Cross the Line (Boston Love Story #2) (23 page)

“Oh, honey.” Lila’s laughter is so loud, it hurts my eardrums. “You really bought that bullshit?”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“Swear to god, Temperance Brennan on
Bones
is more in touch with her emotions than you are. And it took her
seven seasons
to tell Booth she loved him.
Seven
.”

“Can we get back to the part where you said Operation SPANK was a complete and total lie?”

She snorts. “Still the best code name ever. But yeah… I hate to break it to you, but there’s no
severing
anything. Especially not your attachment to Nathaniel Knox.”

My fingers grip my kneecap so tight the knuckles go white. “Your exact words were
the best way to get over someone is to get under them
.”

“Phoebe. Honey. I knew from the start you’d never be able to make it
just sex
with Nate. You love him. You’ve always loved him. That doesn’t just go away, especially if you take it to the next level.”

“Then why the hell would you push me to go after him?” I practically scream. “Do you want me to get my heart broken?”

“No! Of course not.” She sighs deeply and adopts a rare, somber tone. “I want you to be happy. And for the past ten years, you haven’t been.”

“That’s not true,” I protest weakly.

“Being content and being happy are not the same thing,” she says. “Do you know how sad it makes me to see you pining away, year after year, over the same guy and refusing to go after him because you’re too scared to take a chance? Scared to get hurt again?” Her voice breaks. “Do you know how freaking heartbreaking it is to see someone you care about paralyzed by their own self-doubt? To hear them question that they’re worthy of love?”

“Lila—” I try to interrupt, but she plows on.

“I knew the only way I’d get you to even
talk
about the Knox situation was if I framed it as a plan to help you get over him,” she says, exasperation in her tone. “And I also knew as soon as you walked back into his life, once you gave him a tiny indication that you were still interested in him… he wouldn’t be able to push you away.”

“You couldn’t possibly know that,” I snap.

“Except I did.” She sighs deeply. “Don’t you get it? The two of you are so alike — so stubborn, so hot-tempered, and so, so utterly blind to the fact that you need each other like normal people need air.”

“But—”

“Has he pushed you away, since this whole thing started?” she asks. “Has he been distant and cold?”

“Well—”

“No.” She answers her own question. “He hasn’t walked away. He’s shown up more than ever. He’s been intense. Angry. Passionate. Domineering, even. But not cold. Not distant. Because he knows deep down, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he needs you just as much as you need him.”

My throat contracts. I’m so mad at her I can barely breathe, at the moment, but there’s an insistent voice at the back of my head telling me maybe, just maybe…. She’s right.

“You played me,” I say finally. “Best friends are supposed to be honest with each other.”

“Maybe.” Her voice is small but full of sincerity. “But best friends also do everything they can to make the other happy. Even if doing it gets them in trouble.”

“Lila…” My voice shakes as I force myself to confront the real reason I’m so upset. “What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t want me? What if it really is just sex to him?”

“I’m not wrong.” Her voice is confident.

I chew my lip. “How can you be sure?”

“Because the only time the ghosts disappear from his eyes is when he’s looking at you.”

Can we all just agree that people

with pet birds are weird?

Phoebe West, genuinely curious why everyone

on earth doesn’t own a teacup Pomeranian.

I’m quiet when the boys come back that night. I know it freaks them out — I’m many things, but
introspective
isn’t typically one of them. They don’t say anything, but I feel their eyes on me as we eat dinner at the kitchen island — Nate on the stool beside mine, Parker straight across from us.

“You feeling okay, Sweet P?” Parker asks.

I nod and take another bite of mashed potatoes.

“I only ask, because the last time you were this quiet was when we picked you up from the Sadie Hawkins dance with the purse-puker. What was his name, again?”

“Duncan,” Nate mutters quietly.

I glance at him, surprised he even remembers that night let alone my date’s first name. He stares searchingly at my expression and I know he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. I force my gaze back to my plate so he can’t read the emotions in it.

“Right. D-bag Duncan.” Parker shoves another hunk of steak in his mouth.

“He’s not a d-bag. Even if he did puke in my favorite clutch and fail to ever call me again.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a surprise he didn’t call you,” Parker says.

My eyes lift to shoot daggers at my brother. “What the hell does that mean? It’s
no surprise
a guy wouldn’t call me back? Are you saying I’m not worthy of common courtesy? That any guy wouldn’t be
lucky
to date me?” My voice is icy.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sweet P,
chill
. That’s not what I meant at all.” Parker looks from me to Nate and back again. “I just meant I’m not surprised he didn’t call you, considering Nate gave him a black eye the day after the dance and told him to stay the hell away from you.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

He nods.

My gaze moves to Nate, who’s scowling at his plate. “You did
what
?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Nate’s voice is cold. “Why are you digging up ancient history?”

“How did I not know about this?” I ask.

Parker shrugs. “I don’t know. Could’ve sworn you knew. Lila never told you?”

“No.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know either, then.”

I shake my head, torn between awe and mortification.  “But…” I stare at Nate. He ignores me. “Why the hell would you do that?”

There’s a long pause before his eyes finally flicker over to meet mine. “He deserved it.”

“It was just a purse,” I whisper, voice shocked.

“It wasn’t just a purse.” Nate’s jaw clenches. “The next day I heard he was bragging about how he was going to be the first to….”

My eyebrows go up when he trails off.

He sighs. “The first to nail Phoebe West.”

I glance at Parker.

“It’s true,” he confirms. “Believe me, if Nate hadn’t gotten there first, I would’ve beaten the shit out of him myself.”

I sit there in stunned silence. “What a dick,” I murmur finally. “He never even danced with me, you know. Not
once
. Which was bad enough. Then he puked in my purse, which just added insult to injury. And now you tell me he was bragging in the locker room about
nailing me
?”

“It wasn’t actually in a locker room—” Parker starts.

“It’s a figure of speech!” I snap. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to ask Lila to set me up with him again this year! Did he think he could finish what he started ten years ago?
D-Bag Duncan strikes again
?!”

“He did what?” Nate asks, voice dark.

When I glance over at him and see the ominous look on his face, I quickly backtrack. “Nothing! Nothing.”

His eyes narrow.

“Please don’t kill him,” I whisper. “He may be a douche, but he’s my best friend’s older brother. And it was about a million years ago. It doesn’t matter.” 

“You still think about that night?” Nate asks intently. “Still remember being sad, getting your feelings hurt?”

Maybe
, but not for the reasons he thinks I do. I don’t dwell on Duncan when I remember that night — instead, I remember how in love with Nate I was at fourteen. How much I wanted it to be
him
, slipping a corsage around my wrist, leading me out onto the dance floor. But I can’t say that now. Not without sounding like some kind of crazy person.

“Do you?” he prompts.

“Sometimes,” I admit, shrugging. “But—”

“Then it matters.” His voice is intent. “Someone hurts you, it matters. Always.”

Staring into his eyes, so bright with passion, I have to remind myself to breathe. The moment stretches on with our stares locked together, lengthening into something heavy and hard to swallow. He shifts on his stool, I sway on mine, and for a crazy instant I wonder what would happen if I leaned forward and closed the distance between us right here during dinner…

“Well, then.” Parker’s voice is wry as he interrupts the moment. Frankly, I’d forgotten he was still sitting there. “How ‘bout them Red Sox, huh?”

When I glance his way, cheeks flaming bright red, I see he’s fighting to hide a smile.

I can’t seem to formulate a single word, at the moment, so I take another bite of mashed potatoes and order myself not to think about eighteen-year-old Nate beating the shit out of my Sadie Hawkins date all those years ago. Because thinking that he was looking out for me back then, when I’ve spent years convincing myself he didn’t know I existed… when I’ve always thought I was totally invisible to him….

That may just make me fall even harder for him. 

Thankfully, the conversation shifts as Nate and Parker begin a semi-heated debate about the new Sox pitcher. After a few minutes, I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten my existence…. until I feel Nate’s hand slide onto my thigh beneath the counter ledge, out of view. His grip is firm, but casual. Natural. Like he does it all the time.

I suck in a breath and try not to fall off my stool.

He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word. But his hand never moves for the rest of the meal.

***

The sound of the faucet drowns out Parker and Nate’s hushed conversation across the loft, which makes it nearly impossible to eavesdrop while I’m washing the dishes. So, I’m surprised I’m able to hear the slight buzzing of a cellphone against the wood counter on the other side of the kitchen.

Lured toward the sound like a moth to flame, I narrow my eyes when I see it’s the burner phone Tink gave me, its screen illuminated with an incoming call. A glance behind me shows the boys are still deep in conversation across the loft.

Before I have time to ponder all the reasons it’s a terrible idea, I lift the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Thought I told you to toss the burner phone.”

“Tink?”

“Listening isn’t your strong suit, huh?”

Sigh. “If you thought I’d tossed it, why bother calling at all?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.” I can almost hear her eyes rolling in their sockets. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“You barely know me!”

“I know enough.”

“Did you call to harass me?” My words are snippy.

“No, I called to warn you.”

“Do you have some kind of savior-complex I should know about, Tink?” I press a hand to my chest and gasp. “Are you my fairy godmother!?”

“Just shut up and listen to me.” I hear a sound in the background, like fingers clacking against a keyboard at hyper-speed. “You wouldn’t happen to be at your boyfriend’s place in Seaport?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I hiss.

“So you’re there.” Her voice gains an edge it didn’t have before. “Listen, you have to leave. Pronto.”

There’s a sudden presence at my side. I turn and see Nate looming over me, eyes narrowed on the phone in my hand.

“Who is it?” he asks, voice ominous.

“That your boyfriend?” Tink asks through the phone.

“He’s not my—” I break off when I catch sight of Parker hovering close behind Nate. “It’s Tinkerbell,” I inform them wearily.

“Yo! Princess!” Her voice is impatient. “Heads up or I’m hanging up.”

“Put it on speaker,” Nate commands. His voice books no room for argument.

I sigh and hit the button to trigger the speaker.

“Gang’s all here,” I inform Tink. “You’ve got the floor.”

There’s a furious sound of typing, then a low curse. “Great. Let’s hope at least one of you has a brain.” She curses again, distracted by something. “Turns out we stepped on a few toes the other night, when I broke you out. O’Pry and Petey are pretty fucking pissed we got the jump on them. Ruined their plan to make good with the big boss and all. They’ve been trying to track you down. Paid a visit to your place in Back Bay earlier.”

“How do you know where I live?” I ask, surprised.

“I have men stationed at the brownstone.” Nate answers before she can. “No one’s getting in.”

My eyes fly to his face. “How many
men
do you have, exactly?”

His lips twitch at the incredulity in my tone. “Enough.”

“Focus,” Tink snaps. “I don’t have all day to listen to your inept sexual foreplay.” 

I roll my eyes. “You’re a jerk.”

“I prefer ball-buster, but I’ll take what I can get.” Her smile is audible. “Anyway, no luck at your place means they’re casting their net wider. Cell pings say Seaport is their next stop — unless their phones have grown legs and decided to go for a stroll through Fort Point on their own.”

A thought suddenly occurs to me. “Are they coming after you, too? If they know you’re the one who helped me…” I can’t help but be worried for the little blonde imp.

“I can take care of myself.” The confidence in her tone is unshakeable. “I tapped into Mac’s server. His boys are headed your way, not mine.”

“You’re a hacker?” I ask, surprised.

There’s a brief pause. “I prefer hacktivist.”

My head tilts. “Isn’t that like calling a garbage man a
waste management official
?”

“Detritus disposal technician,” Parker offers, grinning.

Nate glares at us both. I bury a laugh.

There’s a pause from Tink’s end, then, “Who’s that?”

“My brother.” I glance at Parker. His eyes haven’t shifted off the phone once since she started speaking.

“Just what we need right now — a man-whoring party boy.” She grumbles under her breath. “I don’t even know why I’m bothering with you people. Maybe I should just let natural selection take its course…”

“Because you’re such a kind hearted soul?” I offer.

She laughs outright at that — a light, joyous sound that’s totally at odds with her personality. “Yeah, that’s it.” Her sarcasm is thick. “Now shut up and listen. I’ve been tracking some of Mac’s boys since the other night. They’re headed your way and I don’t think they come bearing fruit baskets, if you catch my drift.”

“They’ll never get inside.” Nate’s voice is cold. “My security system is impenetrable. And even if they somehow managed to breach it…” His eyes narrow further. “I’d take care of it.”

Shiver
.

“Okay, macho-man. We get it. You’re packing heat.” Tink snorts. “Point is, Mac’s boys have put a hit out on your girl. You’re standing in their way. That means they’re coming for you, and they won’t stop until they’ve got what they want.”

“And they want me?” I sigh. “
Again
?”

“They tried that. Didn’t work. Now, they’re pissed. They want their money or they want West blood,” Tink clarifies. “You need to talk to your father. Get him to pay up. Otherwise…” She trails off, keys clacking again.

“You could be making all of this up. How do we know we can trust you?” I ask.

“Sweetie.” She laughs. “I don’t give a fuck if you trust me. All I know is, you should leave that loft. When Mac’s boys are involved, things have a tendency to go up in flames.”

She clicks off.

My eyes move from the phone to Nate to Parker. We’re all totally silent for a full minute, contemplating her words.

“Is she as hot in person as she sounds on the phone?” Parker asks eventually.

I whack him on the arm. “Don’t even think about it. She’s totally out of your league.”

“No one’s out of my league,” he mutters, rubbing the spot where I hit him.

“Question is, do we believe her?” I ask, looking at Nate.

His eyes are active, face hard-set. After a moment, he nods. “We don’t have a reason not to.”

“She did save my life,” I concede. “Even if she complained the whole time.”

Parker grins. “Personally, I think we should track this Tinkerbell down.”