Cease Fire (Blackbridge Security 9)

I deserve his silence. I’ve earned his hatred.

“Really?” Beth says as she steps into my apartment.

It’s not a total mess, but I haven’t concerned myself with cleaning much. My coffee table is littered with takeout trash from lunch. I’m back to using toilet paper for crying, not because I didn’t buy actual Kleenex, but because I’ve cried so much that I ran out again.

“I brought you dinner since you were too much of a coward to show up yourself.”

I nod, knowing I have no room to argue. She’s exactly right. I am a coward. I’m a liar. I’m manipulative. I’m deceptive. I’m selfish for making a decision and taking what I needed rather than having an adult conversation with a man I’d always be connected to even if I wasn’t pregnant with his child.

“No argument?” Beth says, sounding a little shocked that I don’t argue with her. “Kit was there.”

I nod because he’s usually always there. It’s his family after all.

She sighs again when I refuse to take the bait.

Beth places the tinfoil-wrapped plate in the fridge before walking over and taking a seat beside me on the sofa.

I keep my eyes glued to the television even though it’s on silent. I have no idea how long I’ve been just staring into space while a man on a boat fishes.

Then the screen goes dark. Beth drops the remote on to the coffee table before clasping her hands and placing them in her lap.

I shouldn’t be surprised with how she’s acting. As the only female born to a family with four boys, she’s always demanded attention, expecting it the very second the need crosses her mind. She’s completely spoiled, and before this moment in time, I was all for it. I’ve benefitted from it many times in the past as an extension of her.

Now, it only serves to annoy me, but I won’t speak about Kit. If she wants that conversation, she’s going to have to instigate that topic of conversation.

Being the princess she is, Beth sits quietly, my tears welling in my eyes in the silence.

“He hates me,” I whisper, caving to her unspoken demands like she knew I would.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

I shake my head, rejecting her attempt to console me. There’s no sense in having any kind of hope. What I’ve done is unforgiveable.

“He’s not very happy with you, but the man doesn’t have the power to hate you.”

I reach for the roll of toilet paper, but Beth grabs it first, holding it hostage until I look at her. Only then does she tear off some and hand it to me.

“Now that your secret is out,” she says, keeping the tissue locked in her hand. “We can talk about what needs to be said.”

Finally, she hands the tissue over.

“I’ve kept my mouth shut for a lot of years because you’re an adult and so is he, but it’s not just about the two of you any longer.”

I can’t look at her, and honestly, I have no idea where she’s planning on going with this conversation.

“I didn’t say a single word when you broke his heart.”

“I—”

She holds her hand up, my words dying on my lips.

“He left for eight years. I spent nearly a third of my life without seeing my brother but a handful of times because my best friend gutted him. I don’t know the details of what happened, but I know it was because of you. But like I said, you two were adults, and it wasn’t my place to get in the middle of that.”

She clears her throat as if thinking of that time hurts her too.

“I was so mad. I was angry at you, but you just lost your mom, and it would’ve been selfish to add anymore regret on your shoulders. I know you were also hurting because of Kit.”

I open my mouth to argue, but what’s the point?

She’s right. I was sad. I lost my mother, and then I lost my friend.

“He kissed me that night,” I admit. “I told him it was wrong.”

She nods. “And what if I hadn’t made you agree to stay away from my brothers?”

I shake my head because that wasn’t my reality.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

I lock eyes with her.

“I don’t know.”

“You do,” she argues.

I nod, knowing she’s right.

That kiss I shared with Kit was the best I’d ever had. Until we met up in that hotel room months ago, it remained the best kiss. The times he’s kissed me since have been beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined.

I think about the late-night conversations, the texts we shared. I think about the way he always managed to make me smile, the way he held me when my heart was breaking after my mother’s death.

I squeeze my eyes closed, tears still managing to leak from them.

He left because I couldn’t be the woman he needed. He left because I was selfish even then, being okay with him being my touchstone even though I couldn’t be anything more. I was using him while he was biding his time until we could be more.