Forever Together (Forever Love #2) (27 page)

"Well why didn’t you fucking say anything?" Fools! I’m working with fools!

"I don’t know," He shrugs. "You said you knew where he lived."

"Ok, ok let’s reverse. You know where his new house is Tuck?"

"That blue house on Prescott Lane."

"Ok. Noah, you can shut the fuck up now. Tuck, you’re an ass for not mentioning shit. Now let’s back it up, back it up. We got some garbage cans to fill."

Chapter 19

Cindy

I hastily exit Bobs office, gently closing the door behind me and pressing the answer button on my phone to answer Liv’s call. It’s been ringing nonstop for the past five minutes which brought my conversation, or groveling, depends which
way
you wanna
look at it,
call it
to a swift conclusion.

"Hello?" I answer, slightly out of breath from
the rush to the door before the call hung up
rushing out the door.
.
There’s
only so many times you can listen to th
e opening verse of Lady Gaga's ‘Born this way’.

"Shit how long does it take you to answer the damn phone?" Liv huffs through the phone.

"Sorry I was busy, everything ok?"

"Were you getting down and dirty? Actually don’t answer that. I don’t need details of Dickwad’s sex life. Gross. Anyway, that’s not why I’m calling. Did you hear about what happened?"

"Erm no?"

"Of course you haven’t. Seriously ever since you and Brady got back together it’s like you
’
r
e
living in a bubble. Pam got a call this morning from that super bitch with the beehive hair."

"Mrs. Lake?" She is a bitch.

"Uh huh. Apparently they found Chris Lyons this morning-"

"Dead?" I gasp. Can a slap kill someone? Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

"Calm down. No he wasn’t dead." I can hear Liv snicker through the phone. "He was found covered in white paint though, butt ass naked in the trash at the back of the grocery store. He wasn’t beaten or anything unfortunately but he was mighty pissed. The beehive bitch said he was going crazy on the sidewalk, screaming at the cops about a kidnap while white paint dripped off him."

"You're kidding?" I can’t stop the little giggle escaping. It definitely couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

"Apparently three masked assailants grabbed him from his bed early this morning, stripped him off, bundled him in
to
a car and threw him in the trash before tipping a can of white house paint over his head. The lid was wedged shut with something so he had to wait till one of the pimply kids
working
in the grocery store let him out"

A million thoughts run through my head as Liv talks. There’s one at the forefront that can’t be ignored though.

"You don’t think-"

"Oh yeah
.
,
I mean I was dead to the world as soon as I hit the pillow. What about you?"

"Same." I sigh. Damn Brady and his protective ways.

"I’m guessing they snuck out."

"Should we confront them?" 

"Are you kidding me?" Liv laughs. "They probably think they’re so slick. Can you imagine them all? I guarantee they acted like they were in the fucking CIA. May as well just leave them be."

"What if they get in trouble?" I’m pretty sure a police officer kidnapping a civilian is a biggy.

"They won’t. The cops aren’t even taking it seriously. They’re saying it’s some prank that Chris didn’t find funny." I hear a door slam in the background. "Oh shit, Noah’s back. He had to go in the station this morning and take the chief a strawberry and cream frappuccino. Apparently he’s on butt kissing duty. I'll call you later, Cind
y
." Before I even get chance to respond, the line goes dead. Charming.

I shake my head and walk into the kitchen, not keen on the idea of Brady catching me near Bobs office. That’s so not a conversation I’m ready to have yet, at least not until we've had a couple more important ones anyway.

When you're locked in a cell for three hours there's not much to do but think and I sure did a lot of thinking last night. After spending half an hour annoying everyone by singing songs in our drunken states, we then proceeded to argue over whose fault the whole disaster of a night was. I’m pretty sure there was a unanimous decision that it was mine. Hell, after Liv and Trina listed their arguments out even I was in agreement that I was to blame.

As we sobered up, that’s when the thinking came. With the background music of Trina’s soulful harmonica, yeah I’m n
o
o
t even gonna ask where she pulled that from, Liv's words from earlier in the night replayed in my head. 

"You have talked about it right? I mean, I’m guessing you two had a long conversation about why the fuck you broke up in the first place and what to do to stop that shit happening again, right? Right? You two did talk?"

I guess when I started doing the whole non avoidance thing I forgot to include the biggest thing I’m avoiding of all. Yep, what happens next? The truth is I don’t wanna talk about why we broke up. I don’t wanna talk about what we do come the end of Summer? I just want to bask in the glow of being finally happy after so many months being heartbroken. Can’t I just do that forever?

The last few weeks have been amazing, breathtaking, incredible, I don’t know how many more words I can use to describe it but they're all right.

When I look back six months ago, the reasons for mine and Brady’s break up seem so insignificant. I know it’s a conversation that needs to be had though. It’s the only way we'll ever be able to truly move on. We need to get everything on the table, lay everything bare. I just hope it makes us rather than breaks us.

I lean on the white marble countertop, the ice cold surface coming into contact with my bare forearms and giving me the shivers.

“Oh Cindy honey, there you are. Have you seen Bob?”

I turn around to see Brady’s mom. Considering the last time I saw her she wasn’t in the best of states, she looks as made up as ever. Her hair lies in big spiral curls over her shoulders, her makeup is light and flawless and the purple pantsuit is sophisticated paired with
what
I’m sure
are
a pair of very expensive black patent wedges. They may be obscenely expensive but I’ve still got a case of extreme shoe envy.

“Erm I think he’s in his office.”

“Oh that man never stops working.”

“How are you feeling this morning?” I ask.

“A little peaky but it’s nothing a little Tylenol and water won’t fix. I had such a wonderful night but it’s all a little fuzzy. I had the weirdest dream though. There was a cowboy. A very heavy cowboy.”

“Oh.” I snicker.

“I suppose it was just the alcohol. Anyway I better go and fetch my workaholic husband. We need to be in Atlanta by this evening and there’s a storm on the way. A storm in mid-July!”

I don’t like the
sound
thought
of
that
a sto
r
m
but laugh along anyway as Rachel swans out the room
in
towards
the direction of Bobs office.

I catch sight of a ball of fluff creeping in. Brian pads across the floor with a bone bigger than his head. How the hell is he even holding it in?              

“Hey little guy, you enjoying that?” I coo while I tickle behind his ear and he nuzzles into my hand. “That’s a big bone for such a little mouth.”

“Brian’s a man, he needs man food.” Brady’s gruff voice reaches me. Looking up, he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a megawatt smile on his face that sends my insides to jelly and my hormones into overdrive.

“Brian’s not a man. He’s a little baby.”

“Don’t say shit like that to him, Cinders. You’ll hurt his feelings. How you doing this morning, my little rebel?”

I roll my eyes at the reminder of the most embarrassing night of my life. Seriously, can’t we just forget it ever happened and when we discuss Liv’s bachelorette party in future, act like it was a perfect night that ended soberly and not behind bars?

I need a change of subject but from the smug look on Brady’s face I’m not gonna get it.

“So Liv called earlier. Chris Lyons was found in a dumpster covered in paint. Apparently he was able to ID his attackers and they’re just keeping it on the down low at the minute until they can arrest them. Damn I sure feel sorry for him but from the sounds of it they’re really gonna chuck the book at whoever did this.”

I bite my lip to stop myself giving the game away and watch as the color drains from Brady’s face and his eyes take on a look similar to what you’d expect a cornered wild animal to get.

“R-really? They’re gonna throw the book at ‘em?” Brady stutters, the smile long gone.

“Uh huh. Apparently the paint they used had some type of toxic chemical in so they’re gonna try and get them with attempted murder.”

“I need to go make a call.”

I hide the laughter behind my hand as he legs it out the room. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move that fast.

I give myself a mental pat on the back and resist the urge to bow after my stellar acting skills. Well ok maybe they weren’t stellar since this is Brady we’re talking about but it doesn’t stop the pride. It almost makes me forget the conversation we’re about to have.

***

“You’re a cruel ass woman, Cindy Martin.” Brady says with a somber shake of his head.

“It was a little funny.” I shrug sheepishly
.
,
T
t
he humor drained from the situation about an hour and twenty complaints ago.

“Funny!?” He spit’s. “I thought I was a fucking fugitive. I was ready to get the hell outta dodge and head the fuck out to Mexico. Brian would’ve had to wear a sombrero. A fucking sombrero!”

I start to phase out Brady’s voice and focus on the sound of the heavy rain beating against the windows, the water droplets pouring down. The wind is whistling and I can hear the distant sound of crashing. It’s probably a trash can rolling down the drive way.

The weather pretty much matches my emotions right now. One giant disaster. I’m torn between appreciating the moment, enjoying this happiness for however long it lasts and taking one final plunge, putting it all out there and potentially ending it. I know Brady and I need to talk. I know there are things that need to be said. I just need to work up the courage and do it. No hesitation, no avoidance. Easier said than done though.

“Brady.” I sigh.

“Not talking to you.” I can see the pout pulling on his lips, perfectly shaped and pink that I’m just itching to lay mine against.

This is so not the time to get all frisky but with Brady sitting not four feet away with that adorable look on his face and that mouthwatering body of his it’s hard to resist.

Biting my bottom lip, I stand up, the back of my bare legs brushing against the soft fabric of the sofa. Brady’s pupils dilate as his eyes take me in. They drag from my uncovered legs past the short denim
and right up to my breasts.

“Those shorts are really fucking short.” He says, his eyes still glued to my chest.

“Uh huh.” I take a step towards him.

“And that top’s really fucking tight.”

“Yep.” My hips sway seductively.

“You sorry?” His voice breaks a little on the last word as his breathing quickens, his chest rising up and down faster and faster. From the look at his shorts, it’s not the only thing rising.

“Very.”

“Good.” Brady growls as he grips the back of my legs and yanks me towards him.

I grip onto his shoulders digging my nails into his skin. We should be talking. We should be having an adult conversation about our relationship and future. Sex shouldn’t be getting in the way. I am an independent woman with control over her own body. I can put a stop to this. Totally.

“Oh screw it.” I gasp, grabbing Brady’s face and pulling it to mine.

His lips are soft and when they open the taste of minty toothpaste bursts onto my tongue. His hands move upwards from the back of my thighs to my ass, squeezing and groping along the way. Still staying attached, I move forwards and straddle him
, grindi
ng
. I can feel his hardness rubbing against me, only a few scraps of fabric between us
as I grind against him
.

“I love you.” He pants.

“I love you too.” I seize the bottom of his shirt and pull it up, lifting it over his head and throwing it to the side.

His chest is smooth and hard with muscle that’s almost like armor. I rub my hands up and down, running them over every ridge, every ab. I lift my arms up as Brady peels my tank up slowly, revealing inches of pale skin. I’m left in only a white and grey satin bra covering my breasts. My hands are still exploring his body but are quickly put to a stop when they’re snatched up.

“My turn.”