“Maybe so, but it’s Friday and I plan to spend the entire weekend lying on the couch in a NyQuil-induced coma,” Kensie said, holding back another sneeze.
“Whatever, but if I get sick, this friendship is over.”
Just as Kensie was about to tell her she was being ridiculous, her cell phone rang. Reagan’s name flashed across the screen.
“Hello?” Kensie answered tentatively. She hadn’t spoken to Reagan since the disaster that was Liam’s surprise party, and now that she and Trey were broken up, she could only think of one reason that she would call. Grant wouldn’t have spilled the beans, would he?
“Hey, Kensie, it’s Reagan.” Her voice was sad, like she’d been crying.
“Are you okay?”
“No, not really, are you busy? I mean, can we meet for lunch?”
Kensie glanced at the clock; it was getting close to break time anyway, and she was curious to know what Reagan wanted. “Sure, I’m free in about an hour?”
“Okay, great. There’s a little coffee shop downtown, Fonte, have you heard of it?”
She cringed. “Yeah, I know it.”
“Great, see you then.”
Steam rose from her mug of green tea she’d ordered five minutes ago. It was still too hot to drink. She preferred the coffee. Fonte’s coffee was the stuff over-caffeinated pipedreams were made of, but her raw throat begged for the soothing relief of mint, tea, and honey.
“You look like shit,” Reagan blurted out, as she slid into the booth across from Kensie. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“It’s okay,” Kensie brushed it off with a wave of her hand, “I feel like shit.”
“I take it now isn’t the best time to ask for a favor?”
Kensie arched her brow as Reagan placed a small, blue Tiffany’s box in front of her. She hesitantly removed the lid, revealing a dainty silver necklace with an infinity pendant dangling from the chain. Along with the jewelry was a note that read:
Kensie shook her head, ignoring the dizziness. She couldn’t be in Reagan’s wedding. The last time she was in the same room with Carter and Trey it ended in disaster. Her one saving grace from this entire fiasco was that she no longer had to worry about the wedding.
“Please, Kensie?” Reagan begged. “I’m desperate. Susie backed out on me last minute. Apparently, she hooked up with my brother at Liam’s party and now he won’t answer any of her phone calls. Like, what did she expect? Now she’s too embarrassed to face him and I’m down a bridesmaid—a week before my wedding.” The lines and planes of her delicate features contorted into a grimace, and Kensie did her best not to wince as the thought of Susie on her knees threatened to consume her.
“That’s awful, really, but—”
Reagan continued, ignoring Kensie’s meek attempt at protest. “I was having a panic attack, but then Trey suggested I ask you. He said it made sense. You’re going anyway, you and Susie are practically the same build, and we’re going to be sisters eventually. It’s the perfect solution.”
“This was Trey’s idea?” Kensie asked, again doing her best to mask her emotions. She was going to kill him.
“Yeah, he was with Liam when I called freaking out about Susie.”
“Today?”
“Yes, about an hour before I called you. Please say yes. You don’t have to do anything but walk down the aisle.”
“Reagan…” she began but was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. The screen display read Safe Haven. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Kensie excused herself from the table, pressing the green receiver icon as she walked outside the café. “Hello?” she sniffed, doing her best to hide the stuffiness in her voice.
“Hi, Kensie, it’s Tanner, from Safe Haven.”
“Tanner, how are you?”
“I’m doing well, thank you. I was calling to see if you were still interested in the resident aide position?”
A small grin crept up Kensie’s cheeks. Her professional life was going as planned, now if only her personal life would catch up. A cough formed in her chest, but she choked it back. “Yes, of course.”
“Great. Welcome to the Safe Haven family. I’ll email you the details. I assume you need to give your current employer notice, so I’ll set your orientation date for two weeks from Monday.”
“That sounds fantastic. Thank you so much!” She ended the call and went back inside the café.
“Everything okay?” Reagan asked as she returned to her seat.
“Yeah,” she said, sipping her now cold tea, “amazing. I think I just got offered my dream job.”
“That is amazing, Kensie! I’m so happy for you!”
“Thank you. I’m in shock. I mean, I nailed the interview, but you just never know, ya know?”
Reagan nodded. The sounds of the espresso machines filled the silence. People filed in and out of the café grabbing lunch or coffee. Everyone wore smart business suits and bleak expressions, but for the first time all week, Kensie felt like everything would be okay.
“So,” Reagan began, sending Kensington crashing back down to earth, “since you’re in a good mood and everything…”
“I’d love to help you, I really would…”
“Please, Kensie, I’m desperate.” Tears welled up in Reagan’s big, brown eyes. Kensie could see her heart breaking. She couldn’t say no—she wanted to say no—but she couldn’t. She’d been far too selfish for far too long. This wasn’t about her or Carter or Trey, it was about Reagan, and Reagan had never been anything but kind. This was a test. She’d vowed to be a better Kensie, and now it was time to put up or shut up.
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
Kensie threw in the towel after lunch. She’d pushed herself past the limit, and as a result, her body staged a coup. Rachel was surprisingly understanding, though Kensie had a feeling her graciousness was more about not wanting to get sick and less about Kensie’s health and well-being. Either way, she gladly accepted the reprieve from Cruella’s normal bitchiness and decided it best to wait until Monday to drop the bomb about her new position at Safe Haven.
Stopping by the drugstore on the way home, Kensie bought enough medicine, cough drops, and tea to hibernate all weekend long. She set up her own mini pharmacy on the coffee table and settled in on the couch. Jam was gone, and her bedroom felt lonely. His presence lingered there.
She thought she’d never see Him again, at least not until Ry coerced Jam down the aisle, but thanks to Trey, she’d be forced to deal with the drummer a lot sooner than expected.
After an hour on the couch and a dose of cold medicine, Kensie was calm enough to tap out a text message to Trey.
Kensie: I had lunch with Reagan today.
Prince Charming: Oh really? That’s nice.
Kensie: She asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. She said you gave her the idea. She seems to think we are still together, something about us being sisters one day. Why is that?
Prince Charming: I miss you. I wanted to see you and I knew you wouldn’t say no to her.
Kensie: Manipulating me is not the best way to go about winning me back.
Prince Charming: I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why you are doing this.
Kensie: I told you. I need to figure out what I want and YOU need to tell your family the truth BEFORE the wedding.
Prince Charming: I will. I promise.
Kensie: I won’t pretend like we’re a couple.
Prince Charming : I’ll tell them.
Kensie didn’t bother responding. Instead, she dropped the phone back on the coffee table and pulled the covers up to her neck. She was snoring in a matter of minutes.
“Hey, I’m home.”
“Hey, Jam.”
“Jesus, Roth, you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” she grunted before sleep stole her away again.
“How do I look?” Jam asked. She stood in front of the TV, twirling around in a flirty, white lace, halter dress with a low-cut back. James Michele Manning was twirli
ng—in a dress. Her blonde hair was pinned back in a loose, braided updo that looked like it took hours to perfect, and her makeup was soft and dewy. In short, she looked flawless.
“Wow,” Kensie rasped, as she attempted to sit up to get a better look at her friend. Big mistake. She felt like she was on a Tilt-A-Whirl. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Hours. You barely said two words to me when I got home. I sat there rambling on for ten minutes before I realized you were asleep.”
“My cold got worse.”
Jamie pressed the back of her hand against Kensie’s forehead. “Jesus, Ken, you’re burning up.” Jamie disappeared into the bathroom and returned moments later with a digital thermometer and sanitizing wipes. “Orally or rectally?” Her tone was teasing, but Kensie could see the worry etched across her perfectly made-up face.
“I’m fine,” Kensie moaned. “I mean, I will be just as soon as the room stops spinning.”
“Just open your mouth.”
“That’s what she said,” Kensie coughed.
Her attempt at humor fell on deaf ears. “Kensington, now,” Jam scolded. Kensie did as she was told. “Holy shit, your temperature is 104!”
“I’ll be fine. One of those should be a fever reducer,” she said, pointing to the medicine bottles strewn all over the table. Jamie found the right one and poured the recommended dose into the little plastic cup.
There was a knock at the door. “Shit, that’s probably Ry. Drink. I’ll be right back.”
Kensie swallowed the grape-flavored liquid and strained to hear what they were saying. Jam sounded apologetic and Ryder was pissed.
“I’m sorry, babe, but I can’t leave her like this.”
“James, if this is you changing your mind—”
“Don’t be so dramatic, I’m not. We can go next week.”
“I’ll be fine, Jam,” Kensie yelled as best she could from her spot on the couch. She could feel the medicine’s effect. Darkness threatened to take her yet again. “I’ll probably be asleep for the rest of the night anyway,” she yawned closing her eyes. The voices continued, but sleep was within reach.
“What if I call him to come and sit with her?” Ryder suggested. “You know he wouldn’t let anything bad happen.”
“That sounds like a fucking terrible idea.”
Somewhere in the land between sleep and awake, the sounds of a guitar roused Kensie into consciousness. The living room was dark, the sun had long since set. She scanned the room, seeking out the source of the music while her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. The faint outline of a shadow caught her attention. Carter sat in the upholstered chair, his instrument draped over his lap while his fingers danced along the strings. She recognized the melody, the same tune he’d played before when he sat in that chair and unknowingly stole her heart.
He hummed softly, in tune with the beat, as Kensie watched, mesmerized by him. Even though she couldn’t see the unruly, brown hair or piercing blue eyes through the blackness of her living room, the impact his presence had was no less significant.
They hadn’t seen each other or spoken since Monday. She replayed their last encounter over and over again in her mind. Her interview, him standing in the rain, the tears she’d shed, the hurtful words they’d hurled back and forth. His betrayal and then hers. In a perfect world, she’d be able to sever ties with the drummer. He’d get tossed into the pile of men who’d wronged her and she would move on. The only problem was their two best friends were madly in love. They’d be forced to interact sooner or later and the mature thing to do would be to confront the shit-storm they’d created head on.
Kensington was a lot of things, however mature wasn’t always one of them. Naturally, she did the immature thing. She played dead. Her breathing evened out as she channeled Sleeping Beauty and a post-apple Snow White. Her eyelids fluttered closed and kept still, willing her body to shut down.
Go back to sleep.
Sleep, Kensington.
Sleep.
A tightness burned its way through her chest, but she fought like hell to suppress the scratchy, irritated feeling. In the end, her body won out and she surrendered to the uncontrollable coughing fit.
The music stopped and the shadow stood. Carter set the guitar aside and stomped into the kitchen. Kensie heard the refrigerator opening and closing. The light switched on and Carter was by her side with a bottle of water, the thermometer, and cough medicine.
“Open,” he demanded, holding the thermometer to her lips. She complied, unsure of what else to do or say.
They waited in awkward silence for the probe to beep and when it did, she snuck a peek. The display read 100 degrees. Carter yanked the thermometer out of her mouth and set it aside. He poured a dose of the fever reducer and thrust it at her, watching with thinly veiled anger as she swallowed the purple liquid.
“Drink,” he grunted, replacing the medicine cup with the bottle of water.
“You’d make a shitty doctor,” she mumbled, bringing the bottle to her mouth.
“And you’re an ungrateful brat.”
“I didn’t ask you to take care of me.”
“I’m not here for you. I’m fucking pissed at you,” he seethed, snatching the bottle from her hand. Water sloshed from the brim and he cursed under his breath. “I’m here so that Kitty Cat could go on the date Ryder spent the last two weeks planning.”
“You’re pissed at me?” She was going for incredulous, but it came out as more of a squeak than anything.
“You think I don’t know about you and the cornball? I want to fucking burn this couch.” His eyes were twin pools of rage.
Trey was his trigger and Kensie didn’t have the energy to fight. “Do we really have to do this now?”
“Yes, we really have to fucking do this. If they hadn’t walked in, what would have happened?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“You don’t know?” his voice cracked. His ass hit the ground with a thud and he leaned back against the couch. His hands raked through his overgrown hair and tugged. “Do you still love him?”
“No!” There was no hesitation, no doubt. “I’m in love with the tattooed asshole who broke my heart.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“Because I did, at one point, love him. I can’t erase that. I can’t take back the year we spent together. It wasn’t lust, or love, or passion. It was closure. It was goodbye.”
“I wait for you all morning. I stand in the pouring rain and the only closure I get is a ‘fuck off.’ Why does he deserve a goodbye fuck?” A mixture of anger and sadness laced his tone. His jaw clenched and unclenched. Carter was hurt, but so was she.
“Trey didn’t let Susie blow him in the guest house.”
“I apologized for that. I tried to explain where I was coming from, but you pushed me away and then fell into bed with Trey. Did you do it to get back at me?”
“No… Yes…partly, I guess. I don’t know. I’m not explaining this right.”
“No shit.” The pain was evident in his voice and his body. His back was straight and he stared straight ahead, refusing to even glance in her direction.
“I know you hate him and I get that you don’t want to talk about what happened between you two, but Trey was there for me when I needed him. He taught me how to trust again. I was broken, and he fixed me. Maybe that’s co-dependency, but I felt like I owed him something for not loving him the way he loved me.” Kensie ran a hand through Carter’s hair. His shoulders slumped, and he leaned into her touch. “I guess I felt guilty because he did all that work and you’ll get to reap the benefit.”
“You don’t owe anyone anything, least of all that rat bastard.”
“I know, it was a mistake. I’m sorry that it happened but I can’t change it any more than you can change what you did.”
“I’m royally fucking pissed at you.”
“I don’t know if we could ever work,” she confessed.
It was quiet for a beat, a
nd in that time, Kensie felt the tides shifting. She was the moon and he was the earth, their attraction as natural and as true as the ocean. Fighting it was stupid, but hurt people, hurt people.
“How do we get past this?”
“I don’t know. We did everything backwards. Our entire relationship—if we can even call it that—was based on sneaking around, lying, and having sex.”
“Great sex,” he chuckled. “Amazing.”
Kensie swatted him on the shoulder. “We should start at the beginning. We have to learn to trust each other.”
“So, are you saying you want to be my friend?” Carter asked. His tone was light.
It amazed her how he could go from deep, dark, and sad, to laughing and playing. If her head weren’t already spinning, it would be now.
“For real this time. Just friends—no benefiting, because us screwing like rabbits without taking the time to get to know each other is what landed us in this mess in the first place.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea, Kensington.”
“It’s the only way I’m willing to try. I need to know that I can trust you and you need to trust me.”
“How long?”
“Until it feels right.”
“Until it feels right for me or for you?” he asked.
“Until we both feel like it’s right.”
“Fine,” Carter huffed, “but one condition. Trey fucking Knight is a hard-fucking limit.” Kensie sighed. She needed to drop the bridesmaid-size bomb on him. “That’s non-negotiable.”
“I agree, but there’s one small problem, Reagan’s wedding.”
“You don’t have to go.”
“I kinda agreed to be a bridesmaid. Something about Susie never wanting to see your face again.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, and if she was honest, residual anger.
“God, I really am a fuck-up.” Carter’s head fell back against the couch.
“Yes, yes, you are, but it also means that we need to keep our friendship quiet for a few more weeks. Your brother won’t say anything, will he?”
Lithium Tides: A Lithium Springs Novel Page 14
