Complicated Parts: Book 1 of the Complicated Parts Duet

by Ashley Jade

  The connection between us feels like a tangible thing. A stream of energy that you can reach out and touch. It's enough to knock me right off my feet.

  But I won't let it. Because if she's headed for a crash, I want to be the one to soften her landing.

  No, more than that. I don't just want to break her fall, I want to crash with her. This way, she never has to go through it alone.

  I hold out my arms and her response is automatic. A gravitational force that pulls her to me like a magnetic tether. Permanently binding us.

  The moment she's in my arms and all four of her limbs wrap around me, something changes.

  For the most part, I tend to operate on supersonic speed—lights, colors, all sorts of stimuli whiz through my brain. It puts my body in a constant state of fight or flight as it desperately struggles to keep up with my impulsive need for more, more, more. The only time my neurons aren't firing rapidly is when I'm drunk or sleeping.

  But right now? It's like my circuits have been regulated.

  Kit doesn't drown out the noise, dull the colors or slow things down.

  No. She centers me. Makes it easier to take everything in.

  Like the smell of her hair. It's some kind of fruity mixture, maybe blueberry or raspberry. Whatever it is, it's intoxicating.

  My hands slide down her lower back, stopping when I reach the little indents above her ass, and fuck me sideways because her skin feels like warm satin. So delicate and smooth.

  It makes my heart shift into overdrive.

  Or maybe not, because it's not my heart thumping wildly against my chest like a feral animal stuck in a cage.

  It's hers.

  It throws me for such a loop, I briefly forget the reason she's in my arms to begin with.

  “You're not crazy.” I cup her cheek, waiting for her to look at me. “You're colorful and beautiful and unconventional. A unique blend of heart and fire that should never be diluted. A girl who's so imperfectly perfect, she steals my breath.”

  Tears fill her eyes and she clutches me tighter.

  “They existed,” I whisper when she lays her head on my shoulder. “I'm holding the evidence right here in my arms.”

  And I don't want to let her go.

  The seconds stretch between us for what feels like forever before she speaks. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  She sniffles. “For this. For not calling me a basket case. For saying the nice things you did.”

  I want to tell her she never has to thank me for that, because I meant what I said, but she lifts her head.

  I'm not sure what to make of the expression on her face.

  “I have to ask you something important and I need you to tell me the truth.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Are you still with Becca?”

  I shake my head so hard I'm surprised it doesn't detach from my body. “No.”

  She eyes me skeptically. “You swear?”

  I meet her stare. “On my life. We are over. So over I'm gonna have to find a way to resurrect the ancient Egyptians so they can invent some new hieroglyphics for the word.”

  “Are you sure—”

  “Finito.”

  “So you don't have any—”

  “Niet.”

  “Okay, because s—”

  “Caput.”

  “Preston.”

  “Persona non-fucking-grata, Kit. We're done.”

  Relief flashes across her face. “So it's really true then. God, I was so worried you two were still together and I was some kind of homewrecker. Or worse, that you still had feelings for her and we—”

  I cut her off because I need her to believe me. Especially now that she's made it clear she wants to pursue whatever this thing is between us just as much as I do.

  “You have nothing to worry about. In fact, part of the reason I came here today was so I could tell you we were over.” I tip her chin. “Believe me, the only feelings I have for her are the murderous kind. If I never see her again in my lifetime it will be too soon.”

  Her eyes narrow into tiny slits. “Won't that be a little difficult considering she's—”

  “Still living with me?” I grind my molars. “Yeah, not for long. I'll be getting rid of that succubus and her bastard baby for good.”

  Kit's mouth drops open and she frantically motions for me to put her down.

  The moment I do, she shoves me. “What the fuck, Preston? Becca told me how bad you treated her last night, but it's so much worse than I thought.”

  Her statement roots me to the spot and I shake my head, certain I must have misheard her.

  Right as I open my mouth to ask her what the hell is going on, an authoritative voice shouts, “Police!”

  XII

  "Congrats, jackass. Now I hate you.” —Kit Bishop

  “Police!” the voice repeats. “I'm going to need whoever is on that elevator to identify yourself.”

  “Last night?” Preston bites out, oblivious to the officer trying to rescue us.

  He takes a step forward and my heart clenches, despite the swell of anger pumping through my veins.

  It turns out the guy who consoled me like a friend and held me like I was something precious...is nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing.

  No, worse than that. He's a heartless monster who would refer to his unborn baby as a bastard after declaring he was going to toss the future mother of his child out on the street.

  No matter what she did, neither Becca nor the baby deserve someone who would do that to them.

  “Answer me, Kit.”

  His voice is a deep rumble that makes my blood boil.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  I raise my middle finger at him and then direct my attention to the policeman. “Thank you, officer. My name is Kit Bishop, the person I'm with is Preston Holden, and we'll be right down.”

  I go to reach for the button, but Preston's large hand wraps around my wrist and he tugs me to him.

  “Let go of me.”

  “No, not until you—”

  “Miss,” the officer shouts. “Is everything okay?”

  I start to answer, but Preston pounds on the wall with his free hand. “We need a minute here.”

  I gape at him. “Have you lost your mind? You can't—”

  “Listen,” the officer says. “We can either do this the easy way or the hard way, because once—”

  “Goddammit, officer. I just need one motherfucking minute with her!”

  I gawk at the unhinged jerk in front of me. “So help me God I am not in the mood to have another gun pointed at my head again today, you freaking psychopath. Cut the shit, Holden.”

  A radio crackles in the distance. “This is Officer DeBoer requesting assistance. It appears there is an active hostage situation on the elevator.”

  My heart jumps into my throat. “No. I'm not his hostage, officer. He's just a stubborn schmuck.” I kick the schmuck in question. “Do you even realize what's happening because of you right now, you idiot.”

  He remains unfazed, his features hard like granite. “Answer the question.”

  Swear on my life, I've never met anyone who gave fewer fucks than he does.

  “Let go of me and I'll consider it,” I grit through my teeth.

  He drops my wrist. “Start talking.”

  Nerves catch in my throat and I swallow thickly. “She came to my dorm room last night and we talked.”

  His gaze is scrutinizing. “You talked.”

  It's not a question, it's an accusation. And had it been five minutes ago, it would have cut me down to size and made me feel horrible.

  Five minutes ago, when I thought we could be friends.

  Five minutes ago, when I asked him about Becca because I wanted to come clean to my friend about what happened.

  Five minutes ago, when I thought...

  I shake the thought out of my head before it can take root. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is what's happening between us
now.

  And right now? I hate the way he's sizing me up like I'm the one in the wrong. “Are you hard of hearing or something? Yes, we talked.”

  He braces both arms on either side of my body, trapping me. Like a cobra who’s found his dinner. “Well, evidently I was the topic of conversation. Mind informing me what she said?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  He tips his head to the side, studying my face. Like he's calculating my every move and can see right through me.

  I hate how unsettled it makes me feel.

  Almost as much as I hate how for one split second he...we...

  No, no, no.

  For fuck's sake, I don't even like dick.

  Whatever I thought I might have felt was nothing more than a response to an emotional and stressful situation.

  I needed comfort...he was the only one around. It was nothing more than human biology.

  And now that the fog has lifted and reality has set in, I see the truth clear as day.

  Preston Holden is toxic. A scheming vulture who preys on people.

  Becca, his unborn baby, even his own brother. And now me.

  Screw that.

  I refuse to let him intimidate or use me. I know who my heart belongs to and it's not him.

  It's the girl who made me cry myself to sleep nearly every night over the last few months...because I missed her so damn much.

  And if I have any chance of making it work with her, I need to get rid of him.

  “What we talked about is none of your business. I don't owe you any explanations.” I get close to his face. “But if you value your testicles, I suggest you back the hell up and stay away from me and Becca for good.”

  “Christ, why are you acting like this? I thought we—” He pauses, his eyes blazing with confusion. “What exactly did she tell you?”

  His earnest expression makes my heart clench and I have to remind myself that he's a cold and heartless prick who doesn't want anything to do with his baby.

  He's everything Becca told me he was.

  “She told me everything, Preston.”

  “Then none of this makes any sense. Not unless—” Slowly, he drags his gaze up and down my body. “You slept with her last night, didn't you?”

  I glare at him. “That's really none of your concern. Especially now that you aren't in the picture anymore.”

  His jaw tics. “Stupid or desperate?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Which one are you? Stupid enough to fall for someone who was obviously playing the shit out of you again? Or desperate to get laid?”

  My cheeks flame, but I won't let him know how much his words sting.

  “That's pretty interesting coming from you. Considering you're the epitome of a loser if there ever was one.” I grimace, disgust rippling through me. “Therefore, what you think about me means absolutely nothing. You can stick your judgments where the sun doesn’t shine.”

  He smiles, the action showcasing his deep dimples. “See, that's where you're wrong. I'm not judging you. If anything, you have my condolences, baby.” My abs clench when he runs his nose along my neck and inhales me. “Her pussy isn't worth the trouble it brings. Take it from me.” He leans in until his lips are a centimeter from mine. “Thanks for getting rid of my headache for me, buddy.”

  With that, he reaches over and hits the button on the elevator.

  XIII

  “It only hurts when I breathe.” —Kit Bishop

  “She's not available. May I take a message?”

  Irritation crawls up my spine as I cradle the hospital phone between my ear and shoulder. It's bad enough my Nanna wouldn't answer her cell for me, now I have no choice but to resort to leaving a message with one of her housekeepers.

  “Actually, you can. Tell her that her only granddaughter is in the hospital after she was almost shot and killed at her college university today, and she could really use some family support. Perhaps a ride home too, if it's not too much to ask.”

  “I can't make any guarantees that I will reach her in a timely fashion, but I'll be sure to pass your message along. Might I suggest that it would behoove you in the future to call her cell phone regarding these particular situations.”

  “I did. Six times since I've been here.”

  “I see. Well, in that case, is there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

  “Yeah, tell my Nanna it would behoove her to pick up her cell phone and listen to her voicemails once in a while.”

  I ignore the obnoxious snort coming from the other side of the curtain and slam the phone down on the receiver.

  I think about calling Becca next, but a nurse walks in.

  “When can I go home?”

  She gives me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. “Not for a few more hours I'm afraid. Given the circumstances, the doctor wants you to talk to a social worker before he clears you for discharge.”

  She pats my leg sympathetically before she turns to leave.

  “Wait.” I maneuver off the stretcher turned pseudo bed and stand. “Any news on Landon Parker yet?”

  Both Preston and I tried asking the police about him after we were forced to come out of the elevator with our hands up, but they wouldn't tell us anything.

  The gruesome cafeteria we walked into didn't provide any answers either, seeing as most of the crime scene was covered with tarps and whatever wasn't...was in a body bag.

  I couldn't bring myself to count them. And given the way his hand enclosed mine when I impulsively reached for it at that moment, I don't think Preston could either.

  Well, except for one—because they were still zipping him up as the police escorted us out.

  I fight off a shiver as Kyle's lifeless eyes bore through my mind.

  Even in death, they looked exactly the same. Hollow.

  Like all the pain in his heart ate right through his soul...but not before stripping him of every ounce of his humanity first.

  I don't think I'll ever be able to get the visual out of my head.

  “I'm sorry,” the nurse says, zapping me out of my thoughts. “I can't give out any information.”

  “He was my friend.” My voice cracks and I know I'm a razor's edge away from losing it again, but I'm powerless to my emotions. “He saved my life.”

  The curtain dividing the small hospital room opens swiftly.

  “And mine,” Preston says, positioning himself at the end of his bed and crossing his arms.

  The nurse looks between the both of us. “I really can't—”

  “What if it was you?” I question at the same time Preston says, “He's my brother's boyfriend. I know that doesn't technically qualify us as family but I think it warrants telling me if he's alive or not.”

  His stoic expression softens slightly. “I don't need to know specific details, but I'd appreciate it if you could give me a heads up. This way I can prepare myself for when my brother walks through those doors and I have to pull the rug right out from under him.”

  I know Preston's only trying to persuade the nurse, but a lump swells in my throat when I realize I'll have to do the same for Breslin.

  She frowns. “He was airlifted to the hospital.”

  Relief flows through me because that means he's alive, but then she says, “His injuries are substantial, so you should probably prepare your brother for the worst. That's really all I can say at this point, I'm sorry.”

  Tears blur my vision when she walks out, and I clutch the side of the bed. It's like someone took out my beating heart and submerged it in a sea of guilt.

  “Kit,” Preston starts to say at the same time Breslin and Asher charge into the room.

  I barely have time to process what's happening before Breslin's wrapping me up in a hug so tight it hurts, and Asher does the same to Preston.

  “Thank God you're okay,” she whispers, and I lose the tiny shred of composure I was clinging to.

  I can't do this to her. I know this grief too well and I'd rather walk th
rough fire than ever put my best friend through it.

  She cradles my face in her hands, mistaking my dread for affliction. “Kit, honey, it's okay. You're okay.”

  No, I'm not okay and it's not okay. Nothing will ever be okay again...and it's all my fault.

  Landon wouldn't have been in that cafeteria if it wasn't for me.

  Oh God. I can't breathe. Truth is a tenacious, callous bitch. She could give Karma a run for her money any day.

  No matter how you slice it, there's no way his death won't fall on my shoulders.

  I'm responsible for taking a sweet and caring human like Landon out of this world.

  It makes me no better than the pilot who took my parents.

  “What's going on?” Asher whispers.

  I look down at the floor and suck in a breath, trying with all my might to gather the courage it will take to say the words that will shatter both their hearts.

  “Kit,” Breslin says sharply.

  I curl my arms around myself. “Landon was in the cafeteria with us.”

  She stares at me in confusion and I know she's not comprehending what I'm saying because how could she?

  Landon's supposed to be in England and Preston never told them he was in the cafeteria.

  I'm not just pulling the rug out from under her, I'm pulling the entire world out from under her.

  I know how much she loves Landon. Hell, I knew she was in love with him before she even knew she was.

  How do you tell your best friend you're not only responsible for her boyfriend being in harm's way in the first place...but you left the man she loves to die?

  I can't do it.

  Even though she deserves to hear it from me and I should be the one to tell her...

  I just don't have what it takes to break someone's heart. It's an ability I never inherited.

  I look over at Preston. I need him to do it.

  He meets my eyes briefly before he says the words I can't bring myself to. “He was trying to protect us and Kyle shot him.”

  Breslin blanches and blinks, too shocked to understand a word of what Preston told her. Not until a guttural sound tears from Asher's throat just before he runs out of the room and she follows him.