“What are you thinking about over there?” she asks, fingers reaching to turn down the music.
Gesturing my hand in front of me before letting it fall back into my lap, I mutter, “Just everything.”
Her grip on my knee tightens. “You know everything is going to be okay, right?”
Huffing out a dry laugh, I say, “No, I definitely don’t know that right now.” I glance over at her, letting her see the raw emotion on my face. “I’ve fucked everything up, Wren.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and because I know Wren as well as I do, I know it’s because she’s trying to not scold me for my self-deprecating comment again. And I can’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, I’d do the same.
We haven’t talked about last night yet. The tension between us isn’t as awkward and stifling as it was yesterday morning, thankfully, but that also probably has to do with the fact that nothing actually happened. She shut me down before we could reach that point. She thinks hooking up with me would be taking advantage of me. I don’t see it that way at all.
I think it’s her polite way of saying she’s not interested in me like that. Which is fair. We’ve been best friends for so long, and mostsanepeople don’t look at their friends in that way.
Wren’s dated quite a few women over the years; a few of them serious, most casual. She had one serious girlfriend in college, Hannah. Well, I don’t know ifseriousis the right term. They dated off and on between freshmen and junior year. Hannah was in a sorority, and frankly, she was kind of a bitch. I was glad when they finally went their separate ways for good. I never liked Hannah, and she never liked me.
I’ve always felt a burning, bitter type of jealousy when it comes to Wren and the people she’s been with. All the time they’d get with her. The time they’d barge in while she and I were hanging out. I hated it. I hated knowing they got her on an intimate level that Ididn’tget her on. Even after I got married and moved away, hearing about women she was dating would give me a sour taste on the back of my tongue and I’d find myself feeling stabby.
But I think that’s normal with best friends. Everyone’s like that with someone they’re super close with.
“We’ll figure this all out, Nelly,” Wren says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Together.You aren’t going to go through all of this alone.”
Offering her a small smile that doesn’t feel quite genuine, I nod, glancing out the window.
Chapter Nine
Wren Carlisle
I’m tired. My legs ache from being in a seated position all day, every day for the last three days, and I’m dying to lie in my own bed and do nothing for the next week. We’re so close to San Diego, I can almost taste the salt water. But Nelly’s anxious. She’s so unsettled, it’s practically vibrating off her. I know once we arrive, it’ll all be real for her.
The last few days on the road, I’m sure she’s thought about everything to the point of exhaustion, and I’m sure it all weighs heavy on her mind, but it’s been our own little world in this small car on the open highway. Being in California, where she’ll have to confront her parents, where she’ll have to figure shit out, it’ll become real. And I think that terrifies her.
I don’t doubt that Nelly wants to—and plans to—leave Anthony and be done with it all. What Idofear is her undeniable need to please her parents, and them making her feel like she needs to go back to him, to make it work. The number of times I’ve seen her do something just to hear a little bit of praise from her mom or dad is ridiculous and heartbreaking.
We stopped to refill the gas tank and grab some snacks a little while ago, and during the stop, I looked up what’s around here. We’re in Arizona, and I know I need to do something to try to cheer Nelly up before we finish the road trip and are back to the reality. She’s sad and down on herself, barely spoken all day, and it kills me. I need to at least try to make her feel better, even if only momentarily.
Which is how we find ourselves pulling off the highway. In my peripheral, I can see Nelly looking around, confused. “What are you doing?”
“Making a little detour,” I reply, the grin tugging on my lips evident in my words.
“Where are we going?”
“Patience, baby.” The pet name leaves my mouth before I can stop it, my heart thumping in my chest when it does. It’s not the first time I’ve called her that, but that wasbefore.
Before she made herself come on my leg.
Before we made out in bed, half naked and aroused.
Before all the feelings I’ve spent years tamping down came rushing back up to the forefront of my mind, refusing to be ignored.
Before this entire week and the way it’s utterly rocked my fucking world in the most confusing way.
I’ve spent the better part of the last decade being in love with my best friend, and I’ve spent just as long pretending it wasn’t true. It became easy—or easier, I should say—to disassociate from those feelings because not doing so could’ve cost me my friendship. And now… Well, now I don’t know if I can re-bury those feelings again. I don’t know how to look at Nelly and not remember how soft her lips felt against mine, or the way her body moved with mine. And I’ll definitely never forget the sounds she made and the blissful expression on her face while she came, the sweet, earthy scent of her arousal that filled the air around us, and how there’s nothing I want more than to pin her down and make her do it again.
How the fuck do I come back from that?
Thankfully, I don’t have the time to figure outthatanswer yet because, all too soon, I’m pulling into our surprise. Nelly squeals when she takes in where we are, bouncing in her seat.
“Oh my gosh, Wren!”
