Friends with Benefits (Friend Zone Series Book 3)

by Nicole Blanchard

  When we were done, and I’d gotten a cloth to clean us both up, she curled next to my side, and I was so relaxed I drifted in and out of sleep. I liked having her next to me, soft and warm from sleep and sex.

  A guy could get used to it.

  A door slammed in the hallway, and we both jumped a little. “Guess that’s our alarm,” she said sleepily.

  “We should probably get up,” I answered, but neither of us moved.

  “In a minute.” She yawned, then stretched. “I haven’t felt this good in such a long time. I’m glad you stayed.”

  “Me, too, but I better get my ass to practice, or it’ll belong to Coach.”

  “When can I see you again?” she asked. “I have to work tomorrow, but maybe the day after? You could come after the twins fall asleep.”

  I punctuated my promise with a kiss. “Looking forward to it.”

  She went out first, herding the twins back to their room to get dressed, while I snuck out the front door to go back to my apartment.

  I was already thinking about when I’d get to see her again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ember

  It was April.

  If there was ever an end date for my relationship with Tripp, it was the end of the school year, when he’d go off to play professional ball, and we’d have to go back to being friends. I didn’t want to think about it, but there was no denying the date on the calendar.

  “One more month!” the twins screamed while running around in circles. “One more month!”

  I winced and stared at the coffee maker, hoping it would sputter out it’s steaming brew more quickly.

  “What’s all the yelling about?” Tripp asked, coming down the hallway in a pair of low-slung basketball shorts and a tank-top still wrinkled from where I’d thrown it on the floor the night before.

  “ONE MORE MONTH!”

  “Let me guess. One more month until they go deaf from all the screaming?” he asked as he pulled coffee cups down from the cabinet for the both of us. He was always doing thoughtful things like that. Making me a bath after a long shift at work. Doing the girl’s bedtime routine with them without them having to beg. Cooking for all of us, even after day-long practices.

  And that didn’t include everything he did for me in bed.

  I’d never in my life been with anyone so flat-out generous in all ways. He was mine for a short while longer, and I was going to keep him satisfied while I had him.

  “Until they’re done with school. They’re excited to stay with your mom during the summer while I’m at work. I heard a rumor she was getting passes to the public pool for the three of them.”

  The twins changed their shouted chorus to, “Pool! Pool! Pool!” as they laughed and screeched around the dining room table.

  It didn’t even phase Tripp, who was pouring us both a cup of coffee, adding more sugar than should be humanly possible to consume to mine and drinking his with a touch of vanilla creamer. He passed my cup to me and leaned forward to give me a kiss. I let him because the girls had long since caught us making out from time-to-time. They liked to tease us and pretend to be grossed out, but I knew they liked Tripp almost as much as I did. Probably more than they liked me, if I was being honest.

  “I’ll tell you who is really excited. My dad. He can’t stop talking my ear off about how much free time he has to do all the projects he loves now that mom isn’t occupying every spare minute with her honey-do list. I swear, if he weren’t head-over-heels for her, he’d kiss you for it.”

  I made eyes at him over the rim of my steaming coffee cup. “You’re kidding.”

  “Well, maybe about the kissing part. But he might build you a really nice spice rack or something as a thanks. I think he really loves it when the girls come over, though. They love it when he does his magic tricks for them.”

  “How did your parents make it together so long?” The concept—a happy marriage—was so foreign to me. The example I’d seen for so long told me the only happy relationship was the one in the rearview mirror. Was that why I’d clung to Chris for so long? Was I afraid of turning out like my parents, so I had stayed in an unhappy relationship? Which had ended up becoming like theirs in the end, anyway.

  We took our coffee to the living room, sitting on the new couch I’d bought from the online classifieds. It was well-worn and smelled faintly like fish sticks, but at least it wasn’t riddled with cigarette burns and stale beer stains. Tripp pulled me into his side, and I settled there, content. The girls had finally calmed down long enough to inhale a banana and a Pop-Tart each before they dashed off to pick out their clothes for school.

  “I’ve never really thought about it. They’ve always sort of been each other’s best friend, I guess. Comfortable with each other.”

  “He’s always touching her. Have you noticed that? Maybe not, because you’re used to it. Maybe he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.” I sipped from my coffee contemplatively.

  “What do you mean?” Trip asked.

  “Hugging her or kissing her on the forehead. She also does this thing where she’ll put her feet in his lap, and he’ll automatically start rubbing them. Little habits, I guess.”

  He didn’t have to ask if my parents had ever done that. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever heard them say a kind word to each other, let alone show any sort of affection. They were the definition of a toxic, codependent relationship.

  I finished my coffee to fill the void in the conversation. Too sensitive a topic. I didn’t know why, but thinking about it made me sad. I glanced at my watch. “We’d better get a move on, or we’ll be late. Especially you.”

  Tripp wrapped a hand around my waist. “Hold on there, angel.” He tugged me back into his lap. “Is this you saying you want me to be more affectionate? Should I add that to the rules?”

  I laughed and tried to push him away. “Don’t be silly. C’mon, we’ve got to go.”

  “We’ve got enough time for this.”

  He arranged me comfortably over his legs and brought my mouth to his. My hand held his wrist as though I was afraid to have him too close. I was, I’d admit it. Thinking about the differences between our parents made my heart ache with an emotion that was a little too close to the surface. I wanted what his parents had, but I thought a part of me was afraid I’d sour it simply because of where I’d come from.

  I didn’t know how to have a happy relationship. I’d simply never seen one. All I knew was fighting and manipulation and pain. How would that ever translate to a fiftieth wedding anniversary, unless it was one steeped in unhappiness?

  Sorrow pricked inside me. That’s why this arrangement with Tripp was so perfect. It kept me safe. Protected. But more than that, it kept Tripp safe. I couldn’t break his heart if there were no feelings involved. I wouldn’t have to show him the real me, the true me, if what we had wasn’t serious. Sure, he saw my crazy, fucked-up life, but he didn’t see how twisted it made me inside.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked, pulling back a little and searching my eyes for an answer.

  “Nowhere,” I lied. “I’m right here.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, and he could probably tell I was lying. Thankfully, he didn’t push it. The alarm that signaled five minutes until the bus blared on my phone, but I let him kiss me, erasing my worries.

  My next twenty-four-hour shift was a mentally exhausting rigamarole of drama and heartbreak. A family had argued for forty-five minutes about riding in the ambulance with their pregnant relative, despite the fact that she was half-naked in the back of the truck, screaming through contractions. Finally, I had to slam the doors, nearly taking off a finger of the concerned auntie, and signal for my partner to hit the road.

  Then we’d had back-to-back transfers and emergency calls throughout the night. I didn’t think we had more than an hour of sleep the whole night. At three in the morning, we had been called to the apartment of a family whose two-week-old baby was blue and unresponsive. We had taken them to the neares
t NICU, but the baby never came back. All I could think of was the twins and how they’d been born prematurely because my mother had smoked a pack a day.

  To say I was thankful to be home and looking forward to seeing the girls was an understatement. I was tired, but I needed to see them. To play dolls and a million games of Candyland, even though it was the most boring board game ever created. They were due any minute from the bus, and no doubt they’d have stories from their latest stay with Tripp’s parents. They were like the grandparents they never had.

  A knock came at the door, and I opened it, expecting to see Timothy, the young boy who sometimes helped the girls into the apartment after they got off the school bus. Instead, my mother stood there, one hand on her hip and a cigarette clamped in her red-slicked lips. She wore a pair of jeans newer than anything I’d ever owned, and there was a new Birkin bag at her shoulder. She’d either used her five-finger discount or was deep in the throes of love with a new boyfriend who had money to burn.

  The sight of her shocked me so much that I didn’t have words. I’d fully expected never to see her again. Once one month had turned into two, then two into three, and three into four, I’d written her off. As far as I’d been concerned, she was no longer a part of my life—let alone my mother—and I couldn’t care less if I ever saw her again.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you doing here?”

  My mom tipped down her sunglasses. God only knew why she was wearing them inside. “I live here.”

  She tried to shoulder her way inside, but I wedged my foot in the bottom of the door so it wouldn’t budge. “What are you doing?” she demanded. The scent of stale cigarette smoke wafted from her stick-thin form.

  My heart hammered in my chest. Confrontation with her was never my strongest suit, but I had the girls to think of. If they saw her when they got home from school, they’d flip. Guaranteed. She couldn’t keep flitting in and out of their lives like this without facing the consequences. If she wasn’t going to protect them, I was.

  With a steadying breath, I said, “I’m trying to figure out what you think you’re doing. You can’t barge your way into our lives whenever it suits you. Do you realize what could have happened to Matilda and Molly when you left them here alone?”

  Did she care? Even after more than twenty years of neglect, I still couldn’t figure it. She kept us around, but she also so easily walked away. How could someone who cared about you just walk away?

  She started with a placating tone—one I’d heard a thousand times before. “Well, they’re fine, aren’t they? You’re a fancy medic. You can fix them up if something happens.” She rolled her eyes and tried shoving her way in again.

  She rolled her eyes.

  Something inside me snapped.

  “You’re not coming in here,” I said, a steel edge to my voice.

  I didn’t know if it was my bald refusal or my tone, but it caused her to take a step back.

  She flipped her hair. “What did you say to me?”

  My heart was beating so fast it felt as though it weren’t beating at all.

  “I said you’re not coming in here. The twins will be home from school soon and seeing you would only upset them again. They only recently got used to you not being around. If you want to see them again, then I’ll talk to them and explain things, and we’ll meet somewhere for you to have lunch or something.”

  Over my dead body. But I felt I at least owed it to them to give their mother a chance to be…well, a mother. Besides, when I had googled custody situations like this, the websites had said it was important to offer a chance at visitation. If we could show that my mom had been offered the opportunity to see the kids and had refused, then maybe I’d have a better standing. It was worth a shot. Fuck, I needed to see a lawyer and make this official so she couldn’t try and take the girls ever again.

  “You’re going to tell me what to do with my kids?” she demanded, her eyes flashing in a way that reminded me all too much of myself. It made me a little sick to think that we could have something in common. The difference was, I’d never play games with another person simply to feel more in control.

  “I’m going to tell you what to do with my sisters. I’m the one who’s always here for them. I pay for the roof over their heads. I have never, and I will never, abandon them. I am nothing like you.” My voice shook, but my hold on the door was resolute. She wasn’t coming in, not ever again, unless she proved that she could be the mother that the girls—that I—deserved.

  My mother smirked, but it was shaky around the edges, like she was barely holding it together. “You’re more like me than you think.”

  “You should leave,” I said without taking her bait. But God knew I wanted to. “If you want to see them, then we can schedule a time that works best for them. You’re never going to hurt them again, not if I have anything to say about it.”

  She shouldered her purse, her knuckles white from how she gripped the straps. “You’ll hear from me real soon,” she said with dark promise.

  She was gone by the time I could unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. It was ridiculous that I could deal with life-threatening emergencies on a day-to-day basis at work but confronting either one of my parents scared me to death. They disappointed me on a regular basis, but God forbid I ever disappoint them.

  With a deep breath, I glanced at my watch and cursed under my breath. Timothy was late. It must mean the bus was a bit behind. On the way down the elevator, I worked on calming down my breathing. The last thing I wanted was for the twins to know something was wrong.

  When I got down to the street-side of the apartment complex, the bus was already waiting at the bus stop, but there was no sign of the twins or Timothy. I waited under the awning until the last child got off.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see my sisters, Molly and Matilda Stevens. Are they still on the bus?” I asked the bus driver.

  He was an older man with a silver beard and an old military ball cap. “Their mother picked them up,” he said and snapped his bubblegum.

  Instant anger, fiery and destructive, bubbled up in my stomach and threatened to spew from my mouth. With exaggerated calm, I said, “Their mother is not on the list of people allowed to pick them up. In fact, I filled out paperwork with the school to ensure that I was the only one allowed to pick them up.”

  The bus driver, clearly in a hurry to move on and not interested in any of my drama, snapped his gum again. “I haven’t heard anything about that. The girls seemed to know her and said she was their mother. Listen, I have a whole other bus of kids to take home.”

  “Taking care of children while they’re in your care and ensuring they get home to their proper guardians is your job.” I boarded the bus, and his eyes sparked, but I took out my phone, despite his cursing to do otherwise, and took a photo of his identification, his face, and the contact number listed on the sticker by his seat. “I’ll be in contact with your supervisors.”

  “You do that,” he grunted and slammed the doors shut behind me.

  I walked blindly around the apartment courtyard after getting off the bus. It was so stupid of me to think that my mom would have gone off quietly into the night after being turned away. Now, she’d taken the twins God-only-knows-where in retaliation. When my senses returned, I called the non-emergency police line and learned that, apparently, a child’s mother could take them wherever the hell they chose. And since I didn’t have an official custody arrangement yet, there wasn’t shit I could do about it. I didn’t know whether to cry or scream. I wanted to do both simultaneously, but it wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Thank you for all of your help, you fuck-shit,” I snarled, then threw myself onto a bench and buried my face in my hands. I’d dealt a lot with the police when running calls, but I didn’t see them as the professionals who couldn’t help but do their job. For the moment, they were the people who were supposed to help me but were saying their hands were tied.

  Without any other
options, I returned to the apartment and began to pace. Finally, I texted my mom at her last known number, praying it was back in service.

  ME: Please bring the girls back.

  I waited for fifteen tense minutes, checking my phone multiple times for a response. What if she didn’t ever bring them back? What if she disappeared, and I never saw them again? Guilt drove over me in crushing waves. I’d been so negative the past few weeks, so hard on them. I thought back to how harsh I’d been with Molly when she’d walked off in the grocery store. What if she took them, and I never got to tell them how much I loved them?

  MOM: I’ll bring them back if and when I’m good and ready. I’m their mother, not you.

  I dissolved into a puddle on the couch, dropping my phone to the floor. I never cried, but it was too much. First Chris, then my parents, Tripp, and raising the twins. Plus school and back-to-back difficult shifts at work. It was too much for one person.

  Tripp. I could go to Tripp. He’d be home from practice in a couple of hours. He’d know what to do. If nothing else, he was always the perfect shoulder to lean on. But he had his own problems with practice and games. He already did enough to help me as it was.

  And things had gotten so complicated.

  No, I’d deal with this on my own for once. I’d have to.

  I should have been studying, but I couldn’t concentrate on my notes if I tried. All I could do was picture the girls crying because my mother had abandoned them somewhere. I pictured my buddies at work getting a call and arriving at a scene, with my twins as the victims. Countless scenarios raced through my mind, each worse than the last.

  It was midnight before I came to the conclusion that my mother wasn’t bringing the twins back that night. Wherever she was staying, she was keeping the twins to sleep over. Without any other option to turn to, I felt hopeless, listless. There was nothing I could do but wait to hear back from them or my mom. I just hoped it would be soon.