about the pizza on your plate,” he says dryly.
“I like to see what I am eating.”
Noah crosses his arms over his bare chest and studies me. “You act like you're mad at me.”
“I have no reason to be mad
,” I say as I go back to eating my pizza, my eyes on my plate.
“Then why are you avoiding looking at me?”
“Why can't you put a shirt on?” I snap with irritation as I look up at him accusingly.
Realization flickers in his dark gaze and I spy him fighting back a smile over the knowledge that I'm trying not to stare at his chest.
“Shut up,” I growl.
“Blayre, someone's here to see you,” Tate grumbles as he enters the kitchen.
I look up to see Cole standing there. He's back! I jump up from the stool—pizza forgotten as I rush over to him and fling my arms around him with relief. Finally! Someone to help me out with the funeral and with Paige—well, maybe not with Paige.
Cole's arms wrap around me tightly and I feel him kiss the top of my head. “I just heard the news. I came here since Paige isn't my biggest fan,” he says quietly to me.
“I tried calling you,” I say into his shoulder.
“I saw. How is Paige?”
I look up at him and as I meet his green eyes, I realize I really do care about him. It may not be love but there is something there. “She's a wreck,” I manage to say as guilt and remorse sweeps through me over the fact that I'd cheated on him the other night. What had I been thinking? Cole may not be perfect but in the end he's always there for me.
Tate clears his throat loudly from behind us. “You guys can go out on the patio if you'd like some privacy.”
It dawns on me that I'm still in Cole's arms, oblivious to my brother and...Noah.
Crap.
I pull out of Cole's embrace to find that Tate looks less than thrilled at our display of affection while Noah is looking at Cole like he'd like to beat him to a pulp, his jaw slightly clenched.
I realize the three of them in the same room is asking for trouble. I quickly grab Cole's hand and lead him outside onto the patio. Cole walks with me and then he sits down on a lounge chair and immediately pulls me onto his lap. I find myself leaning into him and I enjoy the feel of his body close to mine.
“Who's the shirtless guy?” Cole asks as he peers up at me, his eyes strangely watchful as he waits for my answer.
“Um, that's Noah. Tate's house mate.”
This has his eyes narrowing slightly. “I get why your brother doesn't like me, but why is the other one all pissed?”
“They're kind of protective,” I say as lightly as I can.
“Isn't that the one who's deaf?”
“Yes.” I look for any kind of distraction and I see that Cole's right hand is slightly swollen and bruised, red scratches marring his knuckles. I pick his hand up gently and look up, my eyes searching his. “What happened?”
Cole's jaw clenches as he glances at his battered hand before his fingers slip in between mine, holding my hand firmly in his. “I hit a wall.”
“When you found out about, Blake?” I ask, taking note of the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly messy blond hair. It looked like Cole had a rough weekend and now the news of Blake's death was obviously taking a toll on him.
“Yeah.”
“I'm sorry. I know you two were close,” I say softly.
He stares moodily out at the pool. “I can't believe he's gone. Was he drinking or something? Normally he's pretty cautious on his motorcycle.”
“The toxicology report came back today. He was,” I admit.
“So he just lost control or something?”
“Looks like it. I think Blake's mom told Paige that he took a corner too fast and he hit a tree.”
Cole falls silent for a long moment. “When is the funeral?”
“Tomorrow at nine-thirty.”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at me. “I better go find something decent to wear. Want to come with and help? I'm clueless about that shit.”
“Sure.”
Cole's arms tighten around me and he leans close, his lips meeting mine. My lips automatically part as I revel in his familiar taste—a mix between alcohol and yet something sweet. He kisses me for a long minute and then pulls back. “Let’s go,” he says as his hand tightens on mine.
We both stand up and when we enter the kitchen, we find it empty. Tate has the TV on in the living room and he does his usual grunt as we walk past and leave. When we walk outside, I look at the unfamiliar car parked in the driveway with surprise. No wonder no one had heard Cole pull up. “What's up with the car?”
“I'm just borrowing it from a friend for the weekend. I didn't feel like taking the motorcycle up the coast.”
I slide in the passenger side and peer at him as he settles into the driver’s seat. “The last car you had that you said was a friends turned out to be stolen. This one legit?”
Cole laughs as he starts the car up. “Would I drive a stolen car to a cop's house?”
“Knowing you, yes.”
Somber
There is a grave feeling in the air that
surrounds her
I'm nervous about the funeral. I've never been to one before or at least one that I can remember. I had been too young to remember my parents’ funeral. Actually, I have absolutely no memories from before the fire. All I have are the nightmares. I couldn't even remember what my parents looked like or if they'd smiled or hugged me a lot. It was almost as if my aunt and uncle had begrudged me any memories of them. They never put any pictures of my parents up at their house. I literally have nothing from my old life.
My lips press flat as I study my reflection in the mirror. I still have dark circles under my eyes and shadows in my gaze. Did people see the guilt that lay within their depths when they looked at me? I'd had a hand in three deaths now.
Slowly, I close my eyes and try to calm my thoughts. If I allowed too many dark thoughts in, I'd be jittery and on edge all day. With the funeral just a short hour away, that's the last thing I need.
I try to focus my thoughts on getting ready and I spend fifteen minutes trying to pull my dark hair into a neat bun at the nape of my neck. Finally, I feel that I am ready. I'm wearing a nice pair of black pants and a silvery-grayish blouse with black high heels.
When I open the bathroom door to leave, I am startled to find Noah standing in the hall, leaning against the opposite wall. Normally he is long gone by now and I take in his casual gray tee and the khaki shorts he's wearing. “Aren't you late for your morning class?” I ask with surprise.
“My first class doesn't start until ten.”
“But you always leave around the same time I do or a little before,” I point out.
“I hit the gym in the morning sometimes.” His brown eyes run over my dressy outfit. “You look very nice.”
“Thanks,” I murmur politely as I leave the bathroom and walk past him to enter my bedroom. I grab my cell phone and car keys off my dresser before shoving them in the only purse I own. Cole—believe it or not—felt that taking his motorcycle to Blake's funeral might be disrespectful, so I was picking him up since he'd returned his friend's car last night.
I turn around to find Noah standing in my doorway, his eyes focused on me. “Did you want something?” I ask with a frown, while on the inside I am sad and frustrated that things have changed between us. I wish we could go back to the easy friendship we'd had before we'd almost slept together.
“I want a lot of things, but for now I'll settle for your undivided attention,” he says simply.
I look at him incredulously. “I'm about to leave for a funeral and you want to do this now?”
He gives me a level look, his arms crossing over his chest. “No, I don't. But every time it so much as looks like I'm going to approach you, you run off.”
“I'm not running off. My best friend's boyfriend died.”
He steps forward, his eyes on mine. “I understand that, but I have a feeling you'll come up with all sorts of excuses to avoid this conversation. Am I right?” he asks, stopping directly in front of me.
“You're acting like a stalker,” I retort.
His eyes
narrow with displeasure. “Stalking implies the attraction is one sided. We both know it's not.”
“Noah, not today,” I say tiredly as I reach up and rub my right temple as it begins to throb. The day has just began and already my head is aching.
“If it was just about us, I'd wait.”
My eyes jerk to his. “What are you talking about?”
His eyes hold mine steadily as he deliberately says, “I'm talking about your scars.”
The blood drains from my face and I try not to panic. “The scar on my arm?” I ask, referring to the scar I now carried on my forearm when I cut too deep the night of the robbery. I'm praying that Noah isn't going where I think he's going with this conversation.
“No, Blayre,” he says quietly. “I'm referring to all those fine little scars on the insides of your thighs and around your pelvic region. That's why you wanted the light off, isn't it?” He watches my reaction closely as he waits for my reply.
My heart quickens and I feel a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. “You're imagining things.”
“I felt them, Blayre. Since the other night, I've been trying to figure out how they got there. What have you been doing?” He asks softly as his eyes turn grim.
“You're being ridiculous,” I say abruptly as I quickly move around him and rush down the hall.
“Run all you want, but I'll still be here when you get back!” he yells after me.
***
It's impossible to concentrate on the sermon during Blake's funeral. Instead, my mind is back at the house on my conversation with Noah. I'd just assumed that I'd be in the clear with the lights off the night we made out. The scars on my body were tiny little lines and they barely raised up from the smoothness of my skin around them. Whenever I ran my hand over them, I could barely feel them. But then again, Noah's hand had paused right on top of the scars when I'd instinctively tensed up. Would he have even noticed if I hadn't given away my sudden discomfort? His hand had after all just barely grazed the scars as it trailed up to...
Unraveled (Twisted Series) Page 2