by Chloe Walsh
Yeah, I'd been standing right beside Kyle Carter the night his world altered. He'd been ruined ever since. I knew the signs because it had happened to me with Cam…
She'd walked into my world when I was eighteen years old and had taken the air from my lungs and the earth from under my feet. She'd left a mark on me that could never be matched or would never fade. Well, she left two marks. One on my heart and the other on my ass.
Stupid poker game…
When Lee reached my side she was slightly out of breath. A layer of sweat covered her forehead. My hackles shot up. "Tell me you didn't walk here."
"Please don't start as well, Derek." Her eyes dropped to the ground and I felt like a dick. "You're the only person in my life who doesn't treat me like glass. You're the only friend I have who treats me like I'm still Lee."
No, scratch that, I was a dick. I'd raised my voice knowing full well how shit like that affected her. But dammit she was barely out of the hospital three fucking weeks and I remembered exactly how sick she had been–how close to death. It was amazing how quickly the human body could recover, but she shouldn't be walking down the stairs let alone the thirty minutes it took to get here. The girl had a death wish and Kyle was going to flip.
We stared each other down for a moment as a silent understanding passed between us.
'Back me up and I'll back you up. No questions,' her eyes begged me.
I nodded my silent response. 'Got your back, Ice.'
"Pretty flowers," Lee said in a soft dreamy tone. "Cam's favorites. She would have been twenty three today."
'I know' I wanted to scream. Her birthday wasn't something I was likely to forget. I'd celebrated the last four with her, three of them as her fucking boyfriend.
I'd spent my freshman year trying to woo Camryn Frey, finally winning her over the night of her twentieth birthday. Well, my ass wooed her more than my face. I lost a poker bet the night of her birthday and ended up getting a tattoo of a fucking penguin on my ass cheek. Cam had picked the design, a stipulation of the bet. I remembered being pissed as hell that I'd ended up with a goddamn penguin on my butt, however ending up with Camryn Frey naked in my bed that night had more than sweetened the deal. I'd been ruined the very first day she walked through Kyle's front door. Jesus, my stomach still flipped when I thought about it. I'd never seen legs like hers…so firm and slender and long. God, she had the most amazing legs.
I'd called dibs on her the minute she'd slipped down to her room with her pink suitcase to unpack. There was no way I was letting Kyle have her, though he hadn't really looked. I still found that crazy. Kyle was a huge player when we were younger, but he'd never looked at Cam like that. Well, he checked out her tits the morning she ran out of the bathroom butt naked, screaming about a spider trying to kill her, but I couldn't blame him for that. I'd ended up taking a very cold shower after that floor show myself.
"Did you have any trouble with reporters on your way here?" I asked changing the subject before my brain exploded. "They've stopped camping outside the house." It was a relief to get up in the morning and not have vultures preying on the front door step looking for a scoop.
I'd been harassed in the weeks following Rachel's arrest, but Kyle and Lee had been tormented. Lee had been protected while in hospital, but Kyle couldn't step foot outside the doors of the hospital or hotel without having a camera or a microphone shoved in his face. He'd had paid his legal team a small fortune to keep his daughter's face off the television and out of the papers, however there wasn't much he could do to protect his and Lee's privacy. The story was huge and I'd found out more about my best friend in the past four months than I had in the four and half years I'd known him.
Every detail of their private lives had been dragged through the press. Now the whole world knew about Kyle's relationship with Rachel Grayson and the twisted pact she had forced him into. Personally I'd called bullshit on her lies years ago, but Kyle hadn't been able to see straight from guilt. Every sordid detail of his two year affair with Rachel–and Lee's miscarriage–was public knowledge. Kyle had been painted as a troubled orphan teenager who was thrust into power by his secret millionaire grandfather, targeted by an array of beautiful gold-diggers, only to lose his heart to a Louisianan bombshell with an empty bank account.
What fucking bullshit…
No one ever wrote about Kyle's decency towards his friends or the fact that he was the one who had pursued Lee. They never highlighted the fact that Lee had worked her butt off as a cleaner in his hotel for months without ever knowing the guy was loaded. I had been there. I'd suffered living in the house with that palpable chemistry buzzing between them. I'd watched their friendship progress to love. I'd witnessed their struggles and I knew the goddamn truth. Those two had been through enough heartache and it pissed me the hell off to read about their lives–our lives–being picked apart and scrutinized.
One particular newspaper seemed to have one hell of an informer. Just last month–when shit had finally started to die down–they had unearthed several details about incidents that happened during a house party last October. Kyle had been slated for his temper and accused of being abusive to Lee. More bullshit. Yeah, he had a temper that rivaled a lion, but the guy would never physically harm a female. As for hurting Lee? I think Kyle would tear the whole world apart if so much as a hair on her head was ruffled.
I banked my money on Dixon Jones being the rat. He'd never been a fan of Kyle. The fact that he'd shown an interest in Lee when she first moved here and how she'd turned him down for Kyle was probably his motivation. Well, that and the cash. There was a tidy sum of money being offered for information from the bigger newspapers.
Several foster families Kyle had lived with had come forward with stories about him and how he'd been a 'difficult' child growing up. Everyone had an opinion on their relationship and every newspaper covering the shooting had branded them 'the broken lovers.'
"No, but they still come to the hotel," Lee growled as she frowned deeply. "Not nearly as often as before, but some manage to sneak in. It's Kyle they want to speak to most. I guess he takes good pictures for the front page stories." She shook her head. "I don't know what they think they're going to find. The whole nightmare is a matter of public record." That was for sure. A living breathing nightmare…
"I really don't know why I'm here, Lee," I admitted raising my shoulders in an awkward shrug. "Or why I keep coming here."
"I do," she said quietly as she stroked my arm. "You love her," she whispered. "And just because someone dies, it doesn't mean that your love for them becomes past tense. Emotions don't have an integrated app or warning signal to let people know someone is gone. The heart has its own sat-nav. It always seems to lead us back to those we love, regardless of logic."
Shit.
"You should be a psychologist," I muttered as I used my fingers to brush my hair out of my eyes. I used to keep my black hair shaved tight, but I hadn't bothered cutting it since Cam died. Truth was I didn't see much point in carrying out any grooming rituals besides the mandatory shit, shave and shower. There was no fucking point and I didn't care.
Fifteen weeks…some days it felt like it happened yesterday. Other days it felt like years had passed. The pain was the same. That was the one thing that never changed.
Lee smiled but it was forced. "I don't think so, Derek. I'm just an experienced woman of heartbreak. The sat-nav of my heart is all kinds of crazy." Kyle's mini-me started crying and Lee bent down and picked her out of her stroller.
Hope was gorgeous. Even I had to admit that. She had a pair of lungs on her that rivaled any varsity football coach, but damn the kid was cute. I'd been unfortunate enough to witness her entrance into the world last May–well, her entrance into the back seat of Kyle's car.
Lee popping that kid out with Kyle perched between her legs waiting to catch her was something my eyes could never un-see. The demonic screams that had come out of her mouth were something my ears could never un-hear and I wished like
hell he would change his fucking car and stop driving the maternity merc. I would never look at a Mercedes the same way again–or a vagina.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" Lee crooned as she bobbed around with Hope in her arms.
"How'd you escape the guard?" I joked, trying to lighten the mood. If it was any other person I wouldn't bother, I wouldn't try to look normal and…stable. But this was Lee. She was as delicate as a flower. Poor girl.
Lee grinned. "I locked him in the bathroom." She turned to Hope and cooed. "That's right, isn't it? Momma locked your poor daddy in the bathroom."
"Nice," I chuckled. Lee had turned my hot-headed, temperamental best friend into a ball of mush. Kyle was whipped by the leading woman in his life. He bent over backwards for his two girls and damn straight he should.
After the way he had treated Lee in the beginning of their relationship–lying, cheating and generally being an asshole–I was surprised as hell that she'd forgiven him. She had a forgiving heart though and it belonged to Kyle. The proof of which was hanging on her left hand in the form of a huge mother-fucker diamond. Yeah, he was also an over the top bastard.
Lee sighed heavily. "I swear, Derek, half of the time I feel like I'm drowning inside. Everything is upside down. I'm confused and scared. We have to be so careful around everyone and Kyle freaks out if I move too far from his side. I shower: he's there. I freaking pee and he's outside the door shouting 'take a sample, princess,' or 'don't lock the door, baby.'" She bit down on her lip, clearly thinking of a plot I wanted no role in. "I understand why he's over-protective, I mean of course I understand, but I'm worried about him. Do you think you could maybe have a word with him? Ask him to relax a little? I'm scared he's going to wear himself out."
I raised my brow and gave her an 'are you for real' look. "And you think he'd listen to me if I did?"
Lee chuckled softly. "No, probably not. He's as stubborn as a mule."
That was for sure. I'd known Kyle since we were teenagers. He'd been a hell-raiser then, doing whatever the hell he wanted, surviving on his wit and gut feeling. If he thought he was right, there wasn't a person on this planet that could talk the guy down. In the almost five years I'd known him, I'd only witnessed one person tame the beast. And that person was standing in front of me, holding his baby-spawn.
"He is who he is, Lee." I poked Hope in the belly and was rewarded with a huge gummy, one-toothed smile. "He needs control. It's just his way. Life knocked him on his ass as a kid and the guy just gets back up and keeps swinging. His intentions are good. It's his execution he needs to work on. He might have more cash than half of Boulder now, but the dude is street at heart. Rough rearing like that doesn't produce the most tactile people."
"It's not his past that bothers me," she said quietly. "I love him more because of what he's been through. What bothers me is the fact that I'm becoming too attached to him being with me all of the time and when he leaves I'm a wreck. I'm too dependent on him, Derek. Most nights I can't even think about going to bed until he comes home and even then he's only downstairs working. I'm craving him all of the time. I'm missing him as we speak. That's not normal. A woman isn't supposed to depend on a man that much, right?"
I smirked at her anxious looking expression. Poor girl was clueless. "That's not dependency you're feeling, sweetheart." I tapped my finger against my temple. "That's love. It's an evil, crazy bitch. Screws you right over."
She seemed to ponder that over for a moment before smiling. "Who's the psychologist now, huh?"
"Funny." I smirked. "Is he still pushing you on the whole Brady bunch, 'love your mommy' idea?"
I'd to bite back a smile when Lee actually growled. "Yes," she hissed. "He is like a dog with a bone. And in this instance he needs to keep that bone away from his bitch."
"Did you just call yourself Kyle's bitch?" I asked not even trying to hide my grin.
"I meant it in a hypothetical way," she blushed. "As in…Oh never mind. I suppose you agree with him?"
"That you should make up with your mom?"
Lee nodded stiffly. "Yeah, do you agree?"
"No," I told her. "I actually think Kyle pushing you to talk to Tracy is about the dumbest thing he's done in months." I'd told Kyle that very same thing but the idiot wouldn't back the hell off. I was team Lee on this one. Tracy had spent a year with Jimmy Bennett. Lee had eighteen of them. Didn't take a genius to figure out who'd gotten the shorter end of the stick. "It's your choice, ice. No one can blame you for being wary."
"It's more than wariness, Derek." She paused to place a kiss on Hope's head. "I can't stand her," she confessed. "And I know that's a terrible way to feel because she saved my life when she gave me her kidney. But every time I look at Hope." Lee bit down on her lip as she shook her head in disgust. "Every time I look into my daughter's eyes I remember what Tracy did to me and I am consumed with anger. I feel betrayed and abandoned."
"I don't blame you for feeling like that," I muttered. Lee was dealing with the biggest fucking shit bomb of all of us.
She'd been shot twice. Had been in a coma for weeks, only to wake up and find out that her best friend was dead. Worse again, the mother she'd believed to be dead actually wasn't and wanted to play happy families with her. And her dumb as fuck fiancé was all for it.
Lee was dealing and Kyle was pushing her. I'd warned him on enough occasions of what would happen if he pushed that girl too far. I was surprised as hell that she hadn't run screaming from Boulder. God knows I would if I was her. Shit was fucked up around this neck of the woods.
"That's because you know how it feels," she replied. "To have your whole world pulled out from under your feet. To be utterly betrayed and then to be expected to forgive and forget because of some redeeming, heroic act that wasn't in your power to prevent."
"Do you think it will ever go away?" I asked knowing Lee would understand my question.
"I think in time it will become manageable," she replied. "I think it will become easier. But no, I don't think missing Cam will ever completely go away."
Chapter 2
Mr. Carter
Kyle
"How fast can we get this done?" I asked Kelsie Mayfield, my attorney, as we stood in front of the timber-framed, ranch style house on South Peak Road. The place was incredible, hidden well from the road and had more security than fort knocks. Fucking perfect. I thanked my lucky stars the owner–some highflying corporate monkey with a fondness for slot machines–needed a quick sale. I didn't consult my conscience when it came to the safely of my girls. His loss and stupidity was my gain. Their protection was paramount to me.
"I'll get right on it, Mr. Carter," Kelsie said as she pushed her glasses higher on her nose. "The owner says he'll be out before Christmas. You should have the keys by December at the latest. I'll have the paperwork drawn up and the fee transferred immediately."
"It has to be sooner," I muttered in irritation. Lee had been home three weeks and I wanted her out of that hotel room. Since she was still refusing to step foot inside our house in Thirteenth Street–and Christ, I didn't blame her–I'd decided on a belated birthday gift. A house. The one in front of me to be exact. I figured she'd like it. It kind of reminded me of her. Beautiful and untouched by the outside world with an air of loneliness…
Besides, this would be a positive move for both of us. After spending the last three weeks living in a hotel room with a five and half month old baby I was starting to get antsy. Not to mention the fact that I needed her safe, somewhere away from the city and the drama. She needed to recover and I needed the peace of mind of knowing that she wasn't being harassed by reporters every damn minute she walked out the door. She'd been through enough and I sure as hell wasn't going to let anything else happen to her.
Lee Bennett ruined me the moment she walked through my door–all hips and curls–and continued to ruin me every day since. Ruin me and drive me insane in the process. Having spent a little under two years of her life with me Lee had more scars and wounds on her body
than when I'd met her. I'd let her down more times than I could count and she still remained by my side. That Friday afternoon three weeks ago, when the doctors had finally allowed me to take her home after twelve weeks in hospital, was one of the best days of my life. It was the day Lee Bennett had finally agreed to marry me. After months of asking–and being turned down–she had said yes. I made her a promise that day that I would never let her down again. I'd made myself a promise that day too. I vowed to myself that I'd never let her go, not after coming so close to losing her.
Twice.
I almost lost her last Christmas when she miscarried one of our twins. It had nearly killed her. But the second time was so much worse. Lee had been the target of an unhinged woman intent on taking her life in her pursuit of me. I often wondered how she could stay with me. She had never–not fucking once since she'd opened her eyes in that hospital bed–blamed me for what had happened to her. I didn't understand the girl. Rachel Grayson had murdered her best friend Cam. She had very nearly cost my daughter her mother. And me? Rachel had almost taken my entire fucking world away from me. Lee had been shot in the stomach and kidney back in June and it was a goddamn miracle that she'd survived.
We both knew I was to blame. I'd known Rachel had a problem. I'd seen the warning signs and I'd ignored each and every one of them until it was too late. Yet all Lee had done since she'd woken up was look up at me with those big, trusting gray eyes and thank me for being such a good father to Hope. If she'd been awake and had seen the way I behaved after the shooting I doubt she'd thank me so much. My behavior had been disgraceful. The days that followed the shooting had been the first in my life that I had given up hope. Truly given up on living. It had taken my sharp-tongued hotel manager, Linda, to remind me of who the hell I was and how I didn't give up on anything, no matter how bleak things seemed.
