This is as close as a heart-to-heart as me and my older brother have come to in years, but we’re more alike in the sense that we don’t need to fill the silence with words. Sometimes it’s what we don’t say that’s more important.
“Thanks.”
He nods and lets the subject drop. Asher knows he’s made his point, and if or when I’m ready, I’ll come to him. That’s enough for now.
I tilt my head back against the headboard and shut my eyes, trying to clear my mind. It’s pointless. A petite brunette with black-rimmed glasses and deep blue eyes fills my vision. I twist my wedding band around my finger and make plans for when I return. She can run, but she can’t hide from me.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Kennedy
My phone vibrating against my wooden nightstand explodes through my bedroom, knocking me out of a dead sleep. I tuck the ends of my pillow up over my ears to muffle the obnoxious noise. It’s too early to people. Not to mention I tossed and turned most of the night because my brain wouldn’t shut off. My thoughts were consumed by a certain silent, brooding, bearded man. Even pleasuring myself to images of him wasn’t enough to curb my appetite, but it will have to be because he’s a stubborn ass that I am currently mad at.
My phone rumbles again, reminding me why I’m even awake this early, to begin with. I contemplate letting it go to voice mail, but if it’s my dad, he’ll show up here, and that’s the last thing I want. With a sigh, I reach over and grab it. When I glance at the caller ID, butterflies assault my stomach. Now I feel like an even bigger ass. I haven’t just been avoiding my father, but my best friend, and I know she isn’t going to take it easy on me.
The second I answer, I brace for impact. “I’m alive. I swear, Fiona.”
“That’s not good enough. I have been going out of my mind with worry, Ken.” Her voice raises an octave, and I can picture her hazel eyes burning holes through me from the other side of the phone.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. It’s just that things happened so fast and I didn’t have time to call you. One minute he was banging on my apartment door, and the next, we were married.” I roll flat on my back and stare up at what I think are water spots on my ceiling. I’m not wearing my glasses, so anything past three inches from my face is blurry.
“Let me tell you something, Kennedy Shannon Donnelly, the next time you do something as crazy as eloping to Vegas without your best friend, you call said friend pronto. You don’t let a full week pass by and make her have to track your ass down.” Her voice rings out loud and clear in my ear.
“I will. You have my word. The next time I get married, I’ll make sure my best friend is there.” My lips twitch as I imagine her rolling her eyes at me.
“You better.” She pauses for a brief second and then backtracks. “Wait, does this mean that things aren’t all good with you?”
I sigh into the phone and toy with the edge of my maroon comforter. Admitting how messed up everything is out loud will make it real, and I’m not sure I’m ready for the truth bomb she’ll lay on me. I know I need to talk to someone before I lose my mind. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need more than that to go on before I decide if I need to fly down from Boston and castrate your new husband or not.”
“And I can’t give you more than that right now. I’m sorry, Fi. Maybe I jumped the gun on all of this.” Saying the words out loud leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but there’s no denying the doubt that’s been festering inside me ever since Zane decided to shut me out.
“You did the right thing. Your dad forcing you to marry my turd of a brother is ridiculous and not to mention archaic. I mean, seriously, who does that?” She huffs into the phone as her temper grows.
I don’t answer her because we know the truth—both of our fathers would do that. Instead, I choose to focus on what she’s not saying. “Have you spoken to your brother?”
“No.” Rustling from her end fills the phone, and I’ve known her long enough to know what she’s doing. “Everything has been oddly quiet around here. I’ve been doing my best to avoid him and the great Patrick Kelly because I’m not in the mood for another lecture.”
Heat fills my cheeks at hearing that. I am a terrible friend leaving her calls unanswered for so long. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” Her breathing turns heavy as an image of her rummaging through her closet fills my head.
“Check the top shelf of your closet next to your favorite band shirts.” I picture her scrunched-up face as her end goes silent.
It isn’t long before she shouts into the phone. “Yes! That’s where I put my damn camera. It’s scary how well you know me.”
“Isn’t it too early to go out by yourself?” A sudden wave of nausea hits me, so I sit up and suck in a few deep breaths while focusing on a spot on my silver oak wooden floor. There’s a small dust bunny that is holding my attention, and if I didn’t feel like death all of a sudden, I’d be sweeping it up.
“The best photos happen early in the morning. Besides, if I don’t get out of here and have some fresh air, you might see me on the news.” Fiona’s voice knocks me out of my head.
“Why? Your dad in another one of his moods?” I rub a hand against my stomach and slowly put the pieces together. While my father isn’t as tough on me, hers rules the house like he does the streets of Boston, with no mercy. “You know you can always come here.”
“He is, but I’ll be fine. He knows me better than that. There’s no way in hell I’m going to be a good little doormat while he barks orders and expects me to fall in line.” There’s no missing the smile in her voice, and the turning in my stomach intensifies. My friend always did love to play with fire. I’m just scared that eventually, she’ll get burned.
“Just be careful.” Something about her father has always made me feel on edge. I can’t put my finger on what, but I’ve made sure that I always kept my distance or had one of my brothers with me whenever he was near.
“I’ll be fine. Sooner or later, he’ll realize that I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman who wants to live her own life and not be forced to settle down and pop out kids. If I have to listen to him casually mention my ‘child-rearing hips’ one more time, I’ll stab him with my fork.”