The Friendship Pact (Winston Brothers)

by J. L. Beck

“I’m not so sure about that Ryker…” I pause briefly waiting to see if Reed will say anything, and when he doesn’t I carry on. “But one way or another you can’t just force someone to have a baby. It’s immoral and not something your father would do. We need to find out what’s going on with him and what would make him give you this ultimatum. Something isn’t right here.”

  Remy’s deep voice startles all three of us as he gets up from the table. “She’s right and you both know it. If the two of you want to fight about what’s happening, go for it, but it’s not solving anything. The problem starts and ends with dad.”

  I smile over at him, thankful that at least one of the Winston brothers has a brain inside his head.

  “It doesn’t matter, Rem. You heard Dad. He won’t listen to anything any of us say. It’s either I do what he wants or he signs the company over to someone else.” Reed’s beating himself up over this entire thing far more than he needs to be.

  Maybe it’s a misunderstanding? It’s possible he’ll change his mind tomorrow. But what if he doesn’t? The thought lingers far too long inside my head.

  “Well, if you aren’t going to hash it out with him you better get to posting an ad on Craigslist or Tinder…” Reed’s jaw clenches at Remy’s comment. He doesn’t like the idea of having to find someone, or maybe it’s the idea of having a baby and getting married that doesn’t sit well with him?

  “I’ve screwed a lot of women, Rem. The chance of finding one that doesn’t hate my guts is slim to none. And anyone I do find I know without a doubt I won’t want her to be the mother of my children.” His eyes turn to me as he speaks the words, and I swear I feel this magnetic rope wrap around me, pulling me towards him, making me want to beg him to let me be that woman.

  The one that says I do.

  The one who is the mother of his children.

  Our children.

  But then I blink, he looks away and the moment is gone. I’m left wondering all over again if I’m seeing the things I want to see, or if it’s real because now that everything is on a timeline it won’t be long before my chance to be the woman Reed needs is gone.

  Two things you should know about me:

  One: I don’t make mistakes

  Two: I’m never going to settle down with one woman

  I’m the fun brother, the jokester, the one who’s never serious…

  At least, not until I lose the biggest influence in my life.

  Now I’m spiraling out of control, so much so I spent the night after the funeral drowning my sorrows. First in the bottom of a bottle...then in the body of a blonde bombshell who looked at me like I could make all her carnal dreams come true.

  Spoiler alert: I did.

  I don’t remember her name or what she looked like, but now she’s consuming my every thought.

  It doesn’t help that my brother selected a brand new intern with a banging body and blonde hair that makes me think of her to be my assistant for the next six weeks.

  I spend my days trying not to bend her over my desk and make her mine…

  And my nights dreaming about the girl who got away.

  Everything changes when the secret she’s been hiding comes out…

  I made a huge mistake.

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  I stare down at the freshly shoveled dirt as they lower my father’s casket into the ground beside my mother. Knowing they are finally together and at peace should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. It makes me want to down an entire bottle of Jack Daniels just to see if it will dull the pain.

  Blinking away the tears in my eyes, I focus all my attention on Fallon. She’s standing beside my brother, Reed, as he reads the eulogy, her hands cradling her swollen belly. I envy Reed in so many ways. He has Fallon now, the woman he’s loved for as long as I can remember, and they’re having a baby and planning a wedding thanks to Dad and his plotting. I want to be mad at him, because I know he was Dad’s favorite, but I can’t be. I can’t even bother to care that Remy was Mom’s today.

  They’re both gone now, so what’s the point of bitching and moaning about it? I had my chance to complain and I didn’t.

  “My father,” Reed clears his throat when it breaks. “Our father.” Reed’s eyes meet mine for a second before moving to Remy’s as he continues to read off the paper in his hands. “He wouldn’t want us crying for him right now. Dad would want us to celebrate his life.” I roll my eyes, blocking out the remainder of Reed’s little speech. I don’t want to hear about how we should move on and let go of the pain we are feeling. I mean, damn, the man is barely in the ground and we are telling each other to move on, to let go.

  I shake my head, listening to the birds chirping off in the distance. It’s a beautiful day for a funeral. I hate when people say that, but it’s true. The sun is shining high in the sky, and a gentle breeze keeps the warmth of the day from being stifling. There’s only a small group of us here, and I know every single person by name, because they’re family, an employee, or someone Dad did business with.

  Though, as I scan the small crowd, listening to Reed drone on, my eyes catch on someone I don’t know. A petite, pretty woman standing in the back of the room, almost behind Roger, a man who is just as old as my father was. A large black hat shields her face, but from what I can see, she has glossy chestnut-colored hair. I tilt my head sideways, trying to identify her from nothing more than her body shape and unique hair color.

  It’s not fucking working, and that irritates me.

  “So, today when you go home, I want you to think about all the things you have. I want you to cherish each and every moment you have with the people around you, because just like that, everything can be taken from you.” Reed ends his speech, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Am I heartless for not crying?

  It’s not that I don’t want to or that I’m not sad. I just can’t. I literally can’t cry.

  Shaking the thought away, I join my brothers as we each take a scoop of dirt and drop it on top of the pristine white casket. I don’t speak to either of my brothers before starting my car. I need the stiffest drink Chicago has to offer.

  “Ryker,” Fallon’s soft voice meets my ears, causing my steps to falter. Even if I wanted to keep walking, I can’t. I’m weak when it comes to Fallon, always have been, always will be.

  “What’s up, future sister-in-law?” I try to keep my voice as light as possible, trying to hide the pain from my voice, the sadness, the disappointment, but I know Fallon can see right through the bullshit front I’m putting up.

  “Seriously?” She puts her hands on her hips and looks at me sideways. Ever since the night I made her take that pregnancy test, there’s been this strange bond between us. “What’s going on? You’re just going to walk away from your father’s funeral when your family needs you most?” My gaze lifts to the view over Fallon’s head. Reed is shaking hands with everyone, thanking them for coming as if it’s some kind of party or something, while Remy just looks on, indifferent about everything.

  “Yeah… I’m going to say they don’t need me, Fal.” I raise my eyebrows, watching as her face contorts with a number of emotions. I don’t dare say another word, not until she’s decided how she feels at this moment. She’s pregnant, and even if I am pissed and grieving, she doesn’t deserve to have me take my emotions out on her.

  “They might not look like it, but they do.” Tears fill her emerald green eyes, and I want to wrap her up in my arms like I did the night she found out she and Reed were expecting, but I can’t. I won’t. I need to get away, to be alone so I can think things through before these thoughts eat me alive. Sitting here discussing the technicalities of our father’s death isn’t going to help.

  “I’m sorry, Fal, but I need some time to myself to digest what’s happened and deal with my emotions my own way. If that’s selfish of me, then so be it, but I’ve got to do what’s right for me.” I fo
rce a smile and stare down at her. She doesn’t say anything, so I take her silence as agreement and turn away, walking the rest of the way to my car.

  I don’t hear her call out for me again, nor do I hear Reed or Remy, and even though I want to be alone, I almost wish they’d care that I’m leaving.

  Grinding my teeth together, I push the emotions down—way, way down until I’m sure I’ve buried them. It almost hurts to force myself to be devoid of emotion, but I have to be, or I won’t ever leave this cemetery.

  Opening the car door, I slide across the worn leather with ease and remove the jacket to my suit. Where I’m going I don’t need a suit; hell, I don't even need a name. I just need a bottle of something brown to drown out the pain.

  The engine roars to life, as soon as I turn the key in the ignition. I almost chuckle thinking back to the day Dad gave me the car. It was one of his favorites, and he had it restored in preparation of my eighteenth birthday.

  A 1966 Ford Mustang, 347 Stroker, with black interior and black paint. I used to joke that it matches my soul, but now I wonder how much of a joke it actually is. Losing my father is almost like losing a part of myself, and the longer I dwell on it, the angrier I get.

  “Forget them. Forget their pain,” I mumble to myself, squealing tires out of the cemetery. They’ll survive, but will I?

  I look down at the dress I’m wearing, then to my reflection in the mirror. It isn’t anything special, designer, or even brand name. It’s just a hand-me-down dress my mother would wear when she and my father had date nights, which didn’t happen very often.

  It was the color of Red Hot candies and fit me like a glove, like it was actually my dress, not my mother's. Growing up poor makes you aware of all the things you do or don’t have. On the rare occasion you do get something new, it’s a miracle if you can contain yourself.

  “Ready?” Gabby, one of my two roommates and close friends, pops into the bathroom at the bar we’re at, The Starlight.

  We chose this bar out of all the others the city has to offer because as newly graduated college students, the drinks are cheaper and the crowd is friendlier. I don’t know if I’m really ready, but I shrug my shoulders at Gabby and then pull open the door. I’ve spent the last five minutes in here smoothing my hands up and down my dress and feeling unworthy of wearing it.

  “You look beautiful, Ava. Now, let’s drink and dance the night away, because even if Marie isn’t with us, we can still have a damn good time.”

  I nod, giving myself one more once-over in the mirror, adjusting my silky blonde hair before I walk out of the bathroom.

  The bar is dimly lit, and my heels click against the floor loudly. I almost worry they can be heard throughout the bar, but the place is packed, and music vibrates through the speakers as a band readies themselves on the makeshift stage.

  “We need two glasses of red wine please,” Gabby orders from the bartender. He gets our drinks together quickly, and I relish in the sweetness of the wine against my tongue. I gulp it down like it’s water, letting it warm my belly. I feel calmer, more relaxed, and even though I’m sad that Marie can’t be here to celebrate with us tonight, I vow to make the best of it. I gesture to the bartender for a refill, and as I turn on my stool to face the stage where the band is, my eyes catch on something, or more like someone.

  His face is hidden in the shadows of the bar, and even without getting a good look at him, I can tell he’s hot as fuck. He leans against the bar top, swirling the contents in his glass around and around. I’m mesmerized by his mere presence, something that’s never happened to me before when it comes to a man.

  He must sense my eyes on him, because a second later, he looks up from his glass, piercing me with a pair of the stormiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. The air stills in my lungs, and my belly tightens when I see them narrow.

  “Holy fuck, do you see Mr. Serious As Hell over there checking you out?” Gabby leans into my ear and whispers, and I wonder if she realizes I’m staring at him right now, that we are literally eye fucking each other.

  He’s looking straight at me, which gives me the chance to really take him in. His hair is dark brown and looks to be shorter on the sides but a little longer on top, the perfect length for running your fingers through…and damn would I do exactly that right now.

  I shake the thought away, taking the glass the bartender places in front of me and bringing it to my lips. My movements are jerky and slow as I tip the wine glass back, letting the wine coat the inside of my mouth.

  A flush starts to creep up my chest and over my face, my entire body growing warmer with each second we continue to stare at one other. He’s perfect in every way, with an angular jaw that looks as if it’s been carved out of stone, and a strong nose that I can tell has never been broken.

  I watch as his lips pull back in a small smirk, showing perfectly straight white teeth.

  Fuck, Ava, you are so out of this guy’s league, I say to myself before swiveling back around on the stool, downing the glass of wine the bartender just refilled. Mere minutes ago, I was feeling calm and relaxed, but now I feel flustered, hot, and needy. I want that man, even without knowing his name.

  How slutty is that?

  “Is he still staring at me? I feel like he is,” I whisper to Gabby who sips on her wine slowly, wiggling her eyebrows, and I don’t know if she’s doing it at me or the hot businessman across the bar.

  “Oh he’s definitely staring. He’s practically undressing you with his eyes,” Gabby announces, causing me to hit her in the arm playfully.

  “Seriously? He could have any woman in this bar, so why is he staring at me?” I wonder, the question directed more toward myself, not Gabby, but she answers anyway.

  “Did you see yourself tonight? You look edible, like lick, nibble, lick, repeat. Come on, girl! You’ve got every guy in here drooling over you.” My cheeks heat further, and I’m sure I look like a tomato by now.

  “Stop it, Gabby. You’re embarrassing me.” I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, picturing the fire in the mystery man’s eyes. How can he have me so hot and bothered without even speaking to me? Without me even knowing his name.

  I want to smack myself for thinking I could ever actually have a chance with him. Instead, I let Gabby feed me what seems like an endless supply of wine and try to forget about him. Four glasses later and I am more than ready to make some bad decisions.

  Gabby and I walk on wobbly legs onto the dance floor. We’re both bubbling over with laughter as the band starts playing some hardcore rock. My head’s woozy, and it takes everything in me not to look at Mr. Serious. Not knowing his name has earned him a nickname instead. I dance until sweat forms against my brow and I have to take a break so I can get myself something to drink.

  Sensing Mr. Serious’s eyes on me, I turn in the direction of where I last saw him and freeze, my brows bunching together as I try and figure out where he went. I’m devastated when I realize he’s left, even though I shouldn’t be. He’s just a stranger in a bar…not my soulmate.

  “Looking for someone?” There’s a smoothness to his voice, and I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s the man I was looking for.

  Mr. Serious.

  I turn quickly on my heels, swaying slightly as I take in his form. My eyes trace up over his chiseled torso, one that’s covered by a shirt that’s perfectly tailored. Even wearing clothes, I can tell this man is athletic. He clearly works out a lot, because his body is way too perfect to just be good genes.

  One side of his mouth pulls up in a smile, and his blue eyes flicker with heat. I swear there’s a bit of sadness in the look he gives me, but it’s gone too fast for me to be sure.

  “No,” I lie, my eyes sliding away from his penetrating gaze. It’s like he can see my every thought, and suddenly I’m glad I drank all that wine. If I hadn’t, I know I’d be running away from him.

  My blood stirs as I examine him closer, my body leaning farther into his. He smells of whiskey and cinnamon, his sce
nt tickling my nostrils, and it tempts me forward with each passing second. Mystery Man looks and smells good enough to eat.

  He clears his throat, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Are you sure you weren’t looking for someone?” Mystery Man asks, his breath fanning against my face, his knuckles gently caressing my cheek and forcing me to look up at him. I feel a jolt of electricity flow through me at his touch, one that causes my insides to tingle and my thighs to press together.

  How am I this attracted to a man I don’t even know?

  “Well, I might have been looking for someone...” I answer him shyly, and a full-fledged smile crosses his lips this time. I’m awestruck by the way it transforms his face.

  He’s fucking gorgeous. Sex on a stick, and I want him. Goose bumps pepper my skin as he leans into me farther, his lips a millimeter away from mine. He’s so close I can almost taste him, and my eyes are drawn to the dimple on the right side of his mouth.

  “I’ve been watching you all night, sweet thing, trying to figure out why the hell I want you so much, why I feel this pull towards you.” My cheeks heat at his words, and I have half a mind to push my lips against his just so he’ll shut up and kiss me already.

  “I feel it too,” I admit, my eyes going wide when I realize what I just blurted out.

  Way to go, Ava.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t comment on my word vomit, though it looks like he’s holding back laughter. “Are you here celebrating something, or just out for drinks?” Curiosity laces his words.

  Summoning all my bravery, I press my lips against his instead of answering. When our lips touch, I forget about everything. I don’t think about Marie not being here to celebrate with us, the internship I’m starting on Monday, or the hand-me-down dress I’m wearing. I forget everything.

  When his hands caress my skin, pulling me impossibly closer to his body, everything but the two of us fades away. We fit together perfectly in a way I never have with anyone else, and I gasp as his tongue pushes against the seam of my mouth. I open for him, letting him explore, our tongues stroking together as if they’re dancing to their own tune, and somehow I find I’m melting into his touch. A moan I’ve never heard before comes from my throat, and I know I should be mortified, but I can’t bring myself to care. All I can think about is the way his kiss is making me feel.