23. Kash #2
There’s a weariness in her eyes that is impossible to miss. I don’t even blame her. I’ve been an ass. My pride refused to give her the benefit of the doubt, but now there are cracks allowing reason to come seeping in, and I find I have to get the answers I’ve wanted for longer than is sane.
“Got a second?” I ask, my voice deeper and huskier thanks to the emotion flooding through me.
She wipes her hands on her jeans, and in that split second, I see so much of my Juliette… Jules …that my heart aches. Maybe she really hasn’t changed. Did I see exactly what Mason wanted me to see? Did I fall right into his trap?
Son of a bitch. I might actually get sick.
“Sure. Was just trying to fix this ol’ carburetor, but it might be a lost cause.” With a huff, she slides off the truck, pockets her rag, and releases the hood with a loud bang . “So… What can I do for you?”
Removing my hat, I swipe a hand through my hair, unable to meet her assessing gaze. “What happened when you were ten?”
“What do you mean?” Her voice is soft, cautious, hesitant .
Hearing that tone from her nearly cleaves my heart in two. She’s never hesitant . She’s strong and sure and bold—so in your face you can’t help but love her or hate her for it.
Her scent has taken on a tart edge, leaving a sour taste on my tongue. When I finally work up the courage to look her in the eye, I recognize the pain staring back at me because I’ve seen it in the mirror every day for years.
“Why—” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. “Why did you leave me?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“I need more than that.” I swallow harshly, opening myself up for the first time in over a decade and praying she doesn’t hit me when I’m down. “Please, Jules. Just tell me what I did wrong.”
Her lips part, her arms wrapping around her middle as her eyes flash with something close to agony. “Kash, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Releasing the breath I was holding, I shake my head.
“Then make it make sense. One day, we were closer than peanut butter and jelly, and the next, you cut me out completely. Wouldn’t see me, wouldn’t talk to me.
Hell, I even had Gramps deliver a letter to your house, hoping you’d write back, and never got a response.
I was…” Running both hands down my face, I finally admit something I had never even admitted to myself.
“I was fucking bereft . The one person, aside from Gramps, that always had my back, the one who made everything else in my crazy world seem so far away, the one I trusted more than any other, just left me to fend for myself alone.”
“You wrote me a letter?” she whispers, a single tear spilling down her cheek.
“Yeah. Didn’t you get it?”
She shakes her head, another tear falling. “No. I had no idea…”
It hits me then. This is what Mason meant.
I’ve worked too fucking hard my entire life to make sure my daughter didn’t get tangled up with you.
“Tell me. Was your father behind all of this?”
“I never wanted to leave you, but he gave me no choice! I was worried if I disobeyed him, he’d find a way to make your life miserable.
I once made it halfway down the drive and ended up with locks on my window and door.
I was basically a prisoner in my own house, and when he threatened to call the cops if you so much as showed up on the front porch, younger me had no reason not to think he wouldn’t follow through.
I wasn’t willing to risk it, Kash. You have to believe I thought I was doing the right thing.
I was protecting my best friend. So, I played the part.
I donned the dresses and stupid updos, followed all of the heinous etiquette classes to a fucking T, coquettishly flirted with the young pricks he paraded in front of me…
” She takes a deep breath in and exhales, her eyes staring at something beyond me blankly.
“I became everything I hated—his perfect little Omega—just to make sure he kept his attention on me and didn’t have even a single reason to look at you . ”
Fuck.
What an idiot I’ve been. Gramps tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen. Instead, I built a barrier around my heart and fucking hated her with every ounce of my being when all she did was what she’d always done her entire childhood.
Protect me.
“June bug,” I choke out, my head falling forward as my tears spill out.
Her soft hiccup melts my heart. “You haven’t called me that in years.”
Brushing my forearm across my face, I try to get myself under control. “Because I was a fucking idiot.”
Her surprised laughter makes the corner of my mouth quirk up. “Apparently, we both were.”
My eyes land on hers, and for once, the old hurt doesn’t bubble up inside. I feel lighter than I have in years. “I’m sorry. Truly.”
Her brows furrow. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for. I’m the one that should apologize. I never stopped to think how you might’ve taken my absence. I assumed you’d understand and was hurt when you suddenly started sniping at me.”
Looking across the land I used to know better than the back of my hand, I adjust my hat. “Man, we really made a mess of things, didn’t we?”
“We did, but we ain’t dead yet. There’s still plenty of time to right those wrongs.”
When our eyes lock, something immensely powerful fires up in my chest. “Guess you’re right. So, where do we begin?”
“How about as friends?” she asks softly.
Her scent has sweetened, holding strong notes of brown sugar and cinnamon. Then, surprising me, she spits in her hand and holds it out to me.
Now, a spit swear is law when you're a kid. As an adult, it just seems really fuckin’ gross. But this is my June bug . If this is what it takes to get us back on the right path again, then so be it. Not just for me, but for our pack.
Damn. I like the sound of that.
Without thinking too hard about it, I spit and connect my palm to hers. The squelch of moisture between our hands makes me wince, but when I hear her chuckle, I find myself smiling right along with her.
“It’s official. We’re friends again.” She pulls her hand back, wiping it on her jeans along with the oil from the truck.
How I ever mistook her for a spoiled, pampered princess, I have no goddamn clue.
“We sure are.”
Mason’s words replay through my head. Back in the day, we had no secrets.
That included the stupid shit our fathers did or said about each other.
For the span of a few heartbeats, I consider keeping his offer to myself, but with one look into her smiling eyes, I know I can’t do that.
I refuse to break the tentative bond we’ve only just reestablished.
“In honor of our truce, there’s one more thing I need to tell you, and it’s not gonna be pretty.”
Her grin slowly dies, and worry flickers back across her face. I already miss her smile, and I wish like hell Mason never put me in this position to begin with. Guess I’ll just need to find a way to make it up to her after we get through this hell.