Keeping my Best Friend (Fated Series #5) Read online

“Okay, I had a few.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “But I didn’t enjoy them.”

  “I had no idea I’d given you such a complex.”

  “And that’s just one of them.”

  “Ha Ha,” I said, wanting to sit up. “Well, all this talk of cake has made me hungry.”

  “Good,” he said, scooting back.

  “Would you mind grabbing the other robe for me?” I asked.

  “Really?” His face fell. “What if you get icing on it?”

  “Trust me. No icing is going to escape.”

  “But if it did and it fell onto your chest or something, I’d be able to lick it off easier.”

  “Maybe that can be arranged if you get me the robe.”

  He shook his head and walked to the closet.

  I sat up a little without exposing my scarred arm and grabbed the robe with my other hand, slipping it on as fast as I could and flashing a tit to make sure my scars went unnoticed.

  Once I was in the robe, Aiden handed me a piece of fluffy, expensive smelling white cake. Sure enough, there were a few layers of fresh strawberry trailing through it.

  “Would you like to make it a champagne breakfast?” he asked.

  “I think that might give me a better indication of the full experience,” I said. “Since this type of cake is really meant to be eaten with champagne.”

  He stood up and walked over to the table on the opposite side of the room. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  The glasses still had some champagne in them from last night but Aiden went and poured it out in the bathroom so we could have fresh glasses. It was the kind of thing only someone with his background would do. If it had been me, I would’ve just topped up the glasses.

  He was bringing the fresh glasses over just as I took my first bite.

  I slouched a bit as the sugar hit my tongue and moaned.

  “I take it Nancy did okay?” he asked.

  “Nancy did great,” I said, sinking into my pillow as if I were weighed down by the richness of the cake.

  “The real question is was it worth every penny?”

  “That’s hard to say,” I said. “It’s definitely worth every calorie.”

  He shoved an oversized bite in his mouth and considered it before swallowing. “Agreed.”

  “You said the cake was a few grand?”

  “It comes out to something crazy. I heard my Dad ranting about it. I almost don’t want to tell you.”

  “Come on,” I said, breaking another bite off with my fork. “I can handle it.”

  “It comes out to something like twenty bucks a slice.”

  “Twenty bucks a slice!”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you wanted to lick it off my tits!”

  “Want,” he said. “Present tense.”

  I blushed. “Well, you’ll have to save some of your icing if you want to do that cause I’m not wasting my cake on that.”

  “It wouldn’t be a waste,” Aiden said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Trust me.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Not that you don’t taste sweet enough without icing.”

  I grabbed a piece of white chocolate lace and put it in my mouth.

  “I bet we could get some more to take home.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Don’t you think Claire and Dave will want to save it for themselves?”

  “Some of it sure, but come on. If I tell Claire I really want some, she’s not going to say no to me.”

  “You are very persuasive.”

  “Please don’t try and get me hard while I’m eating wedding cake. It’s confusing for me.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “What would you like to talk about?”

  “Maybe nothing with you. You’re too damn sexy when you’re eating cake. Do you have to moan like that?”

  “Was I moaning?”

  “You weren’t being quiet.”

  “Reminds you of last night does it?” I asked.

  “Stop it,” he said. “I mean it. Or I’ll tie you down and make you perform sexual favors in exchange for every single bite of that cake.”

  “I’d do it, too,” I said. “Cake or no cake.”

  Chapter 6: Aiden

  I smiled at her icing filled mouth. “I just wish I’d thought to slather it on my balls before I served it to you.”

  She laughed. “Thank you so much for not doing that.”

  I had to ask her about the scars. I couldn’t not ask. Thinking about them was the only reason I hadn’t sprung out of my robe and pinned her against the bed already.

  I thought after last night- after the cops and the sex and the coming for ages and the sleeping through the night together- that I knew everything I ever wanted to know about my best friend. And more importantly, I thought I knew everything I needed to know to pursue this thing with her, whatever it was.

  But the marks on her arm disturbed me. Not because scars freaked me out. I had so many scars I couldn’t remember what they were even from. Still, I only had to look at her scars for a second to know that whatever caused them hurt. A lot. And it bothered me that she’d heard every gory detail about every broken, sprained, and fractured bone I’d ever had, every black eye.

  I’d regaled her with stories about how I got certain bruises, boring her to death no doubt with the names of players she didn’t even know and would never meet. And here she was with these secret marks on her body that I didn’t know about. Marks that- by the look of it- she’d had a long damn time.

  I wanted to forget about it, enjoy our cake, and see how long we could ride out the romance of our sexy wedding weekend, but I couldn’t put it out of my head.

  Any other girl and it wouldn’t have mattered. It would’ve been baggage, something I could handle her telling me about or not, something I would assume she would tell me about when she was ready.

  But Lucy should’ve been ready a long time ago, and I couldn’t distance myself from her pain that way… or her body. I didn’t want to anyway. I had to know what the hell happened and why I never knew about it. I had to know right now.

  But I let her finish her cake first, even though she was trying to make it last forever by taking bites The Borrowers would’ve scoffed at. Still, cake had always been her happy place so I didn’t want to spoil it. And ice cream. And on some level, I hoped I was, too.

  She’d certainly become mine anyway.

  “That was delicious,” she said, laying her fork across a sparkling clean plate. “Thanks.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “Every penny’s worth,” she said. “And it was really sweet of you to go down and get it.”

  I shrugged. “I’m a sweet guy.”

  “How will we burn off all that sugar?” she asked, tapping her chin.

  “I have a few ideas,” I said. “But first I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Really? You want to talk now? When we have a hotel room all to ourselves and we’re practically naked?”

  I smiled. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

  Her face fell. “Oh my god what is it?” She sat up straighter and leaned against the headboard, her bedhead tumbling over the outside of her robe. “You’re freaking me out.”

  I took a sip of champagne and set it back down.

  “Jesus, do I need a drink for this?” She reached for her champagne and took a large swig.

  “No,” I said. “It’s not a big deal. Actually, it might be a big deal.”

  She set her glass down on the nightstand.

  “I’m hoping you can tell me.”

  “Spit it out,” she said, her eyes searching mine.

  “It’s your arm.”

  “What about it?” she asked, pulling her hands in her sleeves.

  “I saw your scars this morning.”

  Her face fell.

  “And I never saw them before and-”

  �
�Cause you weren’t meant to.”

  “Lucy, that’s crazy.”

  She clenched her jaw.

  “How could you have scars like that, and I don’t know about it?”

  “Cause it’s not your problem.”

  “Don’t you get it,” I said, scooting closer to her. “Your problems are my problems.”

  She swallowed and looked at me. “It’s not even like that. There is no problem. It was a long time ago.”

  “What happened?”

  She sighed.

  “Who did that to you?”

  “No one.”

  “Did your boss-”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “So just tell me.”

  Her eyes pleaded with me. “Can’t you just pretend you never saw them?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I did it to myself.”

  My guts tangled inside me. “What?”

  “When we were teenagers.”

  “You did it to yourself?”

  “After my Mom died.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you pity me.”

  “I don’t pity you,” I said. “I’m just sad that you would do that to yourself.”

  “I was just a little fucked up for a while, that’s all.”

  “I remember.”

  “And the whole thing numbed me.”

  I nodded.

  “I couldn’t feel anything, Aiden. I felt like a zombie. All the things that used to make me happy or sad or angry didn’t affect me anymore.”

  “It hardened you. I know.”

  “And I wasn’t interested in anything. Everything seemed so pointless.”

  She put her hands in her lap and I put a hand over them, smiling as she wrapped her fingers loosely around mine.

  “I just wanted to feel something.”

  “When did you start doing that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d heard about it before and one day I just tried it with one of the box cutters from the junk drawer. At first I felt kind of stupid, but I kept trying and soon I was sort of looking forward to it. Like it was a little hobby that I was getting better at, something that kept me from defining myself as the girl with the dead Mom.”

  I squeezed her fingers back.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” she said.

  “No it doesn’t,” I said. “It’s just sad.”

  “It was sad. I was sad. For a long time.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  She looked at me through glassy eyes. “But you were, Aiden. You were there for me.”

  “Obviously it wasn’t enough.”

  “Yes it was.”

  I exhaled through my nose.

  She shook her head. “You have no idea what your friendship meant to me at the time. And there’s nothing you could’ve done that would’ve changed the choices I made.”

  “I want to believe that.”

  “You should. I mean, I know I didn’t exactly choose the healthiest way to cope, but I was just working through my shit. It was something I had to do.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Your friendship helped me through it without you even knowing. I remember lots of times I’d want to go home and cut myself- almost to the point of obsession- but I’d want to keep hanging out with you more so I’d skip it.”

  “So you were obsessed with me even then?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about obsessed, but I definitely thought you were shit cool.”

  I smiled.

  “And you never treated me like I should be depressed or like I was different.”

  “But you’ve always been different. I’ve always known you were different.”

  “But you didn’t treat me that way,” she said. “And the fact that I felt normal around you helped me not lose touch. Your friendship kept me from getting washed away by my own grief.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help.”

  “You did everything you could’ve done for me then, and the fact that I’ve been able to rely on you ever since is one of the things I’m most grateful for.”

  “And where does cake fall on that list?”

  She smiled. “I’m more grateful for you than cake.”

  “Damn,” I said. “I must be good then.”

  “You are,” she said. “You’re the best friend a girl could have.”

  “So how come you never told me? After all this time?”

  Chapter 7: Lucy

  He was being so sweet. I don’t think I’d ever seen him look so concerned, though when the cops showed up yesterday he looked pretty disturbed. If only we’d been having a conversation I actually wanted to have instead of one that made me want to disappear.

  Of course, from the look on his face, the likelihood of me being able to disappear was extremely slim. He looked like he might never let me out of his sight again.

  “It’s not that I was keeping it from you,” I said.

  “Yes it is,” he said. “It’s exactly like that.”

  “No it’s not. I keep it from everybody.”

  “But I’m not everybody.”

  I held his hand in mine, dragging my thumbs across his thick skin. “I know,” I said. “But it’s not exactly something I’m proud of.”

  “You still should’ve told me.”

  “There was never a good time.”

  “Come on, Lucy. You could’ve mentioned it a hundred times.”

  I sighed. “You’re right, but I didn’t see the point. You always thought I was strong and tough. I liked that. I didn’t want you to know the truth.”

  “What? That you’re even stronger and tougher than I realized?”

  I smiled. It was kind of him to spin it like that. “Once I stopped, I put it behind me. It wasn’t something I was dying to bring up.”

  “I understand.”

  “To be honest, I’d rather be anywhere else over telling you about it right now.”

  “I didn’t ask to make you uncomfortable.”

  “You asked because you were uncomfortable not knowing.”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “So now you know.”

  “Can I just ask you one more question?” He looked down at my hands around his, his eye lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

  “Sure.”

  “You never meant to hurt yourself… permanently, did you?”

  “You mean kill myself?”

  “Yeah.”

  The pain in his face was breaking my heart.

  “No,” I said.

  “Cause some of those scars don’t exactly look like someone who gave themselves a few nicks with a razor if you know what I mean.”

  “I know the one you’re talking about,” I said. “I overdid it once.”

  The color drained from his face.

  “But it was an accident.”

  “Jesus, Lucy.”

  “I got a little carried away.”

  “What happened?”

  “That’s all. I just kind of zoned out while I was doing it, and then I couldn’t stop the bleeding and got scared I would pass out.”

  “So you didn’t want to die?”

  “No. Well, maybe for fleeting moments here and there I did, but not really.”

  “So what happened?”

  “My Dad took me to the hospital.”

  Aiden shook his head and stared straight ahead.

  “But he doesn’t know what really happened so you can never mention it.”

  “What do you mean he doesn’t know?”

  “I told him it happened hopping a barbed wire fence. Actually, that’s what I’ve told everyone who has seen it since.”

  “And he believed you?”

  “I don’t think he really did, but he wasn’t equipped at the time to consider the alternative.”

  “When?”

&
nbsp; “Junior year. Remember I missed a week of school around Thanksgiving?”

  “You told me you were taking care of your Dad.”

  “I was,” I said. “Only he was sort of taking care of me, too.”

  “I wish I’d known.”

  “No you don’t. It would’ve freaked you out like it did me. Plus, it was an accident.”

  “Still.”

  “Don’t mention it to anyone, okay?”

  “I would never.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Lucy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”

  “It was a long time ago. You don’t need to worry about-”

  “Promise me anyway,” he said, fixing his eyes on mine.

  “I promise,” I said, my voice dropping low.

  “When you hurt you, you hurt me.”

  I smiled.

  “It’s true,” he said, pushing my natty hair to the side.

  “Thanks for being so understanding.”

  “Thanks for getting a grip.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “Not that I did it for you.”

  “I know, but you might as well have.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “Can I see?” he asked, nodding towards my arm.

  I felt a lump in my throat.

  “Only if it’s okay with-”

  “It’s okay,” I said, slipping my hands away from his and pushing my robe off my shoulder.

  The quietness in the room as I slipped my arm out of the sleeve was almost more than I could bear. And without looking at him, I extended my arm in front of me and laid it down in my lap.

  Aiden put his hand on my wrist and turned my arm gently, as if it was made of glass, until the inside of it faced the ceiling and the scars were out of the shadows.

  “Not my best side,” I joked.

  He turned towards me, holding my fingers in his lap. “That must’ve hurt.”

  “That was sort of the point,” I said.

  He shook his head, studying the shiny raised marks like he was reading something.

  It was strangely freeing to have my arm out in the open, to know that I didn’t have to hide it from him anymore. And I was relieved that he hadn’t freaked out or acted frightened or made a face like he didn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t meant to hurt myself so bad.

  Like the doctors did at the time.

  “It’s like a tattoo that gives away how stubborn you are.”