Dannika Dark - Seven Years

“I didn’t say I won’t tell you everything, I just can’t do it here .” His eyes motioned to the people sitting nearby.

And then it happened. A shift in the way he looked at me. His clear eyes softened and his nose twitched as if he smelled a perfume I wasn’t wearing. His eyes hooded and I leaned away, uncertain of how I felt about him looking at me like that. Austin was my brother’s best friend.

But then again, Wes wasn’t here. And we weren’t teenagers anymore.

A couple of young women by the door giggled and broke the silence between us. Austin backed up, tossing his bloody shirt into a nearby trash can.

“You just going to walk around like that?” I asked, as he was the only half-naked man in the Laundromat. Not that the two women by the door raised any complaint.

He answered my question by sitting down in one of the plastic bucket chairs in front of me, casually spreading his arms across the back of the seats and widening his legs. Whenever he was in one of his thinking moods, Austin’s brows pushed together and formed a crease in the center of his forehead.

When we were younger, it made him look pensive and angry. Now it just made him intimidating.

“So, are you married?” I tapped the back of my flip-flops against the washer and watched his Adam’s apple undulate as he swallowed. The hum of the machines gave us a little privacy.

“No. I never settled down,” he admitted.

Then he flicked a hot gaze up to me and I shivered.

“Casey got married,” I blurted out.

Now he looked interested. Slightly. Casey was the girl he’d dated off and on in high school. I had a feeling they still hooked up after high school, although I had no proof, just friends who’d seen them together in random places.

“Good for her. She got kids?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just heard she married a year after… Well, not long after you left.”

Austin was never one for small talk; he had always preferred deeper conversations. So his uncharacteristic silence put me on edge. Something was on his mind, and by the way he kept looking at me, it wasn’t about Wes’s death.

“Why were you crying?” He didn’t move an inch. Just kept his eyes locked on mine.

I cocked my head to the side.

“At the pizza place,” he said.

Oh. That .

“My ex showed up. I flipped out a little.”

The ropes of muscle in his arms tightened, as did his jaw. “You’re divorced?”

“No, I never married.”

Now Austin looked pissed. He leaned forward and scraped his fingers through his hair, staring at the tacky pattern on the floor tiles.

“How’re your parents doing?” he asked, switching topics.

“Mom’s great. She doesn’t work as much as she used to. I’m sure dad’s great too. Wherever he is.”

His head snapped up. “What do you mean by that?”

“My dad left us.”

He stood up and erased the distance between us. “When?”

I laced my fingers together. “About four years ago. I don’t know.”

“He left ?”

“Yep. One day he packed up all his shit and told my mom he’d had enough. It came out of the blue because I don’t remember hearing them argue that much, but I wasn’t living at home at the time. Who knows what was going on; she never talks about it.”

“He left his wife and daughter unprotected?” Austin repeated through clenched teeth.

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. Sound familiar?”

A low growl vibrated in his throat. “I had no choice. It was the only way to keep your family safe.”

“Look, I’m tired of playing this game,” I said, pushing him away. I hopped down from the washer and felt trapped because of that damn laundry. I was tempted to pull out every last sopping-wet towel and just go home. But instead, I paced. “You’re the same, but you’re not the same. I know it’s been years, but have you been in prison?”

Austin stirred with laughter and tiny crinkles pinched the corners of his eyes. There he was—the guy I once knew. The one whose laugh was contagious because you rarely heard it, and it gave him such a sweet expression. With his right arm, he leaned on the washer and I turned my back to him.

Damn , that lean.

“No, I’m not a convict. I’m the same guy, just older and a little fatter.”

I snorted. Hardly . I didn’t see an ounce of fat on his well-proportioned, nicely tanned—

“Lexi?”

I spun on my heel and folded my arms. Austin tilted his head and spoke softly. “I want my hug. I’ve got a lot of baggage, and you look spooked, but we need to mend the rift between us. I can’t undo the past, but I want to make it right with your mom. Fuck your dad, because he can rot in hell for leaving you the way he did. Had I known, I would have come back sooner.”

My knees weakened a little. There was fierceness in his declaration—an honesty in his voice I couldn’t ignore. As pissed off as I was, I owed him the benefit of the doubt as much as he owed me an explanation.

With my arms still folded, I shuffled forward and leaned into him.

Austin wrapped his arms around me tight and kissed the top of my head.

“I missed you, Ladybug,” he murmured in my hair.

In the span of a rinse and spin cycle, I’d managed to get Austin caught up on seven years’ worth of gossip. Who was married, who was divorced, who was gay, who had five children, who lost all their money on a gambling trip, and who was arrested for public indecency in a museum. Austin’s eyes were brimming with amusement; I always had an animated way of telling a good story.

We slid into our groove just a little bit more, although in many ways, Austin still felt like a stranger to me.

I offered him one of my warm T-shirts to put on, fresh from the dryer, but he smirked and held it up to his broad chest. Unless I wanted the stretched-out version, Austin was going shirtless.

Not that I had any complaints.

“I’ll follow you,” he said, slamming my trunk closed and walking back to his car. We agreed to head over to my place and he’d tell it all. My stomach twisted into a knot because I wasn’t sure I was ready for the truth—not after what he’d already told me.

I wrote down my address in case we were separated in traffic, and to be honest, I was trying to lose him. I needed at least five minutes to run a comb through my hair and look halfway decent.

As soon as we arrived, I ran up the stairs and left my trunk open for him to haul up the laundry. Halfway through the living room, flip-flops were flying left and right as I kicked them off and hauled ass into my bedroom, yanking a pair of denims from a dresser drawer and changing into them. I stripped away my tank top and pulled a form-fitting brown shirt with retro lettering over my head. Austin’s heavy footsteps tromped up the stairs.

“Shit,” I muttered, dashing into the bathroom. The door slammed and I sprayed myself with cucumber body freshener. The heat had done a number on my face, so I brightened it up with a dab of tinted lotion and mineral powder, then rummaged through my drawer twice until I found my favorite tube of lipstick. Nothing dramatic, just enough color that I didn’t look like a hot mess.

“Lexi? Where do you want me to put these?” he yelled out.

“Hi, there. I’m afraid we haven’t had the pleasure. I’m Naya James.”

I tossed my lipstick on the counter. “Well, so much for that,” I murmured.

Now that Naya was in the mix, there was no point in—wait, what was I even doing? Once again, reverting to my sixteen-year-old self and trying to hit on my brother’s best friend. That’s what.