Boyfrenemy: A Payne Brothers Romance

by Sosie Frost

  That was why we wrapped ourselves in each other, chased away the truth with frantic kisses, and surrendered to the pleasure until we were both too exhausted to realize how badly we’d fucked up.

  This would never be just sex.

  Not when sex with Micah was so much more.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Micah

  Vibrant flashes of orange burst in the sky, muted by the damp cloud cover. Bright reds, whites, and blues blurred against the heavy mist. The hazy sparkles entertained the crowds, watching as the closing ceremonies of the 2018 Sawyer County Fair concluded with a grand applause to the first responders and the safe evacuation of all thirty elementary school kids from the science fair.

  The final day of my fair—ruined.

  My fireworks—cancelled.

  My job…

  Hell, what job? After tonight’s disaster…the whole week’s disaster…I’d be lucky to get a cup of coffee on Monday before the council and the entire town ran me out of Butterpond.

  With the fireworks a bust—washed out by the torrential downpour that had flooded the grounds—the final hours of the county fair welcomed only a few brave souls willing to paddle their way to the stage for a now acoustic concert featuring polka kings Bupkis and Marvelous Myron’s One-Man Polka Band.

  The fire raged on, consuming the show tent, the science experiments, and the last hope of the evening to entertain those who remained. Unfortunately, the volunteer fire department’s twenty-year rig had gotten stuck in the mud near the entrance of the fairgrounds. Chief Thomas and Sheriff Samson shared a funnel cake and controlled the burn from a cordoned-off area.

  I’d expected Julian, but not the lemonade he handed me or the oversized umbrella he tucked in my hand as the rain began once again. The pat-a-tat-tat clinked along the metal bleachers, and he sat close, taking shelter under the umbrella, shoulder-to-shoulder.

  The lemonade was sweet, sour, and just cool enough to settle a queasy stomach. It tasted even better after being hand-delivered by the only man who could simultaneously raise my blood pressure and flutter my heart. I sipped and offered him a hit. He declined with a wave and watched the fire.

  “It was a volcano.”

  I glanced at him, the first words he’d spoken to me since last night’s fight and mind-blowing sex. Nothing like fucking in stony silence, cuddling under the miserable hum of the ceiling fan, and pretending to be asleep while he showered and left the apartment with a slam of the door.

  Julian didn’t look at me. “Clayton Delaney, age eleven. Thought the baking soda was too simple for his model volcano. Used lighter fluid instead.” His knee nudged mine. “Mount St. Helen’d the entire back row of projects. Aiden Jacob’s solar system? Lost everything from the sun to Mars. Halley Granwala’s tomato plants? Creamed into soup. And Janey Tripoli’s scale-model human digestive system?” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say the silk-sewn intestines were strung along the tables, and for about fifteen minutes, Sheriff Samson treated the volcano as a mass casualty event.”

  I plunked my head into my hands. “Oh God.”

  “Mrs. Bradley’s six grade class did evacuate in an orderly fashion, and, as a reward, the carnies let them ride The Scrambler four times in a row. Of course, Mr. Harris had filled them with soft pretzels before they all boarded the ride…”

  “They didn’t…”

  “Some of them made it to the porta-potties, but, without the blue juice…”

  “At least it’s raining,” I said. “I hope someone double checked to make sure all the kids are still accounted for.”

  “Why?”

  “After a thunderstorm, a fire, and a volcano explosion, I can’t afford to have any kids kidnapped by the carnies, or the Widow Barlow will never let the county hear the end of it.”

  Julian shrugged. “I’m pretty sure the carnies only took my brother, Quint.”

  “So, she was right?”

  “At least he’s out of my hair.”

  I kicked a stray pebble away from my feet and hoped the flash on the horizon was the fire truck and not a bolt of lightning. Not sure how much worse my luck could get.

  “I just…” I sniffled. Not tears. Not yet. Just a result of the singed, burnt plastic stench wafting through the air. “I didn’t want a perfect fair.”

  Julian nodded. “I know.”

  “I wanted something to go right.”

  He stretched his legs out, ignoring the rain. “The food was good.”

  “I guess.”

  “Raised a lot of money for charity.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I got to spend time with you.”

  My breathing hitched. I swallowed the hope and choked on my own insecurity. “You mean…you got to fuck me?”

  He paused. Hesitation or guilt? “Yeah. That’s it.”

  I should have stood. Headed inside. Spoken with the fire and police chiefs and helped to organize the dismantling of the fair. But most of the vendors had packed up early when the rain had started. The bands had left. The people had traveled home. For the first time in months, I had nothing to do.

  It gave me too much time to think. Too much time to worry about a life plan that had just burnt to a crisp along with thirty elementary school science projects. Too much time to enjoy Julian’s warmth and imagine a stolen moment where I could sit near him, touch him, rest my head on his shoulder…

  Confess everything to him.

  “I really wanted my fireworks.” It was as much honesty as I could summon. “No one would have remembered anything but the fireworks. I could have turned it all around with twenty-minutes of bright lights and music.” I sighed. “Pretty silly, huh?”

  “No.”

  “Sure, it is. Thinking one stupid thing would resolve every problem?”

  Julian smirked. “Like thinking a new barn will turn a patch of overgrown weeds into a functioning farm?”

  Exhaustion masked his usual charm. My stomach pitted. I didn’t dare share his smile.

  What the hell was I supposed to about his barn? If the fair had gone well, I might have had a choice. But with my job on the line and his application on my desk, I was out of options.

  Either I gave him the barn and packed up my things.

  Or I kept my job and destroyed any chance at…

  Forgiveness? A future? A family?

  “You really need the barn, don’t you?” I asked.

  “We all need it.”

  The lemonade soured in my stomach. “And what happens after you build it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Problems solved?”

  His jaw clenched. “Which ones? The veteran brother who would gnaw off his remaining leg to escape the farm? The ex-minister who has isolated himself from everyone and everything? The family screw-up hellbent on destroying his future like he fucked up his past? The youngest who hates himself more than anyone else?”

  “They look up to you,” I said.

  He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’ve never met someone who cared so much about family.” I wished the honesty hadn’t scraped my voice. “You’re keeping everyone together. Protecting them. Providing for them. And I know they care about the farm too.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Your family only fights because they’re afraid of all the love they might lose,” I said. “It’s not like my parents—all the screaming and resentment and accusations. Your family is scared. But when people have a real reason to love each other, it’s worth the heartache to protect the future. It isn’t hate in your family, Jules. It’s just uncertainty. No one knows what to do, and everyone is afraid of getting hurt.”

  He stared straight ahead. “So, why won’t they let me help?”

  “Maybe they’re afraid to let you close?”

  “What do I have to do to prove myself?”

  Were we still talking about the farm? “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re the one man holding them together, Jules.”

 
; “Not for much longer.” He sighed. “The more time we spend at the house—the more I push for the farm—the worse everything gets. They want to sell. I’m the last hold-out.”

  “Tell that to my father. He might make a better offer.”

  The thought destroyed him. Julian stood, ignoring the rain. “I’m not selling.”

  Which made everything so much harder. “I know.”

  “The farm means everything to me. If I can get it operational, I can fix everything. The family. Our business.” He rubbed his jaw. “My own fucking life.”

  I clutched the umbrella as the skies opened and the rain pelted down in thick drops. “You don’t need to be fixed…” I smirked. “Though a good neutering might have prevented our current situation.”

  He didn’t share the joke. His eyes flashed, dark and solemn. “I’m the worst of us all, princess.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not?”

  Was he serious? “Because you’re you. Julian Payne. The town loves you. The women want you. Your family needs you. I…”

  I quieted. A long moment passed. The smoke cleared, and the fire truck flicked off its lights. The clanking of vendor trailers and the carnie’s dismantling of rides echoed across the field, but hidden on the bleachers, in our own shadows and misery, we were alone.

  And still, Jules hardly spoke above a whisper.

  “It’s my fault the farm has no money,” he said. “It was my fault there was no money to rebuild the barn when it first burned down. No money to replace the equipment we’d lost. No money to move my ailing father into a comfortable hospice where he might have died in peace.”

  “Jules…”

  “I was supposed to be some fucking superstar.” He spat the word. “My parents spent every penny of their savings on me. Coaches. Trainers. Schools. I got my scholarships, earned my place in the draft, and I was set to make millions with the Rivets. Fucking millions.”

  And he blamed himself for a chance injury? “It’s not your fault you got hurt.”

  “Yes, it is.” He ground his teeth. “Because I didn’t tell anyone when I first got hurt.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I hurt my back before the season had even started, in some shitty afternoon, no-pads practice. It hurt like a bitch, but I was a goddamned rookie, and I wasn’t going to go crying to the trainers about a little ache. So I ignored it.”

  “What would they have done if you told someone?” I asked.

  “They would have pulled me from my first professional game.” He swore. “I was too goddamned proud to admit I’d been hurt before the season fucking started, and I wasn’t taking any chance that would prevent me from getting on the field. So, I shut my mouth, suited up, and played that game.”

  “What happened?”

  “Rivets against the Monarchs.” His voice hollowed. “On the first series of the game, the first play of my career, I get the handoff. I ran it up the middle and collided head-first with Cole fucking Hawthorne.” He snapped his fingers. “And I heard the pop over the crowds. Thought the bastard had paralyzed me. They peeled me off the ground and hauled my ass to the sidelines. Then the trainers started asking questions.”

  I bit my lip. “Was that when you retired?”

  “No.”

  “So, what—”

  “I lied.”

  “You…what?”

  “I lied. To the trainers. To the coaches. I stretched, touched my toes, did their exercises, and I told them I was ready to go out again.” He smirked. “And they let me play.”

  “Didn’t it…hurt?”

  “I survived the game, but I can’t tell you if we won or lost. I limped into the showers. Shoved half a dozen Percocet down my throat. Made it home and crawled like a fucking dog through my front door. Couldn’t make it any further than that. I slept in the entryway that night. And, by morning…”

  Just the memory of that pain ached in his voice. I shivered.

  “By morning it was worse,” he said.

  “When did you finally tell someone?”

  “Game three. When they carted me off the field and x-rayed me in the locker room.”

  I hated to ask. “What did they find?”

  “So much fucking damage I was immediately placed on injured reserve, rushed into surgery, and released by the end of the week.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Career over,” he said. “The doctors said I’m lucky I can walk.”

  My head swirled. “Does anyone know?”

  “Maybe Tidus, Marius. I don’t know. I didn’t tell my family. How could I? I’d fucked my career before it started. No fame. No glory. No wild parties with all the women Jack Carson could shove at me. No money to pad the dent left in my parents’ savings.” His laugh was harsh, cold. “But for about five years—as long as I was prescribed the Percocet—it didn’t fucking matter.”

  “Jules…”

  “Then the barned burned down,” he said. “And I realized what a goddamned mess I made for my family. And that shame…how was I supposed to come home?”

  I couldn’t imagine Julian deliberately avoiding his farm. “So you didn’t come back?”

  “No. It was better to be alone and in pain than to see what my bullshit had cost us all.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said.

  “My parents had mouths to feed. Not just my brothers and sister, but the foster kids. Shit, the farm was crawling with kids. All in need of a hot meal and a warm bed. My parents never turned anyone away.” He hesitated. “Until the barn. Until we ran out of money, and I had nothing saved and no multi-million-dollar contract to help them.”

  Another pause.

  Julian stared over the night, his gaze focused long in the past.

  “That was when my mother got sick,” he said. “The worry killed her, not the cancer. I could have prevented it. Could have got her healthy, spared my dad the depression after she died. Not like he wanted to fight his heart condition without her by his side.”

  My heart broke. I stood, folding my hand into his. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Why not?”

  His words weren’t confrontational. He whispered with absolute resignation. “I let my pride ruin my life, and the shame destroy my family.”

  “It’s all in the past, cowboy.”

  “And it’s still fucking up everything today. My family is scattered. Hurting. I can’t help them. The farm needs a shit ton of work to get operational again, more work than I can do alone. And the barn…”

  My stomach clenched.

  “The barn represents everything. Something we can see and touch and know that we’re…” He shrugged. “That we’re trying to be whole again.”

  “Cowboy—”

  “You can help me.”

  “I…”

  My pulse quickened, and my stomach rolled. Not morning sickness this time. Just the cold-pit of fear that gnawed through my confidence and shadowed me with doubt.

  The barn was everything to Julian.

  And he…

  He was everything to me.

  It’d mean my job, my livelihood, my future, but this wasn’t a reckless decision.

  It was the right one.

  I gripped the umbrella tight and stared only at the encroaching puddle threatening my toes.

  “If I had the barn, I could start a new life,” Julian said. “You’d have a place in it.”

  The thought terrified me and excited me and ruined me. “For the first time, cowboy…I’m not sure what the future holds.”

  “It’s easy enough to have one with me.”

  How was that easy? That choice—that thought, that hope, that delight—was anything but easy. It was frightening and dangerous and wild.

  “I have a career,” I said. “The remnants of a plan. I can’t just…drop everything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s not how life works. I know I’m pregnant, but that doesn’t mean I abandon everything I
’ve planned, everything I’d worked towards.”

  Julian stared over the fields again. Made the words easier. The hope. The pain.

  “I’m not asking you to give that up,” he said. “Just let me be part of that life.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Life isn’t simple, Micah. It’s messy and complicated. Terrifying.”

  “That’s why I have my plans,” I said.

  He frowned. “But life will never go to plan. No matter how much you schedule or what you scribble into your planner, life isn’t that predictable. And that’s the fun of it, princess. Experiencing that uncertainty. Getting screwed by fate. Knocking up a stranger.”

  I dared to speak the words I’d feared since the moment I’d peeked at the blue stripes on the pregnancy test. “And if we hadn’t gotten pregnant? Can you honestly say you’d still be a part of my life?”

  I knew the answer. A resounding no.

  We were two different people with two very different lives and plans and desires and goals. We’d been careless, but it wasn’t a reason to abandon our lives and force ourselves together. It wasn’t fair to the baby. It wasn’t fair to us.

  And it wasn’t fair to my heart—a heart breaking because I was too damn terrified to take the chance.

  Julian exhaled. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

  I released a trapped breath. It did nothing to ease the squeezing ache in my chest.

  “You have me,” he said. “You could depend on me. Lean on me. Have a future with me. Princess, you know that I…”

  He quieted.

  Didn’t say the words.

  And neither did I.

  And not because I didn’t feel them too—not because that sweetness didn’t linger on my tongue.

  Who could say those three little words so easily? Who could abandon everything safe and reasonable and predictable for a terrifying risk created from a shared secret?

  I hardly knew Julian. Our lives had crossed for one night, and everything had changed.

  Could I sacrifice everything I’d planned, everything I’d ever wanted, everything I needed to secure my future and a good life for my baby on a desperate hope?

  In a heartbeat, Julian turned cold. Distant.

  “I should go,” he said. “Help clean up the tent.”