Why Lie? (Love Riddles #2) (22 page)

Neither of them replies.

These are my two supposed best friends. The two women who more than any other people in town knew I needed them and bailed on me. Is this what they think of me?

It’s surreal. Gina is thirty years old and Molly and I will both be turning thirty this year. This entire situation feels absurdly immature.

“I couldn’t stay at my place or Gigi and Pops’ house and it’s not like any of my other friends offered to help.”

“Like you would have accepted help from anyone else,” Molly snaps, lifting her eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.

Gina crosses her arms and says, “It was pretty convenient how Heath was the one to find you.”

I cough in shock, my eyes bugging out at both of them. “Wait, seriously, let me get this right. You think I purposefully got hurt so he could save me?”

“Why else would you go there?” Molly asks.

I stand, my hand a death grip around the handle of my cane. “You both seem to forget it was Heath knocking on my door in the middle of the night. I didn’t go up there for him to chase me. I went up there to get away from him so I could try and figure out if I should forgive him or not.”

Gina gulps but Molly is undeterred. “Of course he chased you considering how fast you hopped into bed with him. Once the novelty wears off, he’ll leave you again.”

Her face twists with every word. Years of friendship, years of me having her back and this is how she treats me because a guy she likes wanted me more.

“I almost died,” I murmur, searching both of their faces for any reaction.

When I get nothing from either of them, I gulp and say, “Do either of you even care? Or, that doesn’t matter because you’re pissed that he wanted me and not you?”

Molly slides out of her booth, pushing the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “It’s sad, clinging to a guy the way that you are.”

Gina throws some bills on the table and I take a step back so she can get out of the booth as well.

“You knew Molly liked him,” she mutters, like that’s a valid excuse.

I shake my head at the both of them. “You’re both nuts. Heath is a person. You can’t just call dibs and claim him. How many times have you thrown yourself at him over the years?”

My eyes are on Molly’s but her gaze is moving from side-to-side, finally noticing that everyone in the diner is watching us. It’s not like half of the people here don’t know she’s tried to hook Heath’s attention more than once over the years.

When she doesn’t say anything I go on, “Does he get a say in who he dates? Or, was I somehow good enough to be friends with all of these years but not good enough for Heath?”

“You aren’t good enough for him,” she snaps.

“That’s it,” Gigi butts in. “Get your asses out of here. How dare you talk to my grandbaby that way after everything she’s done for the both of you. You girls should be ashamed of yourselves acting like you’re teenagers. Don’t come back here. From this day forward, neither of you are welcome here.”

I put most of my weight on my good leg and lean my cane against the table so I can cross my arms over my chest as I watch them go.

Hell, with friends like those. . . .

Once the door closes behind them, there are murmurs of support from the diners. I hear it but it all sounds like a buzz. My body is rigid, tension vibrating through my veins. My mind is churning, trying to convince itself that what just happened was real, that I did truly have words with my two closest friends. Or rather the two people I thought were my friends. I was torn between wanting to punch something or bursting into tears.

Gigi turns back to look at me. “Are you all right?”

I answer her question with one of my own. “That was insane, right?”

Gigi is not the type to sugarcoat things. She’s also one of the most levelheaded people I know.

“Those girls need someone to pull their heads’ out of their butts.”

I love that she said butt instead of ass. I love it so much that even though their betrayal is still smarting, I smile.

It hurts, or it
hurt.

If they cared, they had weeks to show it. Before I was transferred to the rehab clinic, I made excuses for them. Emotionally, I held on to something that wasn’t there. I was holding an anchor for a ship that had long since sailed. It wasn’t until I was back in Ferncliff that I started to let go.

Even I couldn’t make myself believe their excuses here.

The sting of their action is fresh but the venom not as strong as it once could have been. Right in this moment, I’m not going to dwell. Later on tonight or maybe this week, I’ll curl up on Heath’s couch and rehash it.

There’s a lesson in this. One that I don’t want to have to learn again.

Now, I’m going to have lunch with Gigi.

I unfold my arms, letting the tension spill out my fingertips.

I grab my cane and reply, “I need French fries.”

Gigi nods. “After that you deserve a milkshake too.”

She is not wrong.

“Want one with chopped-up Heath bars in it?” she teases.

My only response is to look heavenward. I love my Gigi too much to get annoyed with her.

“Too soon?” she asks.

I nod, not wanting to admit a shake with chopped-up Heath bars sounded perfect.

After lunch she drives me to Heath’s and drops me off. I no longer need a babysitter. I don’t have PT today so I have four hours to doll myself up before Heath gets off work.

There’s no way I need that much time but that doesn’t stop me from running a bath the moment I let myself in, with the key Heath gave Pops to use. The key he now wants me to use while I stay here. It may be temporary but, for now, that makes it my key.

My leg is not as hairy as I expected it to be. On one of her visits, Reilly told me about a kid she grew up with who had a cast removed and her leg looked like a Chia pet.

My leg looks weird, or maybe the weird part is seeing it again.

Touching it, lathering it up and dragging a razor up it is odd as well. My skin doesn’t feel like the skin on my other leg. It feels like there’s an invisible layer floating above my skin and that’s what I’m touching. It’ll take time to get back to normal I guess. Before the mudslide, I’d never broken a bone.

Pops had joked that I had been saving them up to knock out all in one shot.

After my bath, I wrap a towel around my wet hair and another around myself before stepping back into my boot.

In my towel, I go and sit on Heath’s bed. I reach for my e-reader. Without it, I’d spend the next hour either stewing on that scene with Molly and Gina or start freaking out about what’s going to happen once Heath shows. Wanting to avoid both, I read. Right now I’m on a paranormal kick. I have zero time to worry about why my former friends suck when the fate of the entire world is in jeopardy.

After the chapter I decided to read, and the two extra chapters I had to read because stuff was getting good, I set my book aside. I have a couple of hours to decide what to wear and figure out my hair and makeup. It shouldn’t take that long, but it might if I can’t make up my mind what to wear.

I’m second-guessing the dresses I packed. Other than the skirt I wore when Heath took me to his parents’ house, I haven’t worn a dress since before the mudslide.

Would wearing one now make me look overeager?

Whoa.

That’s the first thing I think when I see her.

Am I dreaming?
Is the second.

She texted me after the appointment with her orthopedist, so her casts being gone is not a surprise. I had wanted to take her to that appointment myself but Gigi got dibs and it ending up working out in the long run when something came up at work. That and my cell blowing up with text messages.

Sydney’s text, the one letting me know how her appointment went was the only good text I got this afternoon. Every other text was some retelling of what I’m calling the verbal smack down at Lola’s.

I’ve been waiting all afternoon to get home so I can hear Sydney’s version of what went down, but she looks so fucking gorgeous I’m not sure I care anymore. No, that’s a lie. I still care. The level of how much I care in comparison to how turned on I am is what’s changed. She is my ultimate wet dream.

“Are you going to just stand there?” She laughs.

Her question is part bravado, part nerves she’s trying to hide.

“Don’t rush me. I’m trying to memorize you. I never want to forget how beautiful you look right now.”

She blushes and her nervous smile widens into something more confident. What she has to be nervous about I’ll never understand.

It hits me what she’s done. The dress, the makeup, the hair and the hint of perfume is all for me.

Me.

I come unstuck, my shoulder dropping, my laptop bag sliding down my arm before I let it softly hit the floor. Then my legs move, one step in front of the other carrying me to her.

She reaches out and I take both of her hands in mine and lift them to my lips as I grin down at her.

“You’re a dream,” I murmur against her knuckles.

She’s standing next to my sofa. Dropping her hands, I grip her waist and with a twist and a turn, I’m sitting with her in my lap. My fingers itch to explore and climb up and up until they’re pushing into her hair at the back of her head.

Spun silk. It’s an expression I’ve heard but never understood till now. Her hair is softer, more silken than anything I’ve felt before. My fingertips glide through it like liquid.

“You like?” she asks.

“Baby, like is not the right word for anything that applies to you,” I reply.

She starts to say something but her lips are a temptation I can’t resist. My mouth covers hers. Her arms circle my neck and I’m reminded again that her casts are gone. Yesterday, if she had tried that, there’s a high probability she would have clocked me on accident.

Now, the soft skin of her body isn’t hidden from me. I can’t touch her fast enough. Breaking our kiss, I pull her arms from around my neck to rest in front of me. My eyes blaze a trail, which my hands follow. The cast on her arm had practically covered her tattoos there. I trace them, the flowers, a bouquet filled with hidden objects that flows from just below her elbow up to her shoulder.

“The fairest,” I murmur, my fingertip tracing the edge of the mirror from
Snow White.

Her eyes flutter as she wets her lips. She has that mirror inked on her skin, tucked between an apple blossom and a yellow tulip because Snow White was her favorite princess.

She seems surprised I remember. Like I could forget. I had told her it fit, not only with her style but her last name. Sydney Fairlane is easily the fairest.

I keep going, “I might become addicted to your skin.”

She shivers as my fingertips move to explore the Lola’s mug that peeks out behind a bunch of lavender and a sunflower.

During my exploration, she lifts her hands, and frames my face, pressing her lips to mine again.

I don’t want to rush. I don’t want her to have any reason to assume I’m only interested in her body. I don’t want to scare her away by how much I want her. Despite this, I hold her to me, groaning as she shifts in my lap. My body reacts, now fully rigid beneath her. Her movement is nothing short of exquisite torture.

I’m ready to burst.

In an effort to catch my breath, and regain my sanity, I break our kiss.

She stares at me, lips parted, hunger in her eyes.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” I plead. “I’ll give you anything.”

She swallows and my throat tightens in response. “Take me to your bed,” she replies.

“I don’t want to rush you,” I argue.

“Heath.”

I gulp at how erotic my name on her lips sounds.

When she has my full attention, she goes on. “I want this. I want you. Please.”

It’s her please that’s my undoing. My hands move to her ass, lifting her as I stand and shifting her till we’re pressed front to front. Her legs wrap around my waist, her arms around my neck. Our mouths come together and do not part even when I lay her across my bed. Her boot, knocks my ass but I do not give one fuck since she’s under me again.

There’s only one thought that consumes me: making this moment, what we’re about to share, the best she’s ever had. I taste her skin, my lips moving down to kiss and lick at her jaw. She squirms against it. Sydney always rushed foreplay; she couldn’t wait to get to the main event. One thing that drove me wild about her was how free she was in bed. No shame, no teasing, she loved it when my cock was deep inside her.

She’ll get that tonight but she’s going to have to be patient first. I’ve dreamed about this moment for too long to rush it. She’s going to come, first against my mouth, and then against my hand before I’ll give her my cock.

My hands roam, traveling down her body before my mouth. The top of her apple-red dress is shaped like a heart over her breasts, the dip of the heart a V between them. If sin was an article of clothing, this dress would be it.

Every inch of her is sexy as hell, but it’s the spots that have been hidden by her casts that call out to me. Who knew an elbow could turn me on? She laughs as I kiss its bend. I spent a week enjoying her body and still missed so much.