Crazy Stupid Bromance (Bromance Book Club #3) - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,14
her do that same thing so many times, and he recognized it now for what it was. An attempt to ward off overt displays of emotion. His mother used to do the same thing, back when his father’s death was still raw and new. Noah feared that when the explosion finally came for Alexis, it was going to be hard, just like it was for his mother. And Noah vowed he’d be there to help her pick up the pieces, because he hadn’t been for his mom.
He rose and winced at the stiffness in his knees from crouching so long. “I’m going to make you some tea.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“I know, but I’m going to anyway.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Maybe I’ll splash some whiskey in the tea too.”
Her smile was as sad as it was forced. “You’re a dream come true.”
“I know, right?” He grinned and winked and was relieved when her lips softened into something that looked like an actual smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Noah jogged down the stairs, leaping just in time off the bottom step to avoid an assassination attempt by Beefcake. The fucking cat hated him. He liked to make himself known in the shadiest ways possible. Usually darting underfoot just in time to make Noah stumble or hiding beneath a chair to declare war on Noah’s shoelaces. Beefcake hissed and bounded up the stairs with much more agility than Noah would have expected from an animal whose belly dragged on the ground.
Noah grabbed the kettle from the stove, filled it with fresh water, and searched the cabinet for the chamomile tea.
When the kettle began to shriek, he turned it off and poured the water into the mug. Then he made good on his promise and splashed some whiskey into it. For himself, he went with straight whiskey and a couple of ice cubes.
When he returned to her bedroom, he found her sitting cross-legged on her bed cradling Beefcake.
“He tried to kill me again,” Noah said, hoping to coax another smile from her.
Alexis set the cat aside and reached for the tea. “Thank you.”
“You want a fire?” he asked, gesturing toward the fireplace along the wall.
“Sure.”
He set his whiskey on the bedside table before crouching in front of the fire. A minute later, it crackled to life. When he turned around, she had scooted all the way back on the bed to lean against the headboard.
He toed his shoes off and sat down on the mattress. It dipped under his weight and creaked, and the sound sent an uncomfortable jolt through his senses. In all this time since they’d known each other, all the time they’d spent together, he’d never been on the bed with her. He’d been in her bedroom numerous times. Hell, he’d been the one to bring the firewood up here. But this? Never this.
Alexis sipped her tea and sucked in a breath.
“Too hot?” he asked.
“Too whiskey-ey.”
Noah chuckled. “It’ll take the edge off.”
“And put hair on my chest?”
“I fucking hope not.”
She laughed. Finally. Thank God. She took another sip, and this time it must have gone down smoother, because she rested her head back against the headboard. After two more sips, she rolled her head in his direction. “Thank you for coming over.”
He leaned back and matched her pose, bringing their faces within inches of each other. “What’re friends for?”
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Just Colton making up conspiracy theories.”
She laughed again, and before he knew what was happening, she leaned toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. The top of her messy bun tickled his chin. Her hair smelled spicy, like the essential oil she used on her neck to ward off headaches.
“My mom’s birthday is next week,” she said suddenly.
“Yeah?”
Her cheek lifted away from his shoulder, and she turned her face up toward his. “Her birthday is harder for me than the anniversary of her death. Is that weird?”
Noah forced himself to hold her gaze. They rarely talked about their parents, even though they’d both lost a parent at too young an age. Her mother died from cancer three years ago, and his father died in Iraq when Noah was fifteen. It was something they shared, a club they never wanted to join but that defined them in ways no one outside the club could understand. There was a loneliness to losing a parent so young. A sense of unfairness that separated you from others.