Fallen (The Frenemy Series Book 3)

by Kate Benson

  “I’m sorry,” I say immediately, shielding myself from her second attempt at pushing me off the bed. “Baby, I’m really sorry,” I insist, forcing her into my arms, hushing her gently and trying to rock her into submission. “Shh… it’s okay.”

  “Are you trying to put me into a sleeper hold?” she asks, pulling another low, unintentional chuckle from my chest. I pull away and find her staring up at me, completely unamused. “Stop laughing, Dash. You broke my heart, you jackass!”

  “Baby,” I sigh, watching her lift from the mattress and move toward the bathroom, the sliver of silver shining in her palm as she slams the door shut in my face. “Evie, wait! I don’t-”

  Have a key.

  Shit.

  I release what feels like the fiftieth cleansing breath since I woke. I begin to pace in front of the door, coming to a stop once more as I stare back at the low light seeping through onto the carpet.

  “Listen, I know you want this guy who’s going to take you on picnics at sunset and sing some Plain White T’s bullshit to you and I’m sorry, sugar, but I’m just not that fuckin’ guy,” I sigh, my eyebrows scrunching together slightly as I pull away, raking my hand over my beard. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, baby. It doesn’t mean that at all,” I shake my head, my eyes falling closed before I rest my forehead back against the door, willing something inside her broken heart to hear me. “I love you so much it makes my fucking chest ache,” I admit, my voice breaking as I grip the frame in my hands as I search for signs of her muffled breath before continuing. “You set my fuckin’ heart on fire, Evie. I swear to God, if you asked me, I’d try and stop the whole fuckin’ world from spinning just to make you happy,” I whisper, my eyes moist with tears, my chest swarming with emotion. “But you’ve gotta stop trying to turn me into that other guy, pussycat,” I sigh. “No matter how much you want it, no matter how much I might even want to give it to you, I’m just not ever going to be him.”

  I’m about to go on, but the door swings open, revealing her teary blue eyes a half second before she pulls my lips to hers.

  She kisses me hard, the feel of her waist beneath my fingertips as her tongue sweeps against mine sending my senses into a frenzy. She pulls herself up and my hands move to her thighs, holding her as close as I can. Her pregnant belly brushes against me, increasing my emotions tenfold. And in this moment, standing outside the bathroom I’m killing myself to pay for, I know I’ve absolutely, irrevocably fallen for the batshit crazy woman I’m holding with a death grip in my arms.

  I also realize that somewhere along the way, I gave up trying to fight it.

  I let the fuck go and kiss her evil little ass right back.

  “You don’t ever listen to me, Dash Hunter,” she accuses, her voice broken as she pulls away, both of us breathless. “I told you months ago I’m a George Michael fan,” she reminds me, her words pulling the corners of my lips up as I meet her eyes once more. “Fuck the Plain White T’s, baby. All I’ll ever want is you.”

  Eighteen

  dash

  “This book says our little potatoes are the size of bananas,” she says, placing the peel from the half-eaten banana she’s holding gently against her stomach, looking at me with a doubtful expression. “I call bullshit,” she shakes her head. “There’s no way there’s only two of these in there.”

  “There better only be two of those in there,” I snort. “We can’t afford more than two bananas, sugar.”

  She replies with a giggle, her eyes moving back to her book as I reach for my coffee, willing the caffeine to work its magic quickly. I lean back against the cushions, my thoughts roaming of their own accord before her low voice pulls me back once more.

  “What time do you work tomorrow?”

  “Not until late,” I reply. “Why? What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to remind you I have an appointment in the morning,” she explains, setting the book down. “The nurse said they’re doing an ultrasound, too. If we want to know the genders, we might be able to find out.”

  “Really?” I ask, unable to keep the smile from my lips as my eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “I thought so, too, but …” she smiles, her words trailing off slightly as her eyes move back to her stomach.

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know if I want to know,” she admits, her palm resting easy over her bump as she glances back over. “Do you think it’s stupid to want it to be a surprise?”

  “No,” I shake my head. “A surprise could be fun.”

  “Yeah?” she asks, her lips quirking up with mine. “Will that bum you out? Do you really want to know?”

  “Well, yeah, I want to know,” I admit with a shrug. “But no, I won’t be bummed,” I promise, resting my hand beside hers. “I’m okay waiting if that’s what you want to do.”

  “Yay!” she squeals, making my smile widen. “I’m even more excited now.”

  “So, spending a full day with me for the first time in three weeks didn’t do shit for ya, but that did, huh?” I tease, making her roll her eyes.

  “Obviously I’m excited about that, too,” she promises, resting her head on my shoulder. “What do you want to do today?”

  “Nothin’,” I shake my eyes, kissing her hair. “This.”

  “This is pretty great,” she yawns, releasing a low sigh of content when I wrap my arm around her shoulder and hold her a little closer. “This and a grilled cheese.”

  I smirk, kissing her hair once more. “You want me to make you a grilled cheese?”

  “Mhmm,” she nods. “And a strawberry milkshake.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, my nose crinkling up slightly. “That sounds good to you?”

  “Yeah, why?” she giggles. “Is that weird?”

  “Well, I’m not gonna eat it with you,” I tease, taking her kiss. “But it’s a big step up from mango and Funyuns week, so we’ll call it a win.”

  “Deal,” she smiles, extending her hand as I rise from the couch, thanking me when I help her from the cushions. “We probably need to start thinking of names at least,” she continues as she follows me into our kitchen, book and banana peel in hand. “Do you have any ideas?”

  “Hmm…” I think, reaching into the fridge for cheese and butter before I come to a slow stop, facing her. “Not really,” I shake my head. “You?”

  “You haven’t thought about it?” she asks accusingly, her voice shooting up to near squeal level as she gapes at me. “Are you serious?”

  “Well, yeah. I’ve thought about it, but honestly, you’re always telling me I have a taste for shit, so I figured you’d steamroll the name thing,” I shrug. “It’s really your fault if you think about it,” I insist teasingly, making her roll her eyes. “Why? What ideas do you have?”

  “Only a few and most of what I’ve come up with would really only work for girls,” she admits, concentrating enough to pull herself onto her favorite spot on the counter. “It might be cool to name them after our parents,” she starts, tilting her head when I cringe a little. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. If that’s what you want to do, I can try and get on board. I just think that’s a lot of pressure for a kid, ya know?” I ask, buttering bread and setting it to the side. I glance over to see her chewing on her lip in thought, saying nothing. “Think about it, baby. We love our parents. Most of them, anyway,” I allow, the vague mention of my deadbeat dad pulling an apologetic smile from her as I gesture toward her belly. “They’re gonna ask about their names someday. I just think a five-year-old needs to be a five-year-old, not worry about living up to this perfect person we’ve put in their head,” I explain. “That shits got to be stressful.”

  “Yeah,” she says, her own face scrunching up a little before she deadpans and shakes her head. “I mean, you just turned this into the most depressing game ever, but I guess I see your point.”

  “I’m sorry,” I laugh at her
theatrics, handing her a piece of cheese before I take one for myself and pull the ice cream out of our freezer. “We can still do it if you want.”

  “Well, not now. Not after this,” she exclaims, taking a bite and leaning against the cabinets behind her. “So, you said you thought of some names you thought I’d hate,” she continues, pulling my eyes to hers. “Let me hear them.”

  “What do you think about-”

  “Wait!” she cuts me off, her hand moving up quickly to rest against my lips. “Before we go down this road, I’m making a rule.”

  “Okay,” I smirk, kissing her palm before she pulls her hand away from my mouth. “Lay it on me, killer.”

  “If either of these babies are a girl, I don’t want them sharing a name with anyone you’ve slept with,” she insists, raising an eyebrow. “So, I don’t care if you think of it or I do, if you’ve screwed someone with that name, just politely decline, okay?” she continues. “Don’t come at me with any of that Amy bullshit.”

  “Fair enough,” I chuckle. “I’ll agree to that as long as you do the same. Although, I’m sure that won’t be a problem. You dated guys with fucked up non-names.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Steve’s a real name.”

  “Not one we’re calling my kid,” I teasingly counter, licking the stray piece of ice cream from my finger before I hand her the spoon.

  “Fine. Done. No ex names,” she agrees. “Now go. Tell me your ideas.”

  “What about Fox?” I ask, glancing toward her. “I think that’s a cool name for a boy.”

  “Like Megan?” she arches her eyebrow.

  “No, not like Megan,” I smirk, glancing down at her notebook. “Which, fun fact, ain’t on the table after our agreement, so you can go ahead and mark that one off your list,” I admit, leaning against the counter across from her, ignoring the endearing death glare. “I meant Fox like the animal.”

  “Well, I guess you were right,” she snorts, pulling the spoon from her mouth and tapping it against her lower lip, presumably searching for a friendly way to tell me to fuck off. “I really don’t like that name at all.”

  “What about Wolf?”

  “Why would we name our child after an animal? Do I look like a forest creature?”

  “You’re pretty foxy,” I wink, making her roll her eyes again at my joke. “But a simple ‘no thanks’ is fine. Don’t ask my opinion and then be a dick, baby.”

  “Okay, you’re right,” she shakes her head clear. “I’m sorry. I’ll pass on that one, but I want to hear your other ideas.”

  “That’s all I’ve got right now,” I laugh. “You don’t like any of my ideas, what do you have?”

  “Okay, what about something more traditional?” she starts. “What do you think of the name Chloe?”

  “I think we can’t use it,” I admit honestly, handing her the grilled cheese and lean against the counter behind me, taking a bite from mine.

  “Okay,” she sighs, biting her lip. “What about Sienna? Or Amber?” she reads down her list, my bites slowing rapidly. “Or I think Jasmine is pretty. What do you think of Jasmine?”

  “I think you’re really pretty,” I tell her, my eyes apologetic.

  “Whatever, whore,” she admonishes me playfully, shaking her head as she glances down at her list once more. “Brittany?” I shake my head. “Alexis?”

  “Is Lexi short for Alexis?” I ask, met with her sigh.

  “Katie?”

  “Baby let me just save you some trouble and myself from spending a night on the couch,” I offer, taking a half step closer and plucking the pen and notepad from her fingers. I can feel her eyes on me, judging me. I want to be offended, but the further I make it down the list, the shittier my defense becomes. “There. You’re all set.”

  She takes the list, her narrowed gaze holding mine for a quick moment before she glances back down and takes in the scratch marks marring the page.

  “Wow!” she says, her mouth falling open in amused disgust as she reaches for her milkshake. “I’ll tell you something, babe. I’ve met a lot of skanks in my life, but I think you just became the skankiest.”

  “Are you enjoying your lunch?” I ask, straight-faced.

  “I was,” she replies. “Now I’m trying to remember the symptoms for herpes.”

  “Alright,” I sigh, taking my turn to roll my eyes at the snort leaving her. “Calm the hell down, Judge Judy. You’ve still got some names on there.”

  “Yeah, like two!” she insists, glancing down at her paper. “And I’d add a couple more, but my pen is probably out of ink now.”

  “You’re so stupid,” I laugh, shaking my head as I take her empty plate and give it a rinse before loading it into the dishwasher. “You know, you’re no angel either,” I warn as I help her down from the counter and lead us back into the living room. “Here in a few minutes, I’m going to make my own list and you’re going to feel like a real jackass.”

  “Am I?” she asks, her face contorting into disbelief.

  “Probably,” I chuckle. “You forget I was around to witness pieces of your freshman year in college,” I raise my eyebrow, making her blush. “Yeah, so maybe chill out on the name calling over there, kettle.”

  “Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, falling into the cushions beside me and taking her list back, handing me a piece of paper and settling in. “I might have a list, but at least if we have a boy, he won’t be named after a plant or something.”

  I smirk at her joke, leaning forward to start my list when a flash of drunken memories swarm my thoughts and I internally cringe, flashing her an apologetic smile.

  “I’d steer clear of flowers then,” I admit, scratching my beard. “At least the common ones.”

  evie

  “You havin’ fun over there, Mother Teresa?” I ask with a smirk as I hear her pen swipe across my list for a third time.

  “Why don’t you eat me?” she mumbles, shaking her head. I’m about to reply but she lifts the paper for a moment before turning to gape at me. “Did you text Mason?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I find it very hard to believe that one, the first four names you’ve listed just happened to be the names of my four most recent exes,” she raises her eyebrow. “And two, that you went from suggesting shit like Fox and Wolf to … Nick,” she deadpans. “That’s why.”

  The frustrated expression staring back at me makes it impossible for me to hold in the loud laugh in my chest, much less keep a straight face. When she wads the paper up to throw it at me, I reach for it and place it back on the coffee table, smiling at her victoriously.

  “Well, can you blame me?” I ask. “You were runnin’ my ass through the fuckin’ ringer, baby.”

  “It’s not my fault you’ve slept with every nice named woman on the Gulf coast, Dash!” she shouts, her dramatics making me chuckle once more. “I’m serious, baby. What the hell are we going to do?” she asks, staring down at the ink-ridden pages in horror. “We’re going to have to name our kids after one of my food cravings or something.”

  “You’re being ridiculous, baby. Do you even know anyone named Taco?” I grin, kissing her hair. “It’s not like you’re craving cand-”

  “Don’t!” she cuts me off, pulling another loud laugh from my chest as she playfully smacks me.

  “I’m just fucking with you, nutcase,” I promise, pressing my lips to her hair and pulling her closer to my chest. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she smiles, her tone affectionate as she leans up to press her lips to mine. “Whorebag.”

  “So sweet,” I reply, relishing in the feel of her settling against my chest. “Hey, I have an idea.”

  “Yeah?” she asks, her blue eyes moving to mine, watching me nod my answer. “What’s that?”

  “You pick the boy names, I’ll pick the girl names,” I offer. “Same rules can apply, we just won’t have to do this shit anymore,” I suggest as I take the notebook from her hand and chuck it onto the floor. “Each of us come
up with two of each. Fair?”

  “What if we have two girls?” she asks, her eyebrows crinkling together. “I won’t get to name either of them.”

  “Well, then you can just name the next batch,” I tease, laughing at how her jaw drops. “I’m obviously joking, baby. If you get pregnant again after this, my dick’s not going anywhere you,” I lie again, laughing harder when she playfully shoves my arm. “We can each come up with three names, then, so there’s an alternate. If it’s two girls and you hate one of the names, you can pick something else off the list, pussycat. Just don’t try naming my son some crazy shit like Oprah Middleton.”

  “Fine,” she smiles, leaning back into my side. “That seems fair.”

  She thinks on it for a moment, chewing her lip in thought before finally, her lips move into a soft smile and she nods up at me.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to just name them after our parents?” she asks, her eyebrows quirking together. “At least one of them? Or like… a middle name or something? Your mom had the prettiest name. I’ve always been crazy jealous of it.”

  “Really? Olivia?”

  “Yes, it’s my favorite,” she insists, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t even care if you screwed a girl with that name. That’s how much I love it.”