Best of Intentions: A Best Friend's Brother Standalone Romance

by LK Farlow

  chapter twenty-eight

  Jenny

  I’m not really sure why Nate was so gung-ho on him not being the guy for me, because these last few weeks have been some of the best of my life. Not only is Nate an insatiable beast in bed, he’s also caring and kind and attentive in the day-to-day stuff.

  For example, last Thursday he knew I was running late for work at Bayside thanks to a late night at Bennet’s—and an even later night with him—and damn if he and Duke didn’t roll up to the café in their cruiser just to bring me a coffee.

  Sweetness aside, we still haven’t really delved into either one of our pasts…especially his. If this thing between us is going to work, we need total transparency. You can’t build a stable foundation off of secrets and half-truths, and I know he’s keeping something from me.

  He has these moments where he seems to get lost in his shadows, and that’s fine, but how can I help guide him back into the light if I don’t know what I’m up against? Which is why I plan on sitting down and flat-out asking him tonight.

  We’re both off today, and I figure maybe we can go down to the pier and walk along the shore, and then I can cook for him at his place…ply him with some good food and hope like hell he opens up to me.

  With a plan in place, I pick up my phone and call him.

  “GG,” he rumbles into the phone after the second ring. The sound of his deep voice—mmm—I wonder if it will always make my core ache and my nipples pebble?

  “Hey, cutie. Whatcha up to today?”

  “Honestly? I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to do today, but I can’t remember what for the life of me. What about you?”

  I quickly fill him in on my hopeful plans for us, and he readily agrees. We aren’t meeting until two, so that gives me some time to do a little light cleaning and to grab some groceries—for the week and dinner tonight.

  Around one-thirty, I toss the ingredients for tonight into an insulated bag and head down toward the bay. A quick scan of the parking lot tells me that Nate’s already here, and as luck would have it, there’s an open parking spot next to him.

  Nate sees me immediately and hops out of his car, coming to open my door for me. He greets me with a scorching, not-appropriate-for-public kiss and a swat to my ass before we head down toward the shore.

  We leave our shoes under a shady oak tree and walk hand-in-hand at the coastline, letting the wake of the lapping waves tickle our toes. Everything about this moment is so perfect. My heart feels bubbly and full, and my soul feels light and content.

  Here’s to hoping these good feelings remain after tonight.

  Nate

  Today with Jenny, like every day with her at my side, has been amazing. She not only makes me laugh, she challenges me and makes me strive to be the man she deserves. But what it really comes down to is—do I deserve her? While my heart says yes, my brain screams no.

  To make matters worse, I’ve had this niggling feeling all day in the back of my mind that I’m forgetting something important. I just don’t know what. I’ve been so wrapped up in the goddess slaving away over dinner in my kitchen that everything else in my life—save for family and work—almost seems inconsequential.

  I offered to help her cook, but she shooed me to the living room, saying she wanted to surprise me. Being the shit that I am, I keep hoping maybe she’ll surprise me by offering herself up as the main course.

  The thought alone is enough to have my cargo shorts fitting a little too snug in the crotch. I flick on the television, intent on distracting myself while I wait. I channel surf before finally landing on some sci-fi show that looks mildly promising.

  By the second commercial break, I’m hooked, and plotting ways to get Jenny to binge the series with me from the start.

  Two things happen as the credits roll—Jenny calls out to tell me dinner is ready, and my phone buzzes with an incoming text. A quick glance at my home screen tells me it’s Duke. But with a hot plate of food and an even hotter woman waiting for me in the next room, I slide my phone into my pocket with his text unanswered; I can see what he needs later.

  On my kitchen table is a spread fit for a king—seared chicken breasts topped with what I now know is a balsamic glaze, served with roasted red potatoes and asparagus, plus a salad. “Damn, GG, this smells amazing.”

  She gives a humble shrug. “Thanks. Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

  Her stilted response gives me pause. My girl’s acting weird. “Everything good?” I ask, spearing a bite of salad into my mouth.

  She worries her bottom lip between her teeth before slowly nodding. “Yup. Totally fine.”

  Red flags wave and sirens blare at her use of the dreaded F-word. Everyone knows that when a woman says fine, she’s anything but.

  Calmly, I set down my utensils, focusing all of my attention on her. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing. Not really. I…just…”

  “You just what?” I try and stave off the worry that threatens to settle in my gut like lead.

  “I was hoping we could talk about…” She trails off again, glancing around the room as if she’s expecting some kind of divine intervention. “About why you were so adamant about not being the guy for me. Don’t get me wrong—I’m so-so-so glad you changed your mind, I just want to know why and what made you hold back at first. I just want to know you, Nate. All of you.”

  My phone buzzes again in my pocket, and I’m more tempted than ever to ignore her in favor of it. But she deserves the truth, even if it kills what we have—pun intended.

  “Shit, Jenny,” I sigh.

  “If…if you want, I’ll tell you about my baggage and stuff first?”

  I snort. What baggage could this girl possibly have? As soon as I think it, I regret it. I’m not that guy—comparing hurts gets you nowhere.

  Judging from the pained look on Jenny’s pretty face, she read my shitty thoughts loud and clear. Fuck. This day is spiraling from good to bad quick, fast, and in a hurry.

  “It’s…it’s fine. Never mind.” She pushes her chair back from the table, snatches up her half-eaten plate, and scrapes the food into the trashcan.

  My phone buzzes again.

  “I think I’m gonna clean up and head out. We can talk tomorrow.”

  I feel helpless. I know I need to get my ass up and go to her—to talk to her, to explain—but I remain frozen in my seat.

  With robotic movements, she packages up the leftovers. As she loads the dishwasher, my phone vibrates again. “Might wanna get that,” she mumbles.

  Resigned, I pull it from my pocket. Duke has texted me four times now.

  Duke: Hey, man. Call me…

  Duke: Please.

  Duke: I miss her. Fuck, I miss her.

  Duke: I need you.

  Hastily, I toggle out of my texts and over to my calendar app to check the date. Oh, shit. No. Suddenly the weight of what today is crashes around me like a tidal wave. I’ve been so caught up in Jenny that I completely forgot.

  “I…I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk soon—tomorrow—something. Lock up.” I damn near sprint to my car, leaving a very confused Jenny behind in my kitchen. It’s a shitty thing to do, but I’m caught between a rock and a hard place here, and I know Duke needs me more.

  I drive like a bat out of hell on my way to Duke’s, repeatedly calling him, only to get his voicemail every time. It feels like I hit every single red light as worst-case scenarios flash through my brain.

  When I pull up to his place, I don’t bother parking neatly at the curb—nah, I pull haphazardly into the grass and fly out of my car without even pulling the keys from the ignition.

  I pound on his front door hard enough to shake the frame, but he doesn’t answer. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Testing the knob, I find it’s unlocked. “Duke?” I yell his name, but he doesn’t answer.

  Panic grips me as I venture farther into his house. “Duke, goddamn it!” The house is dark and eerily quiet—where in the hell is he? I move through th
e house methodically, clearing each room as if I’m searching for a perp.

  As I near the master bedroom, the sound of broken sobs has me on high alert. I shoulder open the partially closed door and step into the dark space. Light spills through from under the bathroom door and I rap my knuckles over the frame before stepping into the space.

  The sight of Duke—my partner, one of my best friends—lying in a crumpled heap on the bathroom floor, a half-empty liter of Jack by his side and a pill bottle in his hands, has the small amount of dinner I ate threatening to come back up.

  “N-Nate,” he slurs. “Y-you came.”

  I drop to my knees and shift him so that his head is in my lap and pry the bottle from his hands. “Fuck. Are you—how many did you take?”

  Duke shakes his head back and forth, mumbling incoherently as his tears soak my shorts. It fucking kills me to see this man—this stoic, behemoth of a man—so broken.

  “I need to know. C’mon, man. Talk to me.” My tone toes the line between panic and calm.

  After a few gut-wrenching moments, his sobs ebb, and he clumsily moves to a semi-upright position. “N-none. F-fucking none.”

  Relief rushes through me. Thank. Fuck. “Good.”

  He shakes his head. “N-nothing’s good without V-Val. She left and t-took my light with her.”

  “You being here is good. I know every day without her hurts, brother, but you’re still here, and we both know she wouldn’t want this for you.”

  “I miss her,” he whispers brokenly as a fresh round of tears start. “I’m al-always so goddamn s-strong for everyone else. Always p-putting them first. I just want her back.”

  I stand and start the shower for him. “C’mon, D. Let’s get you sober.” Using the ledge of the tub, he pulls himself to standing. He staggers to me, and I guide him under the spray fully dressed. “I’m gonna start a pot of coffee. Holler if you need me.”

  He braces himself against the tiled shower wall and nods. I turn to leave, but he calls out to me. “Dump the Jack.”

  I nod and head out to the kitchen, swiping the bottle as I exit.

  As I start the coffee pot, I can’t help but imagine all of the different ways tonight could have played out; while I’m glad he’s okay, it doesn’t ease the guilt over not being there for him when he needed me.

  Fifteen minutes later, Duke drags himself into the kitchen, immediately slumping down onto a barstool. I pour him a mug of coffee and slide it over to him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, man. I—”

  He waves me off. “My shit’s not your shit.”

  I slam a fist down onto the island. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re more than my partner. You’re my brother. Your shit will always be my shit. You’re a tank for everyone in your life—let me carry some of your weight when it gets to be too much.”

  Duke sips his coffee, letting my words soak in. “When will it stop hurting? Some days I feel like my old self, and other days, I keep expecting her to walk through the damn door.”

  I shrug. “Wish I knew.”

  chapter twenty-nine

  Jenny

  What in God’s name just happened? is all I can think as I finish picking up the kitchen. And how lame am I? Nate all but runs out on me, and here I am worried about leaving behind a mess.

  No, you know what? Fuck him. He can clean his own damn kitchen. Did I push him too hard, too soon? Maybe. But that doesn’t give him the right to just up and leave like that.

  But I guess that’s the Nate Reynolds’s way—when the going gets tough, run like hell.

  Angry tears wet my cheeks as I debate my next move. I don’t want to be alone right now, but I don’t know where to go, so I drive aimlessly, trying to figure out how everything went so wrong.

  Before I know it, I find myself turning down Natalie’s street. Guess my driving isn’t so aimless after all. Can I really talk to her about this, though? Laying this burden on her would be like trapping her between a rock and a hard place—how selfish would I be to expect her to rally behind me when her brother is involved?

  Then again, maybe that’s exactly what I need—someone to help me see his side.

  Mind made up, I turn into the driveway and dial her number.

  The phone rings twice before her voice floats through the line. “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

  “Hey,” I whisper, hating how broken I sound. Somewhere between Nate’s and here, my anger morphed to sadness.

  Natalie immediately goes on high alert. “Jenny, are you okay?”

  “No. I’m in your driveway. Can I come in?”

  A few seconds later the porch light turns on, flooding the yard with its bright glow. “Of course. Alden just unlocked the door, let yourself in.”

  I end the call and check my phone, hoping to find a missed call or text from Nate, but of course, there’s nothing.

  I enter the house quietly, not wanting to wake Tatum in case she’s sleeping. Following the sound of low talking, I find my best friend and her husband in the kitchen. They both look up when I enter the room, and Natalie immediately rushes over to me, wrapping me in a tight hug, which only makes me cry harder.

  “Oh, babe, what happened?”

  Alden excuses himself to the living room, and I recount the events that led me here. Like the good friend she is, Natalie listens without interrupting, even though I can clearly see she has something to say. When I finally finish spilling my guts, she pulls me into her arms again, offering her comfort.

  “I don’t know how to fix this, Nat. Did I push him too hard? Was I too needy?”

  Natalie pours us both a glass of wine. “I wish I could say. Nate…he’s complicated. He has layers, like an onion.”

  Even though I feel miserable, I laugh. “Did you just Shrek me?”

  She shrugs, her lips tipped up in a small grin. “Maybe. But it fits.”

  “Why is he so closed off? What…what happened to make him that way?”

  Natalie sips her wine before replying. “It’s not really my story to tell.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. And under normal circumstances, I’d never ask you to betray his confidence, but, Nat…” My voice breaks as a fresh round of tears start. “He’s the best thing to ever happen to me, and he’s slipping away. I-I don’t want to lose him.”

  My best friend massages her temples. “Lord, don’t let this blow up in my face,” she mutters under her breath but still loud enough for me to hear her.

  “In college, Nate had this on-again, off-again girlfriend. Their relationship, according to him, wasn’t much to write home about. She thought she was in love with him and was way more serious about their relationship and future together than he was. Nate thought they were on the same page—that she knew he didn’t want to settle down until after school. Now, I’m not sure if he led her on, or if it was all in her head; turns out she suffered from bipolar disorder.

  “But things got really bad, and she tried to take her own life when he ended things between them. Honestly, he kind of shut down when it happened, and I know he harbors a lot of guilt over the way things went down.”

  “How awful,” I murmur. Suddenly his staunch anti-relationship stance makes sense. “I can’t even imagine.”

  “It was rough, and Alden wasn’t here at the time—he’d already moved off to Europe—so he was all alone to wade through the aftermath. Only, instead of rising to the surface and moving on, he found himself caught in his grief like quicksand.”

  My heart aches for him, but I also can’t help but wonder what this means for us. “What do I do, Natalie?”

  “Do you love him?” she asks, bluntly, and I nod; there’s no point in denying it. “I thought so. Unfortunately, all I can suggest is to be patient. I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but it’s all I’ve got. Nate’s like a wild cat—you back him into a corner and he’s bound to attack.”

  I don’t reply, because really, what is there to say? Instead, I pull out my phone and text Nate.

  Me:
I’m sorry about tonight. Please let me know you’re okay.

  I stare at my screen, willing him to reply, but nothing comes through.

  “You wanna crash here?” Natalie asks.

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  “There are fresh sheets on the guest bed. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

  With one last parting hug, she goes off in search of her husband, and I head upstairs. I fall asleep with my cell phone clutched to my chest.

  Nate never texts me back.

  chapter thirty

  Nate

  After another night of tossing and turning, I’m dragging ass as I get ready for work. It’s been two days since everything between Jenny and me imploded. And as much as I want to rage and lash out, I know I have no one to blame but myself.

  She’s texted me a few times, but I can’t bring myself to reply. I mean, what’s the point…what the fuck would I even say?

  I zone out for most of roll call and do the minimum in inspecting our patrol car. I’m a fucking mess today; I’m caught in this downward spiral, and I don’t know how to escape it.

  After Duke radios us in as 10-8, he wastes no time laying into me. “What’s your deal? You’ve been a mess ever since the other night.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grunt back.

  “Bullshit, brother. Start talking.”

  I scrub a hand over my face. “Some shit went down with Jenny, and we haven’t really talked in two days. I don’t know what to do or how to fix it.”

  Duke chuckles. “That depends. What’d you do?”

  “I was so caught up in her, I completely forgot about the anniversary of…” I let him fill in the blank. “We were having dinner, and you were texting me, and I fucking ignored you. You needed me, and I straight-up ignored you. All these what-ifs keep swirling through my head and fuck.”