Manhattan: A Small Town Friends-to-Lovers Romance (Becker Brothers Book 3)

by Kandi Steiner

  “I thought Thursday was teen night,” I said, admittedly a little more like a bull dog than I intended.

  Parker blew a laugh through his nose, assessing me like he’d just realized I was the one stepping into the ring with him at a fight. “It is. But we have fakes,” he said, motioning to himself and a crew of seniors standing not too far behind him. All of them were watching us — some curiously, some like we were gum stuck to the bottom of their boot.

  That was the thing about becoming a senior in a small town. There was a false sense of importance that came with it. I had felt it, too, like a prized pig owner at the state fair. Bailey and I had walked around town like we were top dogs, and that feeling had stuck around even after she left.

  Until I graduated and realized being a senior in high school didn’t mean shit, except that soon, you’d be on your own, and lost, and — if you were lucky — stuck in a major you didn’t really care about at a college that’s so expensive it’ll put you in debt for life.

  If you were unlucky, you’d just be depressed.

  Like me.

  “Anyway,” Parker said, still wearing a smug smile as he turned his attention away from me and back to Kylie again. “I came over to ask if you’d like to dance with me.”

  Kylie blanched. “I… uh… I’m not really good at it.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “I pulled some strings at the DJ booth. It’ll be a slow song, and I’ll lead.”

  Parker looked behind his group of friends, nodding to the DJ in the booth above the dance floor, and the guy nodded back, fading out the line dance that was on and replacing it with “Neon Moon” by Brooks and Dunn.

  He turned back around, grinning again, his sole focus on my best friend.

  “It’s a cha cha,” he explained. “Nothing too crazy.” Parker offered his hand to her next, holding it out like he was motherfucking Prince Charming waiting to help her into a carriage. “What’dya say?”

  Kylie bit her bottom lip, cheeks still flushed red as she eyed his hand, and then me.

  Her eyes hit me like a freight train.

  It was impossible, the things I felt when she looked at me the way she did. Because in my mind, for some twisted reason, she was asking me something in that moment.

  To save her.

  To stop her.

  To steal her for myself.

  I knew none of those things could be true. I knew we were just friends, that we’d always been just friends.

  But just like I knew something had changed about her that summer, I knew she was asking something of me in that look.

  Whatever it was, I was too slow to decode it, and she tore her eyes away, looking back at Parker.

  Then, she smiled, and slipped her hand into his. “Okay.”

  Parker’s grin doubled in size as she slipped off the bar stool, and he turned, her hand in his, tugging her toward the dance floor.

  Kylie looked over her shoulder at me, again with a question I couldn’t quite hear, but then Parker reached the dance floor, and she turned, falling into his embrace as he took her right hand in his left, and wrapped the other around her small waist, pulling her closer to him than necessary for this kind of dance.

  He said something that made her laugh, and my neck burned with a fierce heat.

  Their first steps were awkward, and she tried to bury her face in his chest, but he kept leaning down to look at her, to get her to look at him. And before long, they’d found a rhythm, dancing with the other couples on the floor as I watched from the bar.

  I was only eighteen.

  I was only eighteen, and yet, I could remember moments in my life that changed everything.

  I could remember the first time I picked up a guitar, how it felt to pluck the strings and feel the vibrations through my hands, traveling up my arms, making a sound that I controlled.

  I could remember how my father’s death changed me — monumentally — in a way that was irreversible.

  I could remember the way my body changed when I hit high school, and how my heart shifted when I met Bailey, and how my entire world came crashing down when she left.

  Maybe that’s why I recognized it earlier that night — that feeling that something was off, that something was weird, that something had changed.

  But it wasn’t until I saw Parker’s hands slide down to the small of Kylie’s back, until I saw them thread together and pull her closer, until I saw her laugh and blush in the arms of someone else, that it all clicked.

  I didn’t want her to dance with Parker Morris… or with anyone else, for that matter.

  Because I wanted her to dance with me.

  With only me.

  I couldn’t digest it, couldn’t sit there and ruminate on why that was because the song was already halfway over and all I knew for sure was that I’d be damned if it ended with her still dancing with him.

  My body moved without me telling it to, feet carrying me across the bar, across the floor, until I was standing right beside Parker and Kylie and my finger was tapping on his shoulder.

  I cleared my throat when they both looked at me, as if their eyes had zapped me back into the moment, and only then did I realize what I was doing.

  “May I cut in?”

  He could have told me to fuck off. I knew that was a possibility, but not a probability, as no southern gentleman would act that way. And if I knew one thing about Parker, it was that his reputation was as important to him as the shiny buckle on his belt.

  His jaw tightened, but to his credit, he managed a smile that seemed almost genuine as he released his hold on Kylie and stepped back, offering her hand to me.

  “Of course,” he said through his teeth. Then, he turned to Kylie, pressed a kiss to the top of her hand. “Save another one for me later?”

  Her eyes were wide, stuck on the place where his lips still hovered over her skin. “O-okay,” she managed on a squeak.

  He smiled, eyeing me like he’d already won before he relinquished his dance partner and walked back to his group of friends.

  I stamped down the irrational urge to throat-punch him, schooling my breath and focusing on the fact that Kylie was in my arms now. She glanced over her shoulder, watching Parker go, and then she looked back at me with one raised eyebrow.

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  At that, her other eyebrow shot up. “I’m sorry?”

  “For saving you from that creep,” I finished, like the answer was obvious. “You’re welcome.”

  Kylie snort-laughed, but already, she was more relaxed, her hands wrapped around my neck as I swayed us to the music. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I asked to be saved.” She smirked, moving her head side to side like in a sort of dance of her own. “Seems to me like someone’s jealous.”

  She sang the words on a tease, but everything in me tightened, like the wheels and axles that powered the machine of my body all locked up at once.

  I swallowed, searching her gingerbread eyes and seeing so much more than I ever had before. “What if I am?”

  She froze in my arms, her smile gone in a flash, the blush Parker had conjured up on her cheeks replaced with a sheet of pale white, like she’d just realized she was dancing with a ghost.

  I stilled, too, and in the sea of a dozen dancers, we stood paralyzed in each other’s arms, looking at each other for what felt like the first time.

  Kylie’s lips parted, and even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t have fought the way my gaze dropped to her mouth at the motion.

  Her breaths were hard, her chest rising and falling to the beat of the music, but my own breath was steady as one hand glided around her waist, up the back of her arm, her neck, until my hand found the thick strands of hair that had fallen in her face. I swept them away, tucking them behind her ear, and all the while, my eyes never left her lips.

  Her full, pink lips, shaped like a bow.

  Lips I’d known nearly all my life.

  Lips I’d never truly known at all.

  Lips that
I realized — suddenly and acutely — that I wanted to taste.

  Kylie’s breath stopped altogether when my hand slipped from where I’d tucked her hair behind her ear to frame her jaw, and my thumb snaked out, sliding over her bottom lip, her mouth parting more.

  I was under a spell, a trance, living in another world, another universe.

  But the song changed, and a familiar tune broke through the haze.

  And everything came crashing down.

  “Alright, y’all. If you’re not already on the floor, grab someone special and pull them out here. This one’s new from Nashville, from Stratford’s own Bailey Baker, our small-town rising star. Let’s get on the floor and show our girl some love!”

  Cheers erupted from all around the bar, and somewhere in the fog of my mind, I realized more and more people were flooding the dance floor. But Kylie and I were still frozen in the middle of it all — only now, she was watching me with wide, terrified eyes.

  “Mikey…” she tried, but I couldn’t.

  Couldn’t listen.

  Couldn’t respond.

  Couldn’t stay.

  I let her go like she was on fire, the crowd dizzying as I shoved through it, earning a few “Hey’s!” and “Watch it’s!” along the way. I didn’t care about manners in that moment, or that Parker and his friends were laughing when I passed them, or that I’d left Kylie behind.

  Bailey’s voice surrounded me, drilling into my brain, into my memory, into my broken heart, cracking it just a bit more.

  All I could focus on was getting out of that damn bar.

  Getting out, and never coming back again.

  Kylie

  “Mikey!”

  I called out his name, over and over, trying to keep him in sight while I pushed through the crowd. It was much more difficult for me, since I was about half as tall as everyone else in there, and by the time I broke through the crowd at the back bar, I’d lost him.

  “Shit,” I murmured, heart pounding in my chest as I scanned the place looking for him. Of course, I didn’t know if my heart was a snare drum because Bailey’s voice was ringing in my ears and driving Mikey crazy, or if it was because he’d just told me he was jealous of Parker Morris dancing with me.

  And he’d looked at my lips.

  He’d looked at my lips like he wanted to kiss them.

  A shiver split through me, but I brushed it off, pushing through the men’s bathroom door.

  “Mikey!” I called out, shielding my eyes and wishing I could unhear the men peeing in the urinals. “I swear to God, Mikey, if you’re in here, you better answer me.”

  “I don’t know who Mikey is,” a voice said. “But I’ll be whoever you want me to be, cowgirl.”

  A few whistles rang out at that, and I shook my head, bolting out of the bathroom as fast as I’d gone in. Bailey’s song was still on as I made my way toward the exit, and as much as I tried not to listen, the second verse of the song stuck me like a knife in the ribs.

  It was you and me, that warm September night.

  I wore your hoodie,

  and you wore my hair tie.

  It was right there, hanging on your wrist,

  when you leaned in and gave me my first kiss

  On Mama’s front porch.

  My stomach rolled, because I knew as much as our whole high school did that those lyrics were about Mikey. He’d worn her black and red scrunchy on his wrist the entire time they’d dated.

  He still had it, hanging from his old guitar stand in his room.

  The fresh air did little to relieve me when I finally pushed my way outside, but when I saw Mikey standing by my truck, I found the next breath a little easier.

  When I was twelve, my dad had taken me hunting with him. It was his attempt to bond with his pre-teen daughter after years of essentially being a shell. It’d been me taking care of him after Mom died, not the other way around, and apparently hunting was his way of showing his thanks.

  Still, it only took one time for me to discover that hunting was not for me. My tender little heart just couldn’t take it. But, I remembered what it felt like. I remembered how quiet we had to be, how my heart had thumped loudly in my ears as we waited for deer, and how it had tripled its pace when we’d accidentally come too close to a mother black bear and her cub.

  Dad had warned me we were in danger, but if we stayed quiet, and kept our distance, we’d be okay.

  I could sense it, the fierce protectiveness of that mother bear, and the awareness that if I made one wrong move, I’d be her lunch.

  That was how I felt walking toward Mikey, who was leaned up against my still-muddy truck, arms crossed, nose flaring, eyes on his boots. He looked so handsome, so devastatingly handsome, like a rare, leather-bound book on the top shelf, just out of reach.

  I slowed my pace the closer I got, fearful of spooking him, of threatening him in any way that might make him lunge out and take my head off.

  When I felt like I was close enough, I paused, picking at my nail polish and staring at my best friend, wondering what I should say.

  “Mikey…”

  “Let’s just go.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, voice just above a whisper. “I… I didn’t think…”

  At that, Mikey’s head jerked up, his eyes landing on me and pinning me right there where I stood. His jaw was flexed, the muscles in his neck tight. “No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

  I opened my mouth to say something more, but nothing came.

  “I told you to leave this alone,” he said, pushing off the truck and taking a step toward me. My instinct was to flinch, to back away, but I stood my ground as best I could. “I told you we shouldn’t fucking come here.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I said on a tremble. “Why are you mad at me? Obviously I didn’t know they would—”

  “Of course you didn’t know!” He raised his voice, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because in your world, everything is fine and fixable. In your world, nothing is ever wrong. You wouldn’t think of something like this happening because you never think about anything other than rainbows and butterflies and, and…” He waved his hands around. “Glitter.”

  I narrowed my eyes, lips flattening as I took a step toward him this time. Heat creeped up my neck, and every nerve in my body screamed fly!

  But my heart said fight.

  “Oh, my God, Mikey. Do you hear yourself right now?” I shook my head, raising my own hands in the air before letting them fall and smack against my sides. “She is just a freaking girl. Okay? You dated her for two years. You had your heart broken when she left. Yes, we all get it, but for fuck’s sake, it is not this big of a deal.”

  His head snapped back like I’d slapped him. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the expert on dating, seeing as how you’ve never even had a boyfriend.”

  I ignored the sting of those words, taking another step toward him instead and putting on my best bitch face. “Oh, trust me — after I realized what a mess you and Bailey were, I figured out pretty quickly that a boyfriend was the last thing I wanted.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked at that, and he rolled his eyes, turning away from me to round the truck. “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

  “No.”

  He stopped, turning over his shoulder to eye me before he faced me fully again. “No?”

  “I’m having a great time. I don’t want to leave.”

  “And I can’t go back in there.”

  “Why not?” I asked, exasperated, my hands framing the air like it was the question itself. “You’re letting that girl drive you out of this town, out of the places you love most, away from the people who you love most. And I’m trying to show you why that’s a mistake.”

  “I don’t need you to show me anything,” he said, but I didn’t miss the crack in his voice, the way his eyelids fluttered a little as he fought against the emotion I knew he was feeling.

  She’d broken him,
that girl who’d run off to Nashville.

  And I didn’t know if he’d ever be the same again.

  I softened, shoulders relaxing as I lowered my voice and made my way over to him.

  “You’re more than what that girl did to you, Mikey.”

  The lines in his forehead eased, his brows resting, something passing over his face at my words. And for a split second, I thought maybe, just maybe, I was getting through to him. I reached out for him — slowly, tentatively — touching his arm gently before I slid my hand down into his, and I squeezed.

  He followed my hand with his eyes, swallowing when he found my gaze again, and as soon as his eyes had locked on mine, they fell a few inches.

  To my lips.

  That same rush that had stormed me on the dance floor came back full force, like it’d never left at all, but had only been temporarily muted.

  “Ky?”

  My next breath was short. “Yes?”

  His eyes snapped to mine, and the whole world stopped spinning.

  “I’m going to say this slowly, so you hear me clearly. Okay?”

  I nodded, still not breathing.

  A moment passed, and then Mikey leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “You. Do. Not. Understand.”

  I blinked, not sure I’d heard the words right, but there they were, hanging between us, and Mikey stared at me, unapologetically backing them up.

  I scoffed, ripping my hand free from his. “Unbelievable.”

  He let me go, and something between a laugh and a growl broke through my calm façade.

  I was done.

  With playing nice, with playing the game, with trying to open my best friend’s eyes when he was so damn set on keeping them shut.

  With everything.

  “I don’t understand?” I finally said, repeating his words as I shook my head. I pointed, jabbing my finger into his chest before I backed away. “It’s you who doesn’t understand. It’s you who’s blind to the fact that you love this town, and the memories you’ve made in it, and that the people here love you, too. But you know what?” I laughed, looking back at the neon Scootin’ Boots sign with my tongue in my cheek. “If you can’t walk back into that bar with your head held high because you’re better than her? If you want to let a girl be the reason you uproot your entire life and leave this town and the people in it behind?” I looked at him again, shrugging. “Fine. Go. In fact, let me know the official moving date,” I added with a scoff, fishing my keys out of my pocket and turning on my heel. “I’ll throw you a going away party.”