Beautiful Storm (23 page)

When he’s not making loud noises he has a comforting presence, much like Noah’s, but he’s a few inches taller.

“He’s a mess, you know,” he informs me.

He’s talking about Noah, and from the pain in his green eyes, I know he’s telling the truth. I drop my gaze to the floor, finding it difficult to look him in the eye, and let out a long breath before glancing back up. I know Noah’s hurting, and in turn that only increases the pain I’m already suffering. But at least I tried to fix us, which is more than I can say for him.

What a way to meet Noah’s best friend.

“Well, that makes two of us,” I say, and walk out of the room. As I near the bottom of the stairs, I turn and glance back down the hallway into the kitchen, just as Ted envelops Boo into his arms.

“He’s my best friend, Layla. I can’t hide it from him for much longer.” He rests his chin on the top of her head. “It’ll kill him if he finds out before she has the balls to tell him. He’s already hit the bottle again, and I don’t know how long we can keep him from self-destructing. She really has no idea the effect she has on him.”

My chest tightens.
She told him everything?

Layla relaxes in his arms. They’re clearly more than friends. “Just give her a few more days, okay? Can you do that for me?” She leans back and looks up into his eyes.

I hear him exhale. “Okay, a few days.” He nods. “I think we can hold him together that long. But after that I’m telling him. He deserves to know the truth… I’ve already kept too much from him.”

I can’t stomach listening to them anymore. I hang my head and silently walk up the stairs. I’ve got two, maybe three, days before the choice is taken out of my hands. Why does everyone insist on controlling my decisions? I walk into the bedroom just as tears begin to cascade down my cheeks. It’s not like I haven’t tried to tell him. He wouldn’t hear me out. I would never purposely hurt Noah.

I sit on the edge of the bed, every bit of strength sapped out of my muscles from Ted’s words. My head falls into my hands, my heart beats loudly in my ears, and I rub my fingers into my scalp to try and relieve the nagging pain building in my head.

Running through my options, I decide I have only two. Tell him the truth, or leave again. Neither option sounds like a good idea, and either way I’m sure to lose him.

If I leave I’ll never get the chance to fix things, and if I stay the truth will ensure he wants nothing to do with me. So much for win-win situations. This is a definite lose-lose, and it doesn’t seem fair. Just once I wish things would go my way, but I doubt that will happen. I thought things couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong. With a tear-stained face and a hollow heart, I decide to head for the shower.

As I sit on the bed drying my hair, the front door slams and then rattles on its hinges. It makes me jump, but I rationalise it’s just Ted leaving. I suck in a breath when I hear footsteps pad up the stairs, and let it out in a long, calming stream as Boo appears and leans against the doorframe.

“Why didn’t you tell me about you and Ted?” I ask her. I tread lightly, but intend to question everything I saw and heard downstairs, starting with their relationship and ending with what all he knows. I don’t need to be blindsided on top of everything else.

Her head tilts. “I don’t know, really. I just didn’t want to rub your nose in it when things are so up in the air for you.”

A small smile graces my face at my friend’s misplaced kindness. “There’s no need, you know? I do know how to be happy for other people.”

She walks into the room and sits next to me on the bed. I shuffle to sit cross-legged and position myself so I can face her.

“I know, I know,” she begins. “But I just thought it was the right thing to do. I feel like such a bad friend being happy when you’re struggling. You have so much shit on your shoulders, I…” She huffs. “I don’t know, I just thought”—she shrugs her shoulders at me—“it would be easier on you.”

“You’re my best friend. If I can’t be happy for you, I’m never going to find anything to be happy about, am I? I’m a little hurt you sort of lied to me about it though,” I say, gently, as she’d denied any attraction to Ted last night when we were talking.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes genuinely appear ashamed.

“There’s no need to be sorry, none at all.” I force a smile. “Anyway, how long have you been seeing each other?”

She full-on grins at me. “Oh, God, it’s only been a few days. And we’re not seeing each other, we’re just friends with benefits.”

I can’t help but laugh. What I saw downstairs appeared to be more than friends with benefits, but that’s how she’s categorised it in her mind so she doesn’t get hurt. Smart move. I learnt the hard way. In the end, no one can control who they fall in love with. There’s no stopping that train once it’s rolling. Observing the small fragment I saw earlier, I’d say the wheels were definitely in motion, on both sides.

I keep the thought to myself. She’s happy believing what she wants to believe and I’ll leave it at that. Plus, she said it’s only been a few days at most, maybe I’m just romanticising. If I can’t be happy, she at least deserves to be.

“Well, that definitely sounds… beneficial.” For the first time in days an unforced smile stretches across my face and she bursts out laughing. It’s completely refreshing to feel some normalcy return to our friendship.

“So,” she begins, and I know my happy, relaxed moment is about to come crashing down around my feet. “How are you going to tell Noah? I bought you a couple of days, but that’s it.”

And there it is, the unanswerable question.

I shrug my shoulders and run my hands through the length of my hair, keeping hold of the ends and staring at them as if they hold the answer. “I haven’t a clue.” I look into my friend’s face. One that has been with me through all the ups and downs of my life, but it doesn’t hold the answer either.

“He deserves to know, Lizzie.”

Understatement of the century. Of course he deserves to know. But how do I tell him something I know will destroy him? I’ve seen the damage I’ve done to his heart already. I couldn’t stand to watch as the last remaining fragments were torn from his body.

I bury my head in my hands for what feels like the umpteenth time, hoping by some miracle I’ll turn into an ostrich and can bury my head in the sand forever. “What would you do?”

“I don’t think I would have let it get this far. But, I understand the decisions you’ve made, even if I don’t entirely agree with them.”

“I never thought I’d see him again.” The desperation is evident in my voice, hurt by the disapproving tone in hers.

“I know, hun. Really, I do understand. I know you think I’m judging you, but I’m not. It’s easy to comment from the sidelines but it’s different to be in the game. You did the best you could with the shit life threw at you.” Her now gentle tone placates my angst. “Do you want Ted to tell him?” she asks, and I’m painfully reminded that he knows more about my life than I do about his.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “Why’d you tell him?”

“Honestly, you thought I’d tell him? I wouldn’t do that to you, Lizzie. You told him. Well, you told Spud yesterday. There was no way he wasn’t going to say anything to Ted, who’s furious by the way. Those men appear to be closer than most blood brothers. You have no idea how much convincing I’ve had to do so he wouldn’t tell Noah. He was on the phone most of the night.”

I should have known she wouldn’t say anything. Being a broken mess after Noah left, Spud had been kind and understanding and it all just came pouring out. I suppose I just needed to tell someone who knew him so well.

“I’ve thought about it. Thought about Ted telling Noah. It would be easier for me to let him, but it’s something I’ve got to do.” I sigh deeply. “What do you think about a letter?”

“It could work, I suppose. At least he couldn’t walk away from it before hearing what you had to say.” She starts chewing on her nails in thought. “But don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know… heartless, maybe?”

“You’re right,” I huff. “It’s not something he should read about.”

Layla hoists herself off the bed, walks to the door, and leans against the frame again. “You’ll think of something,” she adds cheerfully.

I nod at her before she walks out of the room, leaving me to my thoughts.

Walking over to the small shabby chic dressing table, I sit down and gaze at my reflection. I’ve done this so many times over the years, seen many different emotions staring back at me. I analyse my features, but nothing much changes. I still have the same colour hair, same lips, nose, and face shape. None of which are anything to write home about. It’s my eyes that display my feelings without dispute, as they always have.

The predominant emotion emitting from their depths is fear. Everything I’ve done has been for Noah, but I know this will be a step too far.

Time to find out.

I pick up my phone and scroll through the contacts, looking for the name that my finger has hovered over so many times in the past. When it comes into view, my breathing increases, as it always has, and my heart starts to race.

With shaky hands and a deep, unsteady breath, this time I press
call
.

T
HE SOUND OF
my ringtone pierces my ears, sending sharp spikes of pain through my head. The fucker’s volume is set too high. I push the heel of my hand into my eyes, in an effort to rub the sleep away, before forcing them to open. On blind instinct, my arm reaches out and I throw my phone across the room. It crashes against the wall on the far side and hits the floor. After a few more rings, the horrific noise thankfully stops. I lay my head back down on my pillow. I roll to the side to see what the time is, only to realise that I’ve just thrown the very thing that would tell me across the room. Cursing my hung-over brain, I crawl out of bed and retrieve it.

Missed Call. Caller ID unknown
.

I’ve had numerous calls from an unknown number. It can only be work related, and I’m not up to dealing with that crap right now. For the past two days, I haven’t bothered to return a single fucking call I’ve received.

I amble into the bathroom, turn on the shower, and peel off last night’s clothes. Glancing at myself in the mirror, it becomes obvious I look like shit. My eyes are bloodshot, and the colour of my skin makes me look like a zombie. Shaking my head at myself, I turn away and step in the shower.

Water runs in rivers over my shoulders, down my back, and over my bowed head. My palms pressed against the cold tiles take my weight. Images of Lizzie’s pussy, swollen and pink with desire flood my mind. Blood flows with force to my cock. The twitch and swell of my erection growing only increases the images. Breathy moans, her taste on my lips, slick thrusts, her convulsions gripping and pulling me deeper. Fuck.

My throbbing cock screams at me, pleading for some release. I can’t stop thinking about her. With my left palm still splayed against the icy tiles, I grasp myself in my right hand before gliding my palm down the tender shaft a few times. The touch releases tension in my shoulders, a groan emits from my throat, as my face falls back into the stream of warm water. Tremors run up my spine as I tighten my fingers slowly around the girth, then rock my wrist to create the movement it’s begging for. With a firm grip and rhythmic pulses, I push myself further to the edge.