Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1)

by Faith Andrews

  “I’m not sure how you manage to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Know me so well even though you hardly know me at all.”

  His lips brushed mine, a resolution to our banter. Whispering against my lips, he said, “Give me time, London, and I’ll know you inside and out.”

  With that he pulled away, leaving me with an empty ache and a promise to fill it . . . one day.

  “YOU’RE BACK!” MY jaw dropped to my chest at the unexpected sight of Sam. I threw my arms around his neck and clung for dear life. “When the hell did you get home, you sneaky bastard?” Opening the front door to his handsome mug was nothing short of a wonderful surprise. It had been too long since we last shared a hug like this and I was jonesing for a fix.

  “Ni hao to you, too!” He laughed into the crook of my neck. “I got in late last night.”

  I pulled away to scold him. “Hey! You were right next door this whole time and I didn’t even know it? You’re in deep shit, Samuel.”

  “Shhh, no talking for two seconds. Let me just hold you.” He brought me in for another squeeze and we stayed that way for a while. When he had his fill, he took my hand and walked us both inside the house.

  He’d been gone over a year. We had a lot of time to make up for, and that overdue embrace was only the beginning. Thankfully I had the day off, which meant Sam and I could replenish the best friend tank.

  Sam Goodwin hadn’t always been my favorite person in the world. He started out as the annoying next door neighbor who drove me mad with his gross little boy tendencies. But we became inseparable the year his parents divorced. Not having a dad to call my own gave us common ground, a reason to empathize with each other, even if I was into makeup and boy bands and he was mastering martial arts and chasing girls.

  We’d been best friends since we were nine, and only one time during those seventeen years did we ever explore the idea of being more.

  “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

  “Here, let me show you.” Sam leaned closer and put his hands on either side of my face.

  My neck was stiff.

  My mouth was dry.

  This was weird.

  My friends from school told me that if I liked a boy—really, really liked a boy—my stomach would get all fluttery and my heart would pound out of my chest if he even so much as touched my pinky finger.

  Sam was touching me. He was touching me where no boy had ever touched me before. And our lips were mere centimeters apart. I didn’t feel a thing, but we were going to kiss anyway. It was his idea. He’d kissed a lot of girls before and being as we had nothing else to do while our moms were at work, he decided it was time he kissed me.

  “Why are we doing this again?” I scrunched my nose and glared at him.

  “Because I want to.”

  That was how most things went with Sam. He wanted to, so we did. Don’t get me wrong, he never forced me to do anything bad or wrong. His ideas were usually really fun. He pushed me to face my fears and do the kinds of things I would never do without someone cheering me on.

  But this? Did we have to?

  “London, don’t be such a prude. I’m your best friend.”

  “My other best friends don’t want to kiss me.”

  “Your other best friends are girls.”

  “So. Some girls are into that sort of thing.”

  “Are you into that sort of thing?” His big, green eyes almost popped out of his head.

  “No! Gross!”

  “Definitely not gross, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Come here, London.” He cleared his throat, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing beneath sun-tanned skin. Adjusting his grip on my face, he softly tilted it to the right, angling his own to the left.

  I closed my eyes, following his lead, and then I felt him a breath away. Remembering what I saw on TV and heard in school, I parted my lips a little, just as Sam’s mouth met mine.

  It was a nice first kiss. Tutorial-like at first, until our tongues acclimated and started a circling rhythm. Oh, I liked that.

  Sam brought one hand around to the back of my head and the circling stopped. I thought maybe it was over, but then he did this thing were the tip of his tongue kind of darted in and out of my mouth, taking turns caressing the seam of my lips and then going back inside to stroke my own tongue. That was nice, too.

  I mirrored Sam’s motions, earning a throaty growl-like response. Whoa! Cool! I did that to him?

  That made me throw my arms around his neck. We deepened the kiss, breathing hard and fast through our noses, slurping and tasting, learning. At times it was surprisingly graceful, a ballerina flitting across the floor with timed steps and a measured tempo. At others it was clumsier than the first time I tried ice-skating. When it was done, Sam pulled back, kissed me close-mouthed before releasing me, and those green eyes looked back at me, fully dilated, black.

  “Well, well, well, London Monroe. You are one hell of a kisser. I hope we do that again real soon.”

  But we didn’t. Never. Shortly after that kiss, Sam may have had unrequited feelings for me for a bit. He pushed, I pulled away, and it even took us a little while to get back to normal. But once we entered high school and he realized I was just one ordinary guppy in a sea full of hundreds of exotic fish, his feelings returned to a platonic nature. And then I met Hunter and all possibilities of hooking up again were utterly obliterated.

  Other than when he went away to college, we’d never been separated for long. Of course, when he put in the transfer to China to broaden his resume and change things up, he had no idea it would come at the most inopportune time in my life.

  I was finally past all the crying, the wallowing, the darkness. He talked me through so much of it over long distance phone calls and emails, but this was the first time I was actually seeing him post-Hunter. I hoped he’d be proud of me, satisfied with my progress. I was no longer a puddle of mush in need of revival. Sure, I’d take a few more of those tight bear hugs Sam was famous for, but he’d come home to a different London. A happy, bright-eyed, optimistic London.

  What have you done to me, Mom? She had a lot to do with it—nursing me back to good, talking me through the hardest parts—but truth be told, a lot of the credit these days belonged to Bryce.

  “When do I get to meet him?” Sam asked, peering over his second cup of coffee.

  “Who are you, my father? I don’t need your approval, you know?”

  “The fuck you don’t.” He laughed, although his green eyes bore into mine with a seriousness no sane person would mess with. “A divorce, a move, and a new guy, all since I last laid eyes on you. I leave you for one year and look what happens.”

  “And whose fault is that?” I giggled.

  “Don’t remind me.” He swallowed hard. “If I could do it all over again, I would’ve never left. Don’t get me wrong, China had its moments, but not seeing you—not being here for you—I feel like I failed you.”

  “Sam, don’t be ridiculous. I missed you like crazy, but look . . .” I waved my hands up and down my body, boasting an obnoxious grin. “I survived.”

  “Yeah, you seem good.” He laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with his deep swallow as he appraised me. “Are you?”

  His unwavering concern brought tears to my eyes. He’d always had my back. He never let me down. I couldn’t fault him that during the most trying time of my life, he was on the other side of the world living his own, and I definitely didn’t want to rehash it all. I was good. I hadn’t felt this good in a while.

  Leaning forward, I placed a hand over his and smiled. “I am. I really am. And not just because of Bryce. I mean it. I’m finally at peace with everything.” That wasn’t a lie. I would never lie to him. When we were kids, we promised each other to always be honest and never hide secrets.

  “Well, I guess I’m useless, then.” He let out a dramatic sigh as he raked his hand through his neatly styled ebony hair.

  Maybe it was the time apar
t or the emptiness that lingered in my heart, but I couldn’t help taking in everything about him. Sam was a very good-looking man, there was no denying that. Thick brows, a prominent but attractive nose, plump limps, and adorable dimples. Besides being blessed with the face of a model, his physique was damn near perfect too. He worked out almost every day and obviously hadn’t stopped while he was away. He took excellent care of himself from what he wore to how he smelled to grooming every piece of hair on his body. The girls and I often joked that he was the dictionary definition of metrosexual, but admiring him today, I had no right to make fun of him. My best friend was quite the package. It was probably good that he was away during those vulnerable, lonely nights. In a moment of weakness, I may have . . .

  What the hell am I thinking?

  Snapping out of the inappropriately crazy notion of picking up with Sam where we left off over thirteen years ago, I stood from my chair to wash my coffee mug. “You could never be useless. You’re my person! And don’t worry, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of opportunities for you to pick me up off the floor. With Mom back at the hospital, I’ve been a nervous wreck.”

  Sam joined me at the sink, handing me his empty cup.

  “You never give yourself enough credit. You always fail to see how strong you really are. Aside from what you’re going through with your mother, what that ass—what he—did to you was so fucked up. And while you’ve had all this time to get over it, I’ve been stewing my way through the streets of Hong Kong and Beijing concocting a way to make him pay for it. Ten years, London. He took away ten years of your life and left you with nothing.”

  I spun around and gave him the stink eye. “Are you trying to make all that shit resurface? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were messing with my head just so you could get all the feelings out of me and then say you were there to dry the tears.”

  He would never intentionally bring it up to hurt my feelings. He just wasn’t over hating Hunter. Maybe once he saw that I was doing fine without him, he’d let go of some of his anger.

  In the meantime, it was my job to convince him. “I’m at peace with it, Sam, which means you should be, too.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m not letting him off so easily. I might not have been as close to him as Memphis, but we were friends. I should’ve realized what he was up to. I could’ve stepped in. I could’ve . . . I don’t fucking know!” We’d beaten this dead horse red and bloody. I guess he needed to kick it a few more times before we put it to rest.

  “Sam.” I shut the faucet and turned to face him. “Yes, you were friends, but what did you expect?”

  “Um . . . for him to not act like a pussy. He was your husband, your protector, your provider.” He scratched his head and raged some more. “He’s fucking lucky he’s gone. He better stay far away from you and hope I never lay eyes on his degenerate ass.”

  I didn’t exactly like hearing Sam call Hunter all these terrible things, but I needed to let him get this off his chest, in person. He’d spewed plenty of venom toward Hunter over the last year, but that was different. Now he had to look into my eyes and see the aftermath of the destruction in the flesh. While I was no longer a broken and defeated mess, I was sure Sam saw something in me that didn’t exist before. I’d changed from all of this, and if anyone could sense that change simply by looking at me, it would be Sam.

  “Come on,” I whispered to coax him to relax. “What’s done is done. There’s no need to get all worked up about it after all this time.” Leaning against the countertop and drying my hands on the dishtowel, I tilted my head and gaped at him. “Besides, you couldn’t have expected him to call you and think you’d take his side or sympathize with him. Bros or not, he knew your loyalty would always stand with me. There was always that underlying, unspoken thing between you two.”

  His eyes narrowed, his brows creasing into a dangerous-looking V. “What are you talking about?”

  My hands flew to my hips. “Sam, you’re a guy. A hot guy, at that. Hunter knew we . . . you know—”

  “What? That one kiss? Are you serious?”

  “It wasn’t just that kiss, Sam. He knew what we meant to each other and that there was that tiny little blip of time when we thought maybe our feelings were a little stronger than friendship. And are you forgetting that you weren’t exactly his biggest fan when we first started dating?” These memories were over ten years old, but they were still so fresh in my mind I could feel the nostalgia with all five senses.

  “Oh, don’t be fucking ridiculous, London. That was ages ago.” Sam was still inches away from me, his face marred with frustration and disbelief.

  “You’re right, but . . . you know what, it doesn’t matter.” None of it did. “I don’t want to talk about Hunter anymore. I’ve learned that it is what it is, I can’t change the past, and there’s no dwelling on the what ifs, okay?”

  “Wow.” Sam seemed taken aback.

  “Wow, what?”

  “This love doctor of yours really has the cure, doesn’t he?” He sang the words, reaching out to tickle me. “Maybe I should pay him a visit instead. Give him a rundown of how things are gonna go now that I’m back.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” I laughed, prying his hands from where they were terrorizing my stomach.

  “I’ll do whatever I want. Who’s gonna stop me? Doctor Love?”

  “No, me! I’m gonna . . . oh my God, stop! Please! Sam, you know I hate this.” His fingers wouldn’t relent. He was such a bastard. As much as I needed this, as much as we needed this, I could think of about a thousand and one other therapeutic ways in which Sam and I could let off steam and reunite.

  “Oh, don’t even pretend. You fucking love it; you always did.”

  All it took was one brush of his torturous fingers under my arms and I was throwing myself on the floor, pinned beneath his playful persecution.

  “Sam! I’m gonna kill you. Stop!”

  “Never,” he growled, the two of us out of breath with uncontrollable laughter.

  “Um . . . hi?” Bryce cleared his throat, making his presence known and shocking both Sam and me still.

  Sam’s fingers finally ceased and my eyes went wide, embarrassment choking me silent.

  “Speak of the devil?” Sam hovered over me, looking into my eyes for an answer.

  I pushed him off, jumping to my feet. “I-I totally forgot you were coming.”

  Bryce thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of the front door. “That’s okay. I can come back if you—”

  “No,” I cut him off, rushing to him. “Don’t be silly. Mom’s expecting me. Us. I just . . . Sam surprised me. I didn’t know he was coming home.” I looked over my shoulder to where Sam was leaning against the counter, smoothing out his T-shirt.

  “That’d be me. Sam. The best friend. Guess that makes you Bryce, the boyf—”

  “Bryce the doctor.” I laughed through gritted teeth. “Sam, this is Doctor Bryce Owen. Bryce, this is Sam Goodwin, my best friend.”

  They inched closer to each other to shake hands, bypassing me in the interim. “Nice to meet you,” Bryce said first.

  Sam stood stoic, almost puffing out his chest, for Christ’s sake. Yeah, this is what I need right now.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting. London and I made plans for me to drive her to the hospital to see Ella on my way in today. I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on. You’ve been gone some time. China, right?”

  Sam nodded, still wordless.

  What is he doing? I’m going to wring his neck later.

  Bryce dragged his gaze to me. His smile was forced but apologetic. “If you’d rather go with him, I completely understand. We can do lunch another day. All three of us, in fact.”

  I spun to face Sam and gave him the death glare. Mouthing Say something, I silently prayed he would cut his predatory shit and Bryce would come to realize my best friend’s ruse.

  Luckily, my prayer was answered when Sam final
ly broke a smile. “Nah, it’s okay. You two go ahead. I have a few things to take care of next door, but I’ll meet up with you at the hospital to see Ella and . . . You know what, that lunch for three might actually work today. You sure you don’t mind me being the third wheel?”

  My eyes darted between the two men, awaiting Bryce’s response.

  Nodding, he made me proud with his always gentleman-like behavior. “Of course. It’ll be nice to get to know one of London’s friends. We can catch you up on Ella’s prognosis, as well.”

  I wasn’t sure if that ‘we’ was a dig at Sam, but either way, I let it slide. Sam did, too. Thank, God.

  “Great, I’ll see you then.” He grinned at Sam and then leaned down to brush my cheek with a quick kiss. “I’ll be in the car. Take your time.”

  “Okay.”

  When he was gone, my lungs filled again, my shoulders slumping with the absence of all that weighty tension. “Jesus.” I sighed.

  “Does he always let himself in like that?”

  “Sam, don’t start.”

  He raised his hands in the air and looked away. I won this battle . . . for now. But I had my work cut out for me. This entire awkward encounter reeked of deja vu.

  Hunter was gone. Bryce was here. And Sam was back.

  I CLEANED UP the kitchen and then changed out of my sweats and into a pair of jeans in record time. I didn’t want to keep Bryce waiting in the car too long. Something told me I had some explaining to do.

  Sam was letting himself out to return next door to his mom’s house. He’d be staying there for a little while until he found a place of his own.

  “Text me the when and where,” he called out as he left.

  “Yup.” I dragged a sheer gloss over my lips, grabbed my purse, and jetted out a few seconds after that.

  I shouldn’t have felt obligated to justify my relationship with Sam—my best friend of almost twenty years—to Bryce—a man I just met—but the impending dread of getting in that car weighed heavily on me. I hated confrontation. Not that I expected one, but I sensed Bryce was uncomfortable witnessing what he walked in on. Of course, it was all in innocent fun. Bryce also didn’t need to know that in a moment of weakness back there I vaguely remember eye-fucking Sam, but that was neither here nor there.