Pierce My Heart (Women of Willowbrook Book 1) (19 page)

Christ, I sound like Jake.

Less than a week and he’s already rubbing off on me.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks in astonishment, and a hint of pride.

Obviously, even though she’s in deep with whatever she’s in deep with, she doesn’t miss it either.

“Not important.” I take a breath and soften my voice. “Evan, something is wrong. And it’s more than the brief you gave me the other night. I left it alone, but you haven’t so much as sent me a text just to bitch at me. No phone calls, not even a drop in. You’re my best friend, honey. I don’t just want to be there for you, I
need
to. Knowing you’re hurting, hurts me. Come over and talk to me,” I plead.

“Anna, I’m fine,” she persists, but this time her voice is filled with begrudging affection.

I pull into my driveway and throw the car in park, but I don't turn it off or get out.

“Then come over and let me see for myself that you are, Ev,” I bargain.

I wait.

I don’t want to push her too hard but I’m not going to give in. Not this time.

Thankfully, she seems to realize this because she finally relents.

“Okay, okay, slave driver. I’ll be over there in fifteen. But no real food, just cookies and wine. Deal?”

“Deal. I’m home so I’ll pop the cookies in for a warm up so they’ll be nice and gooey when you get here.”

“See you soon, babe.”

“Love you, Evan,” I tell her, my voice soft again and my gratitude clear.

“Love you too, Anna,” she replies, the affection and appreciation clear in hers.

I grab my bags from my passenger seat, beep my locks, and head for the front door with a smile on my face.

Red, Pink, or White?

Before I even get my key in the lock I can hear Juliet’s tail going a mile a minute.

I noticed that Romeo had a short, stubby tail while Juliet’s was long and lethal. When I’d looked it up, I realized that most Boxer’s had their tails docked and their ears cropped not long after they were born. Romeo just had the docked tail, and I was glad that Juliet had neither. Even if I had to watch it around her when her tail went crazy. I’d already learned not to use my long-stemmed wine glasses around her.

I manage to get in the house, shut the door behind me, and turn just before Juliet jumps on me, causing my bags to slide from my shoulder to the crook of my elbow.

“Whoa, girl. No. Down,” I tell her.

She obediently drops her booty to the ground, tail sweeping the floor. I reach down to give her some love before taking my things to kitchen.

I’m not in the market to buy a new laptop so getting that sucker to safety is priority.

Once I drop my things, I walk over to the back door to let her out for some much needed potty time while I heat the oven and refill her water and food bowls.

After we’d both finished our jobs, I head back to my room to change into something a lot more comfortable for the night’s festivities.

Leaving my clothes where I take them off (mentally reminding myself to pick them up later), I grab my yoga pants from my dresser drawer, leave my white tank on, then swap out my cute bra for a comfortable black sports bra that’s top of the line when it comes to support before slipping my feet into my fuzzy, leopard print slippers and grabbing my gray, three-quarter sleeve cardigan.

Moving across the hallway and into the bathroom, I grab a makeup removing wipe, taking everything but my mascara off before using some face wash to get the oil from the remover off my face. I snatch a hair tie from the sink counter and slide it around my wrist in case I feel like pulling my hair up—I usually do after I’ve had a few glasses of wine—when I hear the bell go off telling me the oven is primed and ready, I head to the kitchen.

Pulling the tub of cookies off the breakfast bar, I grab a baking sheet from under the oven to dump them on. It isn’t rare I do this (it also isn’t frequent), but since I don’t bake my cookies until they’re a “golden brown” on the bottom—leaving them almost not fully cooked and super soft—I found that I could slip them in for a quick two minutes and they would come out soft, warm, and gooey.

I stumbled onto the trick one night when I’d wanted fresh baked cookies, but a bottle of wine of under my belt was a tad too much to go through the process of actually making fresh ones.

I’ve had some of my best ideas after downing a bottle, though not everyone would agree.

Setting the timer for two minutes, I move to my fridge to decide which bottle to serve up with the cookies.

When the timer goes off I give up my search, shut the fridge, grab my aqua and orange pot holder from the drawer, and pull the cookies out just as I hear Juliet go racing to the front door.

Thirty seconds later, I hear it open then close followed by, “Hey, pretty girl.”

Evan comes in and heads straight to the tray of cookies on the oven, booting me out of the way with a bump of her hip.

“Where’s the wine? You said there’d be wine,” she says by way of greeting before stuffing a whole cookie in her mouth.

I can't help but laugh.

“I wasn’t sure what to open, but since you’re here you can decide. Do you want red, pink, or white Moscato? Or, the sweet red blend I’ve got?”

“Yes,” she says, though it comes out more like, “yeth”.

I roll my eyes, reach in and grab the pink. It's not quite as bitter as the red but it isn't as sweet as the white.

When I turn around Evan has two of my stemless wine glasses in her hands and another cookie hanging out of her mouth.

“Take the wine and glasses in the living room. I’ll grab a bottle opener and a plate for the cookies.”

She balances both glasses in her right hand before grabbing the bottle and heading that way. After I rummage through my utensil drawer for the opener and slide the cookies on a plate I follow suit, only to see her curled up in the corner of the couch and staring into the backyard with a faraway look on her face.

She jumps when I plop down on the other end, folding my left leg underneath myself. I set the cookies in between us, keeping an eye on Juliet who’s lounging across from us watching for fallen crumbs, and pop the cork on the wine. Evan holds both glasses out for me to fill before handing one over and grabbing another cookie.

She nibbles on her cookie, I sip my wine, and Juliet waits for bits of cookies. All of this done in silence.

Seriously, if I had a clock in here, you’d be able to hear the tick, tick, tick, ticking away.

“I got fired from my job last week,” I blurt, deciding to start with something of mine instead of attacking and putting her on the defense.

She blinks.

“Wuth?” she exclaims, mouth full.

How she manages to do so without spitting crumbs at me I don't know, but I'm glad.

I nod. “Yup, late one too many times. Harry had no choice.”

She takes a huge gulp to wash the cookie down and makes a face (apparently she doesn’t think shooting wine is a good choice either).

“What are you gonna do now?”

“Well, I went to the office Monday to talk to Mom and Dad, and now I’m working on site in the trailer doing all the paperwork and shit.” Taking a sip of my wine, I go on. “Apparently when Mom and Dad said they wanted a family business they meant
all
of us, not just Robby or Nate running the show. They both looked happy, and relieved, that I was back.”

“Wow,” is her eloquent reply.

I just nod my head again.

I finish off my glass and grab the bottle to fill up, doing the same for Evan when I see her tilt her head back.

She takes another drink as I set the bottle down.

“Manny and I are over,” she says quietly.

I can hear the hurt in her voice, as well as the confusion.

“What happened?” I ask cautiously.

She sighs, turning her head to look out the window before looking back at me and shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not really sure. I mean, last week we couldn’t get enough of each other. And when I say that, I mean if I hadn’t had to do inventory Monday morning, I would’ve been waking up in his bed instead of leaving work to meet him for breakfast. Though, that never happened.”

When she doesn't continue, I press. “I don’t understand. How are things over?”

She takes another big gulp of wine, snatches the bottle to fill hers up again then upends the bottle in her mouth to finish it off. “Because I didn’t hear from him till Wednesday afternoon, and that was to tell me that,” she pauses and brings her hands up in quotes (a feat since one held her glass and the other a cookie) before continuing, “‘some shit came up and I don’t have the time to give you, or us. Not right now.’”

She drops her hands and rips a piece off the cookie with her mouth.

I’m surprised.

From the things she’d mentioned in passing he didn’t seem like the type to do that. Then again, it wasn’t like we’d really gone in depth about him.

“Well, did you ask him what that shit was?” I wonder.

She looks at me like I'm crazy.

“No. I just wanted to get off the phone as quick as possible. I was
humiliated
,” she says, and the way she says it clearly says how she felt about that question.

She did
not
like it.

I roll my eyes.

“Evan, maybe he’s got some real serious shit going on and it needs his time and attention. Instead of just bailing, maybe you should ask him what’s going on, if there’s anything you can help with,” I suggest.

I love her to death, but the girl is more stubborn than a mule.

She looks indecisive. “I thought about that, but what if it’s all bullshit and he’s just running? Maybe I’m terrible company, or I suck in bed,” she mutters pathetically.

I can't help it, I laugh.

I catch her glare and explain. “There is absolutely no way you're bad company. I can’t say anything about sucking in bed, but I do know you’re a pain in the ass to sleep
in
a bed with.”

A small smile touches her lips.

Whenever we slept in the same bed, she never failed to kick me.

I thought
I
was a bed hog, but I had nothing on Evan.

Her smile fades.

She uncrosses her legs and shifts so her back is to the couch, turning her head to keep her focus on me. “That still doesn’t mean his excuse isn’t bullshit, Anna. I really liked him. Hell, I
still
really like him even after he gave me the kiss off. Things were different with Manny. I mean, yeah, we moved fast physically, but that’s not what it was about. It was fucking great, at least on my end, but there was more…” she fades out as her eyes get unfocused.

“Ev,” I call. When I'm sure I have her attention, I continue. “What if it’s not bullshit? If it’s more than just physical, why not find out and fight for him? Show him that no matter what you’re worth making that time for. If not, fuck him. But don’t give up before you know you did everything you could to fight.”

She stares at me for a moment, her eyes working, before she flings her head back against the cushion and groans.

I manage (barely) to hold in a giggle.

She tips her glass back, finishing it before righting her head and looking at me. “I know you’re right. I’m just scared I won’t like the answer,” she whispers.

I blink, then blink again.

This is not
my
Evan.

My
Evan is strong, confident, mouthy, and chock full of so much sass I've told her that it's what pads her ass and not the sweets.

“You need to face it, honey. Find out what’s happening before you decide. Don’t close yourself off like I did. Face it,” I say with care, repeating the words she gave me not long ago about Jake.

While the situation is vastly different from mine, Evan has always kept herself distant in relationships, but this time I'm not letting her.

This time there’s…
more
.

For once, she needs to fight for it.  

She nods her head and gives me a wobbly smile. “Love you, Anna.”

I give her my own version of a wobbly smile. “Love
you
, Evan.”

“Okay, enough of this. You grab another bottle of wine and I’m going to finish off these cookies. I’m feeling in the mood for something cheery and musical-ly, so I’m putting Mamma Mia on,” she says, hopping up and heading to my entertainment center to find it in my movie collection.

I don’t argue.

I get up, let Juliet out (who has a look of betrayal on her face from the lack of crumbs), and grab the white Moscato from the fridge.

*              *              *

Two bottles later, we’re up shimmying and shaking while we sing along to
Dancing Queen
with Meryl and her gang.

A knock at my door has me leaving Evan to shake her booty while I head towards it with Juliet leading the way and laughing as I follow behind.

Since I’m just slightly below loaded but way past a buzz, I don’t throw my cardigan back on to cover myself—or even bother to check the peephole. I throw the door open with a wide smile on my face and freeze solid.

Standing there with an amused look on his face is Jake.

What in the
hell
is he doing here?

“Anna! Come on, they’re getting to the jumping part!” Evan shrieks, like I'm not just down the hallway, but two houses over.

I come unstuck when I hear Jake start chuckling.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, though what I meant to come out as annoyed comes out as breathy.

Ugh.

His eyes, which have been perusing me toes to tits, come back to mine at my voice (but he took his sweet time).

“I sent you a couple texts, called you, no answer. Wanted to know how things with your girl were going, but when I got no answer I gave Robby a call to get your address. Took me explaining it was the two of you, liquor, and sweets for him to give it to me, and he did it with his blessing seeing as he didn’t want to get a call from either of your drunk asses. His words,” he explains.

The amusement is still there, but there's also a little bit of roughness to his voice that warms my body in ways the alcohol never can.

“I’ll bet he did,” I mutter.

It sounded like Robby.

He’d had his fair share of coming to Evan and my rescue, mostly because Maddy was with us half the time, but even without her I was known to call him up and give him shit when liquor was involved.