Page 17 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

“So I can empty my boxes—”

“You know how Connor gets.” She froze then turned back my way, sipping her drink with a nod. “He’s a cranky prick most days, but when he’s on the tools…” I shrugged.

“Right. Right.” Another sip of her drink then her teeth burrowed themselves in a bottom lip that made me want to suck it free and then kiss it better. “So you guys have done well for yourselves.”

She looked at the canvas shade sail, the landscaping around the pool, the sun loungers… Anywhere but me. For some reason that it took that much conscious effort for her to keep her eyes off me had me grinning. I stood up out of the water, feeling the drops run across my skin and wishing they were her fingers as I came closer. Not too close, though. There was some unspoken limit, because when I got too near, she edged away.

“It’s not bad,” I agreed.

“Not bad!” My non-committal response got her looking my way, right before she flushed. “If you saw some of the places I saw today…”

She drank down the rest of her drink in one long gulp, the slight shake in her hands making clear what an experience that had been, and it killed me.

My Kendall walking into some dickhead’s place, looking at the spare room. Faceless men clustering closer, looking at her, watching her, imagining creeping down the hall to stand in front of her door, his breath fanning across the wood when he wanted to see that happen across her skin.

Just as I had done, back at her parent’s place.

That she was too young stopped me from turning that doorknob. Then it was the knowledge that it would ruin any friendship I had with Finn when she got older. And the fact that her mum and dad slept two rooms over, some sixth sense only parents experienced possibly waking up if they even heard a creak of the floorboards. And Kendall herself, the moments of pleasure and fun and amusement so fucking fleeting, because I drove each and every one of them away, pretending I didn’t want to see her smile like I wanted my next breath. The silence between us then, and right now, stretched on and on. I knew I had to say something.

“You’re safe here.” Yes, that. “For now,” I added hastily.

“Right,” she said. I picked up Barbie’s drink and carried it closer, something that had her frowning slightly until I poured it into her glass. “Trying to get me drunk enough that my defences are down?”

“Well, if you do get drunk, you know I’ll hold your hair back,” I told her, watching her eyes follow my arm as I propped it on the edge of the pool.

“Right…” That little breathy word gave me hope in ways I hadn’t experienced in years. A sharp feeling that any other time would have had me worried was a heart attack stabbed into my chest. The lump in my throat was a welcome thing, keeping me from saying it, all of it, everything I’d intended to tell her that night. But her focus sharpened, the wariness we’d hard coded in her back in seconds. “Right before you give me an impromptu haircut?”

“Kendall—”

“Or smear peanut butter in it.”

“Kendall—”

“Thank god you didn’t go through with the bubblegum thing.” She looked me up and down, eyes narrowing. “Mum would have had your arses for that. Getting the peanut butter out took long enough.”

“Kendall—”

“I’ve got drinks!”

I cursed Barbie in that second as she re-appeared with a jug of margaritas and a beer in tow. My thanks was not at all grudging when she handed me the can. I edged backwards, needing to put some distance between me and Kendall, between the memories and the scars she seemed to carry, knowing I put every one of them there. The beer was bitter all the way down, or was it just the knowledge that I was a little dickhead my entire childhood? I didn’t know, but I kept on drinking.

“Sooo… were you guys catching up on old times?” Barbie asked, sitting down on the lip of the pool.

“Something like that,” Kendall replied tightly, putting her glass down before hauling herself out of the water. She didn’t catch the moment when I catalogued every curve, every cling of her clothes, but Barbie did, her lips twitching in amusement. “I need to get dried off and— Shit, my towels are in the boxes.”

“I’ll get you one.” I was moving before I even thought about it, being able to do this one little thing helping ease the ache in my chest. “For both of you,” I added belatedly, but Barbie didn’t seem offended in the least. Her eyes danced as she watched this shit show unfold.

“Right, thanks.”

I’d played in my mind numerous times how things would go if I ran into Kendall again. On the street, in a cafe, at night at some pub. Each time I’d had something smooth to say. A whole lot of smooth things, my lips moving as I explained, justified, then finally, apologised until she finally forgave me. Inside the house, I found the linen cupboard without too much effort, but rather than pull it open, my hands wrapped around the cool metal door handles as my forehead pressed against the timber. Water dripped free of me, pooling on the granite floor, and something seemed to leak free of me with it. Hope, that was what dropped down on to the floor, puddling at my feet only to be savagely mopped up with a spare towel when I jerked one free.

Chapter 11

Kendall

Walking into my new ‘room’ looking like a drowned rat wasn’t exactly the revenge scenario I’d dreamed about in the years since I’d seen the guys last. Because I’d fantasised about it, running into them on the street when I was thinner, fitter, and perfectly made up. Oh, and on the arm of some hot, super successful guy as well, don’t forget that. Who? I had no idea. My dream boyfriend was faceless, only useful as a prop to show them what I really needed them to see. Me, successful. Me, hot. Me having well and truly moved on from the bullshit they’d put me through. Instead, Van and Connor looked up sharply, Connor’s cheeks flushed and his eyes flashing as he took me in.

I had a towel wrapped tightly around me so at least they didn’t see all my lumps and bumps on display, but that didn’t explain their intent gazes. One tentative step, then another, and I forced myself to smile.

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