by Ashley Jade
A slew of questions pummels through my brain like rapid fire. I start with the most important one. “Is that where you were for the past two days? The casino?”
Asher told me he got a hold of his mom, but she said Preston wasn’t with her. I wanted to ask Preston where he ended up going, but I was too afraid I’d upset him, and he’d leave again.
Being around him is like walking on eggshells…or nails, depending on the day. One wrong move and he shuts down completely. Or worse—he’s gone like the wind.
He grips the steering wheel, causing the prominent veins in his forearms to bulge. “Is that a problem for you?”
No, but it’s obviously yours.
I pick an imaginary piece of lint off my clothes. I don’t want to argue or make him feel like I’m judging him, so I proceed with caution. “We searched every casino in the tri-state area after you left.”
Maybe once it seeps in that he legitimately has people who care about him, he’ll be willing to seek help.
He falls silent, causing a sharp ache to my heart.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, changing the subject so he’ll talk again. “Did she say anything to you?”
“No. The woman can’t speak, remember?”
I make a strangled sound in my throat. My patience with him is wearing thin. “Can you be a little less evasive please?”
“She asked me how much money you were paying me to marry you.”
Panic spirals through me so fast I feel lightheaded. “What!” I press a hand to my stomach. She knows the jig is up. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her our prenuptial agreement was none of her business.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. As much as I hate to admit it, Preston handled that way better than I would have. “Thank you.” I look at him. “Did anything else happen?”
For the tiniest of moments, his expression falters before it evens out. “No.”
I can’t let it go without calling him on his bluff. “You told me you never lied to me, remember?”
He slams on the brakes when he almost hits the car in front of us. “Yeah, Bishop. I remember.” Like the flip of a switch his expression changes to one I can’t decipher. “She offered me double what you did to marry you if I stayed in town."
Oh, wow. His admission makes my heart physically hurt and I clutch my chest. I don’t know whether I want to break down and cry, or open his door and shove him into oncoming traffic.
I thought he came back because he cared.
“Look at me.” His tone is too serious to ignore and when I do he says, “I didn’t take it. I told her to go fuck herself.”
My head feels heavy as I process what he’s telling me. “You didn’t take it?”
“No. The only money in my pocket is the three grand I won fair and square last night.”
My eyes burn. “I can’t believe you turned her down.”
It’s no secret gambling and money go hand in hand.
He hitches a shoulder in a shrug. “Wasn’t her money to offer.” His jaw flexes. “And that’s exactly what I told her.”
I should probably scold him for not sticking to the plan and pissing her off, but I just don’t have the heart to. I’m grateful he came to my defense. “How did punching Reggie factor into all this?”
“They chased me out of the casino and he made the unfortunate mistake of attempting to stop me from going back inside.”
“Is it bad that I wish I was there to witness it?”
His teeth catch his lower lip. “Fucker went down like a sack of potatoes. He even squealed.”
I laugh so hard tears leak out the corner of my eyes. I feel awful that Reggie got hurt, but it’s kind of hysterical that he thought he could take Preston.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, I enjoyed it.”
“I meant thank you for not taking the money.” I brush a strand of hair off my face. “And thank you for not lying to me. I might not always like what you have to say, but your honesty means a lot to me, Preston.”
I thread my fingers through his and I feel the pulse in his wrist jump.
His mouth parts in surprise as we drive up to the bridge. “I didn’t plan this.”
“I know. In fact, you should have never been able to drive to the bridge that night. It’s private property.” He stops driving and I swallow hard. “This bridge leads to my parents’ home.” A breath shudders out of me and I fold my arms around my waist. “I should have told you, it was stupid of me not to, I just didn’t…I didn’t want you to think I was even more of a freak.”
He shifts in his seat and cups my face with both hands. “You’re not a freak.”
“How many other people hang out on the bridge where their parents’ died?”
He studies my face for so long I fidget. “I only know one. But she’s not a freak.” His thumb strokes my cheek. “She’s beautiful.” He tips my chin. “And unique.” He kisses my forehead. “She’s so imperfectly perfect she still takes my breath away.”
It’s downright mystifying how Preston always seems to know exactly what I need when the pain starts creeping in.
I inch closer, bridging the distance between us. Unlike last night, this kiss is tender and sweet. His lips are soft and soothing. Comfort and solace.
And the arms that wrap around me feel like home.
Chapter 22
“Wow,” Landon says. “This is…”
“Beautiful,” Breslin whispers.
Asher’s eyes become saucers as he looks around the spacious French country kitchen. “Awesome.”
“It’s one of my favorite rooms in the house.” I point to the large granite island. “When I was little I used to sit on top of there and help my mom make dinner.” My throat tightens as the bittersweet memory streams in. “Although help is a bit of a stretch. I usually made a mess and gave her more work to do.”
Preston’s hand finds mine, offering me unspoken security.
Breslin’s smile fades when she looks at our adjoined hands. I brace myself for a cynical remark, but she flicks her gaze past us and says, “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s somehow big and cozy at the same time. It’s—” Picasso’s barking cuts her off and she digs around her purse for his leash. “I think he needs to go out for a walk.”
I gesture to the French double doors. “There’s a deck and a backyard out there. It’s all fenced-in so you don’t have to put the leash on him if you don’t want to.”
“Perfect.” Breslin stuffs the leash inside her purse and whips out a tiny plastic bag. “I’ll make sure to clean up the present he leaves you before we go.”
Asher turns the handle and Picasso dashes out the door like his ass is on fire. “You know…” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe if we get a deck and a bigger backyard, he’ll stop peeing on my lucky jersey.”
“The dog isn’t so bad after all,” Preston mutters and I nudge him with my elbow.
Landon gives his head a shake. “We live on a farm, Asher. Our backyard is huge.”
Breslin nods in agreement. “Any bigger and we’ll need our own zip code.”
Beside me, Preston goes rigid. “Must be nice throwing around a dead guy’s money so you can live the perfect life.”
Asher pales. “I—”
“You make me sick.” Preston’s eyes swivel to me. “I’m gonna take the boxes out of the car.” When I protest he says, “Relax, I’m not leaving. I just need a breather from this shit.”
An awkward silence fills the room in his absence.
“I guess we finally know what his issue with Asher is,” Landon whispers, sadness shading his features.
I pick at my cuticles. “You guys did come off a little like you were bragging.” When they look insulted I quickly add, “I know you guys aren’t like that, but it probably stings to hear how big his brother’s home is while he’s spent the past three years living in a crappy motel.”
“Oh, please,” Breslin exclaims. “If
he thinks living in a crappy motel for three years is hard, he should try living in a rundown trailer for eighteen years.” I can practically see the steam coming off her. “Look, I tried to be civil, but I’ve had about enough of his crap. It’s not Asher’s fault that Preston gambles all his money away.” She points a finger in the direction Preston left. “And if he’s going to put his brother through hell because he’s mad Asher won’t hand over the money he worked his ass off for, so his narcissistic brother with an attitude problem can shit all over it, your precious husband can go fuck himself.”
It’s safe to say what’s been simmering between me and my best friend for the last three days has officially come to a head.
But I’m ready to rumble.
“Worked his ass off for?” I place a hand to my head dramatically. “It must be so hard to have the money your asshole father left you sitting in your bank account for a rainy day.”
She takes a step closer. “So Asher’s supposed to feel guilty his father left him the money instead of his gambling addict brother?” She tips her head back. “Ha, that’s awfully hypocritical coming from you of all people.”
Maybe I’m not as prepared for this as I thought because her words knock the wind out of me.
I can see the regret on her face, but I don’t give her a chance to speak. “It’s not the same.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’d give the money back in a heartbeat if it meant I could have five more minutes with them. Asher and Preston can’t say the same about their father.”
She blows out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Asher rubs the back of his neck. “Almost everything I buy is with my own money, not his.”
“You don’t have to defend yourself,” Landon cuts in. “What you do with your money is no one else’s business.”
Landon’s right. I was way out of line. I’m just so tired of everyone ganging up on Preston and acting like his feelings don’t have merit. Even though he’s wrong for lashing out, and even though he won’t talk about it—his resentment is coming from somewhere.
“I’m sorry for being a bitch, Asher.” I shrug helplessly. “I was trying to be a good friend to your brother, but I ended up being a lousy friend to you in the process.”
He digs his hands in his pockets. “It’s cool. I know your heart’s in the right place.”
My eyes swing to Breslin when a scoff pushes through her lips. “I know you don’t like him, but can you please cut Preston some slack?”
“I can cut Preston all the slack in the world, but it won’t change things.” A frown pulls at her mouth. “I know I’m supposed to be a good friend and tell you I’ll support you, but that would be like cheering you on as you walk into the lion’s den.” She looks up at the ceiling and sighs. “When someone you love is starting to go down the rabbit hole, you do the right thing and pull them out of it.”
Hell must have frozen over while I was sleeping, because out of the two of us—I’m the dramatic one and she’s the responsible, level-headed one. “Preston isn’t a rabbit hole, B.”
“You’re right. Rabbit holes would at least offer you shelter.” She purses her lips. “He’s quicksand.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s my point. You’re not acting like you, Kit. Last time I checked, you hated Preston Holden.” She starts ticking things off with her fingers. “But now, you’re married to him, holding hands, and taking showers with him.” She throws up her hands. “Help me understand what’s going on because right now I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”
I wipe my palms on my jeans. “Nothing is going on, Breslin. Preston and I…” My voice stalls and I straighten my spine. “It doesn’t fucking matter, okay? I’m still very much a lesbian.”
Something passes in Asher’s gaze, but Landon takes a step forward and says, “This sounds like a personal conversation.” He grabs Asher’s hand. “I’m gonna help bring in boxes.” He winces. “I’ll supervise the brothers and make sure they don’t kill each other.”
They leave and Breslin starts pacing. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m just trying to wrap my head around why you married Preston Holden of all people.”
She has every right to be concerned and confused about all this, but I don’t know how to explain something I don’t understand myself. Especially when her hate for Preston is so palpable.
I plop down on a stool at the island. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.” I trace the patterns in the granite countertop. “I’ve been avoiding having this conversation because I don’t want your hate for Preston to spill over to me.”
She takes a seat next to me. “I could never hate you, Kit. Who else would I confide all my dark secrets to?”
I snort. Breslin’s record is as squeaky clean as they come. The dirtiest thing she’s ever done was…well, Asher and Landon.
“So if I told you I kissed him you won’t judge me?”
She makes a face. “Was it because the priest forced you to at the wedding?”
My forehead hits the counter with a thud. “See? That’s my point—I can’t talk to you about him.” I tilt my head so my cheek is resting on the counter. “But for the record, there was no priest. We were married in a drive-thru. The dude who performed the ceremony wore jeans and a t-shirt and I’m pretty sure he shit his pants at some point because Preston kept growling at him to hurry up.”
“What a prick.”
“He was really sweet actually, he was just jumpy because Pre—”
“I was referring to Preston.”
“Oh.”
When the silence has stretched too long, I whisper, “I don’t think it’s in Preston’s best interest to tell you anything else.”
“Probably not.” She rests her cheek on the counter, facing me. “But I care about what’s in your best interest. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me anything because I’m judging you. Therefore, I’m going to do what I do when Asher talks about him and try my hardest to listen to your feelings and not let my own judgment interfere with my best friend duties, okay?”
“Really?”
She nods. “It’s not always easy for me. Just hearing his name makes me want to stab teddy bears. But when we have girl talk—I promise I’ll do my best to keep it under wraps.”
“What if we come up with a pseudonym for him during girl talk?”
Her face scrunches. “You mean like a secret code-name?”
“Yeah. This way you can separate the Preston who makes you stabby from the guy who confuses me and sometimes does nice things for me.”
A wicked grin spreads across her face. “Can I choose his name?”
“Sure.”
Her grin grows wider. “Princess Monet.”
“Do I want to know your reasoning?”
She shrugs. “It’s simple really. When you call someone a Monet, it’s because you think they’re attractive from afar, but repulsive up close. Just like Monet’s paintings.” She chews on her thumbnail. “Preston’s gorgeous on the outside, but he’s a big ol’ disaster on the inside, so it fits the concept.” Her nose crinkles. “I added Princess purely for my own enjoyment.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re terrible.” I give her hand a squeeze, glad to have my best friend back. “Thank you for agreeing to this. Fighting with you kills me.”
“Same here.” She draws in a breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Tell me what’s up with you and Princess Monet.”
“I’m not sure where to start.”
I can see her mulling it over in her mind. “Well, I already know you got married in Vegas because of your grandmother’s stupid stipulations, right?”
I nod.
“And I’m guessing he agreed to go along with it in exchange for the money he owed that mob guy?”
I nod again but don’t bring up the two million. This is our first girl talk regarding Preston that didn’t start with me in tears and end with either myself or Breslin plotting his death.
I’d like to keep it that way.
She traces her own pattern on the countertop. “Okay, so I get why you needed to get married, but I still don’t understand why you chose Princess Monet to be your husband.”
I look her in the eyes. “Because I trust him. And I didn’t want that mobster to kill him. I know it’s a bad subject for both of us, but he did pull me into the elevator and save me. I saw the opportunity to return the favor and I took it.”
She stares at me for a long moment. “Is that why you trust him so much? Because he kept you safe?”
“If I say yes does that make me an idiot?”
“Not at all. It just makes him a really good manip—” Her lips form a tight line. “Sorry, I’ll rein my judgey cunt back in.” Her expression evens out. “I think I’m beginning to understand now. It makes sense that you’d feel a certain attachment to him given the traumatic experience you went through.”
“Yeah.” When her expression doesn’t change I add, “Princess Monet is an asshole, but I know I’m safe with him.”
I can see the apprehension in her eyes. “It’s not so much Princess Monet I’m worried about as it is the people he gets involved with, you know?”
“I get that.” As much as I hate to admit it, it’s a valid concern. “But he’d never let anyone hurt me.”
“Including himself?”
I don’t follow. “Preston would never lay a hand on me.”
She shakes her head. “No, I mean emotionally. I know you two have a bond, but Preston’s not the type to settle down.” She blows her bangs out of her face. “That heart of yours already tends to give way more than it gets in return, and I don’t want to see it get broken again.” She narrows her eyes. “Because then I’ll have to kill him, and I’m not sure there’s enough blow jobs or make-up sex to make Asher forgive me for murdering his baby brother.”
I feel my cheeks heat with shame. Breslin—or anyone for that matter—sticking me and Preston in the couple box and throwing away the key doesn’t sit well with me. At all.
Caring about Preston and being close to him doesn’t negate me being gay. A few kisses with a male doesn’t mean my lesbian card has been revoked.
