Skylar
Fishing my cell out of my pocket, I reread the text Storm sent me ten minutes ago.
I have no idea why he asked me to meet him on the roof of the hotel we’re staying at. Especially when he’s enjoying himself at the New Year’s party Phoenix is throwing in his suite, but I’ll find out soon enough I suppose.
Sadness sits like a brick in my chest when I click on the text Valerie sent me earlier.
Valerie: Please tell Josh to call me.
All I’ve been doing the past four days is pleading with him to reach out to her.
But he won’t.
He’s too busy getting drunk and high.
And entertaining groupies.
I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt when I got back because I thought it was his way of coping with losing Archie.
But whenever I broach the subject and encourage him to talk about his feelings, he laughs and says, ‘it’s not that deep.’
Josh maintains that while it sucks Archie bit the dust, it doesn’t affect him because he didn’t mean anything to him.
He was just a guy who gave him a place to crash.
It’s mind-boggling how he can be so unmoved about this. Granted, they didn’t have a particularly close relationship, but Archie and Valerie did a lot more than provide a roof over his head.
They took him in, adopted him, and cared for him.
I rub my temples, thwarting off the migraine that’s surfacing.
He’s broken, too. I remind myself.
It’s difficult for people with our demons to form emotional attachments.
And as much as I’d love for him to call Valerie, I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to.
So, I make a mental note to call and check up on her myself tomorrow.
An icy breeze cuts the air and I rub my arms, attempting to warm them.
I seriously regret not grabbing my jacket.
I need Storm to stop taking his sweet time and get out here before I turn into an icicle.
I’m about to head back inside when the rooftop door opens.
Finally.
Only, it isn’t Storm.
It’s Memphis…sporting oven mitts and holding a baking dish.
My confusion grows when he strides over, thrusts it at me, and mumbles a gruff, “Here.”
I glance down. Cobbler.
As per usual, Memphis has been pretending I don’t exist ever since we kissed the other night.
And now, he’s here…with cobbler.
Or rather, he was because he makes a beeline for the door.
“Whoa, you can’t just hand me cobbler and run away. At least have some of it with me.”
I know Memphis well enough to deduce that this is his attempt at a peace offering.
One I happily accept.
Setting the cobbler on the ledge of the roof, I wave him over. “Come on.”
Begrudgingly, he joins me.
I stare out at the New York City skyline, taking in the tall buildings. The bright lights. The smells and sounds.
The ball dropped a little over an hour ago, but the city streets are still flooded with people who are either tired and heading home…or loud, lively, and bar hopping.
“I’ve always wanted to be in New York for New Year’s.”
I asked Josh if we could go to Times Square tonight, but he said it was too dangerous due to his celebrity status.
Even though he made a valid point, I suspect his refusal had more to do with their no alcohol policy.
So, for the second year in a row, I watched that big, beautiful ball drop on television…by myself. While he brought in the New Year with whoever he was partying with.
All isn’t lost, though. At least now I get to enjoy some cobbler.
“I’m assuming you made this?”
Nodding, he reaches inside the pocket of his jacket, pulls out a spoon, and hands it to me.
Digging into the yummy goodness, I shovel a heaping portion into my mouth.
Memphis watches on with keen interest. “How is it?”
Bitter and way too sugary.
I give him a sincere smile. “Best cobbler I’ve ever had.”
Because he made it.
Those lips curve. “Really?”
Before I can stop him, he seizes the spoon from me and takes a bite.
Then promptly spits it out.
“What the fuck? That’s disgusting.”
“Not to me.”
I don’t want all his hard work to go to waste, so I help myself to another mouthful.
It’s even more concentrated than the first.
“So good.” I swallow, silently praying that it will not only go down, but stay down. “The pungent aftertaste is really the icing on the cake…or cobbler.”
Amusement lines his face. “You’re such a fucking weirdo.”
“I’m your favorite fucking weirdo.”
At least, I used to be.
His expression goes slack. “Here.” Reaching inside his jacket, he pulls out a pint of vanilla ice cream. “Maybe this will help with that pungent aftertaste.”
He laughs when I make grabby hands for it.
A soft moan escapes the second the creamy sweetness coats my tongue.
Heat flickers in his eyes, but then his jaw sets and he directs his attention to the skyline, seeming annoyed with himself—and me—for letting his mask slip ever so briefly.
“Why did you have Storm text me?”
He stays silent.
“Come on,” I urge. “I thought we were friends.”
Or on the path to becoming friends again.
“You thought wrong.”
I’m a little—make that a lot—hurt by his response. “But—”
“I appreciate you getting me the plane ticket and showing up for Valerie—”
“I went there for you.”
Of course, I care about Valerie, but I flew home because that’s where he was.
“You shouldn’t have,” he bites out.
I fight back a shiver, both from his icy demeanor and the cold air.
For fuck’s sake he’s acting like I’m some wicked temptress who forced him to kiss me.
Although I did kiss him back.
And even though I should be feeling guilty about it…I don’t.
Slipping off his jacket, he places it over my shoulders.
Unable to help myself, I sniff the collar, inhaling his familiar scent. Home.
When I look up, I find Memphis staring at me. “I didn’t want him going through your phone and coming across a text asking you to meet me on the rooftop in the middle of the night.” A muscle in his jaw tics. “It would stir shit up.”
“Josh doesn’t go through my phone,” I inform him. “And unlike you my passcode isn’t my birthday.”
That sexy smirk makes an appearance. “Brat.”
Grabbing my cell, I pull up his contact information and click edit. “But since you’re so worried…” I quickly change his name. “There. Problem solved.”
His smirk deepens, nearly turning into a full-blown smile when he looks at it. “Asshole?”
“Yup.” I stick my phone in my pocket. “But now you’re an asshole who can text me anything he wants.”
“Anything, huh?”
I’m hoping he’ll assume my cheeks are pink due to the cold and not from imagining him dirty texting me.
My breath hitches when his mouth touches the shell of my ear. “That’s a little inappropriate for a girl who’s in a committed relationship with my brother. Don’t you think?”
A one-sided committed relationship.
Not wanting to let on that he’s ruffling my feathers, I utter, “Relax, Payne. It’s not like I was insinuating that you should send me dick pics.”
There’s a cocky gleam in his eye. “Your phone screen isn’t big enough for those, Meadows.”
Arousal tightens my belly. I’m aware.
The rebuttal I was conjuring up falls by the wayside when a white streak flashes across the sky. “Holy shit, look. It’s a shooting star.”
Despite spending most of my childhood nights stargazing, I’ve never seen one before now.
Closing my eyes, I let my heart take the reins and wish for what it wants most.
This.
I want to laugh with the guy who made me terrible cobbler.
I want him to hold me close and keep me safe whenever my monster lurks out of the shadows.
I want him to take nails and bee stings out of my foot.
I want him to look at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
I want to drown in his quicksand and never come up for air.
I want to be happy.
Because it’s been such a long time since I’ve felt that.
“I’ve been waiting my whole life for one of those.” I turn to look at him. “Have you ever seen one?”
Memphis shakes his head.
“Did you make a wish?”
Another head shake. “Did you?”
“Of course,” I exclaim. “You have to. That’s the whole point.”
I can’t believe he missed the opportunity.
His eyes dart over every inch of my face in a way that makes my knees go weak. “What did you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you, silly. It’s bad luck.”
His mouth quirks. “Says who?”
“The universe,” I utter, gesturing to the sky above us. “Your wish only comes true if you keep it a secret.”
Something passes in his gaze. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
I know, but I want to hear one of his before divulging mine.
“What was your New Year’s resolution?”
“I can’t tell you,” he murmurs, a mocking tilt to his voice.
Damn him. “You’re not playing fair.”
“They’re your rules,” he counters.
It’s hard to argue with that.
I’m not about to risk my real wish, though so I tell him a safe version of it.
The version he’d want.
The only version I’m able to have.
“I wished for you.”
The playful expression wipes clean off his face.
I can’t tell if my admission has shocked or angered him.
But just like that shooting star, I’ll probably never get this opportunity again, so I want to make the most of it.
The other night sparked something inside of me and I don’t want to let go of it. Not without a fight.
However, I know we can’t go back to the way things were between us.
Not only because Memphis isn’t interested in anything more than sex, but it would kill Josh.
Even though he fucks whoever he wants.
I’m so tired of being the only person who’s loyal in our relationship.
Tired of not having my needs met.
Tired of being miserable.
And even though going down this path makes me a terrible person, my self-preservation is hanging by a thread.
I’m drowning in the deep end all by myself.
I promised Josh I wouldn’t give up on him, and I intend to keep that promise…but I deserve a little slice of happiness while he’s off screwing his brains out.
Which is why I’d like to propose a mutually beneficial offer to Memphis.
“I know you think I’m a doormat because I turn a blind eye while my boyfriend fucks groupies behind my back.”
Being so candid with him about this makes me feel like an open wound. It takes everything in me not to turn and run until my lungs give out.
“It used to bother me, but the more time passed…the more numb I’ve become.” I meet his confused stare. “Josh and I have a bond no one else would ever understand, but we’re incompatible when it comes to sex.”
His eyes narrow. “What does your sex life have to do with me?”
Embarrassment courses through me, but I steel myself and power through. “The only time I’ve truly enjoyed sex was with you.” I peer up at him. “I trust you, Memphis. And you said it yourself, you’re good at keeping secrets.”
There’s a softness in his expression as he assesses me, no doubt wondering where the hell I’m going with this.
“I know it was always just sex for you…and that’s exactly what I want now. No strings. No complications. Just sex. Kind of like friends with ben—”
“No.”
His harsh tone makes me do a double take.
“Why? You said you wanted me.”
And he knows damn well that we’re very compatible in the bedroom. It’s a win-win situation.
“Do you love him?”
I blink. “What?”
My heart slams against my ribcage when he hooks a finger under my chin, lifting my face to his. “Do you love my brother?”
It’s near impossible to think about someone else when Memphis is this close, but he asked me a question and he deserves an honest answer.
“Yes.”
But I’m not in love with him.
I clamp my mouth shut, swallowing the secret buried in the deepest layer of my heart.
The one I can never admit.
Because doing so would be the ultimate betrayal to the boy who saved me.
Memphis’s touch falls away and the venomous glare he gives me feels like he’s flaying the skin from my bones. “Looks like we’re both liars.”
With those parting words, he stalks off.
Leaving me with memories of us I can never forget…and a jacket that smells like the home I’ll never have.