Best Friend's Brother #3 (Best Friend's Brother Romance Series - Book #3) Read online

  Best Friend’s Brother #3

  BOOK 3

  By Alycia Taylor

  Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ALEXA

  I stood in the alcove of the front door and watched Ian drive away. This day had started out so good that it was hard for me to believe that it ended so badly. I let myself into the house and I was disappointed to see the light on in the living room. That meant Dad was still up. He always turned the lights off before he went to bed. I stood in the small foyer wiping at my face. I didn’t want my dad to know that I’d been crying. He would just start worrying about me again.

  “Alexa?”

  “Yeah Dad, it’s me,” my voice cracked. Damn it! I heard him get up off the couch, so I just gave up and went in. “Hi Dad, why are you still up?”

  “I was waiting for you,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You don’t look okay baby, you’ve been crying.”

  “I’m okay Daddy, really. My emotions have just been crazy, you know? They’re all over the place and I cry at the drop of a pin lately.”

  “Come sit with me for a minute,” he said. I didn’t want to. I just wanted to go to my room and be alone. His eyes looked so worried though that I felt bad. I went over and sat on the couch with him. “Where were you tonight?”

  “I went out with Ian. We met some of his friends at the over eighteen club downtown.”

  “Ian’s been around a lot lately.”

  “Yeah…”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  No, I wasn’t, obviously. I wanted to hear why he seemed not to though so I said, “Do you not like him, Dad?”

  “It’s not that,” he said. “I don’t really know him. What I’ve heard of him and seen of him…it seems like he and Emma were polar opposites. She was always such a happy girl. She had such a sunny disposition all the time. Ian seems…I don’t know, sulky, brooding…I guess women are attracted to that. I just hate to think of you getting with someone who will bring you down.”

  I had tears in my eyes from when he mentioned Emma, but I laughed through them when he said that about what women are attracted to. “Not all women like that sort of thing, Dad. His brooding is mostly related to the fact that his sister just died. He’s not always like that. He has regular moods just like anyone else. Anyways, you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  “Is that why you were crying? Did he do something?” Dad looked like he was going to go after him. It was funny to me how parents lost sight of their own mortality when it came to defending their kids.

  “No, Ian didn’t do anything, Daddy. I just decided that we were spending too much time together. We were both just looking for a way to get past losing Emma and our emotions got all mixed up, I think.” I was saying all of this to my dad because I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about Ian’s past for some reason. I was angry with him, but still protective. It was strange. As I said it though, I realized that maybe it was true, partly. Maybe I had only become so infatuated with him in the first place because of Emma. I had to have seen him before at least some point over the years…but I hadn’t even noticed him until Emma died.

  “Well I know that you need to have someone to talk to about her,” Dad was saying, “But I think you’re right. I’m not sure Ian was the best choice. One person grieving in a relationship is bad; two is a recipe for disaster. If you need to talk to me about anything…”

  I forced a smile. He was trying so hard. I just wasn’t sure what I needed right now. Ian seemed to be the only thing that worked. “I know, Dad. I appreciate it, thank you,” I yawned and said, “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

  “Okay honey. Please let me know if you need anything. I know that I can’t fix this, but it breaks my heart to watch you go through this.”

  I stood up and kissed him on the top of his head. “I will, Daddy. Thank you.”

  I left him sitting worried on the couch and when I got to my room I thought once again how messed up things were. He worries about me because I lost my best friend and I worry about him, worrying about me. Ian and I had been worried about each other, but now I think I put my faith in the wrong person there…I don’t know why life has to be so damned complicated.

  I changed into my night clothes and went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth and washed my face. Sometimes, going through the motions of normalcy helped. I looked at my face in the mirror and realized that tonight wasn’t one of those sometimes. The stress was still very clearly showing on my face.

  Before I got into bed I looked at my phone. Ian hadn’t texted me or tried to call. I was a little bit surprised about that at first. Maybe I flattered myself, but I thought he would at least text. As I lay down and thought about our conversation and the things I found out tonight I realized that it was probably a sign that I had done the right thing. He doesn’t have any more to add to what I’d heard because I was right. He was a cheater, then and now. His friends all seemed either complacent about it all, or amused. I shut off the lamp and tried to go to sleep but my mind just wouldn’t shut off. It was hours later before my mind finally became too exhausted to continue batting around all of the thoughts that were wandering around in there. I slipped into a dreamless sleep. It was like the sleep of the dead.

  I woke up the next morning when the sun pushed its way through the blinds in my room. They were closed, but the sun was insistent and found any tiny little crack that it could to slip in and assault my eyes. It reminded me of the day I woke up in my dorm room…the day I found out that Emma was dead. Suddenly that wave of grief that always stalked me crashed over my head like a tsunami. My chest physically hurt and before I even knew that I was crying again, the tears were already flowing freely down my cheeks. God, I miss her. She’s the one that I would talk to about things like what happened with Ian. She would either agree with me or she’d set me straight…she was always honest with her advice and opinions. Sometimes I took it and sometimes I didn’t, but we always respected each other. We always loved each other. We always were there for each other.

  I lay there in my bed and sobbed like a baby, soaking my pillow and remembering all of the times when I had a broken heart, all I had to do in order to feel a little better was call Emma. She would talk me through it and restore my self-confidence and having me laughing before it was all over. What was I going to do without her for the rest of my life? I didn’t have other friends like her. The rest of them were just superficial friends. They’re “hang-out” friends. Not Emma. She was the closest thing that I ever had to a sister. I loved her so much and she loved me back. I realized that at least being with Ian had distracted me. I’d been able to carry on with my daily routine because I wasn’t completely focused on losing Emma. Instead I felt like we were keeping her alive in a way by sharing our memories of her. I didn’t even have that now and I had no idea how to carry on alone.

  I turned into the pillow and closed my eyes. I just wanted to sleep. Sleep would let me forget and make the time pass. I wanted the time to pass quickly so maybe it wouldn’t hurt s
o much. People always say that it gets easier with time. Well, bring on the time because this shit hurts so badly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IAN

  I was pissed when I dropped Alexa off and I was pissed when I was finally able to go to sleep. I hoped that sleep would help, but I woke up as angry as I’d gone to bed. When my so-called “friends” started running their mouths, I was embarrassed at first for Alexa to find out what a delinquent I’d been in high school, but she totally overreacted. I had never expected her to get all spun out over it like that. I never even asked her what kind of stupid shit she did in high school. Everyone does stupid shit in high school. I’m positive that she’s not completely innocent. Nobody’s so innocent that they can judge someone else on what mistakes they’ve made in the past. I lost a lot because of the shitty choices I made. I didn’t get my high school diploma and I didn’t get my scholarship. I lost the respect of a lot of people who had put their faith in me. Yes, I made mistakes. I made a truckload of them. But I paid for them and she had no right getting all up on her moral high horse and calling me a cheater. What the fuck is that? I didn’t text her last night and I wasn’t going to today. That was it for me. I’m done. I don’t need to be with someone who is so negative and judgmental. Maybe she’s just immature, I don’t know. The bottom line is that I’d spent the past five years of my life trying to overcome the self-esteem issues I had because of the things I’d done and gain back some of the things I lost. My own family accepted that I’d changed. The whole family. They all stood by me. They knew I was just being a stupid kid and that didn’t make me a bad person. I wasn’t going to waste time with someone who wasn’t even there still thought they knew what it was like.

  I got up and showered and after I dressed, I went to the gym and did my workout. When I was finished with that, I called my trainer to see if he had anyone around that I could spar with. I needed to get free of some of this frustration.

  “Hey Dean, it’s Ian.”

  “Hey kid! What’s up?”

  “I need to spar today. Is anyone around there that might be up for it?”

  “Vic is here.”

  “Shit! He’s the only one?” Vic is a moose and I can’t stand him.

  Dean laughed. “Yeah, take it or leave it. I could spar with you, I guess.”

  “No thanks, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Dean laughed again. “So, should I tell Vic to wait around?”

  “Yeah, I’ll head over there now.”

  Vic and I looked ridiculous together, besides the fact that I couldn’t stand him. I really hated sparring with him. He was six foot nine. Seriously, I know I’m stereotyping, but wouldn’t basketball have made more sense?

  “How’s things been little man?” This was Vic’s regular greeting.

  “I’m six-one, fucker.”

  “Compared to me, that makes you a little man. Don’t even get me started on what I saw in the showers last time we sparred.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off enough to kick your ass?”

  “Come on little man, I’m just playing.”

  “Let’s do this,” I said. We clapped gloves and started circling each other. Vic threw out a wide hook and I dodged it and came back with an upper cut that landed on his chin. It would have knocked a smaller man on his ass, but Vic just shook his head like a wet dog and continued on. I threw out a left hook but he dodged it and came back at me with a hook of his own that caught me on the side of the head. I saw stars and it caused me to take a couple of steps back to regain my balance. I found myself up against the ropes of the training ring we use to spar in at Dean’s. Vic kept coming at me, throwing punches, connecting with my chest and my oblique enough to knock the wind out of me. I put my hand up to stop him and the son of a bitch stepped back and said, “What happened little man, not as big as you thought you were?”

  I know it was a cheap shot. I’m the one who had stopped it. In my defense, he just had to keep running his damned mouth. I threw a hard right and landed it squared in his gut. I heard him suck in air and then he doubled over. He was trying to say something and I didn’t need to hear it in order to know it started with “mother” and ended with “fucker.” As soon as I did it, I felt like shit.

  “Man Vic, I’m sorry,” I said, crouching down next to him. The big son-of-a-bitch wrapped me up in his massive arms and knocked me back to the mat. He had me pinned and I couldn’t breathe. Dean was trying to talk to him, but I’d unleashed the animal and it didn’t want to go back into its cage. I don’t know exactly how long it took Dean to convince him to let me go, but I was getting lightheaded and on the verge of passing out before he did. Served me right for being an asshole, I guess.

  “What the hell? Are you two trying to kill each other right here in my fucking garage?”

  “Sorry,” I grunted.

  “Little bastard sucker-punched me!” Vic said.

  “He said he was sorry,” Dean tried.

  “I don’t give a shit if he’s sorry or not. Asshole sucker punches me, he’s going down.”

  “All right then, you took him down. You crush him any longer, you’re gonna kill him. It’s over, Vic.”

  Vic squinted his tiny little green eyes at me and said, “Don’t fuck with me again, kid.” I thought about fucking with him, but I guess I was smarter than that. I just nodded and took in another lungful of air.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IAN

  I made it out of the ring alive, but not before Dean gave me a twenty-minute lecture on how fighting wasn’t about getting mad. It was about staying in control. If I wanted to act like an animal, he said, I should be fighting in the street. He actually told me if I couldn’t control myself then I may as well join a gang. I laughed at that, but that only netted me an extra five-minute lecture on respect. Before I left, I conceded he was right about it all and that I was just having a bad day. I saw the shift in his eyes when he suddenly remembered Emma. I hated that shit. I’d rather have him beat the shit out of me like Vic, than pity me. Dean didn’t say anything about that though, which made me grateful. He just clapped the side of my face with his hand…as a show of support, I guess.

  I hibernated in the apartment the rest of that day. I played video games and watched television and slept way too much. Sleep was an escape. I didn’t have to think about Alexa or Emma or feel anything like the emotions that tore through me every hour of the day when I was awake. I woke up at six in the morning the next day and realized that talking about Emma to Alexa must have been keeping these feelings at bay. It felt like there was something sitting on my chest and as each hour went by it got harder to breathe instead of easier. Finally, feeling like I couldn’t stand it any longer, I drove over to see my mom and dad. Maybe it would help just to talk about her for a while with people who loved her as much as I did.

  As soon as I walked in the front door I knew I had made a mistake. That pall that hung over the house since Emma died was still there. I stop by nearly every day and I keep hoping things will change and I’ll walk in and find my own parents here. I found my mom in the kitchen. She was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in her hand, staring at a spot on the wall.

  “Hi Mom.”

  “Ian!” She jumped up to hug me and spilled the coffee all over the table. “Shit!” I realized then that Mom was not having a good day. She rarely ever cussed.

  “It’s okay, Mom. Here, I’ll get a towel.” I went to grab a towel and when I got back, she was still standing in the same spot, staring at the coffee as it dripped down off the table. “Mom?”

  “Oh you got a towel, thank you. I can’t believe how clumsy I am lately.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. It’s really not a big deal.” I started mopping up the coffee on the table and she grabbed some paper towels and got down on her knees on the floor. She wiped up the spots the coffee had reached but she stayed down there like that, looking down at the floor for way too long. “You need help up old lady?” I asked her. Before Emma died, she and I
used to joke about her turning forty-five and how I was going to put her in a home soon. It was funny then, because she always seemed so young to me. Looking at her now, it was like Emma’s death had taken decades off her life. I sadly realized it wasn’t funny any longer. She finally pushed herself up and said, “Thank you. Have you eaten?”

  “No, you want me to run and get us something?” I usually brought them something but I’d been so damned distracted today. “Is Dad at work?”

  “No, he’s here somewhere. He’s probably out in the shop in the backyard. That’s where I keep finding him.”

  “He didn’t go to work? Is he okay?” I knew when Dad didn’t go to work it meant he was having one of his bad days.

  She shrugged. “He won’t talk to me about how he’s feeling. I think he’s getting a little tired of me talking to him so he spends all of his time out there, avoiding me.”

  “I’m sure he’s not avoiding you Mom. He probably just needs to grieve his own way.”

  She nodded and said, “I’m going to fix you something to eat.”

  “I don’t mind grabbing something and bringing it back…”

  “Nonsense! I have groceries; I can cook for my son. What do you want?”

  “Whatever you have is fine,” I told her. I wasn’t really even hungry, but she seemed to need something to do. “If you insist on cooking, I’ll go out back and see Dad until it’s ready…unless you need any help?”

  “No, you go on,” she said kissing me on the cheek. “Maybe you can snap him out of his funk.”

  I doubted it. I could barely manage my own. I made my way out to the backyard and the little shop my dad built there. He liked to make things out of wood so he’d built the shop when I was in high school. For a few years there I think he was too wrapped up in my crap to find time to work in it. When I finally got my shit together though and he had more time and less stress, he started making some pretty cool stuff. He’d made a welcome sign for the front of the house and some bird feeders that he put in the trees out front. He had built a bookshelf for Emma’s room and I had an end table at my place that he’d made for me.