Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
CRANE
Fucking Kiki and her timing.
Adjusting myself, I rest my head back on the couch as she strides in, coming to a stop beside me.
“Crane?!”
I wave a hand at her, noting that she’s not changed a bit in five years.
Some people are lucky like that—time either eats away at you or it leaves you be. In rare cases, it lets you thrive. Kiki chews on the inside of her cheek, no doubt putting two and two together and getting fucking four.
Her eyes dart from me to Sierra, and I can almost hear the cogs whirring in her mind.
Fucking cogs.
“Hey, Kiki. Long time, no see.”
“Huh, you took off as I remember.”
Ouch.
The hollow voice of the best friend.
“Fucked my bestie and fucked off, actually.” Kiki continues chewing on her cheek. “Fucking men.”
Sierra places two fresh glasses of wine on the table, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Kiki, don’t. I’ll explain.”
Warning pleas leave her eyes, and Kiki arches a brow.
A silent conversation is louder than any that can take place with words.
Especially when it’s two women discussing a mere man.
Me.
“I better go.”
Sierra panics, her eyes wide as Kiki grips my shoulder, applying slight pressure so that I remain seated.
“Sierra?” Kiki gazes at her best friend, her hand heavy on me. “I don’t want him to leave because of me.”
The beauty that is Sierra looks at me helplessly, her flushed cheeks and swollen lips holding our secret.
“Crane was just leaving,” Sierra exhales, waving at me. “Let me walk him out.”
Kiki moves her hand, shrugging at me.
She doesn’t buy it.
“Nice to see you again. Maybe I’ll see you at the party.”
Kiki frowns.
“Party?”
Sierra lets out a nervous laugh.
“Bachelorette/bachelor party. We’re having a joint one.”
Kiki nods, realisation flooding her curious eyes.
“I see. So you two were planning that tonight, huh?”
“Miami. Ever been?” I glance at Kiki who looks like she’s going to cry.
What the fuck have I said now?
“With Greg.”
Oh.
I make a face at Sierra who shakes her head, walking me to the door.
The air has cooled, the scent of night filling the air.
“So…” Sierra pulls the door half closed behind her, looking up at me through thick lashes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s alright.” I reach out to stroke her face, but she steps back, glancing around us anxiously. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Crane…”
I kiss her, claiming her lips in the way that only I can. It’s heated as fuck, and she soon loses her fingers in my hair, a soft moan leaving her lips.
“Stop,” she whispers, still kissing me.
I’m not sure who she’s talking to, but neither of us are stopping.
“I’m with Declan, Crane, this is wrong.”
Her tongue sweeps along my bottom lip, dragging it in between her teeth.
Is she serious right now?!
“So?” I mutter, gripping the back of her neck so she’s staring up at me. “Dump him.”
Sierra swallows, her eyes glazing over.
“I can’t just leave him—”
I hold her face in my hands, searching her eyes with mine as I kiss her forehead.
Then her nose.
Then her lips.
“I understand. But you have to make a choice, Sierra. You can’t have us both.”
“I’m with Declan, I love him,” Sierra says, almost like she’s a robot.
I step back.
I have to.
“Yeah. You said. I’m gonna go…”
“Crane.”
Sierra reaches out, lacing her fingers with mine as she sighs.
It’s not that simple.
She doesn’t even need to say it; it’s radiating from her.
Five years is a long time to miss someone.
But Declan was here when I wasn’t.
The bastard.
“We’ll do Miami.”
My fingers drop from hers, and I nod as I accept my fate.
She loves Declan.
She’s happy to dry fuck me on the sofa, but she loves him.
“I can’t wait,” I reply, meaning every word.
Sierra stares down at the floor as I walk away, and I know she’s fighting her emotions.
I stop, turning back as she looks up at me hopefully.
What does she want me to do?
I don’t understand women, I really fucking don’t.
She wants me, she doesn’t, she wants me—fuck.
“If you love him so damn much, why are you looking at me like you want me to take you into your bedroom and finish what we started?”
Sierra shakes her head, almost like she’s under a spell.
Some fucking spell.
“If I wanted that, you’d know.” Sierra backs away, her eyes still locked on mine. “I’m sorry. It was…”
Don’t say it.
“A mistake. It can’t happen again.”
The wind carries her words to me, the emotion filling every word still thumping against my heart when it reaches me.
I can’t say anything because if I do, I’ll ruin any chance of her looking at me like this ever again.
And I want her to look at me like that.
Every morning.
Every night.
“Goodnight,” Sierra chokes out, turning and walking into her house with a composure I didn’t think she had.
The world looks the same as it did when I went into Sierra’s house earlier.
The trees are still standing tall, their leaves moving with the air. Somewhere in the distance a car door slams, and laughter floats on the breeze. The world keeps on spinning; and fuck, I’m still breathing.
But everything has changed.
Trudging down to my car, I have the urge to drive to my old house.
I’ve got anger I’ve not dealt with, and I should know better than to go.
Mom would kill me.
But Mom isn’t here.
Is this what it’s come to?
I’ve lost the girl, but I saved my mom.
If only my dad wasn’t such a fucking piece of shit, then I might’ve had a chance with Sierra.
I blame him for everything.
If it rains, it’s his fault.
If I get ill, it’s his fault.
Why does he get to live?
My car moves in the direction of his house, almost on autopilot.
Muscle memory.
I’m not in the right state of mind to be doing this, but I can’t stop myself.
I want to see if he’s still alive after years of being dead in my mind.
Does he still pass out on the porch?
Probably.
The rumble of the engine soothes me, but as I turn onto my old road, my stomach twists into knots, my heart thumping in my chest.
Don’t, Crane.
My mother’s voice rings through my head like she’s sitting beside me.
He’s not worth it.
I grip the steering wheel, blood roaring in my ears as I slow the car, bracing myself for the house I grew up hating.
When it comes into view, I’m half relieved.
It’s not the monster I thought it was.
It’s just a house.
There, on the porch, is the chair my dad passed out in on a regular basis.
It’s empty, and the house is dark.
He’s either asleep or out drinking.
I almost slow to a stop—almost.
But something presses my right foot down on the accelerator, and I’m out of there.
Keep going, Crane.
Mom sounds relieved, even though it’s not even fucking her.
“One day, Ma. One day.”
Not today, Crane. Not today.
I hum a tune, something I’ve not heard in years.
Not today.