Losing You (Stars On Fire #4)

by Ryleigh Andrews

  Lizzie knew that this exchange had more meaning than the simple words spoken. Though love was never simple. Yet, with these words, they declared their commitment to each other.

  “Yeah . . . you are,” he agreed, pulling her into him and wrapping those arms around her. Resting the side of her head on his shoulder, Lizzie spoke quietly. “This is the best hump day ever.”

  Tom

  September 2, 2006

  Tom stood on his covered porch, protected from the downpour, as a black Jeep pulled into his driveway. Black Jeep . . .

  His eyes widened as the window rolled down a little and Lizzie shouted at him. “Tom! I don’t have my umbrella!”

  “One second,” he called out and headed inside. Was it Lizzie at Marc’s house the morning of the Cubs game? He didn’t know how to bring that up to get solid proof. Maybe it was a one-night stand. Maybe that was it? But maybe it was more . . .

  He didn’t know how he felt about either of those options.

  Grabbing an umbrella from the closet, he went back outside, opened it, and hurried to get Lizzie. She opened the door and hopped out, her sandals and purse in her hands. He shut the door and they bolted to the safety of the porch. After closing the umbrella, his eyes landed on her smiling face.

  “Damn rain,” she said, shaking her hair out. “It’s gonna be crowded in here today.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, totally not looking forward to that. “I’m so glad you came early. With this crowded house, we’d never be able to talk.”

  “Me too. I would have gotten here earlier but the rain started and traffic crawled.”

  “Well, you’re here now,” he said, opening the door. “Come on in.”

  Lizzie entered and placed her shoes and purse on the entry table he’d made a few years back. Then she spun around and launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Ugh. I’m so happy to see you!”

  He smiled and slid his arms around her tiny waist. “Same here, Bits.”

  A puff of air hit his neck and she stepped back, a pretty pout on her lips. “Why’d you have to ever remember that nickname?”

  “It’s your fault,” he teased.

  “How is it my fault?”

  “One of the last conversations we had you said ‘I hate having these small bits of conversation with you.’ I think subconsciously you were telling me to call you ‘Bits,’” he explained, chuckling at her tongue coming out at him. “Saw that.”

  “I meant for you to see it.”

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her into the living room and they sat down on the sofa, her feet curled beneath her.

  “It’s definitely cooler than it was before it started to rain,” she said.

  “Want a sweatshirt or something?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “One sec,” he answered, then went to the closet yet again, this time pulling out a zippered Cubs hoodie. “This okay?” he asked, holding it up.

  “Perfect,” she replied, her grabby hands up in the air. He tossed it to her and then sat back down.

  “So . . . how are you?” Lizzie began, leaning into the corner of the sofa. “We talk work, work, work, but not much else.”

  “I’m good. Really,” he added when she raised her eyebrow at him. “Working with the wood is peaceful for me.” She snickered loudly and covered her mouth with her hand. “You are twelve.”

  “Maybe,” she said, unabashed. “Anyway, sorry about my immaturity interrupting you. It must get lonely though, just having your wood to play with.”

  “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes hard at her, and doing his best not to laugh at her. It’d only encourage her.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll stop now. So . . . how’s Molly? You haven’t said much of anything about her . . .”

  “I don’t know how she is. I broke up with her like a month ago,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “You don’t seem too upset about it,” Lizzie observed.

  He shrugged his shoulders. Molly’s clinginess plus his brutal schedule were the final nails in that coffin. The relationship was doomed from the start because Molly simply wasn’t Mia.

  Far from it.

  Running a hand through his hair, Tom replied to Lizzie. “No, I knew from the beginning it wouldn’t go far.”

  “Is this because of that girl you were hung up on . . . Mia was it?”

  His head shot up at Lizzie’s mention of Mia’s name. He couldn’t believe she remembered about that. It’d been years since he’d talked to her about this . . . crush, infatuation, he had with Mia Devereux.

  “Mia?” he questioned.

  “Don’t do that. Just talk to me, okay?”

  Though it was turned on him, Tom had missed her no bullshit bluntness. “I can’t believe you remembered her.”

  “She’s the only one you ever talked about, sought advice about.”

  “That’s pathetic. I’m pathetic. I just can’t seem to shake her. I can’t let go.”

  “Have you attempted to talk to her about any of this . . . your feelings for her?”

  He checked his eye roll at her suggestion to discuss his feelings.

  “She’s seeing someone,” Tom informed her.

  “That Luke guy?”

  Damn, what else did she have stored in that brain of hers?

  “No, Ethan Christopher.”

  “Wait. The Ethan Christopher? Football god?” Lizzie asked, leaning forward.

  Knock my ego down some more, Tom thought. She was the damn QB’s girlfriend. Not his. Never fucking his.

  His timing sucked. There’d been opportunities to be with her but it just hadn’t happened. The moment he’d met her, he’d wanted her. He’d wanted to take her to one of Marc’s spare rooms and fuck her until she screamed his name in ecstasy. She had wanted him too—he saw it in her beautiful dark eyes. But they held back and then she ended up with Luke Stapleton.

  Goddamn Luke.

  The man who stole Mia’s heart and repeatedly broke it each and every time he left her.

  So many times that man screwed Tom over, showing up and dragging Mia back to him. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t like Luke pulled her by the hair like some caveman. He just had some major hold over her that when he appeared, she dropped off the face of the earth—with Luke. And when he left, because he always did, she’d fall apart. Too often Tom and the guys watched her drown in that pain.

  Tom wasn’t a dog and didn’t want to strike, so to speak, while she was down. Instead, he was her supportive friend and that damn choice effectively cockblocked him . . . or was it pussyblocked?

  Whatever.

  Now, the best fuckin’ quarterback out there had her heart . . . and her body.

  He had tasted that body of hers once, had mistakenly thought that Mia would finally be his. They may have been drunk but the night would be seared in his memory forever. Tom remembered how amazing the sex with her had been. The way she moaned. The way she responded to him. The way she called out his name as she came on his cock. He had loved her multiple times that night and had fallen asleep with her naked body draped over his.

  When he’d awakened the next morning, Mia was gone. And after that night, things between them had been different. She’d kept to herself and when he finally got her out of her shell and was finally getting somewhere with her, Luke had shown up and that had been that. Again.

  “Yeah . . .” he answered then admitted, “I really need to work harder at moving on.”

  “Oh, honey, our hearts want what they want. We can’t control it. Only accept it and sit back and enjoy the ride.”

  “How is that supposed to help me, Lizzie?”

  “I don’t know. Just that if you really want the same thing as your heart, don’t let it go. Be stubborn and patient. And when that opportunity comes, you fight like hell for what you want.”

  “Sounds like a war speech.”

  “A war of love speech,” she amended.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You need to get
me a beer!” she retorted.

  “Definitely crazy,” he said with an affectionate laugh and stood up to go to the kitchen. Opening the fridge full of beer, he grabbed a couple bottles and headed back. “So . . . tell me about you,” Tom asked, handing her a beer.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. Spill it. How’s work? How’s life?”

  “You know how work is,” she said, taking a swallow of beer.

  “Yeah . . . but not life,” Tom said, wanting to outright ask about Marc. But he wanted her to feel she could share that with him . . . if it was true.

  When the world’s dopiest smile covered her face, he knew things were good for her.

  “I’m seeing someone.”

  “Someone I know?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding her head up and down excitedly.

  “Are you gonna make me gu—”

  “I’m seeing Marc!” she exclaimed, grabbing his thigh and squeezing hard.

  Lizzie and Marc?

  Wow.

  He was right. Though he had guessed, he still sat there in shock.

  Damn . . . Marc and Lizzie. Tom had been too busy to notice this earlier.

  His lack of reaction slowly killed her elation. Her grip on his leg loosened and she fell back into the sofa.

  “Are you mad?” she asked with downcast eyes, studying the cuff of the borrowed sweatshirt.

  “No, I’m not mad.” I don’t know what I am about this, Tom thought. He loved Marc like a brother, but he knew Marc’s vices and wondered if Lizzie knew. Should he tell her? Hell, was it even his place to do so?

  Lizzie

  Well . . . she thought, feeling a little deflated. Lizzie started to get up, but Tom’s strong hand on her leg stopped her. She tried to break the hold but his grip tightened and he pushed her back.

  “I’m sorry. That just threw me. My two best friends together. Two people, who for the most part, have been unattached for years. My mind didn’t know what to make of it,” he said, trying to kid with her.

  She wasn’t buying it. “Whatever.”

  “Bits,” he said, using his strength to turn her towards him. His hand lifted her face to his. “I’m happy for you. I truly am. He’s a great guy. He wouldn’t be one of my best friends if he weren’t. And,” he added, his crooked smile teased her with what else he’d say, “it figures my two best friends would get together.”

  “He’s amazing, Tom. Funny, sweet, sexy as hell.”

  “Whoa! No sexy talk. Marc plus anything involving the word ‘sex’ I do not want to know about.”

  “You mean you don’t want to hear about the way he—”

  His hand covered her mouth so fast, cutting her off. She stuck out her tongue against his palm, licking it in revenge.

  “Eww, that was gross,” he exclaimed, yanking his hand away and wiping it on his jeans.

  “Fine. No sex talk, you big baby,” she said, spinning around, then standing up.

  “I’m not a baby,” he said, getting up as well. “Where you going?”

  “Almost party time.”

  “Really? I thought we had more time.”

  “I was late. Remember?”

  “You’re always late.”

  “Not for work,” she said and laughed at his reaction.

  “Just me?”

  “Yup. You’re special.”

  “Aww, shucks, Lizzie,” he said, putting his hand to his heart. “I feel it.”

  She gave him a quick squeeze before getting to work on the food. “You grilling?” she asked.

  “No. Sausage and dogs in the oven,” he answered, opening the door to show her. “Plus a big batch of chili in the pot.”

  “Smells fantastic. What do you need me to do?”

  As Lizzie helped Tom get things ready, they continued to talk.

  “So . . . you and Marc.”

  Lizzie smiled. “Me and Marc.”

  “You seem happy, Bits.”

  “I am,” she sighed happily. “Even though I don’t get to see him as much as I would like.”

  “You travel a lot!”

  “Yeah. Nature of the job. I leave next week for a longer assignment—at least two weeks. And I’m dreading the time apart, though this time, Marc’s out of town at the same time,” she said, placing the napkins in the holder on the island.

  “Where’s Marc going?”

  “Heading out on tour with his brother for a couple weeks.”

  “Shit. Really?”

  “Mmhmm. I don’t think he’ll miss me this time around.”

  The bell rang and he paused what he was doing and changed his course. “He’ll miss you. Don’t worry,” Tom called out to her.

  Her eyes followed him to the door and smiled when he said, “Hi, Gwen.”

  Without a word, Gwen stormed into the house. Tom shot Lizzie an “uh-oh” look as Gwen beelined it to the fridge.

  “Where’s the good stuff?” Gwen asked, grabbing a soda and a red plastic cup.

  “Jack? Jim?” Tom asked.

  “Jim, please,” Gwen answered and Tom went to the cabinet above the sink, grabbing the requested bottle for her.

  Tom and Lizzie stared at Gwen as she prepared her drink, a little heavy on the Jim, and as she took a healthy swallow. What was she so upset about? And where was Ollie?

  Gwen and her atypical behavior had Tom a little out of sorts. He wanted to fix it. Lizzie could tell.

  “Hey Gwen, guess what?” he said, not even pausing for her to answer. “Lizzie is seeing Marc.”

  Gwen’s cup stopped mid-drink. Not at all how Lizzie thought Tom would try to make Gwen feel better.

  The red cup found a home on the island. “Whore! Oh my God! I can’t believe this. I need details. All of them!”

  “And there’s the doorbell saving me from this conversation,” Tom said, laying a kiss on Gwen’s cheek then Lizzie’s.

  “So . . .” Gwen continued after Tom left. “When did this happen . . . you and Marc?”

  “The last party Tom had.”

  “Dang! Tell me more!”

  And Lizzie did that while more and more people arrived. She told Gwen pretty much everything.

  “Holy hell—welcome back home to you, girl!” Gwen said with a wink.

  “No freaking kidding. He was an unexpected benefit. And I’m totally not giving him up.”

  “Where is your loverboy, by the way?”

  “An assignment. He should be here soon,” she said, glancing at the wall clock. She smiled when her eyes landed on Ollie. He saw her and raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment. The smile left his face when he saw Gwen. Lizzie wanted the scoop on what had gone down between her friends.

  “Hey, Lizzie,” Ollie said, leaning down to hug her.

  Lizzie didn’t reply since he turned his body toward Gwen. It was then she noticed the girl pretty much attached to Ollie’s side.

  “Where were you, Gwennie? I said Hailey and I would pick you up at quarter to one . . .”

  Gwen exhaled loudly and shook her head. “Sometimes, Oliver, I swear you’re as dense as a box of rocks,” she said and stormed off.

  Ollie stared after her but didn’t follow. He went straight to the fridge for a beer. Lizzie caught Tom’s attention and jerked her head to Ollie, then she went to Gwen. Lizzie found her girlfriend out on the back deck, looking like she’d been crying.

  “Gwen,” Lizzie said, sitting next to her. “What’s going on between you and Ollie?”

  “I swear he’s an idiot. Or I am. Maybe it’s me. I need to just move the hell on because it’s never going to happen.”

  Whoa . . . what? Gwen likes Ollie? Lizzie never thought that would happen.

  “He made his point over and over and I just haven’t listened,” Gwen carried on. “But I’m listening now. Only friends. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

  Tom

  Standing behind the kitchen island, Tom looked out at all the people already there. Scanning the faces of the packed crowd, his gaze went to the front door when it ope
ned, landing on Marc. The man didn’t know it yet, but they’d be talking in under two minutes. Tom grabbed two beers from the fridge and went to greet his friend.

  “Yo, Marc. Beer?” Tom asked after he made his way to the entry.

  His friend looked a little leery but nodded his head. Tom handed Marc the beer and proceeded to wrap his arm around his shoulders and guided him into his office. As soon as Marc took a drink, Tom laid into him. “Asshole. Why didn’t you say anything to me about you and Lizzie? One, she’s one of my best friends, and two, so are you. Months you’ve been together, man.”

  Marc had the nerve to smile. “Tom . . . Lizzie’s more than I ever thought I deserved and she wants me. She’s too good to be fuckin’ true and subconsciously, I think I didn’t want to jinx what I had going with her.”

  Tom internally shook his head, hearing Marc’s words, hearing him say he didn’t think he deserved Lizzie. That shit could only be traced to his pathetic father figures—the one who killed himself in front of his teenage son and the other who never really wanted anything to do with him.

  “I’ve been drowning,” Marc continued, “and Lizzie is my lifeboat. She’s my breath of air. I need her air.”

  Hating that he was going to ask this next question, but having to know, Tom took the plunge. “Have you been using since you’ve been with her?”

  “Dude . . . I’ve been good. Been controlling the urges.”

  “Really?” Tom asked, a little shocked . . . and skeptical about that.

  “Really,” Marc answered with a big ol’ dopey smile covering his face. His friend was in L. O. V. E. “She gives me something so much more than drugs ever did. She loves me,” Marc said, his fingers poking at his own chest. “I still can’t fathom that.”

  “I’m happy for you, bro. You know I am. I’ve said it many times before. You’re worth it.”

  Marc looked away, his eyes falling to the floor. “Yeah . . .” His friend’s self-esteem had taken such a beating throughout his life that even right now with Tom saying what he had, Marc still seemed to have difficulty accepting his worth.

  “Pooh bear . . . is that you?”

  The hair on the back of Tom’s neck raised at Lizzie’s use of that goddamn name, but he saw how it brought Marc back from the sadness that’d been lurking.