“Why did we wait so long to be honest with each other?”

King’s breath is a snicker. “We’re only admitting a fraction of anything.”

His words run through my head, lacing into several variations of what he actually means, still, I nod. “This conversation needs to happen. We need to figure shit out because I’m tired of trying to avoid you, and I’m really tired of you ignoring me.”

“Aren’t we kind of doing that now?”

King shakes his head as he closes the distance between us, then grips the table with his left hand and bends so his face is level with mine. “If I stay in here any longer I’m going to do something that would probably make me deserve getting slapped, so I am going to say this and then leave.” King pauses. I can smell the scent of beer and peppermint on his breath, along with the warmth of his skin as his shoulders roll forward. His eyes are wide and bright, demanding me to pay close attention to his words. “I know you’re tough. I know you can draw better than any damn person I’ve ever met in my life and most likely ever will. I know you love Mercedes and would never risk changing that relationship. But we like each other, and I don’t know what in the hell that means exactly, but I know I want to find out. The question you need to ask yourself is, do you?”

King’s throat moves, swallowing words we both know he’s fighting with. Ones that would make things both better and worse. He reaches forward, his chest grazing my shoulder. I hate that I don’t want to move. That I want to absorb the feel of King’s warmth and convince him to admit truths we both know and bury on a daily basis in a sea of general politeness and attempts to avoid one another. But the truths are laid open with the innuendos, silent stares, and capitalized when we go out of the way to cross the other’s path. King has become an exhausting and thrilling addiction that I don’t know how to consider stopping or even changing at this point.

A long breath runs through my nose as King’s dark eyes meet mine, exposing he’s fighting his own battle: silently pleading with me to bring things up by making a cutting remark or joke about our night. I know he wants it because it’s the only way we can both talk about it and relive it. It’s apparent by the way his jaw locks and his eyes waver from mine that he also doesn’t want me to respond. He’s waiting for me to consider his words and come back. His arm flexes as he holds the table even tighter. Then he stands and stalks out of the room, leaving my heart beating so fast I feel like I just went down the largest ramp in the shop.

Holy shit.

I WAKE up to two missed calls and a dozen texts from Charleigh, the last one saying she’s on her way.

Last night is still fresh in my thoughts, likely because I obsessed about it for hours before texting Charleigh and asking her to come get me and finally falling asleep.

Before moving to sit up, I wrap my hair into a knot that I know is accompanied by a halo of fuzzies since it air dried without any product. My mouth feels dry and gross from only having my finger to brush with, and my clothes all feel slightly stretched and worn from wearing them consecutive days. Clean underwear is officially at the top of my to-do list for when I get home as I stand up and hobble around the bed, working to straighten the duvet, though I’ll need to wash the sheets.

“Hey, Lo, how are you feeling?” Kash is standing at the stove, a large bag of instant pancake mix beside him, confirming King isn’t up yet. Summer turns from where she’s perched at the island. A book of pictures sits in front of her with a rainbow of sticky notes protruding from the pages.

“Pretty good, actually. The swelling’s gone down a lot.”

“How’s the burn?” Summer asks.

“It’s not bad. That cream is amazing.”

“She’s a good liar,” Summer says teasingly as she looks to Kash. She takes a drink of her coffee before shooting me a smile.

While mine is smaller than hers, I return the gesture.

“Do you want to make a list of things you want and I can run by your place and get them?”

I question if she’s offering out of guilt or concern that Kash is still upset with her, even though it was my own decision to go down the ramp. Either way, her face only holds compassion. “That’s okay—”

“Why didn’t you wake King up, Dad?”

Mercedes stumbles into the kitchen, her hair looking similar to how I’m sure my own looks currently. Her eyes are still puffy with sleep, and her voice extra whiny.

“They’re pancakes. They all taste the same,” Kash says dismissively.

“Wrong.” King’s single word is like a small firework going off, lighting the entire house, creating more beauty, emitting bright colors, and making me fear for my personal safety.

Kash rolls his eyes and returns to the stove, but Summer’s attention has completely left her book. She’s staring between King and me as though she was present for our conversation last night. Maybe he told her?

“Why don’t you take a seat and we’ll get you some ice packs and pancakes, Lo,” Kash offers.

I’m grateful to move my attention back to him. “That’s okay, Charleigh’s on the way.”

“Right … Charleigh,” King says, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

I’ve been told before that the expression I’m giving King—with my eyebrows raised and my eyes wide—is condescending, and for once, I really hope it is.

“Are you still coming tomorrow to watch Daddy?” Mercedes’ word choice makes me flinch slightly, but I still smile in confirmation.

“Yeah, crutches and all.”

“Are you bringing Charlie?” Summer’s voice is cautious and far quieter than her usual tone.

The doorbell rings before I can reply. King tilts his head, the outside corners of his eyes strain as he stares at me. Then he moves purposefully toward the front door and swings it open. As I walk up behind him far more slowly with my crutches, I notice his rigid shoulders fall slightly.

“Hi. Is Lauren here by chance? I think I’m at the right place. She said it was out in the middle of nowhere, but this place is really in the middle of bloody nowhere.”

My lips tip up and down like a see-saw as I work to fight my laughter at King’s reaction. He’s staring at her with such intensity I can tell she’s confused.

“You have neighbors, right? Or mates? Someone nearby in case I scream? Cause you’re kind of freaking me out.”

“Hey, Charleigh.” I step up beside King and grab my bag that I deposited by the door last night.

“You really did get all banged up, didn’t you?” Her eyes leave King and travel over me. There’s little to be seen since my clothes cover most of the damage, and the Ace bandage covers the rest.

“Are you concerned about the stairs? Or is that just me?” she asks, the lilt in her voice a refreshing song, promising me the comforts of my own house.

“I’ll be okay.”

Charleigh’s eyebrows go up, and they stay stretched as she lets out a deep sigh. “Alright, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait! I want to meet Charlie!” Summer’s voice is right behind us. I turn because I want to see the look of surprise on her face as well when she realizes the error.

I take a step back and extend my hand to Charleigh. “Charleigh, this is Kingston, Summer, and Kashton. Everyone, this is Charleigh.”

“And me!” Mercedes calls, sprinting in from the kitchen. “Hey, Charleigh!” She smiles brightly, and I notice King, Kash, and Summer all look at her with surprise. Clearly they never considered asking Mercedes if she knew anything about Charleigh. She doesn’t know much, only a few stories that I’ve shared with her, but still, they would have known she was only a friend, and a female at that.

“It’s really great to finally meet you, Charleigh. We’ve heard a lot about you and it’s nice to put a … face to the name.” Summer elbows King in the gut. The move is subtle, nearly undetectable, but King releases a huff to validate it happened.