Unruly (11 page)

But I was a Southern woman, and that meant that I knew that tea and food were step one of sorting out most troubles. That was why we were at Mama's Grub and Grill. It was a little family diner. The front of the building was actually a shiny trailer that had been attached as a room expansion to the diner a few years back. It was a quick and dirty way to add a room, but it worked and I liked the look of it. Aubrey stopped and stared at it briefly, but then she smiled. That was one of the things I liked about her: She was surprised now and again by things that were not unusual here, but she adjusted and saw the upside rather than turn up her nose. I appreciated that my newly transplanted friend saw the beauty in the South rather than dismissing it.

“Let's get a table,” I suggested as we crossed the lot toward the diner.

Aubrey nodded, her gaze taking in pickup trucks and battered cars. It was far from a classy joint, but there wasn't any place that had better food—except my mother's table.

We weren't even in the door before we were stopped by the roar of a Harley. I hoped for a heartbeat that it was Alamo or even Killer. It wasn't. The biker most awkward to run into was the one blocking our way.

“Are you okay?” Noah asked in lieu of a greeting. I was fairly sure he was talking to Aubrey, but his gaze was on me.

“Yeah,” she said.

“She and Killer sorted things out.” I crossed my arms. It wasn't that he was a bad guy. He was still my friend, and I wanted to sort out my lingering anger with him, but I also wanted him not to screw up the good thing that Aubrey had found with Killer. I leveled my best glare on Noah and warned him, “And
you
best not be stirring up trouble.”

Then I linked my arm with Aubrey's, led her around him, and headed toward the front door. I opened it with a jerk, and I led her past the hostess stand and to a booth. I'd been coming here too long to bother waiting to be seated. None of the regulars did.

When I looked up to see Noah headed toward us a few moments later, it took far too much effort not to get ugly. I didn't
want
to fight with him, but he was so willfully obtuse sometimes that I couldn't help myself either. Aubrey was none of his business, and she wasn't going to speak freely with him there. He had to know that.

Noah slid in beside me just as the waitress came and handed us two menus.

“Sorry, I can bring another one,” she said.

“Nah, I'll share.” Noah scooted closer to me, using the menu as an excuse to move in far too near me.

Once the waitress turned away, I glared at Noah again and slid the menu toward him. “Here. I don't need it.”

He leaned back and draped his arm over my shoulder. “Me either.”

He grinned and didn't move away. It stung, the way he was being casual and easy when I was realizing how unhealthy we'd been for years. Then he added, “Burger, fries, strawberry shake . . . and onion rings unless you're free for a ride.”

I flipped him off, but I said nothing. My temper was burning to burst out. I wasn't going to repeat this same pattern that we'd been locked in. I knew it wasn't fair of me to expect him to have an epiphany just because I did, but my temper wasn't sparked just by that. Even if I hadn't realized what a fucked-up mess we'd made of things, I would be angry at his casual attitude right now.

“How did you know where we were?” Aubrey asked Noah, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“Miss Bitty.”

“My mama,” I interjected.

“Right.” Aubrey frowned in confusion. “But we just decided to come here.”

Noah laughed. “You were upset. That means Ellen would bring you here. Comfort food. It's how the South works.”

Despite myself, I smiled. When he was sweet like that, I remembered the boy who had been my friend. He was the one who took me to buy tampons the first time because I didn't want to have a “you're a woman now” conversation with my mother. Back then, every milestone led to tears and wishes that my father was there. The idea that my father would want to hear about my first period was ludicrous, but my mother had put him up on a pedestal at that point, so she didn't hear a lot of logic. Noah Dash was my best friend—and now we were acting like strangers.

And I didn't know how to get us back to being friends.

By the time we ordered, I felt less tense. Aside from that brief moment, Noah was acting like himself, seeming like my friend again. I looked at Aubrey and pointed at her. In a faux serious voice, I warned her, “There will be spilling of secrets. Don't think this reprieve means I'm letting it go.”

“Yes, ma'am,” she said.

Noah laughed. “Someone else unwilling to face your wrath. Smart move, Aubrey. Smart move.”

I flipped him off in reply. Rather than take the hint, Noah hauled me closer and tried to kiss my cheek. It was a step too far.

I shoved him away so hard that I almost slid out of the booth.

Noah scowled. “What the fuck was
that
?”

“You're pretty, but . . .” I shrugged, trying to make it a joke.

I really didn't want to have this conversation, not here, and not in front of Aubrey. She had no idea that we had a history, and I wanted to keep it that way. For the first time in all the years of secrecy, I was the one who didn't want to tell anyone about what we used to be. It was a sad sort of funny that I now wanted the exact opposite of what I had wanted, but I saw no need to talk about what we no longer were. Doing that would only cause pain. It was precisely what I didn't want.

“I'm pretty but
what
?” Noah sounded genuinely hurt as he echoed my words, and I hated that my heart ached. I didn't want this. What I wanted was to shove it all into the past and try to be friends. What I wanted was to make it crystal clear to
both
Noah and Alamo that I was single, and that I was not going to go backward. I was working on the future, and dwelling in the past was useful only in that it made clear what I
didn't
want.

Instead of looking at Noah, I shrugged again, took a sip of soda, and said lightly, “Let it go, Noah.”

“Ellie—”

“Drop it.” I elbowed him. I looked at Aubrey. “He's just jealous because I'm not interested.”

Noah's snort was his only reply, but his body grew tense.

“Poor babe's been pining for me since we were . . . what?”—I glanced at Noah and tried again to sound lighter—“ten years old?”

“Only because everyone else was afraid of your temper,” he teased back with a little smile. “Seriously, Aubrey, she was the scariest kid ever. Even
Killer
was afraid of her.”

“Respect, not fear,” I corrected. I took another drink and looked back at him. I met his gaze and said, “Unless you want to start a fight, Noah Eli Dash, you best be minding that tongue of yours. I'm still in possession of that temper.”

He stared at me for a long moment before saying, “I haven't forgot anything, Ellie Belly.”

“Ellen,” I corrected tersely.

Something in my tone must've been revealing because Aubrey kicked me under the table and said, “So Ellen and I went to the movies . . .”

He looked at Aubrey, and the conversation shifted to an intentionally innocuous topic. I almost wanted to interrupt him on more than one occasion and ask him to notice how much better we were as friends, but there was no way to do that until Aubrey wasn't at the table.

I got my chance about twenty minutes later when she went to the ladies' room.

Pitching my voice low enough that no one would overhear me, I asked, “What are you
thinking
?”

“What?”

“We
split
, Noah.”

“We were never together,” he corrected, almost automatically.

My temper spiked, and I kept myself from shoving him by sheer willpower. “Well, whatever we were, it won't be happening again, so mind the space a bit.”

He frowned at me. “What did I do that you're so mad?”

I sighed at the sheer immensity of his cluelessness. “I'm not mad, Noah. I just don't want you to get in my space or make cracks about being with you. Everyone else might think you're just being flirty, but I
know
you.”

“So saying I want to see you is
wrong
now? I thought you weren't mad. That sounds a lot like mad.” His voice was going as rough-edged as I felt. “I'm trying to figure this out, Ellie, but you're not making it easy.”

“There's nothing to figure out.” I met and held his gaze. “Let it go. I'm done. I've been done. We're
done
.”

This time he sighed. “Well, when you feel like telling me what I did, let me know. I want things to be right with us again.”

My anger fled like he'd just dowsed it with ice water. “I do too, but the right
I
want is us being friends.”

“Me too,” he started.

“No,” I corrected. “
Friends
, Noah. Not what we were. Just friends.”

Then Aubrey started toward us, and I said, “Drop it.”

He frowned again, but by the time Aubrey slid into the booth, he looked like he had when she left. I was grateful for that, at least. The rest would get sorted out in time. Either he'd believe me eventually or he'd have no choice but to believe me once I was seeing someone else. I'd prefer that he accepted the truth before I started dating anyone, but if I got a shot at getting past Alamo's walls, I was going to take it and damn the consequences.

Chapter 10

A
FEW DAYS LATER
,
MY OWN DRAMA WAS THE LAST THING
on my mind. I was standing in my laundry room, a pair of jeans in my hand, and singing loud enough that Mama had opened her bedroom door. She was still tiptoeing around me about it, but she and I both knew that I was becoming increasingly comfortable with it.

I got a call from Killer's number. We weren't much on phone calls. In fact I couldn't remember the last time he'd just up and called me. “Killer?”

“No, it's me,” Noah said.

I felt the jeans fall to the floor, vaguely hearing the thump as they landed on the ground. I didn't even need to ask to know something was wrong. I could hear it in Noah's voice, and there weren't a lot of reasons Killer would surrender his phone.

“Is he . . .”

“He's okay, Ellie.” Noah sounded as rough as I suddenly felt. “He's going to be okay, at least. Unconscious still, but the surgery went—”

“Surgery?”

“He was shot,” Noah said.

The simple words made me shake. There were things that were a reality in our world. Getting shot or arrested was always a risk, especially for Killer. It was why I was grateful that Noah hadn't been patched into the club when Killer had been.

“What happened? I thought he was getting out and—”

“Not work. There was a break-in at Aubrey's place.” Noah explained the whole mess, and all I could think was that everyone was lucky that Killer was going to be okay, especially when Noah added, “And Echo's openly admitting he's Killer's dad. He's here, and so are Aubrey and Mrs. Evans.”

“Yeah? That's something, right?”

Mama walked in and looked at me. I guessed that my lack of singing was a big whopping clue that something was wrong, but my voice carried enough that she knew to come check on me.

Her arms wrapped around me as Noah said, “Apparently, he and Echo sorted that out earlier, and then . . . this.”

I closed my eyes and leaned against my mother. “Killer's okay, though. You promise?”

“Yeah. Pinkie swear.”

I nodded, even though Noah obviously couldn't see me. Then I added, “You be careful, too.”

“They arrested the guys who—”

“Just say yes, Noah. You two have been my best friends forever. No matter what we are now, you're my friends. Tell Killer I love him . . . and you.”

“Ellie—”

“Not that sort of love, Noah. Not for either of you. Friend love. ‘I'd be crushed if you died' love. That's all.” I felt tears on my cheeks, and all I could think about was the last time the phone rang with bad news. Then it was my father. It was me holding Mama as she crumbled. It was the end of normal.

“I'll tell him,” Noah promised. “We care about
you
too, Ellie Belly. I know Killer does, and I . . . I miss us being friends.”

I nodded again, but all I could say was, “Be safe.”

Then I disconnected and told Mama, “Killer was shot, but he's okay.”

My mother straightened up and looked me in the eye. “I'll call Dar and see what Echo needs. We'll look in on that schoolteacher of Echo's too.”

“They're all at the hospital.” I rested my forehead on her shoulder for a minute. “He's okay. Killer's okay. He could've . . .”