Best Friend's Ex Box Set

That was all I could see – but it was all I needed to see. Everett hurried back into the room, now holding the keys to his truck. He grabbed his phone and stuffed it into his pocket without noticing that there was a message on the screen.

He leaned down and kissed me sweetly and warmly. It was very convincing.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, and he jogged out of the house.

I didn't reply; I simply stared blankly at the door as it closed in his wake and watched as even more pieces of my world began to shatter around me.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Everett

As I jogged out of the house, I couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of emotions. I was kind of annoyed that I had to leave just as I was about to get comfortable and relax with Vivienne. It was an immense relief that I had finally opened up and gotten some things off my chest and told Vivienne the truth about my past. She ha

d handled it with such compassion and care it only reinforced my feelings that she was the right woman for me.

And then, of course, there was the excitement about what Ben had just told me. William Stevens, one of those little punks who had been buying drugs when Kendrick had gotten shot, had been caught trying to sneak back into his house. Weirdly enough, his dad, that slovenly biker with the bad attitude, had been the one who had called us. I guess the news that his kid had been involved in a shooting had forced him to be a bit more proactive in the way he was bringing his son up.

This time, I was more careful than before; I took a semi-automatic Colt .45 pistol with me and made sure I didn't forget my phone this time.

I took my phone out to message Ben and tell him I was leaving and groaned as I saw what was on the screen: another message from Liza. I sighed and opened it.

It read: “Hi Everett, it's Liza again. I just wanted to say that I can't stop thinking about how amazing it felt when you put your arms around me this afternoon, and I've been longing for your touch so badly. I should never have done what I did to you. Losing you remains the greatest regret of my life. I would do anything – just anything – to have you back with me again. Please, please Everett, can't we give it one more go? Can't you give me one more chance? I miss you... I miss us. My desire for you has only increased over all these years that we've been apart. Please, Everett... Give me another chance.”

I had no time to reply to this now. Shaking my head, I sent the message to Ben and then shoved the phone back into my pocket and drove off. With everything else that was going on, any drama with Liza really was the last thing I needed.

I reached the Stevens’ house after about 15 minutes of much too fast driving. Ben was pulling into the driveway ahead of me just as I arrived; the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

“Hey, Ben,” I said as I stepped out.

“Hey, Everett. Sorry to spoil your Sunday evening like this, but I'm sure you know how important this is.”

“I know, Ben, I know. I didn't think we'd be seeing either of these two anytime soon, not since we got word they had gone into hiding in LA.”

“Yeah, we're lucky Mr. Stevens was alert enough to catch him.”

“What was he doing back here anyway?” I asked.

Ben chuckled dryly. “He came back for his iPad.”

I shook my head. “Kids these days and their damn technology. I'm glad I didn’t grow up with this stuff. But hey, I guess we should be grateful the little punk is so addicted to his iPad that he risked his freedom to sneak back here and try to get it.”

“Yeah,” Ben smirked. “Lucky for us, very unlucky for him.”

“Well, let's go on in and give this little criminal a good talking to.”

We headed up to the porch and knocked on the door. After a few moments, Mr. Stevens answered, still dressed in his greasy biker gear, but his time he had with him his son, William. His meaty paw was gripping a fistful of the boy's shirt, and his face was stormy with rage. William, a supposed “tough guy” at school, looked like he had been crying, and even with his steroid-pumped adolescent muscles, he looked like a scared little boy next to his obviously angry father.

“Here's this little punk,” his father growled. “Stupid little turd thought he could climb in through the window after dark and get his damn iPad. I thought he was a damn burglar, nearly took his head off with my shotgun! But when I found out it was him, I gave him a damn good ass-kicking, an ass-kicking that he better damn well remember next time he wants to get involved in whatever gang crap he's gotten himself into. You hear that boy? You try ‘n pull a stunt like this ever again, and I'll break your stupid neck! Now you go talk to these two, and I swear if you lie to them I'm gonna rip your arms outta their sockets. You're cleaning your damn self up after this. I spent time in the damn slammer, I know what it's like in there, and I don't want my boy to see the inside of a prison cell, ever. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” William whimpered, the little thug uncharacteristically timid.

“What?!” his father shouted. “I don't hear you, speak louder!”

“Yes... sir,” he said, speaking more forcefully.

“Alright, William,” I said, almost feeling a little sorry for the kid. Almost. “Now listen, kid, we already know you were involved in what happened to Kendrick. And we know you didn't pull the trigger, or instigate it, so you're not going to be in any serious trouble. But we are going to need you to cooperate with us here. There are two sides to this coin, you see; we can either get you off lightly, or we can get you into some very serious trouble. The choice is yours. You can lie and try to wiggle your way out of this, which is most certainly going to result in you getting into a lot of trouble, or you can answer our questions truthfully. If you choose the second option, we'll be able to get you off with a slap on the wrist, really, as long as you also agree to go to rehab. So, what's it gonna be?”

He shifted his feet around and stared at the floor. “I'll tell you the truth,” he answered reluctantly.