WITH A DEEP BREATH, I pull my phone out, typing a message to my brothers. I need one or more of them here to keep me in check. Even if they won’t know they’re helping.
It’s been less than twenty hours since I had Blair, and I’m itching to go over there and do it again. I can’t stop recalling how she looked, sounded, and tasted. How well we snapped together. How mind-blowingly good the sex was.
I thought I’d get my fill if we worked out years of pent-up sexual frustration in bed. Turns out I’ve not even scratched the surface. She’s on my mind non-stop. The need to grip her waist, impale her on my cock and watch her ride me is so intense I already jerked off twice today.
I could knock on her door, bend her over the kitchen counter, and have her squirt time and time again all over the tiles, but I can’t give in to this.
If one night has me this desperate for another, things will get worse if I cave.
I need my brothers here talking shit, complaining about whatever the fuck they want because it’ll keep me occupied, but before I send the text, there’s a knock on my door.
Shit. I was so busy thinking of ways to stay away from Blair I didn’t once think she’d come over for more. I have no doubt she’s outside my door, and my mind fucking soars.
Need and want battle with reason and common sense. I can’t do this. I can’t start a no-strings, casual fuck fest with Blair. Right?
Right.
Then why are my legs moving, and why is my heart climbing up my throat like an alpinist ice-axing their way up a sheer cliff face?
My brain skips ahead, imagining what’s about to go down. Blair in my bed tonight. Naked. Panting. Moaning. Loving every fucking thing I planned in the last two seconds.
“It’s happening!” Logan grins when I open the door, a big bag flung over his shoulder and little Noah beside him. “You alright, Cody?”
I was so convinced I’d see Blair that I need a second to snap out of the shock and swallow the bitter pill of disappointment.
Disappointment that it’s not her.
And disappointment that I lost my sense of right and wrong so fast. That I considered establishing a regular fucking schedule with the girl who did nothing but harm to one of my favorite people.
It’s true what they say.
Men think with their dicks regardless of age.
“Hey, yeah, I’m fine. I just… wasn’t expecting this today. Babies rarely come on the due date, right?”
He chuckles, handing the bag over. “Almost is the keyword here.” He messes up Noah’s hair before hauling him into his arms. “You’re staying with Uncle Cody tonight, alright? You’ll have fun.”
“So much fun,” I agree. “I have your favorite cookies and lots of apple juice.”
That’s about the only thing this kid drinks the last few months, since Cassidy stopped breastfeeding him. Try giving him water, and he’ll spritz it in your face.
“Is Cass in the car?” I ask, stepping aside to let them in.
“She is. The contractions are still far apart, so I thought I’d drop Noah off before things get crazy.” He points to the bag I dropped on the breakfast bar. “I packed enough for three days in case Eli takes as long to get out as Noah. If you need help, Nico and Mia said to tell you they’re a phone call away. I called Gareth already, so don’t worry about work. He’ll take over your team tomorrow and Friday if needed.”
Gareth is Logan’s right-hand man at Stone and Oak. He started out working construction and now whines about sitting behind a desk delegating work. I bet he’ll enjoy getting his hands dirty again.
“You’re rambling, Logan. Chill. We’ll be fine. It’s not my first time, bro. Nico’s still got the spare car seat?”
He nods, setting Noah down when he starts wriggling in his arms. “Okay, Daddy’s got to go now.” He kisses his head, then taps his nose. “Have fun. I’ll come and get you when your little brother’s here.”
“Bye, bye,” Noah cheers, cuddling a plush t-rex to his chest. “Bye, bye.”
“Don’t give Uncle any trouble.”
“Bye, bye!”
“Alright, alright!” Logan chuckles, raising his hands. “I’m going.”
A minute later, we’re alone, and a cheeky grin twists Noah’s face a second before he drops his plushie and bolts for the snack cupboard in the kitchen.
You wouldn’t know he only started walking two months ago with how fast he runs.
“I should’ve checked with your dad if you had dinner.”
“Pasta!”
“You ate pasta, or you want pasta?”
He yanks open my dry-food cupboard and pulls out a plastic container filled with penne.
“I take it you didn’t eat then. We’re cooking, huh?” I set the container on the breakfast bar, then pull out a foldable highchair from the coat closet. “Deal, I could eat, but you’re doing the dishes.”
“No!” Noah yells with a giggle, banging his hands on the highchair tray.
“I knew you’d say that.” Grabbing a handful of wooden utensils and a plastic bowl, I set them before him, keeping the drummer entertained while I prepare dinner.
***
“Your mommy won’t be happy about this, so you need to promise you won’t tell her,” I say, wiping Noah’s face for the third time since we entered the building.
I don’t know why I bother. It’s not like he’s clean. The chocolate ice cream in his hand melts, dripping onto his hand, t-shirt, and—since he’s in my arms as I climb the second flight of stairs—my t-shirt, too.
Noah grins, licking the ice cream, and his face is dirty again. I don’t bother wiping it again, stuffing the wet wipe in the back pocket of my jeans as we emerge on the third-floor hallway.
Since he woke up at six am, I’ve changed his clothes twice. Logan packed enough for three days, but it’s not even been twenty-four hours, and I’ve burned through half the supplies.
“Hey,” I hear as I pop the key in the lock. Doing a one-eighty, I halt face to face with Blair.
God, she’s fucking beautiful again, dressed in black sweatpants and a matching t-shirt stained in white powder. There’s more on her forehead, her hair in a bun, a few locks kissing her shoulders.
I open my mouth to reply, but Noah shuts me up, stuffing my face with his ice cream, then bursts out giggling.
Wiping the chocolaty goo off my lips and beard with the back of my hand, I maneuver him over my hip. “You could’ve said enough, you know?”
“No!” he cheers with a broad smile.
“Close. We’ll practice later. I love you, but don’t feed me your food, okay?” I turn back to Blair. “Busy morning?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You’ve got…” On instinct, I step closer, wiping what I think is flour off her skin. “You’re baking cookies?”
“Cookie!” Noah cheers, bouncing in my arms. “Cookie!”
“Yes, madeleines. I can bring some over later. I just need to run to the shop. I’m all out of sugar.”
The words are out before I can stop to think why this is wrong. “I’ve got sugar. You mind finishing in my kitchen and watching Noah for ten minutes? I could use a shower, and this devil can’t be left unattended.”
Lies. Filthy lies.
Noah’s fine spending a few minutes alone if he has enough toys. Also, I had a shower while he was still asleep, but… I don’t really know what.
There’s not one explanation in my head for why I just asked her to spend time with me.
Not one excuse.
Maybe curiosity.
She’s in sweatpants again. A rare sight. Blair Fitzpatrick never once came to school without a face full of makeup, a perfect outfit, and bling. She’s not wearing any of that now, and it’s like staring at a brand-new person.
Her cheeks heat, eyes darting to my lips before shifting to Noah. “Will you help me with the cookies?”
“No.”
“He’ll help when it’s time to eat them,” I say, opening my condo. “Come in.”
“Let me grab everything first.”
“You need a hand?”
She looks me over. “Yours are full. It’s okay. It’s just a few small things. Won’t be a minute.” She disappears into her condo as Noah pinches my nose.
“Juice,” he says. “Juice!”
“I can’t wait until you speak full sentences.”
He speaks a lot already for his age. Mom said neither my brothers nor I started talking until we were around two, so Noah must take after Cassidy. He’s sixteen months and has a vocabulary of about twenty words. He mostly shows me what he wants, but I bet he’ll be talking my ear off in no time.
Leaving the door ajar, I take Noah in, and by the time he’s got a sippy cup, Blair’s back with baking trays, three bowls, and an array of spatulas and ingredients.
“I’ll try not to make a mess.”
“You can try all you want,” I say, washing my hands under the kitchen faucet. “Noah won’t share your sentiment. I’ll grab a shower. Help yourself to whatever you want.”
With a tight nod, she lifts Noah into the highchair, and I head to the bathroom for the quickest shower in the history of mankind.
Ten minutes, and I’m back, dressed in clean—for now—clothes. They’re filling the baking trays with batter. Noah grins when Blair helps him, guiding the tablespoon in his hand. Seeing them working together, his tiny hand engulfed in hers, makes me ache in a way I don’t understand or even want to think about.
There’s not as much mess as I expected, though if I collected the batter from Noah’s t-shirt, the counter, and the floor, we could make another tray of madeleines.
Leaning against the wall, I watch, taking a moment to appreciate how beautiful Blair is. She should throw away all the slutty dresses she owns and embrace how good she looks when she’s not even trying.
Soft strands of hair dance around her face, her cheeks flushed from the oven, giving her a rosy glow. I prefer this side of her. The carefree girl with a big, genuine smile. She feels real. Not like the other one—the rude, self-centered bitch.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, peering up at me. “I’ll clean this up in a minute. We’re almost done.”
“I’ll clean it up. You’re baking, I’m cleaning.”
“Done!” Noah exclaims, flailing the spoon around and spattering everything in sight with batter.
“Yes, we’re done. Now let’s go wash your hands.”
He protests, banging the spoon against the marble countertop, but Blair scoops him up, tickling him until he giggles.
“I’ll sort him out. He needs a change of clothes, too,” I say as she passes him over.
By the time I’ve changed him, Blair’s cleaned the kitchen, and the warm scent of vanilla and sugar emanates from the madeleines in the oven.
“It smells amazing in here,” I say, watching Noah climb onto the couch. “How long before they’re done?”
“Not long now.” Her features soften when she looks over at Noah. “Looks like someone’s tired.”
He lays on the pillow, eyes closed, t-rex tucked under his arm. I wish I could fall asleep that fast. It literally takes him thirty seconds.
“So?” she questions, her tone reserved. “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you regret the other night?” An apologetic look shadows her face when I don’t answer and she gives a tiny shrug. “One of us had to bring it up, don’t you think?”
“I don’t.”
“You’d rather pretend nothing happened?”
“No. I was answering your first question, B. I don’t regret it, to be honest, it was a long time coming.”
Relief floods her face. “So we’re okay? I mean, not okay, obviously. You still hate me because of Mia, but—” She applies the brakes, her guilt-ridden eyes snapping to meet mine. “I’m sorry. I can’t turn back time, Cody. I’ll never be able to right my wrongs, but I want you to know I regret it all…” She heaves a heavy sigh, pushing off the counter like she’s about to flee.
That familiar pang of protectiveness jabs my heart again. She looks so resigned, so hurt, humiliated, and fucking sad, a stark contrast to that façade of arrogance and disdain she presents to the world. I hate this look on her almost as much as the resting bitch face.
Extending my hand to stop her leaving, I pull over a bar stool, gesturing for her to sit, and once she reluctantly does, I grab two cans of Coke from the fridge.
“We’re not okay,” I say, my voice firm but far from rude. “I don’t know if we’ll ever be okay, but I want to hear your story. Why did you do it? Why did you bully Mia? Was it her looks? Those pink dresses riling you up? How shy she is? Smart?”
Blair’s eyes drop to the can as she twists the tab, her fingers twitching. Her silence feels like a thick, oppressive wall between us before she finally speaks.
“I don’t want to make excuses, Cody. It’s inexcusable. I’m just not a good person. Let’s leave it at that.”
That’s been my go-to explanation since I found out about the bullying. Plausible and fitting, but… I’ve had time to get to know Blair a bit these past few weeks. There’s a different side to her. A hurt woman sheltering behind a mask. She’s full of kindness that she mostly refuses to show. Full of smiles and full of tears.
“You’re not all bad. There’s good in you. I don’t know how much because you hide it so well, but I see you with my nephews, B.” The fear in her eyes subsides, so instead of pushing her to share things I’m not even sure I want to hear, I change the subject. “What are your plans for the summer?”
Her features soften, relief slumping her shoulders as she checks on the madeleines.
“I don’t have plans,” she admits.
“No job? Won’t you be bored at home?”
“My dad needs me at short notice a lot, so any paid work is out of the question. I do a bit of volunteering.”
I cock an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. I wouldn’t have guessed Blair had it in her to be selfless. “Where?”
“At the hospital. I spend time at the psychiatric ward, reading, playing chess, and just… offering a companion, I guess. A lot of those people are very lonely.”
Now isn’t that a revelation. I’ve known this girl for years. At least, I thought I did. Turns out there are many layers to her personality that she’s been meticulously hiding. The best parts of her are never on display.
“Why the psychiatric ward?”
“Call it sentiment. My mom had schizophrenia,” she says, and the oven dings, letting us know the cookies are ready.
There’s a sadness coating her words reminding me her mother’s no longer here.
She inspects the cookies through the glass before pulling out the tray. “She died last March,” she adds, grabbing one cookie then quickly dropping it to pinch her ear. “Hot.”
“No shit, you just took it out of the oven.”
A sweet smile lifts the corners of her lips and… what the fuck is happening inside my chest right now?
I don’t like this girl. Not one bit. But for reasons I’ll never understand, that tiny smile while her eyes teared up has my heart beating faster.
“They’re best when they’re still warm.”
“Warm, not hot,” I agree, grabbing a glass serving bowl and a spatula to transfer the cookies. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Don’t be. She had a horrible life. Maybe death will be kinder.”
My eyebrows pull together, but she doesn’t elaborate. Sensing she doesn’t want to share, I change the topic again.
“So you play chess?”
“I do. I’m pretty good, too. It was the only thing my mom liked when she had good days, so I got fifteen years of practice.”
Fifteen years. Shit.
She was five when her mother got sick. I doubt she remembers her before the illness. I don’t know Blair’s father. Never seen the guy, which, now that I think about it, is fucking odd. I don’t recall anyone ever showing up for Blair’s cheer practice. No one picked her up from school or came to see her perform…
Shaking off the undesirable sense of sadness on her behalf, I cross the room and pull a chessboard from the cabinet. On my way back, I tuck Noah back in, moving him closer to the backrest of the couch before he takes a dive.
“Alright, show me what you’ve got.”
I set the board up on the breakfast bar and she eyes it while I snatch a cookie from the bowl, the condo filled with an aroma just about as sweet as the heaven melting on my tongue.
I know what she’s thinking; she’s wondering why I’m keeping her here. I’m wondering that, too.
Why have I invited her in the first place?
Fuck knows. I can’t explain it. Hatred still sizzles beneath my skin, but there’s something more there since she spent the night crying in my arms. Empathy.
She’s obviously been going through a tough time for a while. Losing her mother couldn’t have been easy, no matter how little contact they had. She died last year, just as Blair was left with no one in her corner. Everyone turned their backs on her after what Mia went through, and—
What if her mother’s death triggered the bullying again? Blair left Mia alone in college. Didn’t bother her until after the Spring Break party in… March.
“You know what, let’s get it over and done with now,” I say, needing to find out more because things just don’t add up. “We’ll have to go there at some point anyway. Tell me about the bullying. Don’t give me excuses, just the truth.”
She squares her shoulder, moving her e-pawn two spaces after I moved my f-pawn up by two. “Okay, you’re right. I’ve been trying to apologize and explain for a long time.”
I believe that. Blair’s tried to approach Mia on multiple occasions this past year, but she’s hardly ever alone, always under our care, and when we’re not there, the football team guys are looking out for her. The few times I caught Blair lingering nearby, she was too afraid of a backlash to approach.
Since she moved in across the hall and started interacting with those little heys here and there, I’ve grown increasingly curious about it. All the more after she spent the evening here with River and me.
There’s something disturbing about how she can spin on a dime from this caring person before me to the A-grade bitch I know so well.
There are two sides to Blair Fitzpatrick. What’s even more disturbing is how she keeps her vulnerable side buried, always on guard even among those she considers friends.
The nagging question returns: who is she playing?
Them or me?
“I bullied her because she was an easy target,” she whispers, firing a fucking bazooka with the first sentence. “She was weak, quiet, closed-off. Never talked or fought back… seeing her cry gave me a sense of power.”
It’s a hard pill to swallow, but despite how furious her words make me, at least I know she’s telling the truth. Instead of playing the ‘I was just a kid and didn’t know any better’ card, she’s exposing her darkest secrets. Not many people openly admit guilt like this.
I bet not even Brandon knows.
I bet she never told anyone.
“It made me feel like I mattered,” she continues quietly, sliding her can from hand to trembling hand across the counter. “It started in kindergarten. The first time Jake made her cry, everyone started listening… following him. It was amazing. Such an easy way to have friends, to be heard and seen…
“I started doing the same, picking on her by his side because I loved the strength it gave me. I know it sounds messed up, but that’s how it was. Other girls looked up to me, said and did nice things, and…” Her voice cracks, prompting me to look up.
I’ve been staring at the oven all this time, watching madeleines bake. Tears well in Blair’s eyes, nose pink, chin quivering.
I’m not far from snapping and kicking her out. She has no right to look this vulnerable and hurt. She deserves to feel like shit for what she’s done, but the concern spearing my insides stuns me into silence.
“I didn’t realize until senior year in high school that I was projecting onto her all those years. What I did to her was the thing I was running from myself,” she adds in a whisper.
I move my g-pawn up, grinding my teeth before I trust myself enough to ask. “Running from what?”
“That’s not important. I told you I won’t make excuses.” She wipes her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. “When college started, Jake wasn’t there anymore, but my friends stayed even though I stopped taking shit out on Mia. The respect I’d earned over the years lingered. People still saw me, still listened when I talked, so I left Mia alone.” She glances at me, holding my gaze as she says, “Once you took her under your wing, bullying meant going against you, and… I had the biggest crush on you when I saw you in college. Hurting the girl you were so protective of wouldn’t win me any points, but…” She pinches her lips, eyes welling with tears again, and she gently shakes her head like she’s done.
Like she’s refusing to say another word.
“Keep going, B,” I encourage, hiding any trace of the mixed emotions tearing me apart. “You got this far.”
Shutting her eyes tight, she inhales a calming breath. “Brandon fell in love with her. He didn’t realize it, but I did. I knew that if he made it work, I’d lose him, and I couldn’t lose him, Cody. He’s the closest thing to family I have.”
“Family? You’ve been sleeping with him on and off for years. Now you’re friends, even though he’s a shitty friend at best, and you call him your family? That’s messed up.”
“He’s had my back through thick and thin. Well… almost. He’s a little lost and immature, but he’s got a good heart, even if his head is sometimes screwed on the wrong way.”
“You’re evading. If you don’t want to answer, say so.”
“I’m not evading. I’m explaining.” She sighs, shifting her queen to h4, and I get the most genuine smile I’ve seen from her. “Checkmate.”
“What?” My eyes drop to the board. “How?”
She points to the diagonal e1 to h4 that exposes my king. “You’re not good at this. This is the fastest checkmate you can perform in chess.”
“Looks like I need a few lessons.”
“Anytime.” She beams, but her smile slips off fast. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“Mondays and Thursdays?” I cut her off because I don’t want her back in defensive mode.
I want this girl. She’s… nice. Fun. Beautiful and caring. She’s a good person.
Her eyes widen a little, but she smiles, her shoulders relaxing as she nods. “That’ll work.” She grabs another cookie, handing one to me as well. “And about Brandon… I know there were rumors flying around campus, but we were never a thing. Neither casual nor serious nor a one-night deal.”
“Never?” I echo, not comprehending the information fast enough. “Never? Why didn’t you do anything about the rumors?”
“I started them, Cody. Brandon’s the only person I trust. He knows things no one else does, and I needed him.”
“So you told everyone you were sleeping with him so other girls would steer clear?”
She nods, her cheeks hotter by the second. “Not many girls dared stand in my way back then. I fueled the rumors, but they only worked because Brandon never wanted more than sex until he noticed Mia. My mom died the day before the Spring Break party, and he wasn’t there for me.”
“So you took it out on Mia,” I say, connecting the dots. “She did nothing wrong, Blair. Brandon’s the one who hurt you.” I don’t realize I’ve slammed my fist on the counter until she flinches, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “You humiliated her. You burned her hair! How fucked up is that?!”
“I know… I—” She clamps her mouth shut, tears spilling down her cream cheeks as she slips off the bar stool. “I’m sorry, Cody. I… I don’t have anything but apologies, and I know they don’t mean anything, but they’re sincere.” She pushes a long, shaky breath past her lips, glancing at the oven. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I have to go, but thank you for today and, and… take the next batch out before it burns,” she rambles, backing out around the corner until I hear the door slam shut.
“Fuck.” I run a trembling hand down my face. Way to keep my cool. “Well done, asshole…”
Admitting her sins that blatantly couldn’t have been easy. She opened up to me, showed her rawest form, unearthed things she probably has a hard time thinking about, let alone confessing, and making exactly zero excuses while doing so. She laid the hard, cold truth down… and I snapped.
As I do wherever Mia’s concerned.
I get up to follow Blair, but one glance at the couch stops me taking half a step. I can’t leave Noah alone.
Flexing my fingers, I ball my fists repeatedly to purge the tension and influx of unpleasant emotions from Blair’s confession. The hard-to-stomach memories and the protectiveness I’ve felt toward Mia since I saw her struggling with Asher.
To this day, I don’t know what triggered the response. I was never interested in her, never saw her as anything more than a little sister, but the need to defend her engulfed me. No matter how much time passes, no matter the fact she’s engaged to my brother, I still feel responsible for her.
Guilt smacks me across the face as Blair’s confessions swirl round my head, my challenge-loving mind deciphering the clues.
“Such an easy way to have friends, to be heard and seen…”
The fleeting mention of her mother’s schizophrenia, and how death might be kinder to her than life. How she weighed every word to make sure nothing she said could be interpreted as an excuse. How she looked like she’d resigned herself to a life of guilt and regret, not worthy of any good moments.
Heard. She wanted to be heard and seen…
I grab a packet of cigarettes from the kitchen drawer and head to the balcony, surrounding myself with thick, white clouds. It helps center my mind, clear the clutter, and focus.
Three deep drags, and the web of information, the scraps Blair threw my way, unravels, creating a simple but bone-chilling picture. A reason.
She bullied Mia to feel like she had an ounce of power and control in this world. Living with a mentally ill parent had to be a nightmare. To top it off, throughout all the years I’ve known her, Blair’s never mentioned her father.
And the fact I don’t know the guy speaks volumes about his involvement in his daughter’s life.
Was Blair alone with her mother all those years?
Did she watch her die?
I don’t know much about schizophrenia other than what I’ve seen in one episode of House M.D. If it’s anything like that, then a five-year-old girl would’ve been properly messed up after witnessing her mother’s mental breakdowns.
The more I think about her words, the more sense I find and the more empathy I have for the little girl who watched her mother wilt away. The more I understand why she stood by Jake Grey’s side, taking her hurt and frustration out on Mia.
“It doesn’t fucking change anything. She could’ve stopped, she could’ve…” I zip my mouth, though I admit I get why Vee talks to herself.
It really helps center the thoughts.
The cold, harsh truth is that Blair’s confession does change a fucking lot. And… she did stop bullying Mia for a while. I don’t know why, but now I’ve got to know her, I think she tried to do better. Be better…
“Shit.” I toss the cigarette butt in the ashtray and head back inside.
I should’ve never let Blair get this close. We’re at the friendly neighbor level, I think, but that’s still way too fucking close.
“Juice,” Noah’s voice brings me back to here and now, his big brown eyes staring from where he sits on the couch, wide awake. “Juice.”
“Sure, little bud. Give me a sec.”
And just like that, the negative emotions disperse, leaving nothing behind. That’s what my nephews do to me. They bring a sense of order, peace, and bliss. Hanging out with a kid is easier. They don’t have a care in the world, and I let myself off the hook for a few hours.
