by Lane Hart
“And you married dad when he was in jail?” I ask.
“I had…messed up after he was sentenced and blurted out that I had committed an ethical violation that would have taken my law license if not for your Uncle Logan’s idea that Jax and I get married so he wouldn’t have to answer questions about our…relationship.”
“You slept with him when he was your client!” I say when it finally all comes together.
“I did,” she replies with a nod. “And I would make the same choices again even if I knew I wouldn’t be able to practice law.”
“Wow, Mom. That’s one helluva story,” I tell her while shaking my head in disbelief. “He also told me about the time you kicked him out of the house when I was three or four.”
“Did he?” she says through narrowed eyes. “Your father is a very chatty Cathy today for some unknown reason.”
“Don’t be mad at him,” I reply because I don’t want them to get in an argument about what he told me. “He was just trying to show me that there are bumps along the road in every marriage.”
“There are,” my mom agrees. “So whatever happened with Camilla, if you wanted to, you could try to work it out.”
“I really don’t think that’s possible,” I mutter.
“Since I know you’re not one to give up easily, I’m going to take a guess and say that she hurt you?” she asks without coming out and saying the words. My mom has always been intuitive and shit like that.
“She did, and I’m not sure if I can ever forgive her,” I admit.
“I’m not saying you have to forgive her, but I do think you maybe owe her a chance to make amends. Everyone makes mistakes, so shouldn’t you try to hear her side of the story? Maybe it was all just a misunderstanding.”
“Trust me, there was no misunderstanding about it,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “I moved out because I can’t even stand to look at her, Mom.”
“Wow, then I’m so sorry, honey,” she says with a pat to my arm. “I know you’re hurt and angry, but do you still love her?”
Blowing out a breath, I respond honestly, “I wish I didn’t. It would make filing the paperwork a helluva lot easier.”
“Sometimes a separation like that can be beneficial, to give you both time to heal and figure out what you want before you sit down and talk to see if you can work things out,” she says. “But you know I’m always here if you need someone to vent to or whatever.”
“I know,” I agree. “And I’ve been talking to Cassidy about it the last few months. She thinks leaving Camilla was the right decision.”
“Maybe it was. But Cassidy could also be a little biased when it comes to you,” my mother points out. “Does she still have hearts in her eyes when she sees you?”
“No,” I reply. “Cass is different. She’s all grown up now and has changed over the last few years. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice before.”
“Notice what?” my mom asks.
“That she’s more outgoing and has all of these new guy friends.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. And I mean, I get why. Cass constantly radiates this warmth that everyone around her is drawn to. I guess it just took her awhile to come out of her shell. Back when we were kids, I was her only friend.”
“So you’re saying that you miss being the center of her universe?” my mom surmises with a grin.
“I guess so, yeah,” I agree. “But I’m happy for her opening up to new people or whatever.”
“Are you really? Or have you finally removed the friend goggles to see her as possibly more…”
“What? No,” I immediately deny. “The friendship Cass and I have is even more sacred than vows. We’re forever, and there’s never been a doubt in my mind about that.”
“If you say so,” my mom replies in the tone of voice that says she doesn’t believe me.
Chapter Eight
Cassidy
I’m hanging upside down on the sofa when two enormous tree-trunk sized jean legs block the black television screen and the longest commercial break ever. I follow the tree up to the limbs and smile when I see his handsome face. “Xavier! You’re back!”
His beautiful upside-down face lowers to mine and he sniffs. “Are you drunk?”
“My mom came over,” I explain. Whispering, I tell him, “She’s easier to swallow with a little wine.”
“How much wine did you have, Cass?”
“Bottle,” I reply with a hiccup.
“You drank the entire bottle?” Xavier asks.
“Yep. Don’t sound so judgy-wudgy.”
“You outgrow being a lightweight?” he says with a crooked grin.
“Nope,” I respond.
When I lower my legs to turn right side up, the room spins around so fast I have to grab onto the armrest and hold on until it stops. Xavier is still towering over me in front of the sofa, looking down on me with an unknown expression on his face. There’s judgment maybe mixed with concern or something else in his silence.
“What?” I ask him.
“You’re gonna be throwing up in the morning, if you even make it that long,” he predicts.
“Probably right,” I agree. “I’m gonna puke on my phone and then make you pull it out of the toilet.”
“So you found it?” he asks with a huge smile. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure out where I left it.”
“Oh, I found it all right,” I tell him while staring at the fly of his jeans. “Wait, what we were talking about?”
“Never mind,” he says when he turns around and sits down on the sofa next to me. He’s so heavy that I sink and fall toward him.
“Whoa,” I say when I catch myself on his hard chest and get a whiff of his rich boy cologne. “You smell really, really, good.” Unable to help myself, I press my nose closer, and it sort of ends up in the crook of his armpit. Oh, but even it smells lovely.
“Ah, thanks,” Xavier replies with a chuckle when he slings his arm around my shoulders. “I’ve never seen you like this, because one beer would put you to sleep when we were teenagers.”
“I don’t remember that,” I say, closing my eyes and inhaling more of his deodorant. “I took the lid off of the Tom Ford roll when I bought it, and I swear it doesn’t smell nearly as good in the container. It must be something about the way the scent mixes with your natural pheromones,” I think to myself or say aloud, I’m not sure which. “My ovaries approve and give it two thumbs up.”
“You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk,” Xavier says.
“You’re always pretty cute,” I murmur. “No one else looks like you or smells like you or makes me laugh like you. Macy’s right. I’ve been trying to find a Xavier Malone replacement for the past ten years. Normal men just can’t compete with you, though. But I bet that would make a great television show. I should write it in to ABC!”
“What do you mean you’re trying to find a replacement for me?” he asks.
“You left me,” I remind him with a slap to his chest. “You moved away and left me here. Then you got married to that annoying stuck-up witch. Do you know what she told me at the wedding? To let you go or she would make my life a living hell. Ha! Like I ever had you!”
“Camilla said that to you?” he asks.
“Yep.”
“Sorry. She was just jealous of our friendship,” Xavier says. “You should’ve told me.”
“Then I would’ve been the bitch, bitching to you about your new bitchy wife,” I say with maybe one too many b-words. “I didn’t want to lose you,” I tell him on a sigh.
“You’re not gonna lose me,” Xavier says. “I wouldn’t give you up for anyone, especially not a bitchy wife.”
“Good to know,” I say with a yawn. “Wow, what time is it? I’m so freakin’ exhausted.”
“It’s only eight p.m., Cass. The sun is still up.”
“No way,” I argue. “Clock and sky are all wrong...”
Xavier
I’ve never
seen Cassidy wasted. When we were seniors, we would sneak a few beers from our parents when we went camping. She would drink a half a can and be out like a light. That’s why I didn’t like sneaking them even though she would insist. I missed talking to her when she would fall asleep early.
There’s not much time left for her tonight either, judging by her heavy eyelids.
She falls asleep on me before I could even tell her about my talk with Coach Briggs.
There’s always tomorrow. For now, I’ll let her rest and sober up.
If she’s not awake in a few hours, I’ll carry her to bed and be sure to leave a trash can nearby for when she gets sick. I have no doubt she will.
While she’s out, there’s not much to do but look at her since the television is off and the remote is across the living room. Her face is rosy and glowing thanks to her buzz. My mind goes back to the way she was talking, or more like rambling, when I got home. I didn’t like hearing her say she tried to find a replacement for me. I mean, I get that she’s made a lot of new friends over the years, which is great, but I don’t want anyone else to become her new best friend. And I meant what I said to her. No matter what Camilla or anyone wanted, I would never cut Cassidy out of my life. Sure, I may live over two-thousand miles away, and a lot may have changed in both of our lives these last ten years, but our friendship has been unwavering.
I guess one of the best things to come out of my wife cheating on me is that I can talk to Cass and spend more time with her without the pouting, evil eye or guilt trip.
Not that I had anything to feel guilty about.
Cass and I have always been friends and nothing more.
And sure, when we were teenagers, I may have had a few naughty dreams starring Cass that I felt terrible about. I assume that I only had those unconscious thoughts because we spent so much time together and I had raging hormones like every other boy my age. When morning came, I would feel gross and ashamed of the images my brain could spit out when I was asleep, so I would push them way down deep and pray they stayed there.
Now, I just have to figure out why I keep getting turned on looking at Cass since I showed up at her house yesterday.
It could be my newly single status, but I never had a serious girlfriend before Camilla.
So that just leaves me with a need to sleep with every woman I encounter to prove my masculinity in bed after Camilla destroyed my ego.
And I refuse to go down that road with Cassidy even though, after her honest, drunken rant, I think she would be agreeable to crossing that line with me.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I eventually tell her when I try to sit her up, but her head falls right back down on me.
“I’ll sleep here,” she mumbles.
“You can’t sleep on top of me all night,” I tell her, and her fists ball up in the front of my shirt.
“Sounds good to me,” she says, snuggling closer.
Having her sleep on me in bed sounds good to me and my cock too, but she’s drunk and my best friend, so I need to beat those thoughts into submission.
“Come on,” I say, getting to my feet with my arm around her shoulders. Once I’m standing, I lift her legs to cradle her to my chest and start up the stairs to her dark bedroom.
As I lean forward to reach and throw her bed sheets back, our faces come together and then Cass’s lips are on mine. I try to pull away because she’s obviously drunk and doesn’t know what she’s doing or even who I am. But then she makes a sexy moan sound deep in her throat and tightens her grip on my neck, holding me to her. Cass’s insistent tongue swipes along my lips until I part them and allow her entry.
And fuck, it feels amazing.
Too good, in fact, given her current intoxicated condition.
“Cass,” I whisper against her lips as I lower her down onto the mattress. “You’re drunk, Bambi. Get some sleep.”
“Please, Xavier,” she murmurs without opening her eyes or relaxing her grasp on me. And I’m not sure if it’s better or worse that she knows who I am. “I’ve waited soooo long for this.”
When I don’t lean down toward her, Cass lifts her head up until our lips are pressed together again to resume our kiss. I’m an idiot too, because I kiss her back so hard that her head returns to the pillow.
Thankfully or unfortunately, I’m not sure which, Cass’s doorbell chooses that moment to ring, making me pull away from her, gasping.
“Are you…were you expecting company?” I ask her softly in the dark room while I continue to try and catch my breath and wrap my head around what the fuck just happened. Cass knew it was me, said my name even, and proceeded to pour her soul into the best kiss of my life.
Her response? Cass just flops over to her side.
“Cass?” I say with a shake to her hip because there’s no fucking way she fell asleep after kissing the fuck out of me like that. “Cass!” I give her another shake and…nothing.
“That’s just great. Kiss me until I’m dizzy for the very first time and then go to sleep,” I tell her with a sigh. “No problem. I don’t have about a million questions or anything.”
Since she’s obviously out for the night, I reluctantly trudge back downstairs to unlock and open the door.
On the other side is a shorter, leaner version of the person I see in the mirror every day.
“Who are you?” I ask my shrunken doppelgänger.
“I’m Mike,” he answers with a smirk and even holds his hand out for a shake. “You must be Cassidy’s friend, Xavier. Is she home?”
I squeeze his hand harder than necessary before telling him, “She’s already gone to bed.”
“Sweet,” he responds with a bigger, goofier grin. “I know the way to her bedroom.”
No fucking way. Cass isn’t thinking clearly if she was kissing me. I sure as hell won’t let this asshole up in her room to take advantage of her.
When he tries to slip by me on my right, I sidestep to block him from coming inside.
“Not tonight, Romeo. She’s asleep and had too much to drink.”
“Why don’t we just wake Cassidy up and ask her, huh, buddy?”
“I’m not your buddy,” I tell him as I cross my arms over my chest. “And I’m not waking Cass up to ask her because I’m telling you the fucking answer is no.”
“That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” he responds while still grinning.
“Yeah, that’s how it’s gonna be.”
“Well, tell Cassidy I stopped by and that I’ll give her a call tomorrow,” he says while backing away from the door.
“Sure thing,” I agree since she won’t be getting any calls or messages until she buys another phone.
Chapter Nine
Cassidy
“You were pretty wasted last night. Are you sure you’re up for a hike and camp out tonight?” Xavier asks when he comes into the kitchen wearing his cargo shorts, white tee and above the ankle hiking boots. Not many guys can pull this outfit off, especially not ones who weigh over two-hundred pounds, but somehow, Xavier makes it work, looking like a big, sexy mountain man thanks to his jet-black beard that’s coming in nicely around his gorgeous face.
“Oh, absolutely,” I tell him between sips of my coffee.
“Really?” he asks with an arched eyebrow.
“Really.”
“You’re wearing sunglasses in the house.”
Which makes it so much easier to gawk at you.
“It’s a super bright sunshiny day,” I remark.
“And it’s only going to get brighter when we actually go outside.”
“I can handle it. My headache is almost gone thanks to the coffee.” I hoist my Baltimore Ravens mug up to support the lie.
The pounding in my head seems to be getting stronger with each breath I take, but I’m sure that enjoying the fresh air all alone in the woods with my best friend will do wonders for it.
Hopefully.
“We could wait and go tomorrow,” Xavier suggests as if he senses my distress.
“Nope. It’s going to rain tomorrow, so today is the day. Unless you’ve been in an office for so long you can’t handle the great outdoors?” I counter.
“Oh, I’m good to go,” he says with his palms in the air. “I’m not the one who is battling one hell of a hangover. Why did you drink an entire bottle of wine last night?”
“I had to deal with my mother. Isn’t that reason enough?” I ask.
“I suppose,” he agrees. Leaning his back against the kitchen counter and bracing his hands on either side, he says, “My parents weren’t all that easy to deal with yesterday either.”
“Oh?” I ask.
“We can talk about it after we set up camp and realize how bored we are without phones, television or any other technology for an entire night.”
“Right,” I agree. “I’m ready if you are.”
Xavier stares at me silently for several long moments before finally asking, “Unless there’s anything you want to talk about this morning to get it out of the way?”
“Huh?” I mumble.
“Nothing you want to hash out or discuss after last night?” he prods.
“I’m a grown woman. I can drink to excess occasionally if I want to,” I tell him.
Squinting his dark eyes at me, he asks, “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”
Scoffing at his accusation that I was blackout drunk, I say, “Of course I remember last night. I drank several glasses of wine, my mother nagged me, you came home, and then I fell asleep.”
“That’s it?” Xavier asks. “Nothing else happened?”
“Not unless I was sleepwalking,” I mutter. “Was I sleepwalking?”
“Nope,” he answers with a shake of his head. “If that’s all you remember, then that’s all that happened.”
“Right,” I agree as I glare at him through my shades. “Why are you acting weird?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Oh, well, there is one thing I should probably tell you about.”