“Son of a bitch.” I clenched my fists.
“I was so angry at you, angry at Avery for lying, and then Brooke planted the thought in my head that you didn’t really love Avery—and maybe you still loved me, I just needed a chance to prove it.” She let out a bitter laugh. “And look how that turned out? I look like a hooker, Brooke naturally betrayed my trust and wanted you for herself—and wonder of all wonders, you really do love Avery.”
“That dress really is horrible, Kayla. I say that as a friend. You should burn it. You almost flashed Grandpa Lewis twice.”
Her chuckle was low, familiar. Years ago I lived for it. Funny how we were able to sit together like we were friends again.
But the mess with Avery?
I cursed again.
“You love her.”
“I do.”
“You know, Lucas, I wish I could hate you.”
“If I had a penny for every time I had a woman tell me that”—I stared down at my shoes—“I’d be a very rich man.”
“That’s a compliment, you know, the fact that you can roll through life like a complete asshole, yet women still want to like you.”
“I should make a profession out of it.” I sank down into my chair. My heart was so damn annoying—it hurt like hell. How could an organ hurt? It did. And it sucked.
“Start at the beginning,” Kayla whispered.
“She works”—I caught myself—“she worked for me.”
“Not that beginning.”
My self-confidence cracked as I looked at the oak tree and let old memories take over. “It was her hair.”
“Her hair?” Kayla repeated.
“I loved her hair. When she got back from summer camp, she had just turned seventeen, and it had been a few months since I’d seen her. I was just getting ready to start my first real job, you’d already left for grad school, and she knocked on my door, begging me for waffle mix.”
Kayla laughed. “Sounds like her.”
“Yeah, well, she offered me a kidney in exchange for Bisquick.” I chuckled. “Naturally, I made her up her price and said I wanted to partake of this glorious food she was about to make. She grumbled about how greedy I was, and marched right into the kitchen like she owned it and started baking.” Her legs had been so long, her shorts so ridiculously short, her tank top falling off her bronzed shoulders. “She started dancing slowly to the music that had just popped up on the TV, then looked over her shoulder and said, ‘I could get used to this, Thorn.’”
I sighed. “What she meant and how I took it were two very different things. The sun was shining directly on her pretty strawberry-blonde hair, and the only thought that consumed me was ‘God, I would give more than a kidney just to freeze this moment in time—and keep her forever.’”
Tears filled Kayla’s eyes. “But we were engaged.”
“Yes.” My voice was hollow. “So I ignored it, thinking it was just cold feet, right? A passing fascination with a girl who’d suddenly grown up. And then one night, I almost kissed her. It freaked me out. I’d only ever been with you. I mean, we’d been together since the eighth grade. So then I told myself I was attracted to her because I was being a guy.”
“And it got worse?” Kayla asked.
“So, so much worse,” I groaned, remembering all the moments I almost took Avery in my arms and imagined kissing her. “The night of the rehearsal dinner was my breaking point. I realized I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t marry you and have such strong feelings for your sister. I was a coward. I should have said something, but I kept thinking it would pass, and when I saw her in her rehearsal dress . . .” I cursed and balled my hands into fists. “I started drinking because that always leads to good decisions, and then when I saw her later that night, I was already on my way to being completely drunk. She helped me back to the house, and I kissed her—kissed her so damn hard it probably terrified her. But she, she kissed me back, and for a few seconds in time I had the girl I’d always wanted, until she shoved me away. She looked at me as if I’d betrayed her. Her eyes said it all—I want you, but not this way.”
I hated the memory of that night.
The mistakes.
“I meant to sneak into Avery’s room to talk about it, to apologize. Stupidly, I didn’t think I would get caught, but I was loud, drunk—and of course Brooke being Brooke just encouraged me, and by the time I realized she wasn’t Avery, it was too late.”
Kayla and I sat in silence for a while. The breeze gently picked up the scent of rain in the air.
“And now you’re pushing her away again,” she finally said.
“The hell?” I blinked. “I’m sorry, did you miss the part of the story where I basically emotionally cheated on my fiancée for over a year? If I cheated on you—”
“You didn’t love me.” Kayla chewed her bottom lip. “Not like that. I can’t remember a time you ever looked at me the way you look at Avery, with this raw devotion that makes the rest of the world fade away.”
My heart felt heavy.
“You need to go after her.”
“I figure she needs time before I start banging down her door.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. “Men are so stupid.”
“Says the girl dressed like a prostitute.”
Kayla glared at me and then burst out laughing. “Lucas, she doesn’t need time—she needs you to chase her, she needs you to be the man she fell for, the confident Lucas Thorn. Don’t shy away from a girl who’s half your size. Grow a pair and chase her. Isn’t that what guys like anyway, the chasing?”
“I think I prefer the catching,” I admitted.
Kayla stood and held out her hand. “Friends?”
I pressed my palm to hers. “Friends.”
We shook, and something clicked into place. All my football games she’d cheered at, all the moments we’d shared—we had been together because we were friends, because it was always like that. I had loved Kayla, but as a friend.
I loved Avery . . .
The way a man is supposed to love a woman, with such blind madness that nothing made sense when she wasn’t in my world.
“Tell my parents—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Kayla waved me off. “I think they’re still trying to make sure Austin doesn’t come back and kill Brooke. But if the drama lessens, I’ll be sure to tell them you went after your girl.”
“Thanks, Kayla.”
Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. “Go get her.”
Chapter Forty-Four
AVERY
I was too sad to be angry.
I really wished I were angry so I could go all Carrie Underwood on his ass, but his stupid car was still at his parents’, and I was pretty sure if I slit his tires the hollow ache in my chest wouldn’t ease. If anything, with my luck, I’d mess that up and somehow get arrested, only to be bailed out by the devil himself.
Austin was a mess. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, completely aware of my own heartbeat as I tried to steer the conversation toward her and not me.
“He was supposed to be different!” she wailed, slamming her hands against the steering wheel, then swerving into the other lane before righting the car. “He promised!”
I didn’t know what to say. Or how to make her heartache better.
Because we were in the same boat, just on different sides. I was struggling with wanting to trust Lucas with my heart. And Austin was trying not to think of all the ways she could poison Thatch for being unable to keep his wandering eye on lockdown.
“Here.” She tossed me her phone. “I can’t take it anymore. Can you just turn it off?”
“Are you sure?” I studied her closely, seeking assurance that she was serious.
“Positive.” Her lower lip quivered. “You know what sucks?”
With the slide of my finger, I turned the phone off. “What?”
“He asked me to be exclusive. He asked me! I told him I wasn’t ready to get into anything serious because I still had schoo
l, and then he goes and buys me roses and takes me out to dinner and asks if we can take the next step. I have a key to his apartment! And now? Now he’s kissing complete strangers? Putting his dick wherever he pleases? Is it some sort of sick game with these two or what?”
“I wish I knew,” I whispered. “Believe me, I do.”
That was the end of our meaningful conversation.
Both of us were too upset to say anything more until the car was about a mile from my apartment, and even then we basically took turns crying and cursing men to hell the entire last mile of the ride. When she dropped me off, we hugged, then did what best friends do: told each other never to date again and promised to eat ice cream the next day until we got sick.
She didn’t have any of her things with her, and she had a huge test to study for—which left me alone with my peeping Tom neighbor and the same sly spider who still hadn’t found the will to die.
Ah, a pet.
That’s nice.
“Hi, spider.” I opened up my laptop and breezed through a few TV shows. My fridge was empty. I had no ice cream. No wine. Water. I had water. I would get paid soon, but it would be my only paycheck since I’d just quit.
Stupid Avery.
I needed money!
And I quit over a man.
Not just any man.
I sniffled, then shouted, “DAMN YOU, LUCAS THORN! Curses on your perfect hair, and that stupid cleft in your chin. I hope it turns into a giant wart and grows a single tough hair that refuses to be plucked!”
The spider crawled back into its hole.
I had scared my pet.
A loud banging sounded at my door.
Cringing, I waited for it to stop, but it didn’t.
Finally, I pulled open the door.
My landlord did not look pleased. “You’ve been warned, Avery.”
“Warned?” I frowned. “Warned about what?”
“Rent.”
“I paid rent.”
“You paid last month’s rent. This month’s rent was due three weeks ago.”
Impossible. I did the math. No, no, no, that couldn’t be right.
“And I have someone willing to move in immediately, so . . .” He rocked back on his heels. “You have one day to get packed.”
Great. I had one day to pack up my laptop and spider. No problem. I’d just go find a box to set up on the street corner and pray it didn’t rain.
Tears filled my eyes.
“No.” He shook his head. “No tears, Avery. This is business. I’ve put notices on your door for weeks. This ends now.”
He walked off.
I glanced at my door.
To be fair, the notices were underneath another notice that the building was going to be under construction, and it’s not like I’d actually been staying at my own apartment for the past few days.
I’d been with the devil at his.
My stomach grumbled. I should have eaten at the party.
I slumped to the ground, the door still open, and cried.
Footsteps neared. I didn’t look up. Take your fill, creepy Mr. Thompson! This is the last you’ll see of Avery Bla—
“Avery.” Lucas breathed my name. “Avery Bug, what happened? Are you hurt?”
“Only everywhere,” I mumbled through my tear-soaked fingers. “But you know that’s to be expected when the man you love is an asshole and you just got evicted.”
“You what?” He stood and stepped over me.
“Evicted, you know, meaning you’re homeless, and—hey!” I clenched my fists. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he rummaged through my only closet, grabbed two bags, and started pulling all my clothes, with hangers, onto the bed.
“Thorn!”
He didn’t respond. He breezed into my kitchen, opened every single cupboard, frowned, and then asked over his shoulder, “Anything in the fridge?”
My stomach grumbled again.
“Guess that’s my answer.”
“You can’t be here. I don’t want to see you . . .” I was three seconds away from launching myself onto his buff body and beating his back with my fists until he left.
And then he stopped. He didn’t smile; he just stopped, in the middle of the room, and stared me down.
It was uncomfortable.
I started to fidget.
“Any furniture other than this futon?”
Embarrassment washed over me. “No, I haven’t had time to—”
“Good.” He walked back into my bedroom and used my bedspread to hold all the clothes. He then stripped the sheets, threw both pillows at me, and said, “Let’s go—I’ll come back for the furniture later.”
“I’m not going with you.” I held my ground.
Lucas sighed. “It’s me or the box near Pike and First, but I’ve heard that’s currently occupied by a homeless guy and his cart. Your choice though.”
I truly thought about it. A box would be nice; nobody would bother me except for the occasional homeless friend or possible rat.
“Avery Bug . . .” Lucas’s eyes pleaded with me. “Let me take care of you.”
I puffed out my chest. “This means nothing.”
“Fine.”
“It’s temporary.”
“Whatever you say.”
“And I’m not sleeping in your bed.”
“Did I ask you to?”
Well, that stung. “N-no.”
“You can have the spare room.”
“Right.” Tears filled my eyes. So I’d just stay in his room of torture while he entertained Molly in two days. Great. I think I preferred homelessness.
I begrudgingly followed him down to his car.
We rode in silence all the way to his apartment building. And by the time we settled all my stuff into the guest bedroom, the tension was so thick I was actually sick to my stomach—either that or my stomach was eating itself out of desperation.
At least Lucas left me alone while I put my clothes away in the closet.
A half hour later he knocked on the door and motioned for me to follow him, still no words. So this was fun. Not stressful at all.
I was about five seconds away from having a mental breakdown, and I’ve heard those aren’t pretty.
The kitchen smelled like Thai food.
Mouth watering, I floated over to the breakfast bar and burst into tears.
I was stressed.
The food looked amazing.
And instead of the prince rescuing the princess, the asshole rescued the homeless girl.
Why did I get the messed-up story?
WHY?
“Eat,” he instructed, handing me a fork. I didn’t need convincing. I would eat even if he had stolen the food from a blind grandma. Hunger always won out with me.
Mouth full of food, I barely had time to swallow and yell, “Aren’t you eating?”
He paused, his face indifferent. “I figured I’d let you eat first.”
“No.” I shook my head and stared guiltily down at the food. “I mean, that’s fine—we can eat together.”
As if on cue, because the universe hated me, his cell buzzed on the counter, right next to where I was sitting.
Molly.
The food threatened to come right back up.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Tears filled my eyes as I pointed at the stupid phone.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m not.”
“But you will.”
“No.”
“Thorn . . .”
“Avery Bug . . .”
Stupid tears. The harder I tried to suck them in, the more they threatened to fall.
“I love you, you know.” Lucas’s words were a direct hit to my heart and my already waning sanity.
“Is it enough?” I asked, more to myself than to him.
“Damn, I sure hope so.” And then he was gone, softly shutting his bedroom door behind him.
Chapter Forty-Five
LUCAS
&nb
sp; She was too exhausted to talk. I knew women. Nothing good ever came from a conversation with a woman when she was so mentally and emotionally exhausted that she almost fell into her pad Thai.
Which meant.
I slept like complete shit.
And eventually moved to the couch in a stupidly vain attempt to hear Avery breathe.
Yes. I wanted to hear her breathe.
I would even have welcomed a snore at this point.
I stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling.
It was Sunday—which was usually my sister’s day.
And my mom, naturally, hadn’t stopped calling about the engagement party to ask why my best friend had decided to bring his drama to such a happy occasion. When she asked how Avery was and why she had to leave, I ignored the question and told her to let us deal with everything on our own—and for once my mom respected my wishes.
I apologized and refused to answer any more phone calls.
But today was about Avery.
At eight, I woke up and made coffee.
At nine, she finally shuffled out of her room, looking the way I felt. Dark circles spread beneath her eyes, and her face was pale.
“That.” Avery pointed at the mug in my hands. Rolling my eyes, I handed the coffee over. Some things never change, no matter how angry you are with a person.
“You’re welcome,” I said in a smooth voice.
She grunted, peering over the rim of the mug with irritation.
“Sorry, I forgot, no talking in the morning.”
Avery nodded and then yawned.
“So, I figured we could go to the market today.”
Still no talking.
“To buy . . . food for tonight.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“And the rest of the week.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I figured it could be a new thing, fresh groceries for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday—”
She held up her hand. “I know the days of the week, Thorn.”
I smirked. “I had a really good plan, you know, a really well thought-out speech.” I sighed. “But, Avery, I can’t take you seriously when you’re wearing a Star Trek T-shirt with bright pink shorts.”
She looked down; her cheeks blushed.
“Is that, uh, my shirt?” I pointed.
“Maybe . . .”