Fallen (The Frenemy Series Book 3)

by Kate Benson

It wouldn’t fix everything, but it’d be a damned good place to start.

  There was a time not that long ago when I hated the idea of the two of them being together. If I’m being honest, it’s still weird as fuck being around them. Over the last few months, though, especially since they found out she was pregnant, I’d be lying if I said my best friend hadn’t surprised the hell out of me.

  I told Evie that first night at the house that she deserved better than Dash Hunter. I said he’d never love her the way she wanted, that he’d never fight to make sure she had the life we’d tried so hard to give her. To be fair, I meant what I said. In that moment, I didn’t think he had it in him, but I was dead ass wrong.

  I’ve never seen him fight this hard for anything. I’ve never seen him this torn up, this broken. As for Evie, I’ve never seen her so hung up on anyone that she moped for more than a long weekend.

  I couldn’t see it back then, that first night at the house when the three of us had it out in the middle of my mom’s living room. I thought it was her youthful rebellion and his unrelenting need to take what he wanted or have the last word. It took me days to finally acknowledge what had been in front of me the whole time and even then, I wouldn’t let myself be okay with it. Not for a while.

  It started from anger, but quickly morphed into a lot more than that.

  I hated the secrets they kept.

  I worried for my sister, felt guilty for thinking the worst of my best friend.

  Most of all, I resented the position it put me in.

  One inevitable fight was all it would take for me be forced to choose between them. We all knew who it would have to be, and it stung like hell they didn’t consider what that would do to me.

  Selfish as fuck, but it’s also as honest as it gets.

  Although I eventually got to a place where I could hope the best for them both, the possibility of this all blowing up in their faces felt inevitable. They’d been at each other’s throats for over twelve years, nearly half Evie’s life, so how’d they expect this to turn out any different? It wasn’t until the last time I’d seen them together, that day in their apartment, that I felt like I could release a breath knowing I’d be able to keep them both.

  Despite how quick I was to throw myself in the mix at the start of it all, I know now the middle of this is the last place I want to be. Hell, it’s not even where I should be. Somehow, though, I ended up here anyway and now, I can’t help but want to see them anywhere but together.

  “What a couple of pains in my ass,” I whisper low to myself, reaching into the cooler for another beer.

  I move to the edge of the bar to reach for the opener I’d set down and as his voice seeps quietly from the other side of the doors, it freezes against the cap.

  “Blue book is seventy-two thousand restored, but I’m willing to take sixty-five,” he says, jumping when I swing the door open beside him, throwing my hands up. “Yeah, that’s firm,” he says into the line, staring back at me. “First come, no holds, no deposits, cash only.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I mouth, making him shake his head as he squares his jaw. “Are you fucking crazy?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he mouths back silently, pointing toward the bar as his eyebrows crinkle in annoyance. “Yeah, it’s all original,” he says into the line, looking away from me as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sure man. This is my cell. Just let me know.”

  He ends the call and blows out a deep breath, staring out into the stockroom at nothing before he turns around and finds me waiting for him on the other side of the door.

  “What Mason?”

  “Have you lost your mind?” I demand. “You can’t sell your car.”

  “I don’t have a fucking choice,” he insists. “I’m out of a job-”

  “What the fuck do you call this?” I gesture, throwing my hands up dramatically.

  “I call it my friend helping me out,” he says immediately. “And I appreciate it, but I’m running low on savings, Evie’s not making any money yet and it’s been two weeks with no calls from anyone,” he continues. “Even if she manages to avoid going into labor early, she’s less than three months away from her due date. Two months after that and my life savings is gone, Mason,” he sighs. “Even if one of these garages call me back, I’m looking at one hell of a pay cut, and I’ve got two kids coming.”

  “Evie’s gonna shit,” I shake my head. “You think she’s mad at you now? Just wait ‘til-”

  “Evie’s not going to find out about this,” he cuts me off, holding my eyes. “She’s not fucking speaking to me right now anyway,” he sighs, taking a step back before he moves toward the well and pours himself a whiskey, shooting it back. “It’s not a big deal,” he lies, pouring another before he sets the bottle back into its place and rinses his glass in the sink. “It’s just a car, Mason.”

  “You love that car.”

  “Yeah, I do,” he agrees, resuming his place at the edge of the bar, leaning forward on his palms. “Turns out I finally found something I love more.”

  His words don’t surprise me, but the way they hit me do and I can’t help but swallow hard and look away.

  I hate seeing him like this.

  “Dude-”

  “I’m a big boy,” he offers, clearing his throat. “I’ll be fine, Mase.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh and toss my empty into the trash. “You coming in tomorrow?”

  “Evie’s got a thing in the park at eight,” he replies, glancing over at me with a shrug. “I don’t know if it’ll do any good. Hell, I don’t even know if she’ll show. She didn’t last week,” he admits. “I just figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Good thinking,” I offer, giving him a pat on the shoulder before I reach for my keys. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will,” he lies, giving me a half smile. “Hey, Mase?”

  “Yeah?” I call back, glancing over my shoulder.

  “Thanks.”

  Twenty-Nine

  evie

  His call comes early on Friday morning. I pull my eyes from Dash’s first text of the day, my chest clenching all over again as I slide my thumb across the screen and lift the phone to my ear.

  “Hi Mase,” I say quietly into the line, my voice sounding slightly off from lack of use and another tear-ridden night.

  “Hey kid,” he replies, the smile in his voice obvious. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No,” I shake my head dumbly, burying my hand into Vinnie’s fur as he rests beside me, my eyes staring out into the ceiling. “I’ve been awake since four. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” he says easily. “How are you holding up?”

  “Meh,” I admit with just as much ease, glancing down at my furry companion. “I’m alright, I guess.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, pulling a grunt from me he either doesn’t hear or at least doesn’t acknowledge. “How’ve you been feeling?”

  “Mostly okay. I’ve been getting hot flashes for the last two days and they’re really starting to piss me off. To be fair, though, everything does lately,” I admit with a sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Yeah, you do,” he says quietly, making me swallow hard in silent agreement. “And I think if you’re honest, you’d agree that what you’re feeling right now isn’t anger. Well,” he corrects himself when I release an unamused chuckle. “Maybe not all of it anyway.”

  I pull in a deep breath, my eyes drifting shut as I brace myself for the words I’d been fighting for days tease the edge of my tongue.

  “Have you seen him?”

  “Yeah,” he admits, the single word making my vision blur. I say nothing, fighting back the sob that’s immediately found itself jammed in the base of my throat. “He’s a wreck, Evie. I’ve never seen him like this, maybe not even when his mom died,” he says quietly into the line, and the last of my defenses come crashing down, the sniff he hears on his end enough to have him releasing a low sigh across the line. “I
’m sorry, honey.”

  “Don’t,” I shake my head, hating the thick and broken sound of my voice. “This isn’t your fault. You said this would happen and I didn’t listen.”

  “I say a lot of shit, Eve. Doesn’t mean I’m always right,” he admits. “Have you thought anymore about talking to him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “And I don’t think I can, Mason,” I whisper, swiping my tears away. “Not yet,” he starts to argue, but I cut him short. “If it hurts this much just thinking about him, I have no idea how I’d be able to face him right now,” I confess, my voice still breaking despite my attempts. “It’s not like I’m never going to speak to him again or anything,” I continue, my palm resting on my growing belly. “Even if he wasn’t your best friend, I’m pretty much locked into being tied to him for the next eighteen years, at least,” I sigh. “I just need more time.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His silence is so fluid I wonder briefly if the call dropped until I hear him release another sigh across the line.

  “How about work?” he changes the subject, confirming my suspicion that he disagrees with me completely. “How’s that going? Are you working on anything new?”

  “No, not really,” I shake my head. “I went in a few times this week and tried, but I couldn’t focus so I left,” I admit. “There’s a thing in the park tonight I’m supposed to go to. I do it most weeks, but I haven’t been since…” I trail off, my eyes locked on the ceiling. “Sometimes, I paint a little easier there, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.”

  “You should definitely go,” he says immediately, taking me by surprise. “I know you feel like shit right now, but maybe focusing on something else for a while will help get your mind off things. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

  “Yeah,” I sniff. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  “Of course, I am,” he teases, his playful tone bringing a soft smile to my lips. “I love ya, kid. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” I nod. “I love you, too.”

  Despite my reservations, I take Mason’s advice and get to the park ten minutes early. A few of the girls stop by to say hello as I begin setting up, the awkwardness in our exchanges completely due to my own embarrassment and what they’d witnessed a couple weeks earlier between Dash and me.

  By the time we start, I’m feeling a little more relaxed, the cool night breeze soothing my veins as I reach for my earbuds and slip them in.

  I pull the messy sheet away from my canvas, the gentle swish of the fabric sending my chest into a flurry before I take a step back and allow my eyes a chance to dance over the base I’d laid down over the course of the last few weeks.

  I push out a deep, cleansing breath and pull on my mask, eager to spend the next hour or so in creative solitude. As the brush settles against my fingers, I release the low and even sigh that’s been stuck inside my chest, the sensation of onlookers approaching like usual fading away slowly as I stare up at her, willing her to speak.

  My eyes flutter shut for a brief moment and I listen carefully, both to the piece and the low strum of bass moving through my veins. Once I’m where I need to be, they gently snap open of their own accord and I take the step that separates me from the canvas, my brush making contact while everything else slowly falls away.

  It isn’t long until she begins to take shape. Her vulnerable curves, her feigned courage, the emotional distress that I feel pushing through the image of this woman I’ve never met but feel in my core finally seeps onto the canvas seamlessly. As the low and gentle notes flow through my headphones and into my veins, all the emotions I’ve been staving off over the last two weeks take shape in her hair. It begins to flow over her forehead in time with my silent tears, the slight arch in her brow taking the breath from us both.

  As I release the gentle sob that seems to perpetually rest in my chest, her pain and mine become one. The bitter taste of my sorrow runs so deep, bleeding out over her features. In this moment, we’re kindred spirits, born from the same emotion we’ve both been struggling to deny.

  What feels like only a few moments later, I vaguely feel the brush of encouragement coming from behind me, a few of the girls silently offering their support as they make their way passed me. I mutter an almost silent thank you, my focus never waning as I refill my brush with a painfully familiar shade of green and push up on my toes, desperate to see if the pits of her soul are bleeding heartache, too.

  As her lips part, so do mine, the gasp that leaves us seemingly simultaneous. The ache in my chest moves so deep, I struggle to breathe for a moment.

  I finally take a half step away from her, my vision blurry with tears for both the broken girl staring back at me through the acrylic and the one I’ve become. I can’t help the low whimper that slips from my chest as I gently yank one of my earbuds away, taking in the sounds of the night as I drop the brush at my feet and use the back of my free hand to swipe my cheeks.

  There’s a gentle rustle behind me, leaves trailing along the sidewalk an afterthought. The sound is broken by a low sigh I’m almost certain slipped from my own chest until I acknowledge the instinctual craving to hear it once more.

  I never craved anything before him.

  “Don’t forget to take a picture for me.”

  His deep voice from my left is just loud enough to overshadow the combined effects of my own rapid thoughts and the music still pumping from my headphones.

  Without hesitation, I turn to face him, the sight of him for the first time in two weeks making me weak. The rest of the park is empty now, the other onlookers long since gone, leaving only the two of us and a mountain of regret in their place.

  “She’s incredible,” he manages, braving a step closer as his eyes move over the piece before finally, they return to me. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

  I don’t miss the double edge to his words.

  Instantly, they take my breath, too.

  “Dash-”

  “I just want to talk,” he promises, his deep voice softer than usual as he searches my features.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.”

  “Then just listen,” he offers as he swallows hard, pulling my attention to the nasty bruise still staining his skin beneath his unusually thick scruff. “Evie, please just listen to me for ten minutes. I swear to God, if you still don’t want me, I’ll do whatever you want. You still don’t want to see me? I’ll get in my car, I’ll drive away and you’ll never have to see me like this again. I won’t call you. I’ll stop texting you, whatever. It can just be all about the twins after this if it’s what you say you want, but please,” he begs quietly, his green eyes holding mine as a long strand of his dark hair hangs boyishly over his crinkled brow. “Please just give me one last chance to fight for you.”

  His words make my chest ache, the thought of his promise terrifying. For the first time in two weeks, I feel a piece of my heart silently rooting for him to change my mind, free us both.

  “Okay,” I manage hesitantly, clearing my throat as I set my things to the side and silently brace myself. “Ten minutes.”

  Please make it count, I think, as he nods silently.

  “That night at the bar, it was only maybe the second or third time I’d seen Hail-”

  “I don’t need to hear you say her name,” I cut him off, hating the thick ache that fills my chest. He swallows hard, giving me a quick nod of understanding before he clears his throat and tries again.

  “After that text, I didn’t see her at work for a while,” he starts. “I thought she switched shifts, asked for a different floor, something,” he holds my eyes. “When she popped back up, I ignored her, hoped she’d catch on. I was going to tell you that night when I got home, but you were already asleep, and I honestly just forgot about it. I probably shouldn’t have, but I did,” he offers. “You might not believe me, Evie, but that girl never even hit my radar,” he sighs, biting his
lip when my expression refuses to shift. “It wasn’t until she sent that text and I saw how badly it upset you that I even acknowledged her.”

  “Wait,” I start, my chest radiating. “Are you blaming me for this?”

  “No, baby,” he shakes his head immediately, the endearment making me swallow hard. He watches me for a moment, gauging my features until I give him a gentle nod and he blows out a low breath, readying himself to continue. “So, the next night as I was locking up, she asked if I wanted to leave with her. I told her I was with someone, not interested. When I got home, you were still awake and I’d planned to tell you, but you’d been up all night, you felt like shit and I thought that would be the end of the whole thing,” he shrugs. “Hell, it should’ve been. I knew even then, I should bring it up, but it just didn’t really matter to me, Evie, so I blew it off,” I start to object, but he nods. “I know I should’ve told you anyway. It didn’t matter to me, but I get that it matters to you, so I should’ve kept my word and told you, but that’s why I didn’t. It wasn’t because I was keeping it a secret, Evie. I was just more worried about trying to make you feel better that night, so I focused on that instead,” he admits, his eyes soft and understanding before he lets out a low sigh. “The next night I saw her was the night you came in.”

  He holds my eyes as they begin to burn with heartache, and I hate how quickly I’m taken right back to that place again. He takes a step forward, his hand raising to brush away the traitor tear, but I look away and he slows his movements. I quickly swipe my palm over my cheek and clear my throat, my stomach lurching with nerves before I blow out a deep breath and face him once more.

  “We were short staffed and busy as hell, so I wasn’t paying attention to her at all. I was just trying to get through the shift,” he starts again. “Right before you got there, I told her I needed to run, and grab stock and she tried to come with me. I’d just about had enough of her shit so when I told her no, I was pretty harsh. It must’ve pissed her off because when I came back, she was behind the bar, throwing back shots like they were nothing. It was pretty obvious then she’d been tossing them back half the night. She was completely fucking trashed.”