Poser (6 page)

Just looking at her pissed me off.

Not only because she was a backstabbing traitor who literally slut-shamed me to the entire Alpha U campus… but because she cut her hair.

In the exact style I was planning on getting for fall.

Bitch.

Her dark, glossy locks no longer hung past her chest. She’d gotten many inches cut off so they ended around her collarbone. It was slightly layered to give it a playful look, and she curled it in loose waves.

It was the perfect lob.

(Lob = long bob)

The total “in” haircut for fall.

I’d never admit it, but it looked good. Too bad she couldn’t just cut off the shitty parts of her personality too.

Braeden seemed surprised to see her and looked between us for long seconds like he wasn’t sure what to expect. Like maybe a catfight would break out and I’d claw out her eyes.

Please.

I was too good for that.

I gave her a withering look, hoping it conveyed the way I felt, and hefted my Marc Jacobs bag a little higher on my shoulder.

Something shifted behind her eyes, almost like regret, but I wasn’t about to fall for that. Missy was a great actress, something she’d proved many times over. If she wanted me to think she felt bad for all the shit she pulled, it wasn’t going to work.

I noted several people watching the quiet scene between us, and I pulled in a breath. The last thing I was going to do was give people more to gossip about. Especially with the #BuzzBoss standing right here.

Braeden backtracked to me and wrapped his hand around mine. His fingers squeezed, offering me silent support and comfort.

I looked at him and smiled.

When my eyes went back to her, I could have sworn the bitter bite of jealousy was written on her face, but I couldn’t be sure with only a quick glimpse. Braeden moved gracefully, once again angling himself in front of me so I couldn’t study her facial expressions.

Missy seemed to shake herself and start moving. Even with B blocking me from view, I felt her scrutinizing eyes staring at me through him.

Our paths neared, the distance between my old best friend and me closing by the second. I looked off to the side.

“Ivy.”

I glanced over.

She’d somehow gotten herself in view of me. Her perfectly glossed lips parted—to say what, I didn’t know.

Braeden made a sound and tucked me behind him. He really needed to stop with all the macho protection, but in the moment, I was grateful for it. I still wasn’t quite ready to face her. Deep down, I had a lot to say to her… I just wasn’t sure what it was. It was like all my feelings had yet to be transposed into words.

“Walk away,” he growled low. “Walk away right fucking now.”

Missy’s gray eyes widened slightly. She glanced at me like I was going to help her.

I looked away again.

A heartbeat went by, and then she brushed past, leaving behind a cloud of her signature scent,
Clinique Happy
.

Yes, I thought that was ironic.

Braeden relaxed and took my hand again. “Coffee, then home?”

I nodded, still recovering from our almost confrontation.

Funny how someone that used to make me feel so comfortable and relaxed now had the power to twist my guts and make me feel sick inside.

As we stood in line to order, I stared at the door, surprised she wanted to say anything at all. The last time we talked—when I found out everything she’d done and confronted her—she couldn’t get away fast enough.

She had nothing to say then.

What could she possibly have to say now?

Braeden

Life is heavy.

Secrets are costly.

The lines between right and wrong get blurred.

But the reason for it all…

Still remained.

As clear as ever.

I gazed at her in the quiet early light of the room. The pillow she lay on cradled her head gently while sun-colored strands cascaded across her shoulder and trailed over the white sheet. She looked more vulnerable like this. Asleep and with her guard down, her face scrubbed free of all makeup and expression. The thick, soft lashes of her eyes fanned out over her milky complexion and kissed the tops of her cheekbones.

Her lips were naturally pink, parted slightly as she breathed easily. Her body turned toward mine; it always did when I was in bed. Even if I came in late, the second my body hit the mattress, it didn’t matter how she was lying. She turned to me.

Gizmo somehow squirmed between us. She lay stretched out on her back lengthwise against Ivy’s side. Her paws were tucked against her chest and her face was turned into the blankets covering Ivy.

My girls.

Never in a million years did I think when I had two girls in my bed, one of them would be a dog that looked like a gremlin.

Never in a million years did I think I’d ever feel this happy.

But I was.

Things were trying to steal that happiness. Things were preventing me from feeling like my life was completely full.

Even though I tried not to think about seeing my father months ago, I did.

And…

What I didn’t tell Ivy was eating me alive.

The choice I made was the right decision. At least I’d thought so at the time. Now, even as I lay here watching over the reason for which I’d done so many things, doubts haunted me, like the echo of a bird’s song on a clear day.

I couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done. The image of my mother, bloody and bruised, lying in a hospital bed would always be there—like a snapshot of the past that would never fade.

My father was an abuser. He was violent and had no respect for women.

I had no tolerance for men like him who lorded their superior strength over the physically weaker sex.

I realized now those feelings influenced my decision to not tell Ivy what really happened that night with Zach. I decided to carry the abuse she’d suffered within me, tucked right beside the abuse my mother had endured.

I only wanted to protect her from the horrible truth.

But what if my protection was hurting her?

With one last gaze upon her sleeping form, I slid out from under the covers. I picked up a pair of basketball shorts on the end of the bed and stepped into them. My T-shirt was close by, but I didn’t put it on. Instead, I turned it right side out and laid it beside Ivy so she’d have something to reach for when she finally woke up. It wasn’t the shirt she’d basically stolen last spring at the beach. She wore that thing more than I ever did.

But she’d still like this one. I wore it yesterday so it smelled like me. She liked that.

I liked that she liked it.

Gizmo cracked one eye and glanced at me as I moved. I pressed a finger to my lips, and the dog’s eye closed again. I didn’t think she actually understood what I’d done, just that she was too comfortable to move.

The house was silent as I moved downstairs into the open kitchen. This place was spacious and nice. Hell, I thought I’d be thirty-five before I could even think about affording something like this. Even though technically I wasn’t paying the rent, it still came to feel like home. We all pitched in like we said and took care of the utilities. I even cut the grass. It was a pain in the ass, but someone had to do it.

Rimmel and Ivy would probably kill themselves trying to operate a lawnmower.

I worked all summer waiting tables, using my witty personality to charm ladies out of big tips. I managed to save up some, enough to live and not have to work during football season. ‘Course, it helped that I had a football scholarship that paid for school. There was even some money left over every semester that I got to keep, so it was sort of like being paid to play football. It was nothing like what Rome was getting paid, but it was enough.

Mom tried to give me money all the time. I seldom took it. I didn’t want to be her responsibility. She’d shouldered that enough when I was growing up. She was the parent, yes, but I still felt like it was my job to care for her. Sometimes the cash would just show up. She would have the bank transfer it into my account and not tell me. I never said anything and neither did she, but I think she knew I was grateful.

I glanced at the antique-white cabinets and stone tiled backsplash before stepping up to the black granite countertop and looking out the window over the sink into the backyard. The trees outside would soon be full of color; they were just now starting to turn. The outside didn’t hold my attention long, just like the interior hadn’t.

My attention once again turned inward.

I thought getting out of bed early would allow me to escape from my thoughts, but the soundless morning only encouraged them.

Instead of thinking about my father, or Ivy and all the things I didn’t say, I thought about my future. Here I was a junior in college, almost graduated, but I had no idea where I’d be in two years.

I wasn’t like Romeo. I wasn’t intent on the NFL. I certainly wouldn’t turn down an offer, but I guess a voice in the back of my head always told me that was Rome’s dream,
his
goal… It wasn’t mine.

It never bothered me before that I wasn’t sure what I’d do. But now it did.

Now everything seemed to weigh ten pounds more than it had before.

Maybe I couldn’t see past the right now because so much was unsettled. I needed to get my shit together, not just for me, but for Ivy. Because even if I had no idea where I’d be in a few years, I knew without a doubt I wanted her right there with me.

I turned from the window and glanced at the coffee pot on the counter. I looked under the lid and smiled. Rim had it set already. All I had to do was press start.

Damn, I loved that girl.

Seconds ticked by, and then the thick scent of brewing coffee filled the room. I breathed deep, enjoying it.

I heard a key in the lock at the front of the house, then the opening and closing of a door. Seconds later, Rimmel walked around the corner carrying a big box of donuts with a brown paper sack on top.

Her steps faltered when she saw me standing there, but then she smiled. “Is the house on fire?”

“Yes, Rim. Thought I’d stand here half dressed and watch everything burn,” I retorted.

She snorted, the action making a strand of thick, dark hair fall over her glasses and shield one eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get up this early when you didn’t have to be up. I figured there had to be an emergency.”

I shrugged and pushed off the counter to take the stuff out of her hands and put it nearby on the island. “Must have donut radar.” I joked and opened the box to snag a glazed donut.

I shoved half of it in my mouth. Then I paused. “These for me?”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You have terrible manners.”

I grinned so she could see the pastry in my teeth. “Thanks, sis.”

“Romeo told me donuts and coffee was your tradition with him before classes started every semester.”

The mention of Rome and the shit we always did made the donut a little harder to swallow. I missed him, and it made me realize maybe his absence was also one of the reasons I felt so conflicted about everything. We didn’t talk heavy shit too much, but he was still my sounding board and I was his.

“Yeah, we pretty much eat everything after training camp and before the semester starts. Once it does, I’m gonna have to really cut my diet for the season.”

Rimmel leaned against the counter and smiled. “Well, I know Romeo isn’t here, but I’ll eat donuts with ya.”

I shoved the rest in my mouth and licked my fingers. “I guess you’ll do.”

“Gee, thanks.” She poked me in the stomach.

“Bring it in,” I said and opened up one arm while I reached for another donut with the other. Rim stepped into my embrace and wrapped her arms around my waist. She hugged me a little longer—maybe just one second more—than usual. I tossed the food down and pulled her back in, wrapping both my arms around her.

“How you doing, sis?” I said over her head.

“I’m good.”

I pulled her back and held her shoulders. “That’s a lame-ass reply. And you shouldn’t lie to your brother.”

Behind us, Murphy materialized and jumped up on the counter. “I’m straight,” Rimmel said, this time in a low voice, which I think was meant to be like mine.

I shook my head sadly. “That’s just terrible.”

She smacked me and turned to grab Murphy and hug him to her chest. “I’m not lying. I really am fine.”

“But…” I cajoled.

She looked away as she stroked the cat without thought. “But I miss him.”

I nodded. Rim kept herself busy with the shelter, prepping for class, and working part time this summer on campus at the business office, but I knew not even all that was enough to distract her from Romeo not being here.

“It’s just weird.” She went on, setting the cat down at her feet. “He just became like the sun to my planet, and while I’m so happy he’s living his dream and I’d never ask him to come home… it’s just weird here without him.”

“Yeah.” I agreed, understanding perfectly. “Planets need their sun.”
I miss him too.

Rimmel smiled slightly and picked up the paper sack. “I got you a couple breakfast sandwiches.”

“Hells yeah.” I grabbed the bag and stuck my face inside to inhale the scent of greasy bacon and cheese.

Clutching the bag, I dropped low, scooping her up, and spun her in a circle. “Best sister ever.”

She laughed. On the counter, her cell chimed with a text. Her attention abruptly switched to the phone.

I put her down with a chuckle. “Tell Rome I said hi.”

She snatched the phone off the counter and leaned against the island, completely focused on the message he’d sent. I knew from the smile that instantly graced her face whatever he said made her happy.

Thinking fast, I grabbed my cell, snapping a pic of her standing there all engrossed and in love with her phone. I shot it off to him in a text with the message:
She still loves ya. Every time U text, she looks like this.

I set my phone aside and
turned to the coffee maker. “You want some?” I hollered over my shoulder.

“Uh-huh.”

I poured two mugs, got out the creamer, and then sat at the island with my sugar and grease for breakfast. It went really good with caffeine.

Rimmel looked up a few seconds later, her face still all smiley.

“Come on.” I patted the stool beside me. “I’ll share my bacon with ya.”

Rimmel took the coffee I poured her and climbed onto the seat beside me and went about adding in some creamer.

“He doing all right there?” I asked, setting the food aside.

She nodded. “I think so. At least he acts like it to me. How do you think he sounds when you talk to him?”

“The same.” I agreed. “Maybe a little stressed about his arm.”

She nodded, concern dimming her features. “His arm is going to be a worry for a while still,” she said softly. “He’s been throwing, though. Says his arm is almost as strong as it was. And he’s gotten even better throwing with his left. He’s pushing himself too hard.” She paused. “But he says he thinks he’ll get to play this season.”

He did push himself, but that wasn’t ever gonna change. I did talk to him, mostly about football and guy stuff. I asked about his arm once, and he said it was fine. I hadn’t asked recently because I figured if there was a problem, he’d say so. I also never asked him about his schedule. I figured he’d come home when he could. “When’s he coming home to visit?” I asked.

Rimmel’s face lit up. “He thinks he can come home next weekend.”

“Hells yeah,” I said and grabbed a donut to hand to her. When she took it, I snagged another and held it out. “Cheers.”