Crossing the Line (18 page)

She watched him, wide-eyed. “You’re going to take a layer of skin off your tongue, chugging it that way.”

“Worried I might damage it?” He winked and she laughed, then returned to creating breakfast sandwiches that had a hell of a lot more layers than his basic egg-slapped-on-dry-toast version. He took another sip, this one for pleasure rather than self-preservation. “Is this my coffee?”

“Sort of. I doctored it a bit. Like it?”

“Hell yes. Tastes like dirty dishwater when I make it.” He chuckled at her animated wince. He set the mug down and stood, crossed the small gap between the island and the stove, between him and Hanna. “Now that you’ve shown me how good my formerly bland coffee can taste, you have two choices. Tell me your secret…” He lifted the spatula from her hand and set it aside. “Or stay and make coffee for me every morning.”

“Jeremy, I—”

“Stop.” He shook his head, an action that matched hers, but for different reasons. “Hear me out before you finish telling me no.” He reached behind her, moved the pan from the stove and clicked off the element. “Come and sit,” he said, leading her by the hand to the small sofa in the solarium part of the kitchen.

The robe she’d borrowed from his closet fell open when she sat, exposing her knees and the lower portion of her satiny thighs. She didn’t fidget or try to fix it. Her eyes stayed on his face, her hands joined on her lap. Waiting to hear him out before she let him down. Only maybe she wouldn’t.

“We’ve been friends a long time and probably know the good, the bad and the ugly about each other, in extreme detail.”

Her soft laugh broke the tension. “That’s a safe bet.”

“Sure, knowing that you sound like a dying moose when you blow your nose takes away some of the mystique…”

“Jeremy!”

Christ, she was pretty when she blushed. “Okay, not a dying moose, more of a happy seal.” He grinned as she jabbed him in the chest. “But it’s a worthwhile tradeoff for all the other stuff. We’re already good together, Hanna.” He caught one of her hands and squeezed. “We could be genuinely happy, make each other’s dreams come true. Not fantasies—real dreams.”

“Derrick would never forgive you.”

“Then I’ll give him up.” Hell, he already had. The second he’d kissed his best friend’s wife.

“But I won’t give him up,” she said, pulling her hands away slowly. “The day might come when my heart doesn’t feel like half of it is missing and the raw edge doesn’t ache with every breath, but right now I can’t begin to imagine that time. I don’t want it to come because I don’t want it to be over.”

Yeah, he got that. A hell of a lot more than he’d like, thanks to Viv. He nodded. “Then stay and be my coffee wench. The pay’s shit, but the benefits are pretty damn good.” He finished by waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly, which won him a smile. That’s how she should always look, even if he wouldn’t be the man to see it daily.

She hugged him, pressed her soft cheek to his chest, directly over his heart. “Were you heads or tails?”

Took him a sec, then it clicked. The coin toss. “Heads. Every time.”

“Heads for the head lover, tails for the ass man.” She laughed softly, but the warm, wet drops rolling down his chest told the rest of the story. “Part of me will always wonder what would’ve happened if the coin had landed heads-up.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He buried his nose in her hair one more time. One last time. “Me too.”

* * * * *

Derrick’s cell vibrated on the asphalt beside him. He grabbed a rag to wipe his grease-streaked hands—and thought of Hanna for about the thousandth time since her exit.

He’d ruined a lot of her clothes because he couldn’t keep his filthy hands off her when she’d come out to watch him work on his bike or some other project. She’d never complained, but one day, the stack of neatly folded rags had silently appeared on a shelf near his tools. He’d preferred his solution—that she always be naked around him. Not so practical in a carport with the neighbor’s window six feet away. They’d been socking away extra cash whenever possible to upgrade to a house with a garage in a couple years, but, yeah.

The cell vibrated again, a reminder of the text that’d come in before he veered down memory lane. He knew better than to hope it’d be from Hanna. Next time he heard from her, it’d probably be via a lawyer.

His plan to cut her loose had worked like a fucking charm. He knew she’d never leave him while he was down. He’d had to make her believe he was fine. Better than fine—that he was on top of the fucking world and didn’t need, or want, her around. It’d made him want to puke, making her think he’d cheated. Had to be done, though, so she could move on. Finally have the life she’d always wanted. The things he couldn’t give her.

He cleared the lock screen and tapped the message icon. The blue dot sat next to Jeremy’s name. No surprise there, Derrick had been waiting for some version of this since Friday evening.

The message read,
We need to talk.

Four words nobody ever liked to hear. He tapped a reply and hit send.
So pick up a phone. Say what you have to say.

Not good enough. Has to be in person.

Shit. Figured.
Whatever. When and where?

My house. Now’s good. Going out of town on business tomorrow. Want to settle things before I take off.

Fine by him. He had a few things he’d like to settle with Jer, frankly. He sent,
Be there in fifteen.
He shoved the cell in his pocket, pulled on his helmet and brought the bike roaring to life. Show time—again.

* * * * *

He made the turn onto Jeremy’s street, eyes peeled for one thing only—Hanna’s car. No sign of it in the driveway or parked at the curb. He wasn’t about to relax or read too much into that. The Beetle could be behind the closed garage door. More likely, she’d gone out so she wouldn’t have to see him. Good call on her part.

Jer met him at the door. Dressed in cutoff sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt, he hadn’t shaved and dark circles shadowed his eyes. Dude kinda looked like shit.

“Rough weekend?”

“Worried about me, man?” Jer’s buddy slap to his back had more force than usual—or necessary.

Derrick snorted, leaned on the back of a leather club chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nah, you always land on your feet. Or on my wife.” And it was officially
on
.

“You gave up the right to call her that when you took your dick elsewhere.”

Confirmation that Hanna had run straight over here Friday night. That the condoms he’d planted in his pocket and his lack of denial had convinced her he’d fucked around. He could still picture her face from that night. Shocked at first, then devastated. And angry. The image would probably haunt him forever.

“You told her about the coin toss,” Jeremy said when Derrick remained silent. “Thanks for that. Gave me the perfect opportunity to tell her how I felt back then.” He stepped closer, into Derrick’s space. “And now.”

Baiting him. He stood stone-still. Squeezed his fists into tighter, harder balls.

“All our lives, you’ve cut yourself up, called yourself stupid and not good for much, and I’ve always disagreed. You finally proved me wrong, man. One kiss and I was hooked. Only a stupid fucking prick would let Hanna go after tasting those lips, especially knowing how incredible the rest of the package is.”

His blunt fingernails dug into his palms. He opened his fists, flexed his fingers as his pulse hammered at his temples. A jab to the center of Jer’s smug fucking face would feel so good. “This why you called me over, to rub Hanna in my face? You only have her because I let you.”

“You really think that?” At Derrick’s silence, Jeremy’s mocking laugh filled up the space. “You ignorant, self-obsessed asshole.”

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, tempting him to take a swing, to wipe Jer’s fancy fucking floors with his bloody fucking face. “We done here?”

“Not yet.” Jeremy was either the bravest guy on earth, or the stupidest, because he took another step. “Can you smell her on me, where her head pressed against my shirt while I held her? Is it driving you crazy not knowing what we’ve done since she showed up on my doorstep Friday night?”

“You need to get out of my face. Now.”

“Not until you ask the goddamn question.”

Derrick tried to sidestep him, but the ballsy fucker matched his movement.

“Only two ways out of here, D, and both of them are through me.”

Every cell in his body vibrated.
Hit him
, they demanded.
Crush him.
Inflict the pain, not take it. A mantra that had been beaten into him for years. He blinked, long and slow, drew a deep breath and clenched his fists. Got ready for it. “Did you fuck her?”

“Does it matter?”

“Jesus. You must really want a beating.”

“Not really. Willing to take one, though, to prove a point.”

“And what fucking point is that? That you’re as stupid as I am?”

“Nobody’s
that
stupid right now, D.” This time, his buddy’s laugh had a genuine ring.

The sound defused the ticking bomb inside him, and he dropped into a chair. “You’re right. Fuck.” He blew out a long breath, kicked his legs out and leaned back. “Where is she, anyway?”

Jeremy took the neighboring chair, adopting a similar, exhausted position. “Good question.” At Derrick’s
what the fuck
expression, he added, “I invited her to stay, in any capacity she wanted, and she turned me down. Left this morning.”

“Guess there’s no rush for me to beat the hell out of you.”

“Yeah, because
that
was happening.” Jeremy snorted and motioned at their current positions.

So Jer
had
made a move on Hanna this weekend. That part, he could live with, since he’d pushed her—almost literally—into Jer’s arms, and bed. The two of them made sense in ways he and Hanna never had, and never could. The earlier stuff, though, that tab needed settling. If not with Jeremy’s blood decorating his knuckles, some other way.

“What’s going on with you?” Jeremy asked.

The question brought Derrick back to the moment. “Other than my wife leaving me and my best friend trying his damnedest to bag her for himself? Same old, same old.”

“Hey now. Hanna didn’t leave you, dumbass. You checked out of the relationship with your drinking, sulking and fucking around. As for me, yeah, I tried. Which you expected, if not wanted, me to do when you shunted her out of the house. And now you’re in my living room, one second looking like you want to rip me apart, the next, looking like the sad, solemn kid I used to beg my mom to adopt so he didn’t have to go home anymore.”

Shit. He never could hide the ghosts from Jer. Or from Hanna.

“So I’ll ask you again—what’s going on?”

“I screwed up.”

“Understatement of the year, man. Care to expand on that little gem?”

Spilling his guts to the man who’d slept with his wife. It’d be seriously fucked-up if that man wasn’t Jer. Okay, it was still pretty fucked-up, just a special variety of fucked-up.

“We got back from the resort and everything was amazing. So close to perfect. I walked into her classroom on meet-the-teacher night and for a few minutes, I thought about taking it all the way. Making it one hundred percent perfect, the way she’s always wanted. Getting the snip reversed. I stood there, watching her with all those little kids, and I was halfway to planning how I’d surprise her with the news.”

Jeremy nodded, a series of long, slow bobs that reminded Derrick of one of those old, drinking bird toys with the top hat and long beak that’ll keep dipping its head because of perpetual motion. “Then the parking lot shit happened.”

“Yeah.”

“And suddenly you decided that more threesome lovin’ would be better than a loving family?”

“Jesus, you’re a pain in my ass.”

“Ditto, man, but here we are.” Jeremy leaned forward, elbows on the arms of the chair with his fingers tented together in the space between. “You want her back?”

Easy answer. “Doesn’t matter what I want.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. It matters what Hanna wants. And that’s you. So pull your head out of your ass, nail your demons in a box, and practice groveling, man. After the shit you pulled, you owe her, big time.”

“Why’re you telling me this when I know you want her too?”

“Because Hanna’s been in love with you every minute of the last ten years, and she doesn’t want that to change.”

Much as he wanted to leap from the chair and go find her, he wasn’t quite finished here. “What about you—are you in love with her?”

The weight of the question hung between them for a good, long minute before Jeremy answered. “I care about her. And I won’t lie, it would be very easy to fall in love with Hanna, but no, I’m not.” He stood, offered a hand. “We good?”

“Yeah.” He rose from his chair, shook Jer’s hand, then pulled him into a hug. “We’re good.”

As they slapped and released, Jeremy said, “In that case, I’ve got one more thing to tell you. Something you should know if you’re going to try and move forward, but she might not want to tell you.”

“About the pregnancy.” Saying the word made his throat raw. But he’d just keep saying it until it didn’t. “Don’t worry, I’ll support any choice she makes. I’ll be a good dad, or stepdad. Or whatever. I promise you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, D.”

“I heard the two of you in our kitchen. The morning after I told you to fuck her because I couldn’t get it up.”

“Still no clue what you’re getting at.”

Jesus. Jer was gonna make him spell it out? Fine. “She was glad I hadn’t overheard the two of you the night before, and made you promise not to tell me about the big event happening in nine months—the thing that she’s always wanted. This ringing the daddy-to-be bell for you?”

“Goddamn.” A fucking light bulb might as well have clicked on over Jeremy’s head. “I’m still not telling you what I promised to keep quiet about, but I’m sure she will if you stop acting like an ass and jumping to conclusions all over the place.”