by Anna Paige
Talia stared wearily at the phone for a moment. “You didn’t call anyone, did you?”
“No, not a soul.” I shook the phone. “It’s just Brant making sure I’m out having fun this weekend, per Clay’s instructions.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t mention this to him. He might tell Clay.”
So the sneak wanted a co-conspirator... Hmm... I could have fun with that. I pasted on my best indignant look and asked, “So, you want me to lie to my two best friends?” I dramatically looked down at my phone and frowned, pretending to mull it over as I paced the floor beside her bed. “I don’t know if I can do that. I mean, maybe I could have omitted what happened in the shower earlier but this is the second time in one day that I’ve had to scoop you off the floor and this time you didn’t even have the decency to be wet and naked.” I smirked at her and spun, pacing away and raising an arm to point at the ceiling, courtroom drama style. “You made a bid for the Best Actress Oscar with that fainting spell and left me to worry that you’d kicked the damn bucket... and now you have the nerve to ask for my silence?”
The sound of her soft laughter was music to my ears, the real reason for my little tirade.
If she wanted my silence, my lips were sealed.
AFTER BEING DIAGNOSED with a mild concussion—gee, imagine that—and advised to take it easy for the next couple of days, the hospital released her into my care. On the way out, one of the nurses reminded me that I was to wake her every couple of hours to check for a decline in her condition, just to be safe.
Given that the alternative to my caring for her was calling her parents or dragging Ali home, Talia was perfectly content to have me stay and take care of her.
I was rather content with it myself, disturbingly so. Luckily, all it took was one fleeting memory of Ivey to remind me to keep my distance, at least emotionally. I wouldn’t let my fondness for Talia grow into anything beyond friendship.
I couldn’t.
But there was no harm in helping a friend. Hell, it was a fundamental part of the friendship pact, wasn’t it?
Clay was just helping a friend when he took Ali to that Gala and look where they ended up. Engaged.
No, no, no. That was them, that wasn’t me. Maybe it had been once, but not ever again. Lesson learned.
WHEN I SLID the Chevelle into an open spot near the front of her building, Talia was once again curled up under my jacket, dozing peacefully. Her long blond strands fell in a tangle across her face casting a web of shadows from the streetlight. I reached over and brushed a few of them away, taking a moment to run my fingers through them and marveling at their softness. They were like strands of golden silk.
“Hmm... that’s nice,” she muttered, startling me. “I used to lay in my mom’s lap for hours while she played with my hair. It always made me sleepy.” Her voice was slow and even, sounding like one long exhalation.
She was so tired she didn’t even argue when I lifted her from the car to take her inside. The doctor said she was okay to get around on her own, but admitted that there was a chance she’d be unsteady on her feet. I didn’t plan to take any chances. Aside from the fact that Clay and Ali would kill me if I let anything happen to her, I also couldn’t get the image of her sinking to the floor out of my head—the first time, not the Oscar-worthy performance.
I carried her past Stony, who merely lifted a hand and didn’t ask about her ankle, and kept her tight in my arms until I gently set her on the couch in her apartment and pulled the blanket down over her. “You get some rest,” I told her, tucking the blanket around her so she wouldn’t get chilled. “I’ll wake you in two or three hours like the nurse said.”
She looked up at me sleepily. “Where will you be? Surely you’re not going to stay up all night.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll kick back on the love seat and set an alarm on my phone, just in case I doze off.”
“You’re too tall to lie down on that thing. You’ll be all scrunched up and you slept sitting up last night.” Her voice was apologetic. “It’s all my fault. I’m sorry. Do you want the couch? Or you can sleep in Ali’s old room.”
I smiled down at her and made a shushing sound. “It’s fine. You stay where you are. I’m not sleeping in another room. You might need something and I don’t trust you not to try and get it yourself. If I’m right here with you, you won’t be able to sneak by me, you little con artist.” I winked and gave her hand a quick pat, staunchly ignoring the nearly overwhelming impulse to lean down and kiss her pale pink lips.
Her eyes closed and she chuckled softly at my comment but said nothing more. After a moment, her even breathing told me that she’d fallen asleep.
I made sure the door was locked, gathered a bottle of water and some ibuprofen for when I awakened her, and settled on the loveseat with my body angled so that I had a direct view of the couch.
For a while I just watched her sleep, my mind turning over everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. We’d known each other for a while, but not like this.
I hadn’t spoken about Ivey in ages.
Sure, the whole fucked-up ordeal was never far from my mind, never more than a blink away from my awareness, but remembering and verbally rehashing were two entirely separate things. Talking about it seemed to wake it up, make it more tangible.
I considered everything I’d learned about Talia since my arrival the night before. How I went from idly noting that she seemed sweet and beautiful to the deep respect and fondness that washed over me as she stirred beneath the blanket, prompting me to jump up and tuck it tighter around her.
I’d suffered in my lifetime—who hasn’t—but what she’d gone through... that was more than I could fathom. I hated that desolate look she tried to hide when she spoke of her child. Hated that there wasn’t a single damn thing I could do to help. It reminded me of Clay after his mother was killed in a car crash. I’d been no help to him, either. Not really. In the end, I decided that being his friend, no matter how bad things got, was all I could do.
I took a seat on the coffee table, my knees nearly touching the sofa where she slept as I watched over her. Maybe I could be the same for her. It had been years since her loss but she still wore it like armor, blocking people out and weighing her down at the same time. Her barrier. Her prison.
I recognized it on her because I wore a set of my own.
I couldn’t expect her to just give it up, but a big part of me wanted to at least help her carry it for a while.
Talia
MY HEAD STILL hurt when I woke the next morning, but it was vastly improved from the night before. I lay there with my eyes squeezed tight against the sun-filled living room and listened to Spencer’s soft breathing coming from nearby.
At least I’d remembered he was here this morning. If only I’d had the same experience yesterday, I might not have gotten caught off guard.
I could feel my cheeks heating at the memory.
Stupid.
I threw an arm across my face to shield my eyes from the light as I laid there and contemplated getting up, with no real intention of moving.
Spencer had been amazing last night. Not in the panty-melting way I’d often fantasized about, of course. Last night had been something far different. He’d awakened me every couple of hours, asking me a few questions to gauge my clarity and then offering me something to drink and—at the appropriate intervals—something for pain.
Each time, I would resume my spot on the couch and he sat across from me on the coffee table, either stroking my hand or my hair, talking quietly until I dozed off again.
I lay there smiling at his thoughtfulness for a moment before realizing just how close the sound of his breathing seemed.
I lifted my forearm from my eyes and glanced around, squinting until I spotted him a second later, my eyes widening and letting in a painful amount of light.
He had pulled the cushions from the love seat and wedged them as close to the couch as possible. The coffee table was sitting
at an angle to allow him enough room. He lay there on the floor, a good eighteen inches below me but right at my side.
And clutching the blanket at my side was the hand that had likely held onto mine all night.
I looked at it with something akin to shock.
Never in a million years would I have expected such tenderness.
I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes and dropped my arm to my side, testing my theory.
As soon as my hand was once again within reach, he reached out and threaded his fingers through mine, never stirring from his slumber.
My chest tightened in one quick spasm and a tear escaped the corner of my eye, rolling hotly past my temple and into my hair. Just one, though.
A single traitorous tear that threatened to erode the foundation of my well-placed walls.
After a while, I disentangled myself and silently rose from the couch, careful not to wake him. I splashed cool water on my face in the bathroom, wincing when I saw the mascara ring around my eyes. Raccoon was not a good look for me.
And Spencer had seen it, shit.
Thankfully, it was easily remedied with a makeup remover wipe and a mental reminder that my injuries were a good enough excuse for not looking my best. Satisfied that I wouldn’t scare the shit out of my guest, I trudged down the hall to the kitchen, needing coffee.
Soon after, the pot was brewing and I set about making breakfast, starving. Spencer would be too. Neither of us had eaten in a while.
I was halfway through with the meal prep when Spencer yawned from his spot on the cushions and stretched his lean muscular arms above his head. He sat up and turned toward me with a sleepy expression. “Do I smell coffee, chuckles?”
He’d just woken up, so I let the nickname slide. “Yes sir, you sure do.” I nodded to the counter beside where I was pouring the last of the breakfast ingredients into a casserole dish. “I even threw together some homemade vanilla creamer, since I know that’s what you like. It’s in that mason jar.”
He replaced the cushions and folded the small blanket he’d nabbed from the back of the love seat. I had the things everywhere. My mother insisted that they made the apartment feel homey.
“You didn’t have to do that. I could have taken it black.”
I waved him off, placing the casserole dish in the oven and setting the timer. “No big deal. It’s just a little condensed milk, 2%, and vanilla. Oh, and I threw in a vanilla bean for extra flavor. Just be sure to shake it well before you use it.” I’d had my back to him as I spoke.
When I turned I realized he was just standing there watching me with the most peculiar expression.
I thought again about my raccoon eyes, wondering if I’d missed a smudge or something. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugged once and the moment was broken. “I didn’t realize I was looking at you any particular way. Sorry. I’m still half asleep.”
I was a breath away from calling bullshit but bit it back. After all he’d done for me that weekend, I wasn’t in a position to challenge him.
But there was something about that look...
I started cleaning up my mess, not able to bear the clutter but also wanting a distraction. Despite the odd look, he was damn sexy with messy hair and drowsy eyes. It was hard not to stare.
He was unbelievably gorgeous.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” He said from behind me, sliding a mug of coffee onto the counter in front of me.
I’d been so busy with breakfast that I hadn’t poured myself any. I nodded gratefully and turned, staring into my cup as I took a sip. “Thank you.”
Under normal circumstances, I wasn’t fit to talk to for about an hour after I woke up. I just was not a morning person. My brain refused to engage without copious amounts of coffee. And yet that morning made two in a row that I’d been able to act like a human before being properly caffeinated.
Ali would be so proud.
Like there was a telepathic tether that tugged at her every time she crossed my mind, my phone chirped with a text from the bestie herself.
Ali: Good morning, Sunshine. Got a call from my mom. She was pissed. Said you chided her like a child. You know what that means, right? I owe you a present or something. Chocolate or wine? Your call. Call you after lunch. xx
I chuckled and held my phone out for Spencer, who read it with an ever-widening grin.
“You guys got a contest going to see who can irritate Eileen the most?” He joked.
“Something like that. Let’s just say that the game makes it less likely that one of us ends up strangling her.”
His brow creased in thought. “Maybe I should consult Clay about an arrangement like that for Gran. That woman is a handful.” He grimaced. “On second thought, maybe antagonizing her isn’t the best idea. She’s got no problem going after someone’s ass and I’d hate to be the guy who got beat down by an octogenarian.”
I giggled into my mug.
He leveled that penetrating stare at me, all humor gone in an instant. “How are you feeling this morning? Any dizziness or nausea?” He took in my features, eyes darting over my face. “You don’t look as pale as you did last night.”
“I’m fine. Honestly. Much better today, thank you.” It was on the tip of my tongue to mention the sleeping arrangement but he cut me off.
“You said you were fine five minutes after it happened, as I recall. Are you fine today the same way you were fine then?” He wasn’t letting up.
I blew out an annoyed breath. He was already back to being pushy. “No, Spencer, I really am fine.” I turned to check the casserole, needing to get away from his stare.
Those dark, intense eyes really should come with a warning label. ‘May cause uncontrollable vaginal twitching’ or something similar would suffice.
I spoke over my shoulder, needing a minute to gather my thoughts. “Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. I hope you like Italian sausage and spinach.”
He didn’t respond immediately, no doubt taking in my every movement and trying to decide if I was telling the truth about my condition. After an extended pause, “I’m not hard to please. It smells great.”
His voice was still concerned but he was coming around. Thank goodness. If he kept watching me like that, I was in serious danger of tossing myself onto the counter and offering him an entirely different breakfast.
Get yourself under control, Natalia, before you embarrass yourself and make a mess of things. Not just for yourself but for Ali and Clay, who would undoubtedly get stuck in the middle. So, quit your damn panting.
“Sweetheart?”
Spencer’s voice pulled me from my thoughts and I realized he’d been talking to me. “I’m so sorry. What were you saying?”
The eagle eyes were back, roving over me with concern. “I was saying that since the doctor suggested you not drive for a couple of days, you’re going to need someone to drive you to...” he trailed off and lifted the tiny envelope that held Cameron’s message for Amelia. “If you’re okay with it, I thought I’d take you.” His expression softened.
I swallowed hard and nodded, turning back to take plates from the cabinet for our breakfast. “That would be nice, thank you.” I gathered the silverware and set it beside the plates. “I don’t know what you had in mind when you knocked on my door Friday night, but I’m guessing whatever you envisioned was a far cry from what you got.”
“I’ve learned never to have expectations, makes life simpler.”
It wasn’t so much his words, with which I tended to agree, but the way he said it that caught my attention. When I glanced over my shoulder his head was down, eyes a million miles away as his fingers lightly traced the tiny embossed envelope meant for my lost daughter. The sight caused the chasm in my chest to widen painfully, threatening to swallow me whole.
I turned back to the stove without comment, afraid my voice would betray me as I began making toast to accompany our breakfast.
He exhaled a long breath, e
xpelling his melancholy. “Besides, this weekend has been nothing if not interesting.” He waited for me to look over at him and smiled. “And I’m glad to have helped, even if only a little.”
That damn smile of his was going to melt the butter. Among other things.
“You’ve been amazingly helpful and patient. I can’t thank you enough. For the help and for not ratting me out to Ali.” I widened my eyes in mock fear. “Especially for not ratting me out. If you’d ever seen her on the war path, you’d understand.”
He grinned. “I’ve gotten a small sampling of what it must be like. It was my pleasure to see that you were spared the full extent of her wrath.”
“Actually, to be honest, she takes it easier on me than she would anyone else. She might have fussed a little, but then she would have let it go. I’m not sure whether to be flattered that she favors me or angry that she doesn’t treat me the same as everyone else.” I pulled the casserole from the oven a split second before the timer dinged and set about making our plates.
Once I was satisfied with the presentation, I placed Spencer’s in front of him and joined him at the counter.
He thanked me and dug in almost immediately. Poor guy. I’d kept him so busy that he hadn’t eaten in forever.
After making a sizable dent in his breakfast, he turned his penetrating gaze on me and quietly asked, “Does everyone do that? Tiptoe around you like Ali does?”
The question caught me off guard and I gaped at him for a minute. Once I had a chance to really contemplate what he was asking, I nodded once. “I suppose so. I don’t think they mean anything by it. It’s probably not even intentional, they just don’t know how to treat me anymore. The people at the restaurant don’t know about Amelia, so they have no reason to walk on eggshells but everyone who knows... Yeah.”
“Maybe that’s why you like your job so much. No one there knows your history so they aren’t afraid of doing something to upset you.”
He said it so matter-of-fact, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
