“I didn’t mean to upset you, honey. But you need to prepare yourself. Life doesn’t always work out the way you expect it to.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Ayden is sitting on our porch as Mom parks her station wagon in the driveway. He is holding a bunch of lilies, and staring at me through the window of the car. “That boy is so in love with you,” she says, and there’s a wistful quality to her tone.
“No, he isn’t,” I protest, shaking my head. “You’re my mom. You’re supposed to think every boy’s in love with me.” I watch him watching me, looking for any signs that he’s head over heels in love, and I just don’t see it. He doesn’t look at me the way I imagine I look at Devin when I’m mooning over him.
Her subtle laughter lingers in the air. “You are beautiful, inside and out. No boy is immune to your charms.”
I roll my eyes, reaching for the door handle as I watch Ayden straighten up. “You’re definitely sleep-deprived, or crazy, or maybe a bit of both.” I shoot her a goofy grin. “Hardly any of the boys look my way in school, and I haven’t been asked out on a date in almost six months. Trust me, boys are definitely immune to my charms.”
The boy is, anyway. I don’t think Devin’s even noticed I’ve got a vagina and boobs. I’m firmly relegated to the friend zone.
“And you know why that is,” Mom continues, refusing to let this go.
“Hmm. Let me think.” I tap a finger off my chin as Ayden descends the steps toward the car. “Because Ayden and Devin scare them all off?” It’s not like I haven’t considered that before.
Mom chuckles again. “Well, there’s definitely that, but I was going to say your beauty and your spirit frightens them. Boys are too afraid to approach you.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh my God, Mom! You are crazy! I always suspected it, but now I know for sure.”
“What’s so funny?” Ayden asks, opening my door. “Hi, Natalie.” He smiles at my mom. For years both Ayden and Devin called Mom Mrs. Ward. It was only when I turned thirteen and she clued me in on the details of her wretched history with my abusive father that I realized how much it must’ve hurt to hear them calling her that day after day. That night, when the boys had climbed to my balcony, I asked them to call her Natalie and never to utter the words “Mrs. Ward” ever again. To this day, neither of them has forgotten.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” I murmur, fighting a blush. If she says anything to embarrass me in front of Ayden, I’ll never live it down.
“Angelina seems to think the reason no boys ask her out on dates is because you and Devin are cockblocking, but I happen to believe it’s because they are too intimidated by my daughter.”
“Mom!” I shriek, my cheeks turning ten different shades of red. “Language!” I splutter, as if our roles are reversed. She throws back her head, laughing at my obvious embarrassment. I risk a glance at Ayden, and he’s clearly fighting a laugh. “Don’t you dare, and if you ever repeat this conversation I’ll tell everyone it was you who flashed Mrs. Peterson when you were twelve.” The suspicion had naturally fallen on Devin, because that was more his MO. No one would’ve believed Ayden capable of such a thing, but you should never underestimate the power of peer pressure. I snicker to myself.
Mom collapses in a fit of laughter, and I shake my head. Is sleep deprivation a real illness? Like it reduces your brain cells to mush or something? “I, just, there are no words, Mom. Seriously, you are killing me here. And how’d you even know that word. That’s wrong. So wrong. I need to go inside and scrub out my ears.”
She lightly punches my arm. “Hey, missy. I’m not that old, I’ll have you know.”
My gaze softens. “I know, Mom. How could I ever forget when you’re frequently mistaken for my sister?” True fact. It’s happened a bunch of times when we’ve been out. Mom had me when she was nineteen, and she barely looks a day over thirty. Even though I’m dark to her blonde, we have the same blue eyes, same heart-shaped face, and, although, I’m taller than her by a few inches, we have the same slender build with curves in all the right places. You could say I hit the gene pool lottery, not that I care much about that stuff. It drives Mariah crazy that I’m so blasé, and though I don’t do any sports or physical exercise—my ballet classes don’t count, according to her—and eat like a pig, I still manage to maintain the same weight. Good genes, like I said. Mom is petite and slim, and she has a healthy appetite too.
“I didn’t realize I was interrupting comedy hour,” Ayden says, teasing. “I can come back.”
I climb out of the car, sliding underneath his impressive frame. “No way. I want my lilies.”
“Who says these are for you?” There’s a glint in his eye I haven’t seen in a long while.
“Idiot.” I elbow him in the ribs. “Who else are they for?”
Ayden rounds the front of the car, thrusting the flowers out in front of Mom. I can’t stop the grin from spreading over my mouth. “Natalie. These are for you.”
Mom maneuvers around him, laughing. “Nice try, Ayden, but I’m not getting in the middle of your lover’s spat.”
“Mom!” I shriek, throwing my hands into the air. “Enough already!”
She is still laughing as she skips up the steps and into the house.
“Sit with me?” Ayden asks, holding his arm out. I loop mine in his and let him lead me up onto the porch. We sit down on the bench, and he carefully lays the flowers atop the small wicker table.
I swing my legs back and forth, waiting for him to start.
“I’m really sorry, Lina.”
I glance at him, and there’s no doubting the sincerity in his expression. I sigh. “I know you are. I hate that you two aren’t getting along. That I’m caught in the middle.”
As if on cue, the rumbling sound of Devin’s truck pricks my eardrums as it rounds the bend onto our street. Ayden tenses beside me. We watch in silence as Dev swings the truck into his driveway, kills the engine, and climbs out. He looks over at my house, immediately noticing us sitting on the porch. His face locks down, and he looks away. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strides into his house, violently slamming the door behind him.
“Awesome.” I rest my head back, closing my eyes.
“It’s not your fault.” The bench groans as Ayden swivels around to face me.
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. I just want it fixed. I want to go back to the way things were.”
Ayden brushes a few strands of loose hair back off my forehead, and my eyes fly open at the unexpected contact. “I don’t know if that’s ever going to be possible,” he admits, and there’s a tornado of sadness in his gaze.
I sit up a little straighter, twisting around. Our knees brush. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“It’s better you don’t know.”
“It’s not fair,” I huff, jutting out my lip. “What happened to our awesome-threesome pact? And not keeping secrets?”
He takes my hands in his, looking down. “We were kids then, Lina. We’re not anymore. You can’t expect things to stay the same.” He lifts his chin, and I can’t bear the pitiful look on his face.
“I knew things would change, but I thought we’d always be friends.” My heart aches. This all sounds so final. Was I naïve to believe we’d be friends forever? Am I the only one who felt like that? Did either of them even mean it when they were promising we would always be in each other’s lives?
“Me too.” His words go some way toward comforting me. Pulling me in to his chest, he wraps his burly arms around me. “I’ll always be your friend, Lina. I’ll always be here for you.”
I place my hands on his shoulders as I peer into his eyes. “Promise?”
He presses his lips to my forehead. “I promise.”
“Night, Mom,” I say, yawning as I wander into the living room in my sleep shorts and tank top.
She rises fro
m the couch, enveloping me in her warm embrace. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow evening. We’ll have dinner together before I leave for the hospital.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.” I kiss her on the cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetie.” She kisses the top of my head, and I walk to the stairs, yawning again.
I’m tucked up in bed, reading, when a loud oomph sounds from outside. My heart starts hammering in my chest, and butterflies are running rampant in my gut as adrenaline courses through my body. “Ange,” Devin whisper-yells. “Let me in.”
I hop out of bed like there’s a rocket up my ass, racing to the double doors and flinging them open with a dramatic flourish. Devin saunters into the room with that cocky swagger of his, sending me a saucy wink, and accelerating my blood pressure with that one casual look. He drops onto the edge of my bed. Rolling up the left side of his jeans, he rubs a raised red mark on his shin.
“What happened?” I sink to my knees in front of him.
“Whacked it off the tree as I was jumping over.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t expect any sympathy from me. I told you not to do that.”
He looks at me through hooded lashes, slowly perusing my body, his eyes lingering in that uber-intensive way of his, and it’s as if he’s stripped me bare. He continues staring at me, and I’ve lost the ability to breathe. I gulp, and he lowers his voice an octave as he speaks. “It’s not your sympathy I’m after.”
My cheeks flood with heat, and he chuckles. Flirtatious Devin is a beast I can’t tame or one-up, so I don’t even try. In desperate need of distraction, I scurry to my bedside table, rummaging through the drawer like I can’t find what I need. Anything to deflect from my reddening cheeks. He says nothing, just watching me acting like a crazy person. When I’m confident my cheeks are less embarrassing, I snatch the tube of arnica cream up and turn to face him. “Here, this will stop it bruising.”
His lips twitch, and I know he wants to tease me further, but, for whatever reason, he stays quiet while I massage the ointment into his skin. He tenses slightly at my touch, and I try not to feel hurt by that.
When I’m done, I screw the cap back on and toss it on top of my bedside table. Air flees his mouth in a loud gush as I flop down beside him. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He smiles, and it’s like being trapped in a laser beam of hypnotic hotness. His sea-green eyes twinkle mischievously, and his long lashes appear even longer, blacker, and thicker. Strands of his inky-black hair brush the edge of his forehead, and I long to run my fingers through it. His strong jaw is peppered with stubble, and I imagine the feel of it against my fingertips. His gorgeous mouth is slightly parted, and I long to run my tongue across his lips.
His face is perfection. I could stare at him all day long and never grow tired of it.
“I’m sorry about last night, Ange.”
I snap out of it, blinking the haze away. “I know. It’s okay.” I can never stay mad at either of them for long.
“No, it’s not.” He reaches out, taking hold of one of my hands. Little fiery shivers zip up and down my arm as he starts tracing small circles on my palm. My mouth is dry and butterflies are dancing a jig in my chest. “You’re too easy on us, Ange. You forgive too quickly.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” My voice comes out breathless and I hope he doesn’t notice.
“It’s okay to get mad, you know. You can tell me you hate me, and it won’t send me away.”
What the hell? This again? I barely even notice when he laces his fingers through mine, too busy trying to work out what’s going on in that confusing, beautiful head of his. “Devin, I couldn’t hate you if I tried. And hate consumes too much energy. Hating anyone is a waste of time.”
He lifts our conjoined hands, bringing it to his mouth. I almost fall off the bed when he brushes his lips across my fingers. Heat floods my cheeks and pools down low. “You have the purest heart, Ange. You’re good, through and through. I don’t know how you haven’t kicked me to the curb by now.”
“Stop it. Why are you saying this? Do you want me to hate you? Is that it?”
He pulls our linked hands to his chest, right over the spot where his heart beats—steady and sturdy, vibrating under the tips of my fingers. His response startles me. “Sometimes I do.” Waves of hurt lash me, and instinctively I try to wrench my hand away, but he holds on to it, placing it flat over his heart. “But not for the reasons you think, and don’t worry, I’m far too selfish to ever let you go.” He scoots over beside me, until there is barely any space between us. All the air seems to get sucked out of the room. He continues to hold my hand over his chest, and, with his other hand, he cups my face. “I want you to know something, but I don’t want you to react. I just want you to take these words and hold them close to your heart, because, if anything should happen to me, I would hate for you to not know this.”
“Dev—”
He leans in and kisses me. It’s quick, no more than a fleeting brush of his lips against mine, but, gosh, it’s everything. My lips are on fire, and it’s spreading, heating every single part of me. I don’t know what it means. If it means anything at all. Devin doles out kisses as freely as God doles out forgiveness.
“Shush, Ange.” He brushes his thumb over my lower lip, and I dread to think what emotions are showing on my face right now. “No reaction, remember.” I can only nod, fighting another blush. “You’re the most important person in my world. For all time. Even when you think you aren’t, know that you are. Even when I can’t show you or say all I want to say, know that you are. Even if I leave, I’m still with you, in here.” He places his hand on top of my chest, where my heart is beating so erratically it threatens to escape my ribcage. “Like you’re in here.” He pats my hand, the one still being held protectively against his chest. “You’ll always be in here,” he whispers.
“Why are you saying this?” I whisper back, startled to find tears welling in my eyes. This feels too much like a goodbye. “Are you … going somewhere?”
He stares deep into my eyes. “I don’t know. Things are fucked up right now. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
He averts his eyes, and a lonely tear rolls down my face. “You’re scaring me. If you’re in trouble, I want to help.”
He lifts his chin, and his eyes are filled with so much pain. I gasp. Without thinking, I slide my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest. The words are lying on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him I love him. That I’ll help make it better, but I can’t lay all that on him when he’s obviously already dealing with so much.
“The best way you can help is by staying away.”
I jerk back at that. “What?” I frown. “What are you saying? I don’t understand.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “I can’t drag you into my shit. I won’t do that. Not to you.”
Our eyes connect, and we stare at one another. My heart is pounding in my chest. I want to tell him to drag me into his shit. Hell, he can drag me anywhere, and I’ll willingly go. I’ll do anything to be with him.
His mouth is so close. Right there for the taking. With so much emotion lying between us, it would take nothing to close that gap. But I’m confused. My head is spinning in a million different directions, and I don’t know what’s transpiring between us. He clasps the back of my head, winding his fingers into my hair, and I almost forget how to breathe. His gaze flicks to my mouth, and my lips part automatically. The air is charged with anticipation. His eyes lower to my snug tank, where my nipples are already pebbled and straining against the material. I’m too afraid to look down. To discover if he’s as turned-on as me.
His eyes return to my lips, and flares of confusion spark in his gaze. We don’t move, and the only sound in the room is our joint heavy breathing. I’ve just decided to pull my bravery hat on when he pulls back, mo
ving away so fast it’s as if someone is pulling a string, yanking him farther and farther from my grasp. It seems kinda prophetic. He stands up suddenly, swiping a hand across the back of his head and sending me a sheepish smile. “I’ve got to go.”
Shaking the fog from my brain, I hop up. “Wait!”
He halts at the double doors, turning around with his palm raised to stop me in my tracks. “Don’t forget what I said, beautiful.”
I thrill at the endearment.
When it comes to him, I’m so easy to please.
“Promise me, Ange. Promise me you’ll never forget.”
“I won’t, Dev. I won’t ever forget.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Devin’s words are still playing on a continuous loop in my mind the next morning as I get ready for school. I put some bread in the toaster, and fill the coffee pot with water. Touching my lips, I smile to myself at the memory of Devin’s fleeting kiss. It takes me back in time.
“What’s taking Ayden so long?” I moan, shivering under the blanket in the treehouse. My fingers shake as I flip my cards over, and I scowl at the pathetic hand I’ve been dealt.
“Practice must’ve run over,” Devin says, shrugging, doing his best to maintain a strict poker face as he glances at his cards.
“I think I’m going to go inside. I’m freezing.” I fold my cards over.
“I don’t want to go home yet.” Devin opens his arms. “Come here. I’ll warm you up.” My cheeks turn fire-engine red, and a big grin slips over his mouth. “Come on, baby doll. Whatcha waiting for?”
Recently, he’s graduated from calling me princess to calling me baby doll. I’m not sure I like it any better, but I’m afraid if I tell him to stop, he won’t call me anything but my name, and I like that he has a special name for me. It makes me feel important.
I crawl over to his side, butterflies running rampant in my chest. Slipping under his arm, I instantly feel warm. He tightens his arm around me, and I snuggle in closer to his chest, closing my eyes, and savoring the touch of him against me. He pulls the blanket up under our chins. “Better?” he whispers, and I nod. I’m not looking at him until my cheeks have calmed down.
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