Page 50 of Count On Me

Growling loudly at just the mention of his name, I pull her tighter to my chest, place my lips on her neck and nip at her with my teeth, hard enough to leave a mark.

She giggles and sighs at my ministrations before quietly mumbling, “Tom’s Angie.” Her eyes meet mine, nerves flutter through them as she watches for my reaction.

“Tom’s Angie’s what?” Uncertainty settles in my chest and her grin makes me even more confused.

“Angie is Tom. He doesn’t exist, besides in Angie’s head, that is.”

I struggle to understand what she’s saying, what I’m missing. He doesn’t exist? But I saw the texts from him. Who did she send the picture of us to?

“So, I was upset after seeing you out with another Cindi doll and I was questioning everything about you and me and us. Angie said I needed to stop waiting around for you. That you used me as an emotional support friend and I needed to be less available to you. She wasn’t wrong, but I was annoyed by it. You were out living it large and I was waiting around for something, anything, to happen. To pick the pieces up when you realised you’d made another mistake.”

I cringe at how much hurt I hear in her voice, and how much truth is in her statement, but she squeezes my knee and smiles at me, taking away the guilt that was starting to consume me.

“I was fed up with being just your friend when I knew we were supposed to be more. Frustrated that you still saw me asyour little friend Eddie, and not as Edie—the woman you wanted to spend your life with.

“So when Angie suggested making you jealous and being less available to you, I was intrigued. She said I needed to kickstart a change in our friendlationship. That it was make or break time. Either you made a move or I got over you.

“It was solid advice, but I didn’t want to go out with random men. I didn’t want to have to make small talk on dates and pretend to care when they told me stories about this or that. I just wanted to spend my time with you. My best friend. The boy who stole my heart with a dimpled smile when we were eight. The man who grew up to be the best of everything to me.”

“It is a great smile and I was a damn cute kid.”

She slaps my arm and I lunge forward, pinning her down on the sofa, my arms braced on either side of her head, my thigh between hers, my mouth hovering over her incredible lips. I want to kiss her more than anything, but instead, I raise an eyebrow and ask, “Are you telling me you made up a fake boyfriend to drive me crazy?”

“Yes,” she squeaks out, and I fight the smirk off my face. “It was Angie's idea. She changed her name to Tom in my phone so technically when I said I was out with Tom and Angie, I wasn’t lying because Tom was Angie. Do you forgive me?”

She’s rambling, and it’s fucking adorable. But I can’t make this that easy for her. I shake my head at her, struggling to keep my expression as serious as possible.

“You don’t? For real?”

I can tell the moment her confidence begins to falter and slide toward fear. But I shake my head again, barely containing the smile trying to break free.

She raises her eyebrow at me this time. “Say Hawaii. Tell me you don’t forgive me and say Hawaii.”

I grin down at her, knowing that she’s got me over a barrel and there’s no way out of this. “Fine, I forgive you. But only if you forgive me for doing this…”

I pin her hands above her head with one of mine and dip my head down low enough to brush my lips over hers. But just before they meet, I turn my head and tickle her. With her hands pinned and my body weight too heavy for her to move, she’s at my mercy. “Tell me you love me,” I demand as my fingers find that one spot below her ribcage I know sends her into a giggling frenzy.

“I love you,” she wheezes through her laughter.

“Tell me Tom is a dick.”

“Tom isn’t real–argh!” she shouts as I tickle her more until she screams, “Tom is a dick.”

“Tell me this is it. No more games. No more miscommunication. It’s just us. Together. Like it should have been our entire lives.” I stop tickling her and brush her beautiful red hair away from her face. She’s stunning and I can’t help but take a minute to just admire her beauty.

“This is it, Jaxson. No more games. No more miscommunication. It’s just us now. Together. Like it should have been our entire lives. I love you.”

I let go of her hands and crush my mouth to hers, only breaking away from our kiss to bring her into my arms and just hold her. For so many years I’ve wanted to have her this close to me. For her to know I need her as much as I need to kick a football—no, more than I need to kick a football.

“You’ve made me so fucking happy, Eddie. So fucking happy.”

31

EDIE

I float through the door to my flat and smile at Angie, who’s smirking into her coffee cup. “I take it you and Jaxson finally spoke?” she asks as I nod my head. “And you finally lost your V card, didn’t you?” I nod again. “And you’re now together?” Another nod. “And I can change my name back to Angie in your phone and stop demanding nude pics from you?” I bob my head up and down frantically and she laughs out loud.

“Come on, come sit and tell me all about it. Do you need a cushion to sit on?” she asks, and for a second or two I look at her blankly, until she waggles her perfect eyebrows at me and I realise what she means.

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