A Drop of Pretty Poison: A Brother’s Best Friend Romance (Pretty Poison Trilogy Book 2)

Lord knows I was never the type to want a relationship until Laiken went and fucked with everything that I used to think I knew. But if someone had told me they were like this, I might have reconsidered. The moment I realized I was in love with Laiken, I knew that a big part of me wanted to be with her.

Exclusively.

Officially.

Completely.

In a way, that scared the shit out of me, because I was running out of reasons not to be. She kept ticking off each one like a goddamn checklist. Looking back on it, I should’ve known I never stood a chance.

This was going to happen because we’re meant for each other.

Now that it’s happening though, you won’t hear a single complaint out of me. This is fucking great. I get someone who is constantly there for me, someone to talk to about everything and nothing all at the same time, and sex on demand. Plus, she brings me lunch.

And everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

Or is it his dick? If it isn’t, it should be. I’m just saying.

Laiken is sitting on the counter of the surf shop, picking at her fries, when her phone rings. Her mom’s picture fills the screen and she answers it.

“Hey, Mom,” she says. “I’m not sure exactly. Why?”

Her mood goes from a ten to a solid four in seconds. It’s times like these I really hate only hearing one side of the conversation.

“Okay, well, I know I have to go over some stuff tonight with Mr. Zimmerman. Can we have this talk tomorrow?” Another pause while she listens to her response. “Okay. Yep, love you too.”

She gets off the phone and rolls her eyes but makes no move to explain. And I am not the type to just let it go without asking.

“Everything okay?”

Her chest rises as she takes a deep breath. “I guess. My parents want to talk to me about my life choices. It’s code for they want to harp on me more about when I’m going to go to college.”

The thought of her leaving puts a heavy weight on my chest. It’s not a foreign concept she’s springing on me. She was supposed to leave last summer. Her dorm was even assigned. But then Cam got arrested, and when her parents tried to get her to go anyway, she downright refused. And she had already turned eighteen. She was a legal adult who could make her own decisions.

There was nothing they could do.

I guess I just didn’t realize it was still a possibility. Once I threw myself at Cam’s mercy and admitted to being in love with her, the whole idea faded from my mind. The only thing I thought of was her and me.

“They’re on your case about it?” I choke out, trying to seem unfazed.

She nods. “I mean, I get it. The agreement was that I would go once Cam’s case was settled, but what if I don’t want to go to college? Is that really so bad?”

“Well, that depends,” I tell her. “If it’s because you were serious about making a killing with prostitution, then yes. But if you have an actual dream you want to achieve, I don’t think so.”

“I do,” she admits. “Or I did. I don’t know. I go back and forth on it.”

I tilt my head to look in her eyes. “What is it?”

Her nose scrunches as she shakes her head. “I don’t want to say it. You’ll laugh at me.”

What she doesn’t know is that I could never laugh at her, not when what comes out of her mouth could determine if she stays here with me or leaves me behind.

“Please? I told you mine.”

The corners of her mouth raise as she remembers our little rendezvous with the cops at the airfield. That was the day I first started realizing how deep my feelings for her actually ran. When I really started feeling like I was fucked.

Finally, she sighs. “I want to be a songwriter.” Her eyes won’t meet mine as I go quiet, imagining her writing love ballads that I’d add to my secret playlist of songs that make me think of her. “It’s fine. You can laugh.”

“No way,” I answer. “It suits you.”

She looks over at me and scoffs. “It’s a pipe dream.”

I can’t help but smirk. “So was I, but you got me.”

My words manage to pull a laugh out of her, and I can feel the way her mood lightens just slightly. “Oh, wow. That’s a lot of cocky.”

Tossing the rest of my lunch into the garbage can, I lean forward and kiss her quickly. “Your words, not mine.”

I WISH I COULD say that the worst thing about Isaac breaking my nose was the pain. The crunch I heard when he made contact was anything but fun. But honestly, I think the guard I need to wear on my face during practice is worse. Coach almost didn’t let me play at all, but that argument came with enough obscenities and threats against Isaac’s life that he changed his mind.

Speaking of the prick, I look around and notice he’s still not here. I figured that Coach suspended him for the incident, but he should be back by now.

“Owen,” I call. “Where’s Isaac?”

His brows furrow. “Cam didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Realization fills his face. “Oh yeah. He’s still not talking to you. Damn, he knows how to hold a grudge.”

Yeah, not about to talk shit about him. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Isaac, right,” he nods. “He’s gone. Cam had him kicked off the team for breaking your nose.”

Out of all the answers I saw coming out of his mouth, I don’t think I ever considered that one. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. After you left, he went into Coach’s office and screamed at him that he wanted Isaac out. He said if Isaac stayed on the team, he was going to walk. And no coach is ever going to let himself lose one of his best players.” He heads toward the door of the locker room. “Isaac is pretty pissed though, so I’d keep an eye out if I were you.”

“I will,” I say. “Thanks.”

Alone in an empty locker room, I give myself an extra minute to reflect on what he just told me. Cam still isn’t talking to me, and I’m honestly not sure if or when he ever will again. But while I thought he hated me, this proves otherwise.

He may be livid, but he still has my back.

I slip my phone out of my pocket and type out a quick text.

Heard you got Isaac kicked off the team. Just wanted to say thanks.

Putting it away, I grab my bag and head out. But by the time I get to my truck, my phone dings, and a response for Cam shows on the screen.

Didn’t do it for you.

It’s meant to be a slap in the face, but it only makes my grin widen because he and I both know he’s completely full of shit.

I PULL INTO MY driveway and turn off my truck. The whole ride home, I kept thinking about the way practice has been without Isaac there, now that I know it’s permanent. And there really has been a shift. He’s not being an asshole or putting people down. We all get along, and that’s exactly what you want in a team.

Once Cam and I get back on track, we’ll be fucking unstoppable.

Everything feels like it’s starting to fall into place. I’ve got the girl of my dreams. The biggest pain in my ass is gone. And my best friend might not be talking to me right now, but this was the sign I needed. The one that tells me it’ll be all right.

Maybe I can have both after all.

I’m in such a good mood that there’s a pep in my step as I hop up onto the porch. But the second I open the door, I know there’s something wrong. My mom is sitting in the living room with Devin, and I don’t know if it’s my sister’s tear-stained cheeks or the grave look on my mom’s face, but my stomach sinks.

“What’s going on?” I ask carefully.

Mom smiles sadly, and it blasts me right back to the day she finally told us that Dad wasn’t coming back. “Come sit down, H.”

My brows furrow as I walk around the couch and sit next to Devin. She leans against me, the way she used to when we were kids and she needed someone she could rely on. I know whatever it is, it can’t be good.

“Lawrence Gent stopped by today,” Mom tells me, her voice cracking as she speaks.

That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Lawrence is my dad’s best friend, or at least was the last I saw him. But that doesn’t explain why he would be coming here. Unless…fuck.

“Say it,” I tell her. “I need to hear the words.”

She takes a deep breath, her eyes full of sympathy. “Your father is gone. He passed away.”

WHEN I WAS A kid, I used to hear my parents arguing through the walls. My dad would come home drunk again, and my mom would scream at him about what a piece of shit he was being. That he was wasting all their money away on booze.

You’re going to drink yourself to death and leave these kids without a father, she would say.

Never knew my mother was a psychic. Though he left us without a father long before he finally drank himself into liver failure.

I remember being so confused when he left. I think I spent weeks going over everything in my head, wondering what I did wrong or what I could’ve done differently to make him stay. As I got older, I realized it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with himself. He was a selfish prick who chose alcohol over his own flesh and blood. But man, as a fifteen-year-old kid, I really beat myself up over it.

Even as years passed and I accepted the fact that he wasn’t coming back, there were still times where I’d think about it. I imagined what I would say if he came walking through the door, or if he called me up. I never told my mom, but I used to check the mailbox every day for the two weeks around my birthday—hoping a card from him would show up.

It never did.

And now, it never will.

I sit on the porch, a lit cigarette in my hand, as the door swings open and Devin storms out. She marches right past me and over to her car, peeling out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. I glance back at the door to see my mom standing here, a hopeless expression on her face.

“She’ll be okay,” I assure her to ease her nerves. “Her emotions are just running a little wild right now.”

I know because mine are, too.

I don’t think there’s ever been a time where I was so conflicted. Not even during the push and pull with Laiken. There’s a part of me that wants to be sad. It’s that fifteen-year-old kid tucked away, who still wishes for his family to be whole again when he blows out his birthday candles. But I can’t find it in me to be.

He doesn’t deserve for me to be upset. Or to even care that he’s gone. He was so fucking absent in my life that he’s been dead for six months, and the only reason Mom found out is because his best friend came by to let her know. He said his assets are out of probate, and he needs Devin and me to come by his office and pick up our inheritance checks.

According to what Mom told us, he hit it big at some casino about a year ago and he used it to drink himself into the grave. He died before he could spend it all, though, and being his kids—at least biologically—it goes to us by default.

Joke’s on him because I don’t fucking want it.

Laiken pulls into the driveway and I stand up, tossing my cigarette I’ve been too zoned out to smoke and walking toward her car. The minute she steps out, I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly.

“Hey,” she coos.

I wonder if she knows how much even the sound of her voice manages to relax me. The moment I walked out the front door, my phone was pressed to my ear. I told Laiken that I needed her, and that was it. Nothing else mattered. She just got in her car and got her ass to my house.

I mentally add that to the endless list of reasons why I will love her for the rest of my life.

She waits patiently, hugging me back and waiting for me to initiate letting go. When I finally do, she looks at me worriedly.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

Nodding toward my truck, she follows me as I walk over and put down the tailgate. The two of us sit and she waits patiently for me to fill her in, until the silence becomes a little too much to bear.

“Hayes, you’re scaring me a little here,” she tells me.

I swallow down the lump in my throat, finally allowing myself to say the words out loud. “My, uh…my dad died.”

She gasps. “Oh my God. H.”

My defense mechanisms kick in and I shake my head, metaphorically waving it off. “No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but the past six years have been like he was dead anyway, so it’s not this massive change.”

Her hand rests gently on my arm. “Yeah, but just because he wasn’t around doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about it.”

“That’s the thing though. I’m not upset,” I admit, hearing how heartless it makes me sound. “I’m just angry. While Devin and I were growing up and Mom was working her ass off to provide for us, he was out there somewhere, drinking his life away—not even trying to get his life back together. He was completely content being the same worthless lowlife that walked out on his family. And now we find out he left Devin and me an inheritance, as if money makes up for the past six years.”

Pulling the folded-up piece of paper out of my pocket, I hand it to her. She carefully opens it, and her eyes widen when she sees the number.

“Wow. How does a drunk even get that much money?”

“At the casino, because while you gamble, you drink for free.” I crumple it up and toss it into the bed of the truck behind me. “I don’t know. I think I’ll just let Dev have my share. He gets no comfort in hell from knowing that he did anything to help me.”

She looks over at me with nothing but warmth and fondness in her eyes. “If that’s what you want to do, I fully support you. There’s no right or wrong way to heal from all the trauma he caused you and your sister. But technically, that money isn’t coming from him. He didn’t write a will or decide to give it to you out of the goodness of his heart. The money is coming from a bunch of people in an office whose only job is to figure out where shit goes when someone passes away.”

I know she has a point, but it does nothing to relieve the heaviness in my chest. “It still feels dirty. Like I’m letting him buy my forgiveness from beyond the grave or something.”

“No one is expecting you to forgive him, babe. Or even asking you to,” she says calmly. “I don’t think anyone who knows what you’ve been through ever would. That is something only you could decide to do. But let me ask you something.”

“What?”

“What would you do if your dad hadn’t left?”

My brows raise. “Well, I would’ve had a lot less commitment issues.”

She chuckles, bumping her shoulder into mine. “I mean with the money.”

For the first time since my mom broke the news, I let myself think about it, but it doesn’t take long.

“I’d use the money to buy a bar,” I answer.

“Then personally, I think you should do that.” She hops off the truck and stands in front of me, slotting herself between my legs and staring into my eyes. “He’s stolen enough of your joy. This is your chance to take some back.”

My gaze stays fixated on her, and I don’t think there’s ever going to be a time where I’m not in awe of everything she is. She’s so calm, so caring, that sometimes all I can do is admire her.

“You know, it’s a little infuriating how you always tell me what I need to hear,” I quip.

She smiles, giggling softly. “You’ll get over it.”

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her in. She sighs against me as I press a kiss to the top of her head. If there’s ever a time when this girl is all I have, I’ll be okay, because she’s all I will ever need.

I SIT INSIDE MY truck, staring at the lawyer’s office like if I do it long enough, I’ll wake up and this will all be some weird dream. For the rest of the day yesterday, I was okay. Laiken was there, keeping me grounded and distracting me when I needed it. She even managed to put Mom and Devin in better moods. I don’t know how—it’s just part of her magic. And I was able to sleep because she was there, with her head on my chest and her thumb rubbing back and forth on my stomach. But now that I’m sitting here, I can’t explain what I feel.

I should’ve brought her with me.

It’s a useless afterthought. This office is an hour away. While I’m sure she would come if I called her, I’m not about to make her drive all that way just so I have enough strength to sign a damn paper. I have no choice but to do this on my own.

Taking a deep breath, I exhale and force myself out of the truck. As I walk through the doors, a receptionist greets me from her desk.

“Can I help you?”

“I think so,” I reply. “I’m looking for Lawrence Gent. I have to pick something up.”

She gives me a professional smile. “Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks.”

As I sit and wait, I look around the room. There’s decor and pictures hanging on the walls, but all the colors feel so dull. Then again, there’s nothing colorful or fun about lawyers so I guess it’s fitting.

“Hayes.”

The call of my name has me looking up to see Lawrence walking toward me. It’s been years since I’ve seen him, but I remember him being around a lot when I was younger. Even after my dad left, he came by a few times to help my mom with things, but it used to make Devin ask where Dad was, so they decided it was best if he didn’t come by anymore. And then they just…lost touch.

“Man,” he tells me as I stand up. “I don’t think I expected you to look so grown.”

“Yeah, well. That’s life.”

It may be short of me, but the last thing I want to do is small talk with a guy who still stuck around my dad after he walked out on his family. Mom always said that he felt obligated to him. That they were friends for so long, he couldn’t just ditch him when he needed him the most. But why not? That’s what my dad did to us.

He leads me back into a room with a conference table surrounded by chairs. There are papers laid out with tabs on where to sign, and he gestures for me to take a seat.

“Are your mom and sister coming?” he asks.

“Another day. My mom wants to come with her to read it all over, but she had to work today.” I offered to wait until we could all come together, but they told me to go, knowing I just want to get it over with.

He nods. “Understandable. It will be here when they’re ready.”

One by one, he starts to hand me things to sign.

A paper that states my father had no will and that the money he had at the time of his passing was decided by the Probate Court of North Carolina.

A paper that states I acknowledge and agree with the court’s decision to split the money equally among his children.

A paper that states I have received my portion of the money as legally required of the executor of the estate.

And finally, one stating that I have no plans or intentions of trying to sue the estate for more money, even though there won’t be any after Devin and I cash our checks.

I sign my name on each of the required lines, initialing in other places. But I make sure to read them all thoroughly. It’s making it so I’m spending more time here than I need to, but my mom would have my head if she knew I signed legal documents without reading them.

“You know, your dad was really proud of you,” Lawrence says, breaking the silence.

I snort. “Don’t really know how you can be proud of someone you have nothing to do with, but okay.”

He leans back in his chair, not at all affected by my response. “I know what your feelings toward him are, and I respect that. I don’t want you to think that I don’t. I was friends with your father for many years. He made his mistakes, I’m not denying that, but he also had his issues.”

He pauses to take one of the signed documents from me, then continues.

“You may not believe a word that comes out of my mouth, but he loved you and Devin very much, regardless of if he was there or not. He was just battling demons that he thought were best kept as far from you two as possible.”

I honestly don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t say anything at all. My eyes skim through the rest of the documents and I sign them, ready to get the hell out of this place. And once I’m done, he hands me a check for more money than I’ve ever had at one time in my life.

“There’s one more thing,” he tells me just as I go to leave.

He gets up and walks into another office and then comes out with a leather box. My brows furrow as I look at it, until I see my father’s name embossed into the top of it. His fucking ashes.

“Yeah, I don’t want those,” I tell him. “Why don’t you keep them? Since you two were such close friends.”

He shakes his head. “He specifically requested they be given to you.”

“That’s great and all, but if I’m honest, I’m just going to throw them in the trash on my way out.” There’s no sugarcoating it. No playing nice. I don’t want them.

Lawrence shrugs. “If that’s your choice, then so be it.”

It’s obvious he’s not going to let me leave here without taking the damn box. But fine. If he’s okay with his best friend’s ashes ending up in a dump somewhere, I won’t ask any more questions. I grab the box with one hand and force a smile on my face.

“It’s good to see you turned out okay,” he says honestly.

I nod, mumbling a small thank you, but as I go to walk out the door, I stop. “Actually, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“You said he wanted his ashes given to me, so he obviously knew he was dying,” I start.

He nods once. “He did. Yes.”

“So why tell us now?” I question. “Why wait six months after he died to even let us know that he’s gone? Why didn’t you get in touch when he was dying?”

The look on his face tells me he was expecting this, and his answer is simple. “Because he asked me not to. He knew he let you guys down by leaving and said you two didn’t owe him a thing. Not a goodbye. Not a funeral. And certainly not your forgiveness.”

His words hit a weak spot, but I force myself to numb it out. “Then why not right after?”

“Probate takes six months to a year in most cases,” he explains. “I didn’t think you deserved to have this hanging over your head for that long. This way, you can deal with it all at once. The grief won’t come back every time there’s an update on the status of his estate.”

I huff, a little amused by his words. “No offense, but there is no grief. I refuse to miss someone who never missed me enough to put down the fucking bottle.”

He nods in understanding but says nothing as I turn around and head for the door.

As soon as I get outside, I look for the nearest trash can. There’s one right at the corner of the building, where people must take their smoke breaks. I walk over to it, completely determined to put his ashes where the trash like him belongs. But as I open the box to pour it out, I stop.

Lawrence’s words play through my mind, making it so I can’t. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to throw them away.

Giving up, I close the box and go over to my truck. I climb in and place the check and the box on the passenger seat, staring at it for a minute before scoffing.

“Fuck you, old man.”