by Jae
But unless she wanted to put her sweaty clothes back on or stick sanitary pads over strategic places on her body, the only thing she had to cover herself with was her towel.
Deep breath. It’ll do. Ky wouldn’t see her anyway. It was only two steps from the bathroom to her bedroom, and Ky was busy in the kitchen, without a direct line of sight to the hall.
She dried off with unsteady hands, wrapped the towel around herself, and tucked the ends into a knot between her breasts. The seam brushed her thighs. See? Basically like a miniskirt.
Feeling like a burglar in her own apartment, she opened the door a few inches and peeked out.
Dishes clinked in the kitchen. The coast was clear.
Regan slipped out of the bathroom and tiptoed to the bedroom door. Just as she reached it, steps crossed the living area.
“Great timing. Dinner is—” Ky appeared at the end of the hall, carrying two plates. Her gaze traced down Regan’s bare shoulders, lingered on the place where the knot barely held her towel up, then slid down the length of her legs before snapping back up to Regan’s face. “Uh…”
They stared at each other like a rabbit and a wolf who’d unexpectedly come across each other in the forest, though Regan couldn’t tell who was the predator and who the prey.
The look in Ky’s eyes was wild and scared at the same time.
Regan glanced away, afraid to telegraph her thoughts.
As if finally freed from a hypnotic trance, Ky whirled around to face the coffee table, where she put down the plates with an audible clunk. “Sorry. I was just bringing the sandwiches to the table.”
“I’ll be right there.” Regan rushed into her bedroom, kicked the door closed behind herself, and sank against the mirrored closet door. The cold surface on her burning skin made her shiver—or maybe it was the memory of Ky’s gaze roaming down her half-naked body. “Get yourself together, Regan Romano. You’re not fifteen.”
Not that she would have reacted like this to her best friend seeing her half-naked at fifteen. She still couldn’t fully understand how it had all changed so quickly, but, at least to herself, there was no denying that it had. And clearly, it wasn’t all one-sided either. That look in Ky’s eyes had been unmistakable.
It doesn’t matter, she firmly told herself. She had promised Ky not to risk their friendship, no matter what. Besides, there was something else going on with Ky, and she needed to focus on that.
She pulled her oldest pair of sweatpants and one of her chemistry T-shirts from the closet. At the last second, she glanced at the dialogue bubble above the cartoonish Erlenmeyer flask, saying, We’ve got great chemistry.
Oops. Maybe not that. She shoved it back into the closet and chose another. This one said: I periodically tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction. Much better.
Once she was dressed, she walked out into the living room.
Ky sat in one corner of the couch, staring at the sandwiches. Either she had suddenly discovered she was hungry after all, or she couldn’t look Regan in the eyes. “Sorry,” she said again.
“No big deal,” Regan answered as casually as possible. “How were you supposed to know I was modeling the latest towel fashion?”
A dimple formed in Ky’s cheek as if she was about to say something funny…or maybe flirty. But then she shook her head and gestured at the plates. “Your culinary creations are getting cold.”
The loud growl of Regan’s stomach broke the tension. She hadn’t had more than a few bites of pizza earlier because she’d been too worried about Ky.
She plopped down on the couch next to Ky and picked up her sandwich. It was still warm as she took the first bite. The gooey cheese practically melted in her mouth, and something spicy contrasted perfectly with the tartness of the pickles. “This is good,” she said as soon as she’d swallowed the bite. “Maybe I’m the culinary superhero.”
“I added a few of the chili flakes your dad uses on his pizzas to spice things up a little. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Regan took another bite and hummed her appreciation. “Not at all. We make a great team.”
“Yeah,” Ky said quietly. “We do.”
Something resonated in her tone, and Regan peered over at her.
Instead of making eye contact, Ky looked at her sandwich and ate in silence.
Okay. Ky clearly wasn’t ready to talk. Regan turned on the TV and flicked through shows and movies on her streaming service for something to watch while they ate, knowing Ky needed some time to get used to the idea of telling her what was going on with her.
Rizzoli and Isles was their usual fallback option, so she started it where they had last stopped watching. Too late, she realized it was the episode in which the detective and the medical examiner went undercover in a lesbian bar and had a friendly sleepover.
Maybe watching a TV show about two supposedly platonic friends with more chemistry than her entire prep room hadn’t been a genius idea.
Ky seemed to eat in slow motion. Regan had long since finished her sandwich by the time Ky swallowed her last bite.
Normally, Ky would have stretched out to watch the rest of the episode and thrown her legs across Regan’s lap, hoping for a foot massage. But now everything was different.
It sucked.
Regan missed those affectionate little touches.
Ky stayed on her side of the couch and looked toward the TV, but Regan could tell she wasn’t really watching.
When she caught Ky sneaking a peek at her out of the corner of her eye, she grabbed the remote and shut off the TV.
“Hey, I was watching that,” Ky said.
“No, you weren’t.”
“Yes, I was.” Ky lifted her chin. “Try me.”
“Okay. What was our favorite scientist wearing for their sleepover?”
Ky mumbled something that sounded like, “She’s not my favorite scientist.” Then, more loudly, she added, “That thing with the ruffles.”
“Nope. That was in the episode one sleepover. Besides, it was a trick question. We haven’t even gotten to that scene yet—which you would know if you had actually watched.” Regan threw the remote onto the coffee table. “Will you please tell me what’s going on with you? I’m starting to worry.”
Ky put one foot on the couch and hugged one knee to her chest.
“This isn’t about Ollie, is it?”
“Ollie?”
“Oliver…whatever his last name is.”
One corner of Ky’s mouth twitched into a humorless smile. “I wish it were.”
“Okay, so it isn’t him. But there is something going on with you, so don’t pretend otherwise. I mean, something other than…” Regan swung her feet up on the coffee table and stared at her toes, then peeked over at Ky and pointed back and forth between them.
Ky offered her a tired smile. “What, that’s not enough?”
They were joking about it. Kind of. That was good, right?
Regan slid a little closer. “Come on, Ky. Get it off your chest. Is it the promotion? You haven’t mentioned it in a while, and I didn’t want to put any pressure on you by bringing it up.”
Ky sighed. She let go of her knee and put her feet on the table next to Regan’s, but not touching. “Fran keeps nudging me to make a decision soon, and I still haven’t.”
“Why not? Are you still afraid of not being good enough?” Regan waved at their clean plates. “Hello? You could cook circles around Fran and anyone else on staff.”
“Thanks.”
“But?”
“Even if I could do the job, I’m not sure I want to.”
Regan studied her. “Because you honestly don’t want it or because you think you shouldn’t want it?”
Ky stared at her, then touched her fingertips to her temples as if that helped her think. “Um, the former. I think. I’m just not sure if it’s the right job for me.”
“Then don’t take it.”
Ky turned her head and looked at her. “It’s that easy?”
“I figure if you really wanted it, you would know.”
Ky’s attention seemed to turn inward, as if she was listening to the echo of Regan’s advice deep inside of her. Finally, she gave her a look full of admiration. “When did the little girl who used to ride down her steep driveway on a wheeled desk chair become so wise?”
Regan grinned. “Probably when she spent the rest of that summer in a cast.”
“Nah. That can’t be it. I remember all the ways you tried to get rid of that cast. None of them were what I’d call wise.”
Regan covered her face with her hands. “It’s a wonder I survived my childhood.”
“It’s a wonder your parents survived it, not to mention me!”
“That too.” Regan dropped her hands to her lap and regarded Ky. Despite their joking, she still seemed as relaxed as a kid waiting to see the dentist. “The promotion isn’t really what’s on your mind, is it? There’s something else.”
Ky wrinkled her nose at her. “It’s kind of annoying how well you know me.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right? No judgment. But if it’s something you’re not ready to talk about, I won’t judge you for that either.”
“No, I want to tell you. It’s just not an easy subject.”
Regan racked her brain. Besides whatever was going on with them, there was only one thing…one person who had the power to upset Ky this much. “You heard from your dad.”
Ky stared. “How did you…?”
“Because I know you annoyingly well. So you really heard from him?” After his two-year stint in prison, Ky’s contact with her father had consisted more or less of short calls on Christmas and birthdays. Regan had witnessed a few of them, and she’d cringed every time at how stiff and formal they were with each other. She’d had more animated conversations with the barista when she got coffee on the way to work. After her mother’s death, Ky had even stopped talking to him for a while. During the past three years, their tense calls had turned into postcards from all over South America.
“Yeah.” Ky rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “He called earlier.”
“When you were in the backyard, with Denny.” She didn’t phrase it as a question, but Ky nodded anyway. “What did he want?”
Ky hunched her shoulders as if protecting her vulnerable core. She looked so pale that, for a second, Regan worried she would be sick.
Without hesitation, Regan slid across the couch, bridging the space between them, and took her hand. Ky’s fingers, usually strong and reliable, were trembling. Regan interlaced their fingers into a tight bond. “Breathe. It would look really bad on my culinary résumé if you pass out on my couch after eating my sandwich.”
Ky let out a startled laugh. “Can’t have that.” She drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it escape. “He’s back from Brazil or Chile or wherever he was last. And he wants to see me.”
Hell, no. Regan bit back the words before they could slip out. Trevor had left deep wounds on Ky’s heart, and now that most of them had finally scarred over, he wanted to come back into her life and do it all over again? Over her dead body. But, of course, she knew it wasn’t her decision to make. “What did you tell him?”
“I hung up on him.” Ky stared down at their joined hands. “I couldn’t deal with him on top of…everything else.”
A part of Regan cheered, but deep down, she knew that wasn’t the resolution Ky needed. “What will you do if he calls again?”
“I don’t know. Hang up again? I really have no idea. What do you think I should do?” Ky looked at her in a way she hadn’t for at least ten years, as if she were searching for a lifeline in an ocean that threatened to drown her.
Regan wrestled down the impulse to tell her to get a new phone number. Her overprotectiveness wasn’t what Ky needed right now. Closure was. “Can I be honest?”
“Since when do you have to ask me that?”
Their gazes met, then veered away like two repelling magnets.
While Regan had never lied to her, she also hadn’t opened up completely lately.
“Yes, of course you can,” Ky finally said. “I don’t want you to start censoring yourself around me.”
Are you sure? Regan bit her lip. Now wasn’t the right moment for a question like that. One crisis at a time. “Okay. Do you want the impulsive Regan or the wise Regan response?”
Ky chuckled. “There’s a wise Regan?”
Regan tapped Ky’s knee with her own. “You were the one who called me wise earlier.”
“Guess I did. Okay, then. Give me both.”
“Impulsive Regan thinks you should flush your phone down the toilet and get a new number.”
“Hmm, I like impulsive Regan.”
“Me too, but the last time I listened to her was—” Regan cut herself off. No need to bring up the kiss. “Um, when I invited you over for sandwiches without considering the lack of food in my fridge.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think it turned out all right,” Ky said with a vague gesture that seemed to indicate their joined hands more than the empty plates.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
God, there was more subtext going on here than in an average Rizzoli and Isles episode. Was she interpreting the look in Ky’s eyes correctly or indulging in wishful thinking? It was all so damn confusing.
“So?” Ky prompted.
“Hmm?”
“What does wise Regan think?”
That I should slide to the right and put at least a foot of space between us. But, of course, Regan had rarely listened to that wise voice, so she stayed where she was, with her thigh pressed along Ky’s, holding her hand. “There’s a lot of unfinished business between you and your dad. Between you and both of your parents,” she added very quietly. “But you’ll never get any answers or closure from your mom.”
Ky’s fingers flexed around hers, yet she nodded for Regan to go on.
“So maybe…maybe you should get whatever closure you can from your dad. Not for him. You don’t owe him a thing. But maybe you need to do it for yourself.”
“I don’t know, Regan. What if all he wants from me is money?”
Regan let out a growl. “Then I’ll flush him down the toilet.”
That made Ky smile, if only for a moment. “Or what if he tells me he got married while he was in South America and has a new family now?” Shadows lurked in Ky’s eyes, darkening them to a mossy gray.
“Even if he did, that wouldn’t mean he replaced you.” Ky was such a kind, unique woman. No one could ever replace her.
Ky finally looked from their hands into Regan’s eyes. “You really think I should meet him?”
“Only if you feel it could help you in the long run.”
“Maybe it would. It’s just… The thought of seeing him brings up a lot of stuff.”
Regan softly squeezed her hand. “I know. Would you want me to come with you if you decide to see him?”
Ky looked at her as if she’d offered to go through hell and trim the devil’s claws. “You’d do that?”
“I’d do anything for you, Ky.” Regan reached over with her free hand to brush back Ky’s bangs so she could see how much she meant it. “Don’t you know that by now?” Shit. Where was wise Regan when she needed her to stop impulsive Regan from blurting out whatever was going through her mind? Still, she refused to take it back.
Ky’s eyes misted over, but she didn’t look away. Her gaze dove deeply into Regan’s, searching, connecting.
Heat swept from their intertwined hands through the rest of Regan’s body. “I mean,” she mumbled, her voice low and hoarse, “it’s in the best-friend contract, next to not being allowed to watch Rizzoli and Isles without you ever.”
“Best-friend contract. Right.” Ky brushed back her bangs as if retracing Regan’s touch. “Thank you. Just you offering…that helps a lot, even if I end up not meeting him or not taking you up on it.”
“Any time.”
They s
at in silence for a while, until Regan became overly aware that they were still holding hands, even though Ky’s need to be comforted seemed to have passed. “Want to stay for a while and finish the episode?”
“Yes, of course. I still need to win our bet.”
“Bet? What bet?”
“Your sleepover wear question from earlier. I still think Maura was wearing that thing with the ruffles down the front.”
“Let’s find out.” Under the pretense of reaching for the remote, Regan disentangled her fingers from Ky’s—then immediately missed the contact.
Ky curled her hand around her own knee as if it felt empty too.
Dammit. Their friends might have been right. There was an undeniable chemistry between them, and maybe it truly could be something other than friendship chemistry. But she had promised not to pursue that train of thought because it had the potential to leave Ky—and her—just as destroyed as her father’s prison sentence and her mother’s death had.
Suppressing a sigh, Regan restarted the episode.
* * *
Ky was having the best dream she’d had in years. A warm body was cuddled up to hers. Even in her sleep, she knew it wasn’t just any warm body. She was holding Regan. Or maybe Regan was holding her. It didn’t matter.
Regan was trailing her fingers over Ky’s cheek, her temple, the arc of one eyebrow, and Ky nuzzled closer, never wanting the dream to end.
“Ky.” Regan’s voice, soothing and tender, vibrated through her. It was so close that it almost seemed to come from within her.
“Mmmh.” Ky pressed her face against soft cotton and buried deeper against her comfy spot.
“Come on, Ky. Come to bed with me.”
Ky slowly drifted awake. She opened her eyes, but all she saw was the navy-blue fabric that she’d pressed her face to, probably a pillow or something. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. She just knew wherever it was, she didn’t want to move. The scent…the warmth…the gentle caresses… This was heaven.
Her eyes closed once more—then popped open again.
Wait! Heaven was moving. Breathing.
Oh shit! It hadn’t been a dream, and the blue fabric wasn’t a pillowcase; it was Regan’s T-shirt. She must have fallen asleep and had curled up on Regan’s lap, with her face pressed to her belly and one hand on Regan’s thigh, pillowing her cheek.
