West hands me a drink. It’s green. I have no idea what I’m about to consume, but he tips the cup and helps it along. It’s apple flavored. A Washington Apple. It’s sweet and strong at the same time. He waves to Alice. “Can we get another?”
Brant and Jamie are both laughing at him. “Haven’t you had enough, bro?”
“It’s never enough, man. Stop being such a lightweight.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Bristol and her father looking at me. I smile, but don’t get the same in return. Finally she walks over toward me. “Did West invite you?”
“Sort of.”
“Are you friends now, because if you’re not you need to go. We just got him back. He doesn’t need reasons to leave again.”
“I wouldn’t…” Then I realize I gave him a ton of reasons earlier. Now I feel worse.
“Don’t mess things up for him, Kimber. We all want him back home for good.”
I take her warning and sip on the next drink I’m handed. I’ll be drunk in no time, because I never get into the hard stuff and this is mixing several. After the third one my lips go numb. I have to stop or else I’ll be walking back to the motel. Jamie and Brant are the first to leave. The twins go next, which surprises me. They were with two women I’ve never seen before. Bristol starts helping Alice behind the bar, while Dane, Buck and Chris sit at a table in a deep conversation. West comes back inside from seeing his brothers’ off and gives me a once over. “When did you get here?”
“I’ve been here.” Suddenly I’m very uncomfortable. It’s obvious I shouldn’t have stepped foot in this place. “I’m about to go home. It’s a pretty long walk.”
“Not to my house,” he mumbles.
“I’m not going to your house. I live at the motel, remember?”
“I told you to move in to the house, remember?” The way he says it almost makes me laugh. He’s getting harder to understand.
Buck calls over to us. “West, do you need a ride home?”
“No, Brice is going to walk me.”
I freeze. While West has no idea what he’s said, his father heard what I did. He called me Brice. Then he proceeds to put his arm around me for support, when I’m barely able to hold myself up. I look to his dad like I have things under control, because I don’t want these people to hate me. “It’s okay. I’ll make sure he gets to the house. I have a key.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind driving.”
“It’s a few blocks. I think the cold air will do him some good.”
“Make sure he takes some pain killers and drinks water before bed. It’ll help tomorrow.”
He’s waving to them, a drink still in his hand. “Thanks for the memories!”
How I got myself into this situation is astounding. On top of that, I’m tipsy as shit and wondering how long it’s going to take me to get him inside and safe before I can start on my way to the motel. We make it down the steps before he pins me against the building. His hot liquor filled breath is against my face. “About time I got you alone.”
His lips hit mine and I freak out, shoving with all my might. “West, stop! I’m Kimber.”
It takes a few seconds for it to sink in. He puts his hand over his mouth and chuckles. “Oops. Sorry.”
I tuck my arm in his and pull him along. “It’s fine. You’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk. I know who you are. You’re still pretty even though I hate you.”
“I hate you too. Just keep walking.”
“Don’t tell your sister I tried to kiss you,” he requests. “She’ll be pissed.”
“I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” I play along.
“It’s lonely without her.” One second he gets it and the next he’s crazy. I keep putting one foot in front of the other and pray we make it there without him passing out.
“I know. I miss her too.”
“It’s better when I drink.”
“Seems like it.” I’m a little annoyed at this point.
West stops me when we’re almost to his street sign. He takes his finger and runs it across my cheek. “I have to take a piss.”
I motion in the direction of a nearby bush. “Go over there.”
“Can you hold my drink?”
When I take it I know he’s not getting it back. I start to toss it before thinking I may need it to stay warm. I’m already sweating out the first ones, so one more isn’t going to hurt. I swallow before he’s able to return. When he does he takes the glass and tips it upside down. “What happened?”
“It evaporated.”
“Evaaapoureighted,” is how the word gets repeated.
“Yep. Now lets keep moving. I can almost see the house.”
“I can’t feel my feet. Make sure they’re there.”
We stop again so I’m able to reassure him. “Your feet are fine. Come on, you’re pissing me off.”
He stops us again and takes me by the hand until he’s pulled me up against him. I don’t know what to do, so I stand there prepared to kick him in the balls. “Did anyone ever tell you how much you look like her?”
I nod. My stomach is in knots. I’m uncomfortable, but at the same time I haven’t been touched by anyone in a very long time. It’s wrong. I don’t want to be here with him. I’ve never even considered being with him in any way. He was going to be my brother. “Occasionally.”
He cups my face and narrows in on my mouth. “I miss her lips,” he whispers.
My body is shaking. This is wrong in every way. “West, please don’t do this. You’re drunk. I’m not Brice.”
“You could be, just for a little while. Please let it be real.”
I feel so terrible for him that I let him kiss me. His whiskers tickle my face at first. I’m not experienced with kissing bearded men. There are no emotions on my end. I’m standing still letting his wet mouth course over mine. It’s really sloppy and awful and my heart breaks when I think about how much this means to him. Then I give in and say screw it. This man wants to believe he’s kissing Brice. I’ll never be her, but he won’t remember this, so it won’t hurt. What starts out as something awful suddenly becomes a mutual embrace. His hands wander to the small of my back while our tongues mingle like old lovers. The alcohol is making this happen. I keep telling myself it’s the liquor. There’s no way I’d do this otherwise. Maybe in my old life I’d make bad choices like this one, but I’m different now.
West doesn’t pull away until he leaves me breathless. He may not be coherent, but after that kiss I’m seeing things entirely too clear. I wipe away the remnants and try not to make eye contact with him. “Let’s get you inside.”
He pulls me against him again. “I missed you so much, Brice. I love you, babe.”
My bottom lip trembles as I manage to get him moving again. Tears fall down my cheeks and I pray the guilt will go away once I’m home safe in my bed. We get to the front door and he waits for me to open it. He’s stumbling through the living room, pulling me along with him. My plan is to take off his shoes, get him covered up, and get the hell out of there as fast as I can. I was hoping the twins would be here, but the house is dark and quiet. The only sounds are West tripping over his own two feet, the ones he thought weren’t there a few minutes ago.
We make it into the bedroom and he plops down on the bed. At first I think this will be easy. I untie both shoes and tug them off his feet, one almost flinging me across the room when I have to pull hard. I’m just about to stand up and back away when he takes me by the waist and pulls me on top of him.
I struggle to get free. “West, please stop. I’m not Brice, I’m Kimber. Look at me. I’m Kimber you fool. You don’t even like me. We’re not friends, remember?”
It takes a couple seconds and then he’s crying.
I hate drunk people.
I’m stuck in his arms while he’s crying because I’m not my sister. Shoot me now.
When his sniffles finally stop I try to free myself again with no change. “West, please let me go
. I need to get back to the motel. It’s getting late.”
He hugs me tighter. “Please don’t go.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
He loosens his hold and stares at me for a second, and I honestly believe this time he’s starting to sober up enough to realize I’m Kimber and he’s holding me hostage in his bed. But I’m wrong. “I kissed you.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“You liked it.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh Jesus please get me out of here.”
“I’m not Jesus. I’m Weston.”
A laugh escapes me. I toss my arms around while still in his constraints. “I give up.”
West nestles his head against my chest and closes his eyes, like he’s comfortable enough to sleep. I’m sideways on a half-made bed with a drunk man. “Can I at least get up? I need to pee.”
“Promise you won’t leave.”
I sigh and shake my head. As soon as he’s asleep I’m going out to the couch. “Yes, I promise.”
I’m finally freed and make a dash for the bathroom, where I lock myself inside. I’m leaning against the vanity looking myself in the mirror. “What have I gotten myself into now? Brice, I need your help. I’m so sorry I let him kiss me. I’d never do that to you. It just …” I can’t even explain my way out of it, because for a few seconds I contributed to that kiss.
I sit on the toilet and wipe my face with my hands. My heart is racing and I’m freaking out. Growing up I always had a boyfriend or admirer. It was nice always feeling wanted. Then, after the accident I took myself off the market. I stopped responding to messages and gave up hope that anyone could want me again. Kissing West was wrong, but it felt nice. It was nice to be touched, to feel wanted, even if it wasn’t real.
I jump when he says my name. My name, not Brice’s.
“Kimber! Where’d you go?”
I take a deep breath. “This isn’t happening to me. It’s not real. I’m dreaming this.”
My face is numb. I flick my lips to see if I can feel them. Negative. Everything is messed up. I’m screwed.
“I’m coming.”
When I’m back in the bedroom he’s sitting up waiting for me. “I can’t sleep.”
“You’re being a baby. It’s been three minutes.”
I stand over the bed for a few seconds hoping he’ll let me take a pillow and go out to the couch. He extends his hand for me to take. I’m determined to pull away before he can get me back in that bed, so I lean my weight to the back when my hand goes into his. His face comes down and he kisses it gently then lets go. “I just wanted to feel it again.”
I nod. “I know you did. I’m sorry I’m not Brice.”
“No. You’re not Brice,” he agrees in a weird way. “You’re someone else entirely.”
It’s hard for me to not take offense. I’ve always been compared to Brice, and this feels like he’s doing that. Apparently I can’t kiss as good as her. I’ll add that to my list of failures.
I don’t wait for more of his bullshit. Instead I take a pillow and walk out of the room.
As soon as I’m snuggled under a throw cover I hear him crying again. It’s so annoying I feel the need to check on him. No sooner do I flick the light on does he sit up, now shirtless. “Are you okay?”
He shakes his head. “Bee isn’t here. She always sleeps with me.”
“You’re crying because of your dog?” It’s actually quite cute.
“No.” He wipes his face. “I fucked up, Kimber. I’m sorry I kissed you. It’s the alcohol. I mixed a lot of shit before you arrived.”
“It’s okay. I’m over it.”
He stands, the blanket falling off of him. I’m trying really hard not to peek at his toned chest. His arms spread and he pulls me into a hug. “You’re all I have left of her.”
I wrap my arms around his back. “You’re all I have left of her too. I’m sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean it.” I close my eyes and take in the warmth coming off of him. “I came to apologize.”
“Then I kissed you.”
“Well, first you got me buzzed.”
He pulls away and takes me in. I reach up and wipe the tear away from his face and he leans into it, closing his eyes for a second. He speaks while they’re still shut. “I haven’t been touched since the night of the accident.”
I hate thinking about. “I haven’t been touched since before that.”
When he opens his eyes he’s staring into mine. It’s unexpected. This drunken connection makes me uncomfortable. His next kiss is unprovoked and consuming. His hands come up around the back of my neck and then through my hair. I hold onto his strong shoulders and stop fighting it. It’s just a kiss. We had too much to drink and we’re emotional. It happens. It’s not like we’re cheating. We’re both lonely. It doesn’t have to mean anything. His whiskers tickle their way around my mouth, as his skilled tongue matches my groove. For just a few minutes I forget who we are and go with it.
One kiss turns into a few more. He doesn’t press to go further, not that I’d let him. When he’s done he presses his head against mine and we both close our eyes. “You must think I’m a real piece of shit now.”
“No more than me.”
“She’s been gone a long time, but being home makes it feel like it just happened. I could really use a friend who gets it.”
“I do get it,” I say as I open my eyes to find his. I lick my lips and consider kissing him again, because unlike the first time they were pretty fantastic, but then I restrain. “You should try to get some sleep.”
“Kimber,” he calls when I pull away. “Will you just stay in here tonight? I’ll sleep with separate covers and you can put pillows between us. I just need to know someone is next to me.”
It’s a terrible idea.
“Okay.”
Five minutes later, after I’ve gotten him Tylenol and some water, I’m setting up a pillow mountain in the center of the bed. West rolls so his back is to me. He’s keeping his word and giving me privacy. I’m too confused over the kissing to understand anything this man says, but I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day. On top of everything else I quit my job. Rock bottom was hard, but now I’m beyond that. I’m pretty sure I’m digging my own personal path to Hell.
Chapter 25
Weston
I wake and find that my hand is stuck to something. It’s a hand. A female hand. I jerk upright and look over a large mound of pillows. At first I think I’m dreaming. That resemblance gets me every damn time. Flashes of last night come crashing back, some good and some unforgivable. “Shit,” I whisper to myself while trying to unlace our hands without waking her. I do a quick check to make sure she’s clothed. She is.
Thank goodness.
In the mirror, while brushing my teeth I stare back at someone I barely recognize. The beard needs to go, and I could use a shower to wash away the funk of the night before. I start the water and take the scissors from the vanity drawer. I need to at least cut it short enough so the razor will do the rest. I trim the long parts and pull out my electric razor. It buzzes on and starts to erase the months of growth on my face. When it’s all said and done there is a shaped bit of hair still left, but the rest is nice and smooth. I flush the hair and then jump in the shower to wash the rest away. When I get out I wrap a towel around me and go into the bedroom to find some clothes. I haven’t been home in a long time. I’m not even sure if the clothes need to be rewashed by now, but I find boxers, a T-shirt and a pair of joggers. I stay in the closet and dress since Kimber is still in the bedroom. There’s no way to know what will happen when she wakes up. She didn’t drink enough to forget what happened, and I’m kind of glad since she’ll wake up and be in my bed. God, I feel like a terrible person. She was there and I was messed up. It just happened. Then it happened again. The second time I knew what I was doing. That’s what is really kicking me in the ass. I actually wanted to kiss Brice’s sister.
She’s shuffling the covers off when I come o
ut of the closet. Kimber wipes her eyes and scans the room. “What time is it?”
“Still early.”
“How do you feel?”
“Physically, fine. Otherwise, pretty stupid.”
She nods and smirks, like she saw this happening. Kimber stands and stretches out her arms. She passed me and goes into the bathroom like it’s not bothering her.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed when she comes out. “Stop being weird, West. It’s only a big deal if you make it one.”
“So you’re not mad?”
She sighs while pulling the covers up to make the bed. “We’ve said and did things that were hurtful and uncalled for. The truth is, I have no one else in my life. I’m alone and pretty fucking desperate. I didn’t expect…” She stops and covers her face for a second. “It happened. We made out. So what? I’ve made out with plenty of people. It’s just kissing. We were drinking and emotional and it happened. I reminded you of my sister, and then you made it clear I was nothing like her. I’m fine with it.”
She says she’s okay, but she’s clearly offended. While I try to figure out what to say, she passes by. “I’m going to head back to my place. Like I said last night, I’m sorry for what I said at the bar earlier. It was hurtful and I didn’t mean it.”
“Yeah you did,” I challenge her. “And you’re probably right, at least about some things.”
“Well, the same goes for you.”
I rub my face. “Can we just take a second to figure out how to be friends?”
“I tried that last night. I was compared to my sister and then asked to stick around even though I’m apparently a terrible kisser.”
I shake my head. “I may have been drunk. Things are fuzzy, but I never said you were a bad kisser, Kimber. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Oh I’m sorry. That was my tongue. I almost forgot.”
She’s being flip with me. It’s how she defends herself. I’m starting to figure her out and she’s not going to like it. I stand and face her. When she tries to turn away and move in front again. “I never said you weren’t a good kisser.”
“What does it even matter? I don’t care.”
Waves of Despair: Oyster Cove Series Page 15
