Friend Zone (Friend Zone Series Book 1)

by Nicole Blanchard

  He gasped, and his hand dropped from the controls. He looked as offended as he had when I forced him to wear a pink tie to prom to match my dress. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me,” I said through gritted teeth.

  His lips pulled into a smile and we both jumped when the car behind us laid on the horn. He snorted out a laugh and hit the gas. “You win for now.”

  “Seriously, I don’t understand how you listen to music that way. You never finish a song. What’s the point? And don’t you dare quote Supernatural! You’re the one who dragged me on this trip, so shotgun gets to pick the music.”

  “Fine, fine. This one time you can choose.”

  He patted my knee and I flushed at the feeling of his palm on me. It may have been through the fabric of my jeans, but now that my body knew how he felt in other places it was like I couldn’t stop thinking about having his hands on me…everywhere. I swallowed, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray my thoughts. “You’re such a good friend,” I said, more to remind myself than him.

  “Don’t make me regret this,” he warned. The twangy plucking of guitar strings filled the truck, and he sighed heavily, removing his hand. “Charlie.”

  I frowned at the disappointment that flooded me. Maybe going with him so soon after hadn’t been such a good idea. Even though I was afraid of losing him this summer, the last thing I needed was to be cooped up in a small space with him and wishing he would touch me. I tried to refocus on the banter that had always come so easy to us, but any conversation took monumental effort. “Don't judge, Walsh. You focus on the road and let the DJ handle the tunes.”

  “I’m already regretting it,” he said. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. I should be thankful, but in the back of my mind I wondered how he could be acting so normal after what had happened.

  I flicked a glance in his direction and cast out a mental net for another safe topic of conversation. One that didn’t involve tongues, or hands, or close spaces. “Was your mom okay with us coming over?” I asked. There. His mom was definitely a safe topic. She loved me, but I’m certain she wouldn’t think too kindly if she knew the thoughts I was having about her son.

  “Yes. She said she’s looking forward to seeing the both of us. She wanted me to remind you that you promised to help her weed the garden and she’s holding you to it while you’re visiting.”

  I went quiet for a few minutes as I scrolled through his phone and tried to think of something else to say. His playlists numbered in the thousands and it always made me smile to tease him about how he hoarded music like I hoarded chocolate. I glanced up to study him as he drove. The glow from the dash illuminated the strong, clean lines of his face. His close-cropped hair was now covered in a baseball cap, Braves I bet. He was a die-hard fan. My heart squeezed inside my chest and I looked back down at his phone.

  He flicked my ear and I scowled up at him. “You hear me?” he asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes. God, Liam. I heard you.”

  “You don’t have to call me God,” he said with a smirk.

  Despite my worries, laughter bubbled up from my throat. “You’re so full of yourself.”

  He tugged on one lock of hair framing my face. “That’s why you love me.”

  My response stuck in my throat and I could only smile shakily.

  I loved Liam, I did. But I didn’t love him.

  Right?

  Chapter Four

  Charlie

  Something tickled my face and I groaned, trying to bat it away with one hand.

  “Charlie.”

  “Ugh,” I mumbled, and turned my face away from the annoyance.

  “C’mon. Char. We’re here.”

  I cracked open one eye and tried to invest as much of my burning hatred into my glare as possible. “Here, where?”

  “My parents’ house,” Liam said in an over-exaggerated voice. “Just a quick warning. Grandma Dorothy isn’t doing so well, so she moved in with them a couple months ago.”

  That cleared the cobwebs from my brain. I sat up straight, nearly knocking heads with Liam, who dodged back just in time to avoid the collision. The fear for his grandma, who was as much my own, erased most of the awkwardness from earlier. At least for now. “What do you mean, she’s not doing so well? Why didn’t you tell me?”.

  A shadow of emotion crossed his face, but it was gone too quickly for me to decipher. “Her dementia got worse. The doctors recommended she either go to a nursing home or we get her full-time care. Mom didn’t want to put her in a nursing home yet, so they hired a service to help take care of her here.”

  I pushed a hand through the flyaway hair that had come loose sometime during my nap. Grandma Dorothy had been as much a part of my adolescence as Liam’s, considering how much time we spent together after my mother left and my father got sick. My aunt’s house wasn’t exactly a refuge, even though she raised me after my dad died, so I treated Liam’s place as a sanctuary. Thankfully, his family took pity on my gangly self and fed me regularly. They even came to graduation with one of those cheesy poster board signs with my name on it.

  “Did your parents not want you to tell me?” I asked, my voice so low I wasn’t sure if he could hear me or not.

  He did a double take. “What? No. It wasn’t like that at all.” He paused before continuing. “She called before everything with fuck-stain and I didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

  “Fuck-stain?” I didn’t want to touch that one, so I said. “What did your dad say?”

  Liam scowled. “The same thing he always says. That I should come back to work for the family. That going to school is only going to put me into debt. The family could use me at home to help with chores and take care of her. The usual.”

  “I wish you would have told me. I wouldn’t have said yes to coming if I knew things were still bad between you two.”

  He gave me the same look he used to when I was being particularly boneheaded. “Don’t you dare say that. I didn’t just do it for you. If grandma is as bad as Mom said then I want to be here to spend time with her and I knew you would, too. So get your ass out of the car before I drag you out.”

  I wanted to protest. I even opened my mouth to start, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized Liam was right. Without looking up, I said, “I didn’t mean to--”

  Liam nudged my chin up with his hand. “You don't have to apologize, Char. Trust me. I wasn’t kidding about dragging you out. I may even throw you over my shoulder if I have too, which may give grandma a heart attack,” he added with his customary wicked grin.

  I smacked him on the arm, grateful for the broken tension. If he was going to ignore the kiss, then I was, too. It’s the only way things will go back to the way they used to be. “Let’s get inside before I have to murder you on your front lawn and your mom has to clean up the mess.”

  “Remember that time we TP’d the street and she made us take it all down?”

  We shared a laugh as we started walking up to the front door. “I thought we were never going to get that shit out of the branches. We were up there for hours.”

  “It was your idea to do my house,” he argued. “I knew it was gonna come back and bite us in the ass.”

  “You liar! You’re the one who said they’d never suspect us!”

  By the time we reached the front steps we were both giggling, and I smiled for the first time since the night before. The heaviness was still present, waiting for the moment when I let my guard down and it could take over, but for now, I had Liam to distract me and if he was good at anything, it was distraction.

  “Suspect you for what?” came a voice that sucked the laughter right from our lungs.

  “How much I missed you,” I said as I opened the creaky screen door to get a better look at her. I had to force the words passed the lump in my throat. “Hi, Mrs. Dorothy. It’s so good to see you.”

  Grandma Dorothy stood behind the screen door. I wish I could say she looked the same, but the rav
ages of time were more evident than ever. I swore she was a good three inches shorter, her spine curved and requiring her to stoop over. The thin curls she religiously colored a soft brown every eight weeks had thinned and lost their bounce. My heart squeezed. How had I let so much time pass since the last time I visited? I knew the answer, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I’d gotten so used to leaving people before they could leave me, I was doing the same thing with Grandma Dorothy that I’d done to Andrew. And neither of them deserved it.

  After a quick look at Liam for reassurance, I wrapped my arms around her frail body for a hug. The familiar scent of peony body spray filled my nose and instantly caused the tension inside me to loosen. Home, it said. Finally.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until Dorothy said, “Well, get inside. You’re letting all the cool air out.”

  I giggled and released her to let Liam inside. He stooped down to give her a kiss on her papery cheek. He was so much taller than her that she had to lean her head way back to see him. The sight of them together pulled at me in a softer, sweeter way than kissing him had. My breath caught in my throat and Liam glanced at me, his eyebrows drawing together. I shook my head.

  Grandma Dorothy interrupted the moment and I was thankful until I heard her words. “Willy, is that you? My, you’ve grown two feet if you’ve grown an inch.”

  The two of us froze and stared at each other with wide eyes. Liam was named after his father. William Walsh, Sr., who everyone called Willy. They’d shortened William to Liam to differentiate the two.

  I watched as Liam’s throat bobbed and his eyes softened as he stooped down to her level. “No, Grandma. It’s me, Liam.”

  Dorothy shook her head and beckoned us to follow down the hall. “I know that, silly goose. Let’s go find your mother so we can tell her my two favorite people are home.”

  I took Liam’s hand despite the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss when I touched him. No matter what weirdness was going on between us, sometimes he needed me to protect him, too.

  Chapter Five

  Liam

  With her hand in mine, I could face seeing my father.

  Grandma Dorothy went to the fridge and began pouring tea. When I noticed her hands shaking too much to hold the pitcher steady, I went to her side.

  “I’ll get that for you grandma.” I took the pitcher from her hands and guided her to the breakfast nook where she sat across from Dad. He hadn’t looked up from the paper he was reading. A steaming cup of coffee sat at his elbow.

  She beamed up at me. “You’re a good boy. Thank you, Willy.”

  “Anytime.” I told her, deciding not to comment on her error about my name. Ignoring the issue wasn’t healthy by any means, but it was better than focusing on how quickly she had changed. To Charlie, I said, “Do you want a cup?”

  Charlie gave my hand an extra squeeze, then took an empty seat next to Grandma Dorothy. “Sure, thanks.”

  “Hey, Dad,” I said when I couldn’t put it off any longer.

  “Liam,” was all he answered. Was it just me, or did he look…older? I didn’t want to believe it. In some ways, I still wanted to think my father was invincible.

  I poured iced tea for the three of us and served them. “How have you been, grandma?” I asked to break the silence. Sometimes silence was worse than my father’s dictating to me. His blatant lack of interest in having a conversation screamed how little my life mattered to him these days. But, oh, how he’d come to life if only I did everything right—which meant his way or nothing at all.

  “Just fine, dear. How’s school?” Under the table, her foot began to tap against the floor and when her hands weren’t busy with the glass they were constantly rubbing together. Once we’d learned she’d been diagnosed with dementia, the first thing Charlie had done was look up all she could about dementia. She quizzed her nursing instructors, scoured any available medical texts and gracefully agreed to help advise my parents when they chose home health care, even though she didn’t think she was experienced enough to be of any assistance.

  I always thought I was the one who took care of Charlie, protected her…but she did her fair share of taking care of me, too.

  “Just waiting to hear back about applications for school in the fall.”

  My father snorted into his coffee and set down his newspaper. The full force of his gaze turned to me, pinning me to the sink where I was rinsing the empty pitcher. I’d been right earlier, he does look older. But that wasn’t the only thing. He looked like an older me. Was this what I’d turn into if I spent the next thirty years fighting to pull life from an unforgiving patch of earth? His weathered skin had deep grooves that reminded me of cracked mud when the farm went too long without a good rain.

  I ignored him because I didn’t want another argument in front of Charlie and grandma. Raised voices agitated her.

  “That’s great,” Grandma said, beaming. “What about you, Charlie?”

  Charlie smiled at her, her cheeks pink with pleasure and she told grandma about her classes and the kids she saw on rotation at the hospital during her rounds. I’d forgotten how much she loved being here. She even said once being around my family, even when they fought, was like a relief for her. I relaxed a little, ignoring Dad’s scrutiny. I could deal with his bullshit for one weekend if it gave Charlie a reprieve.

  “Where are Janie and Marie, Mr. Frank?” Charlie asked my dad. She never had a problem talking with him and he treated her like a third daughter.

  “They’re sleeping over at a friend's house for the weekend.”

  “I was wondering why it was so quiet,” she said, eyes twinkling.

  He mustered up what passed for a smile in her direction and it hit me how Charlie always manages to pull people out of their shell, even miserly old bastards like my dad.

  “Those two do more caterwauling than the barn cats.”

  Grandma was tapping her feet again and Charlie reached over to hand her the glass of tea without a second glance. My father looked at Charlie with such warmth in his eyes and Grandma Dorothy began chattering happily about the TV programs she’d been watching, I leaned against the kitchen counter, my heart stuck in my throat. Charlie fit. I couldn’t imagine being here without her.

  I wanted to kiss her again.

  The urge slammed into me with the intensity of an avalanche. I wanted to cross the kitchen, pull her to her feet and plant a kiss on her she’d never forget. Not a hasty, spur-of-the-moment kiss. Right here in front of my family, alone. It didn’t matter where. I wanted her. And it terrified me.

  “Did you hear me son?”

  I focused in on my father, who was standing in front of me, his coffee cup in his hand. That was one way to get my thoughts off the carnal route they’d taken. “What’s that?”

  “I could use your help outside, if you have a minute.”

  It shamed me, as it always did, that my first response was to tell him no. I didn’t want to spend the whole weekend doing chores and listening to him gripe about how I was abandoning the family to get a degree I didn’t need. Then I took another look at those new lines on his face and relented. Besides, it’d get my mind off kissing Charlie, or at least, I hoped so. She has enough on her plate with what went down with Andrew and now she was leaving in a couple months. Forget about it, Walsh. I’d be content with the way things were. I had to be.

  “Sure, dad. I’ll be outside in just a sec.”

  He nodded, reached around me to put his cup in the sink, then pushed out the squeaky back door, the screen slapping behind him.

  I crossed the scuffed checkerboard linoleum to the table and stopped to give Grandma Dorothy a kiss on her hair. I met Charlie’s eyes over grandma’s head and said, “Will you be okay here for a little while?”

  She smiled, but there were questions in her eyes. “Sure. I bet Grandma Dorothy and I can find something to keep us plenty busy.”

  “You sure?”

  Grandma twisted in her seat
. “You heard the girl. Now get outside. Your daddy’s been busting his back for months, but he’s not as young as he used to be and could use your help.”

  Charlie sent me a sympathetic look and I sighed. Sometimes, despite her patchy memories and tics, Grandma could send an arrow straight through to the bullseye. “Go,” Charlie mouthed.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help my family. I wanted to, I tried. But living my father’s life wasn’t all I wanted for my own. I had my own dreams. My own goals. He was stubborn enough that he didn’t want to bend, and I was stubborn enough that I’d never ask for help.

  I found him in the old barn situated a healthy walk behind the house. Whatever color it had been painted when it was new had long since faded. My dad, and sometimes I, had kept it in good repair as best we could. Replacing the roof, rotted beams, weathered siding. It was a patchwork mess but the scent of fresh hay for the horse and motor oil was a familiar and welcome reminder of all the years I’d spent here. I thought of Charlie, who’d come to love my family in place of her own and felt guilty about even wanting to run from this place.

  Dad called out from where he was sprawled underneath a tractor. “You’re taking your sweet time, aren’t you?”

  Still thinking of Charlie, I swallowed my angry reply and hunkered down with one hand keeping balance on the side of the rusted old machine. “What do you need?”

  We were more alike than I wanted to admit, because I saw him choke on his own response before he bit out, “Get me that wrench there.”

  Like they’d been a thousand times before, the tools he needed for the job were laid out on a towel, a dirty one, but as organized as you could get in a country barn. I found the wrench and passed it to his outstretched hand. Metallic clanks echoed throughout the bowels of the tractor.

  It would have been so easy to be the son he wanted me to be. Easy in that I could see how much he wanted the kind of man who’d proudly carry on the traditions he’d started, who’d farm the land he slaved over his whole life. The irony was it was the very farm that had inspired me to become a vet. We had horses, donkeys, a cow or two, plus a slew of chickens, goats and barn cats. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have the large animal vet visit a couple times a year. Dad hadn’t thought anything of my tagging along back then, but it had molded me in the way that I knew he still wished the farm would.