Unraveled (2 page)

I'm heading
for the hallway just as my brother comes out of the kitchen. “I thought I heard
you.” He studies me before asking, “Have you eaten?”

“I'm not
hungry.”

“I didn't
ask if you were hungry, I asked if you've eaten,” he points out lightly.

“Yes.”

He nods. “Come
talk to me,” he says, motioning for the kitchen.

“Honestly,
Tate, I'm ready to crawl into bed.”

Sympathy
flickers in his gaze. “I won't keep you too long.”

I let out a
sigh and follow him into the kitchen. I'm not in the mood to stand so I walk
over and claim a stool at the island counter, slumping slightly.

Tate grabs a
stool and maneuvers it so he's facing me. “What happened?”

“Motorcycle
accident.”

“Must have
been after my shift because the call didn't come in before midnight.”

“Paige said
it happened around one in the morning.”

“How is she
doing?”

“She's
taking it really hard, which is to be expected.”

Tate's eyes
lock on mine. “How are
you
doing?”

“I don't
know. It doesn't seem real,” I say sadly.

“When it
happens like that—so abruptly—it takes a bit for it to set in,” he says with an
understanding nod.

He's clearly
thinking of his friend Sean, and I stare at the island counter, not saying
anything.

“I know you
want to be there for Paige, but don't forget to take care of yourself as well.
Go to bed. You look exhausted,” he says, squeezing my shoulder affectionately.

“Night,” I
say quietly as I stand up and make my way upstairs.

The crack
beneath Noah's door is dark, letting me know he's not home because it is way
too early for him to be going to bed. I briefly wonder if he's working or if
he's out with friends before I head for my own room and shut the door.

I make my
way to my dresser as I pull out my cell phone and set it down. I have a
moment’s thought to call Cole but then I change my mind. He'd warned me he'd be
busy and wouldn't be on his phone much, but that he'd be thinking of me this
weekend. The last time he'd been out of town, he'd text messaged me every few
hours to see how I was handling the aftermath of our convenience store robbery.

Evidently,
he wasn't as concerned these days.

As I undress
and drop into bed, I can't help but wish I had someone there to hold me and
comfort me after such a long and draining day. But then an image of Noah
flashes in my mind before Cole takes his place.

With a
groan, I yank the pillow out from beneath my head and I shove it over my face.
This should have been a boring weekend and it has turned into anything but.

“I never
thought that the next time I'd shop here, I'd be picking out an outfit for
Blake's funeral,” Paige says quietly as she dismally looks through racks of
clothing the following day.

“Me,
neither.” I watch her pick up a black skirt and study it intently. Neither of
us have appropriate funeral attire so I'd managed to persuade Paige to leave the
apartment and come shopping at our favorite thrift shop.

She chews
her bottom lip, her eyes lifting to mine. “Blake had a thing for skirts. I've
always hated them.”

“You want to
wear that for him?” I ask carefully, nodding at the skirt still clutched in her
hand.

“Yeah, I
think so.”

“He'd like
that.”

Her eyes
fill with tears before she abruptly turns away and goes off to look at some
blouses.

I watch her
for a moment before I head for a rack of dressy black pants. I feel awful for
Paige and I'm not sure I'm saying all the right things or not, but I'm trying.
As I browse the clothes rack, I think of Cole. I still haven't heard from him
and I'm a little nervous about how he's going to take the news. Blake was the
closest thing Cole had to family because I don't think his brother, Ethan,
really counts. From what I've heard from Paige and Cole himself, he and Blake
were pretty tight.

Or they had
been.

“What do you
think?” Paige asks as she appears next to me and holds up a pretty dark blue
blouse.

“It'll look
great with the skirt.”

Paige nods
and looks at the clothing rack I'm standing in front of. “Find anything?”

I grab the
closest pair in my size. “These, I think.”

We head for
the dressing room and spend about five minutes trying on clothes before we
browse the shop for a shirt to match my pants.

“Have you
told Cole?” Paige asks me tentatively.

“No, I
haven't heard from him.”

“Typical,”
Paige mutters under her breath and I pretend not to have heard her.

Twenty minutes
later we leave the shop and Paige slumps down in the passenger seat of my car
as we head back to her apartment.

I glance at
her as I drive. “Paige, you have to know that Cole's going to want to be there
for the funeral, don't you?”

She stares
moodily out her window. “Just keep him away from me.”

“I can do
that,” I say slowly, “but then I can't be with you.”

“My mom's
coming, she's going to work an hour later than normal.”

“I'm glad
her boss let her have off for the funeral.”

“Me too.” I
see Paige turn toward me out of the corner of my eye. “How can you be with him,
Blayre? He destroys people.”

My hands
tighten on the steering wheel. I spend way too much time defending Cole to
everyone in my life and that in itself is getting downright exhausting.

“Did he drag
you into something too?” She asks me suspiciously.

Damn.

I slow the
car down at an intersection. “I love him,” I say as I avoid looking at her and
study the stop lights before me.

“You love
Cole?” she asks with disbelief.

“Yes.” 

It's the
only thing I could come up with to throw the conversation off course. I
know
I'm not in love with Cole. Honestly, I think I am probably falling for Noah
instead. What I should really be doing is ending my relationship with Cole but
when I think of that, I feel a hint of panic rising within my chest.

Paige falls
silent but only for a moment before saying, “He only lets you see the part of
him he wants you to see. He's poison beneath that 'bad boy facade' of his.”

“There are
parts of him that are good, Paige. Do you really want to be talking about
Cole?” I ask as I cruise through the newly turned green light.

“No,” she
admits with a sigh.

“Are you
hungry? We can stop off somewhere and get something to eat,” I suggest in hopes
of lightening the conversation.

“No, thanks.”

My eyes
shift to her briefly with concern. “You've barely eaten anything since
yesterday.”

“I'm fine,
Blayre.”

“Okay.”

“Blake's mom
seems to be taking his death better than I am. She called this morning to tell me
that I can stop over any time and go through Blake's stuff to see if there is
anything I'd like to keep,” she says quietly as I see her picking at her nails
from the corner of my eye.

“That's
really kind of her.”

“Linda's
always been supportive of me and Blake.”

“You'll have
each other to lean on in the coming days, so that will help.”

“I don't
think I can go back over there. Ever.”

As I pull
into the parking lot at the apartment complex, I glance at her before I put the
car in park and cut the engine. “What?”

Paige stares
dismally out the window. “I don't think I can go over there. There's too many
memories.”

“Paige...”

“It's hot in
here. I'm going inside. Coming?” She asks abruptly as she opens the passenger
door and climbs out of the car.

Paige's mom
ends up getting off work early, so I'm back home by six-thirty that night. I'm
a bit surprised to find Tate home and I have a feeling he is sticking close
this weekend to keep an eye on me. I feel awful knowing he's concerned about
how I am dealing with Blake's death and Paige's grief.

I don't
deserve it.

“Have you
eaten?” Tate asks as I make my way into the kitchen.

I shake my
head. Paige hadn't been hungry all day and it hadn't felt right to eat in front
of her.

“Sit.
Pizza?”

“Sure,” I
say as I head for the stools at the island counter. As I walk past the patio
doors, I catch sight of Noah outside—shirtless as he sprays down the flowers
and shrubbery with the garden hose. His back is to me and I look away as I sit
down. We had yet to finish the conversation we'd started yesterday morning and
I was thankful for that. I don't want to listen to him tell me that he wants
more than I can possibly give him.

I try to
shove him out of my mind while I watch Tate take a pizza box out of the
refrigerator. He piles three slices of pizza on a plate before putting it in
the microwave.

I find
myself propping my hand on my chin and watching him move about the kitchen. He
pours me a glass of lemonade. “You don't have to wait on me.”

“I know.” He
looks at me questioningly. “How's Paige?”

“She's doing
as well as can be expected.” The microwave beeps and Tate pulls the plate
out and sets it in front of me along with the lemonade. “Thanks,” I murmur as
pick up a slice.

Tate leans a
hip against the counter as he watches me. “The funeral is tomorrow at
nine-thirty, right?”

I nod before
taking a big bite of pizza. After barely eating today, I was beyond starved.

“Are you
planning on going to school tomorrow after the burial service?”

“I'll probably
go to Paige's afterwards. Her mom has to go to work right away so I'll spend
the day with her.”

“You're
going back to school on Tuesday though, right?”

“That's the
plan.”

“Try not to
deviate from it, I'd hate for you to fall too far behind with school.”

I chew my
pizza instead of commenting. Missing even a day of school was probably a bad
idea since my grades were so terrible, but I couldn't
not
go to Blake's
funeral.

I hear the patio
door slide open and I deliberately study the pizza on my plate as I chew. The
last thing I need to deal with right now is a shirtless Noah. I'd had my hands
all over that chest and those abs the other night and I don't need the
reminder.

“Hey, how's Paige?”
Noah asks me and in my peripheral vision I see him amble over to the
refrigerator and pull out the pitcher of lemonade.

I have no
choice but to look at him so he can read my lips, so I reluctantly lift my head
and keep my eyes focused on his face while trying to ignore all that tanned,
bare skin. “She's taking it hard.”

He nods, his
eyes searching mine. “How are you?”

“I'm fine.”

The doorbell
rings, the light flashing above the door and I see Noah's eyes shift to the
light briefly as he pours himself a glass of lemonade and then puts the pitcher
back in the fridge.

“Who could
that be?” Tate mutters as he turns and heads out of the room, leaving me alone
with Noah.

I find
myself staring at my pizza as if it is the most fascinating thing on earth.
I've always enjoyed looking at Noah. It was pretty nice having a hot guy around
but now that I've gotten up close and very personal with him...well, things
change. I feel a slow burn in the pit of my stomach as I fight back the
memories of the other night.

Noah sighs
loudly from across the kitchen. “You can't ignore me forever.”

I glance at
him so he can read my lips and find he's leaning lazily against the
refrigerator, his chest on full display. “I'm not ignoring you.”

“Right.
That's why the second your brother leaves the room, you decide there's
something ridiculously fascinating about the pizza on your plate,” he says
dryly.

“I like to
see what I am eating.”

Noah crosses
his arms over his bare chest and studies me. “You act like you're mad at me.”

“I have no
reason to be mad,” I say as I go back to eating my pizza, my eyes on my plate.

“Then why
are you avoiding looking at me?”

“Why can't
you put a shirt on?” I snap with irritation as I look up at him accusingly.

Realization
flickers in his dark gaze and I spy him fighting back a smile over the
knowledge that I'm trying not to stare at his chest.

“Shut up,” I
growl.

“Blayre,
someone's here to see you,” Tate grumbles as he enters the kitchen.

I look up to
see Cole standing there.
He's back!
I jump up from the stool—pizza
forgotten as I rush over to him and fling my arms around him with relief.
Finally! Someone to help me out with the funeral and with Paige—well, maybe not
with Paige.