Breaking Lacy (Nick & Lacy Book 1) Page 19

  “But-”

  “Lace, I appreciate it, I do. You don’t know what it does for my ego that you have this much faith in me, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for starters, where am I going to find the time?”

  “You have plenty of time in the evenings. I’ll take on more of the chores, and you have the weekends, and your time off between classes.” I started to protest one more time, but she cut me off by covering my hand with her own. “Nick, I don’t want you putting your dreams on hold because of me. It makes me feel guilty that you’re doing so much for me. You’re making sacrifices you shouldn’t be making and making choices you wouldn’t ordinarily make if not for me. Please, just do this for me. I love your painting, and you know that. I’m so proud of you. I really want you to do this.”

  What could I say? She wanted me to paint again. If that’s what it would take to make her happy, to put a smile on her face, I would try—for her.

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  I took a deep breath of resignation. “I will try.”

  “Oh, no! You have to do more than try, Nick. We’re coming into this a little late. You only have a few weeks to meet the deadline! And besides, I’ve already paid the registration fee out of my New York money. It’s nonrefundable.”

  Not sure how I was going to come up with anything contest-worthy in only a month, but willing to do whatever it took to please her, I shook my head and chuckled. “Okay, okay. I will more than try. It shall be done.”

  “Good,” she said, looking satisfied and relieved.

  We sat there gazing at each other, filling the brief silence with a million unspoken words that I wished one of us had the courage to speak.

  “The song was beautiful,” I finally managed.

  “I’m glad you liked it,” she replied, just as softly.

  “I loved it,” I corrected, noticing that her gaze had locked on my lips, just as mine had hers.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get you a real present.”

  “Nothing you could have bought would have meant nearly as much,” I said truthfully.

  She blushed with genuine modesty. “I also rented your favorite movie. Or, I’m willing to let you try and teach me how to play your favorite video game. Your choice.”

  I smiled to the heavens with my hand over my heart. “My God, woman, I can’t handle the pressure. I’ll never be able to live up to all this on your birthday.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry I ruined dinner. It was supposed to be a wonderful surprise. There’s a cake too. I guess that will have to be our meal now.”

  “Who was it that said, ‘let them eat cake’?”

  She looked skeptical. “You sure you don’t mind?”

  “Is it chocolate?”

  Her smile was instant and full of mirth. “With vanilla frosting.”

  “And sprinkles?”

  “Just the way you like it.”

  “Aah,” I drawled, happy, loving the sense of familiarity that was becoming increasingly natural for us.

  Leaning back into the sofa, I slung my arm over her shoulder and tugged her more comfortably against me. She remained stiff and prim for a moment before finally relaxing with her head on my shoulder. We both crossed our feet up on the coffee table and let out simultaneous sighs of contentment.

  Smoke still hung in the room like fog. The smell of burnt pot roast churned my stomach, but then I caught a whiff of her perfume and smiled against her hair. “Life is good, ain’t it, Lace?”

  “It is better than good. It’s wonderful,” she uttered, dreamily.

  Kissing her temple, relishing the feel of her in my arms and not wanting to ever forget this day, I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer. “Thank you for the best birthday ever, Lace.”

  Nick

  A week later, on the following Saturday night, I drifted off to sleep waiting for Lacy to come home from yet another late night out with her friends, seriously contemplating following them to see where they went next time. Realizing how psychotic and obsessive that would be, even for me, I tried putting the worries out of my mind. Not only the absurd idea of stalking them, but also the growing frustration and jealousy over Alex. It didn’t work though. My fears followed me from waking to sleep.

  In my nightmare I had gone home to my parents’ house, only to find Lacy already there with Kevin, who had successfully convinced her of my duplicity. She told me that she wanted her song back, that she hated me, and that I was a fool for thinking she would ever choose me over my brother. Then she slapped me, hard. The physical and emotional sting still hurt in reality when I bolted awake, sweating and breathless at nearly three o’clock in the morning.

  “Jesus, I’m going crazy,” I muttered to the dark silence of the living room, still trying to catch my breath.

  Shaking my head to clear the remnants of the dream, as quietly as possible I crawled out of bed and crept down the hall to the bedroom. No sliver of light slipped under the door, so instead of knocking, I gently eased my way in.

  As was becoming a common occurrence on the weekends, Lacy wasn’t home. My shoulders slumped with disappointment.

  Had she lied to me about not dating Alex, I wondered, as I made my way back down the hall toward the kitchen. While rummaging through the fridge for a beer, the only thing I could think of was: What else could she possibly be doing this time of night if she wasn’t out sleeping with Alex?

  No! Lacy wouldn’t lie to me. She wasn’t like Claire. She didn’t sleep around, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have lied to me about it even if she were dating Alex. In her mind, there should’ve been no reason to lie. She was nearly a grown woman, turning eighteen and legal in a few weeks. She could date whomever she wanted to date, and sleep with whomever she wanted to sleep with. She owed me no explanation. Still, something about it didn’t ring true. Lacy had loved my brother for years, yet she refused to sleep with him. She wasn’t the kind of girl who would give in so easily to a man she had only know for a few months. It wasn’t like Lacy, and if anyone knew Lacy—right or wrong—it was I.

  No, she wasn’t lying to me about Alex, but she was definitely keeping something from me. But what? And why? She knew she could confide in me with anything.

  “Where are you, Lace? And what the hell are you doing?” I grumbled, twisting the cap off a beer. I turned around to toss the metal lid toward the trashcan beside the back door when I saw her.

  She lay sprawled out on a blanket in the backyard, hands locked behind her head, staring up at the sky the way she used to do at home. I sighed with relief over knowing she was safe—and not with Alex—and leaned against the door frame to watch her, just as I used to do back home.

  As always, she looked downright heavenly. Her hair fanned out on the ground like dark, glistening angel wings. Her fair skin held an ethereal glow in the moonlight. Her beauty, to me, was inspirational.

  My painting supplies were stashed in the closet in our bedroom. Rushing, so she wouldn’t come in and catch me, I dug out my sketchpad and a box of charcoal and returned to the kitchen. After pulling a chair over to the window so I could see better in the moonlight, I found a blank page, locked the image I wanted to capture in my mind’s eye and began sketching.

  Fearing she would decide to come in soon, and not wanting her to find me spying, I hurried along, simply capturing outlines and shading, leaving the details to my imagination. It had been so long since I had painted or sketched that my fingers grew tired and cramped quickly.

  When she stirred, and it looked like she might decide to come back inside, I quickly put the chair back under the table and carried my supplies over to the bed with me. I barely had them shoved under my pillow and the covers arranged over myself when the back door quietly opened. I could just faintly hear her shuffling across the kitchen, but instead of heading back to the bedroom, she came into the living room and knelt by the bed, only inches away from me.

  I tried
not to visibly hold my breath. My pulse raced. I wanted to open my eyes but didn’t dare alert her that I was awake. The smell of her perfume permeated the air between us. It was all I could do not to startle when her fingers gently touched my forehead to swipe a hair away. An instant later came her lips, feathering a soft kiss to my temple. Afterward, she paused for a moment, almost as though she were waiting to see if her kiss had roused me, and then she left. A few seconds later the bedroom door softly clicked shut, and I let out a long breath.

  I waited a few minutes, giving her time to fall asleep, before I switched on the lamp on the table beside the sofa, pulled out my sketchpad, and resumed working.

  Nick

  Two weeks after my birthday, and a week after I stumbled upon Lacy stargazing in the middle of the night, Friday evening found the routine appearance of Susan, there to pick Lacy up for yet another late evening out.

  It was rare that Lacy wasn’t ready and waiting for the sound of Alex’s car so she could rush out to meet them by the curb. I suspected she didn’t want to allow an opportunity for me to talk to Susan, lest her friend inadvertently slip with where they were going. Tonight, however, in preparation for the date he had later, Chris had hogged the shower; therefore, Lacy had to wait for him to finish before she could get ready to leave herself.

  Even from out in the living room, I heard the tell-tale signs of Lacy hurriedly fixing her hair and make-up, dropping things in the sink in her nervous haste to prevent the unavoidable—Susan coming to the door.

  I opened the door before Susan’s knock could alert Lacy that her friends had arrived. Quietly, I greeted the girl. “Lace isn’t quite ready yet.”

  Though we had already made brief introductions the first time she visited months ago, and had seen each other in passing a handful of times since, Lacy had never allowed Susan and I more than a moment for hasty pleasantries.

  I motioned for Susan to step inside and led her over to the sofa. I joined her, careful to keep my voice low, when I asked, “So! Where are you girls off to tonight? Hot dates?”

  She let out a throaty laugh that would have brought Chris and a dozen of our friends to their knees. “You’re funny,” she said in a silky voice, much like the one Claire might have donned on my brother during their pre-sexual flirting phase.

  Fearing Lacy would come out ready to leave at any second, I manipulated the conversation in another direction. “Lace might be a few minutes. You can tell your brother he’s welcome to come in and wait if he wants.”

  She scoffed. “He wouldn’t. I think he’s afraid of you.”

  Chris picked that moment to come out of his bedroom, dressed and ready for his night out. He made an appreciative appraisal of Susan, who returned his visual evaluation with one of her own.

  “Don’t mind me,” he finally said, excusing himself to the kitchen, where he made a lewd sexual gesture with his hips when Susan wasn’t watching.

  “So, why would Alex be afraid of me?” I asked, trying to get the conversation back on track before time ticked out.

  “We never told him the truth. He still thinks you’re Lacy’s brother and he’s afraid you might pull the whole overprotective routine on him.” Her face suddenly lit up with inspiration. “Hey, you should do it too. That would be hilarious. It would serve him right for putting Dorian through the wringer when we first started dating.”

  Over her head, I met Chris’s shocked stare with one of my own. “You never told him? Why would it matter to him if I’m her brother or not?” I asked, just to be sure I heard her correctly.

  “At first I didn’t tell him because I thought him and Lacy might hit it off. My brother may be a jerk sometimes, but after his last girlfriend cheated on him, he never would have hit on Lacy if he thought there was a chance she had something going on with you,” she said with authority. Then she shrugged dismissively. “Letting him think you’re her brother solved that. Turns out it didn’t matter anyway.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She looked at me as though I were living on another planet. “Please.” There was that throaty chuckle that left Chris all but panting, his eyes shrouded with instantaneous lust. “Little miss goody two shoes and my brother? He was all for it to begin with, but once he got to know Lacy and figured out she didn’t drool over him like all my other girlfriends, he gave up on that a long time ago. He’s hooked up with some skanky waitress from the club now.”

  Before Susan could say more, Lacy picked that moment to come out of the bathroom, finger-combing her long hair up into a ponytail on her way down the hall. She spotted Susan sitting beside me on the sofa and paused, taken aback. Averting her eyes, she stiffened her spine and headed toward the door.

  “Ready to go?” she asked Susan, her voice tight.

  Susan turned to me and shrugged. “Later, Nick.”

  “Yeah,” I replied, distracted, watching Lacy as she waited for her friend to go out first. She was all set to join Susan out on the porch when I stopped her. “If you don’t mind, Susan, I’d like a word with my sister before you guys take off.”

  “Oh, shit,” blurted Chris, looking anxious over my confrontational tone. Lacy still faced the door, apparently paralyzed in place.

  I closed the door and came to glower before her. “My sister?”

  “I can explain,” she started feebly, apologetically.

  “You told everyone that we were siblings?” I asked, still shocked and hurt by this new revelation.

  She finally looked up to face me. “Please don’t be mad at me, Nick. I couldn’t stand it.”

  “I’m not mad. But I want the truth! You’ve been lying to your friends about me. You’ve been lying to me about your friends. If you want to tell them I’m your brother, then I’ll treat you like I am. To start with, I’m tired of you worrying me to death coming in so late all the time. From now, I want to know where you’re going and what you’re doing!”

  The indignation flared in her eyes as her apologetic, pleading gaze turned into a defiant glare. “I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

  “The hell you don’t!”

  “No! I don’t!” she yelled, looking as though she was about to step around me to the door. I blocked her attempt.

  “This is my house, and I’m in charge of you!”

  “Then I’ll leave because you can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my father!”

  “No, I’m not! I never tried to rape you!”

  Her face paled. Her wide eyes brimmed with instantaneous tears. A split second later, her open palm made contact with my cheek.

  My jaw stung from the impact. I kept my face turned and my eyes closed so I wouldn’t have to see the hurt in her glare. I quickly recovered, however, when I sensed her about to walk around me to leave.

  “Lace, I’m sorry…”

  I was right; she was crying, and she ducked her head so I wouldn’t be able to see.

  “Lace, I didn’t mean it. I’m so, so sorry.” Half-crying myself, I reached for her hand to stop her from leaving.

  But she was already yanking the door open. “I have to go.”

  “Lace, oh God, no! Wait. Please. Let’s ta-”

  “I gotta go,” she repeated with single-minded urgency, as she plowed out the door and off the porch. I didn’t try to stop her again. Instead, I stared after her, feeling—and no doubt looking—dumbstruck.

  “Holy shit,” Chris mumbled softly, bringing me back to the realization that he had just witnessed the entire scene.

  Not knowing what else to do, what else I could do, I absently closed the door and leaned against it, just staring at the floor in shock.

  “Shit, man. When you fuck things up, you go all out.”

  I ignored the jab and echoed his original sentiment. “Holy shit.”

  Chris rummaged through the fridge for a beer. “I’d say it’s more like deep shit.” He handed me a bottle and slapped a sympathetic hand on my shoulder on his way to the sofa. “A good ol’ banger on the bong might take some of the st
ing out of it, man. What say? Fire up with?”

  When I didn’t acknowledge his invitation, Chris whined, “Come on, dude. You never toke with me anymore.”

  “That’s because I told Lace I quit the stuff,” I said, some of the astonishment wearing off enough for me to sit with Chris.

  “You’re fucking whipped.” Chris sounded more disappointed in my willingness to conform for the sake of a girl than my unwillingness to partake in what was once our mutual favorite pastime. “Whatever. Look, I was going to tell you later, after I had a chance to check it out for myself and see if it was true, but since things blew up the way they did just now, I guess I should just go ahead and get it over with.”

  I came out of my shock enough to look up and face him. “Tell me what?”

  He narrowed his eyes and stared back at me with uncertainty. “Promise you won’t blow a gasket?”

  “No.”

  Chris rolled his eyes. “Great. Well, if you do go ape-shit, promise you won’t take it out on me?”

  To that, I conceded.

  “I ran into Mark Cary when I went home last weekend. He was at Shorty’s picking up some dinner when I stopped in for a shake. We sat around shooting the shit while we were waiting for our orders and he asked how things were going with us, and school, and all that. And then once the subject of you came up, we got on the whole debacle with Kevin, Lacy, and Claire. We were both just talking about how fucked up the whole thing was and-”

  “Get to the point.”

  “Anyway, once the subject of Lacy came up, he told me something: He claims he saw her a few weeks ago, and you’re not gonna like where.”

  Lacy

  Using a thick towel to wipe the sweat from my brow, I closed my eyes and tried taking long, deep breaths to cool myself down. Singing and dancing about on stage under the glaring lights was draining. We had only been playing for an hour, and already I was exhausted—mentally more than physically.