Page 168 of Never Forever

“There’s nothing for you to get over.”

I was the one who’d been humiliated. Thinking about it, maybe getting humiliated was my kink. Maybe I had a penchant for it? Sought it out intentionally?

I needed therapy.

“Fine, then you get over it,” he said sternly. Like he could just order my heart to mend.

It had been six years and none of my feelings about that night had changed. Nick and I had learned to be civil to one another. Casually friendly even. After that night though, nothing had ever been the same. Before that night, Nick wasmyperson. My best friend. The other half of my heart.

It wasn’t just because we were both adopted kids either. Though, that was part of it, I guess. Nick understood how lonely it could be. How no matter how well loved we were by our adopted parents and how crowded our houses were with brothers and sisters and chaos and love there was a part of us that always felt…reserved. And his loneliness could be worse than mine because he’d been adopted as a teenager. He remembered his mom before she left him. He remembered his father before he died.

I’d taken that thing we had in common and turned it into something it wasn’t.

To him I was just a kid he had to put up with for years. A pest. To me, he was everything.

“Why do you even care?” I asked, the question ripped from my chest. He’d made it clear that night that he did not care. Not about me.

“Because,” he stood and ran his hand through his dark hair. I noticed he was doing a stubble thing on this face. It looked good. The asshole.

“I fucking miss you, okay? We were friends. We were a part of each other’s lives then you just cut me out.”

Fair. None of what happened was Nick’s fault.

I was just trying to survive the heartbreak.

There was a sudden silence in the square. Nick looked towards the action and his eyes went wide. Curious, like that stupid cat that always got itself in trouble, I stood up to see what the fuss was about.

There were two men walking across the green square, parting the townies and the tourists like the red sea. Dozens of phones pointed their way. They were huge. Massive. One walked like he was on a mission from God and could not be distracted. The other one waved and posed for pictures. He was wearing a Louis Vuitton trench coat. And gold chains.

There was a way they moved. An easiness of motion that screamed they knew how to handle every inch of their height, every ounce of their weight.

Athletes.

“I know those two guys,” I said, trying to pull the names out of my slightly jet-lagged brain. “Holy shit. It’s the Locke brothers. What are the Locke brothers doing in Calico Cove? Did they get traded to the Bruisers or something?”

I looked over at Nick hoping he could shed some light on it. His expression was dumbfounded and angry.

“Nick?”

“These guys do not give up,” he muttered.

“Do you know them?”

“Sort of. If you weren’t ignoring my calls and texts I would have told you.”

“Told me what?”

“I have brothers.”

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