Fake Friends - Saxon James Page 0,2

the ways he’s grown up.

And the torn look on his face tells me all the ways he hasn’t.

I’d put money down that his closet door is still locked tight.

“Please, Kelly …”

My real name snaps me out of whatever that was and sets my anger to red hot. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“But—”

I yank my bike from his grip, and this time I get on it first go. The rage is burning through my drunkenness, and all I need is to put as much distance as possible between us. “You have no right to that name. You have no right to my forgiveness. Now get the hell out of my life.” I push off and have enough coordination to get the bike moving a bit faster. “And this time, stay there.”

Well, that could have gone better.

I’ve been waiting for weeks for Circus to show up in town again, so when I got a call from my sister to say he was at Ugly’s, I’d gone straight down …

And completely screwed my chance of getting a resolution.

Drinking myself into oblivion after he left probably wasn’t the smartest choice either.

Oh well, it’s another day.

I set about working the grill at Harvey’s Burger House. While the diner has been in my family for years, I do not miss this part of Sunbury. It’s hot work, and I swear by the end of every shift, my hands reek of onion and pickles.

It’s a familiar smell from the year I spent working here between graduating high school and starting college.

“How are you doing?” Mom asks, leaving the office to check the orders.

“Yeah, fine. Not too busy.”

She gives me her warm, motherly smile that never fails to make me feel guilty. “I tell you, I’m glad you’re back. Every time I see you out here again, it’s like you never left.”

I chuckle even though I’m not feeling it. “I was gone for five years.” And I don’t think I’ve ever spent five years more confused and lost than during my time in Portland. Being back here feels like I get another chance to start over. To forget the dumb choices I made in Portland and pick up my life where I left off.

I just wish it were that easy.

“Okay, well, before I start getting all sentimental that my boy is home …” She takes a deep breath and pushes off the counter she was leaning against. “I’ve got some orders to place. Shout out if you need a hand, okay?”

“Will do.”

She disappears back into the office, and my shoulders slump. Whenever I’m around my family, I always feel the need to be “on,” and after only a month back here, I’m already exhausted by it.

The door to out front slams open, and my sister Piper rushes into the kitchen.

“Quick, we’re swapping.”

“We’re doing what now?”

But Piper doesn’t answer. She’s already tugging off my apron and pushing me toward the door.

“Wait, no, stop.” I laugh and grab her bony shoulders. It never occurred to me how much shorter she is until I spent some time away. “Calm it, sis. Explain.”

“Circus is here,” she hisses like it’s some kind of secret.

And … it sort of is. My gut does that thing where it turns into a storm-ravaged sea. I lick my lips and taste salt. “What’s your point?”

“He never comes in here. Ever. And I have no idea why you have to talk to him, but now’s your chance. Go.”

She doesn’t know. She could never. My sister is my biggest support, and I swear nothing I could do would ever make her think less of me, but … what I did to Circus definitely toes that line.

Which is why I cannot talk to him about it here. This town is way too fucking nosy to discuss private business in my family’s diner.

I force a smile as I take Piper’s pad and pen. Yippee, go me. About to serve a guy who hates my guts. Seems like the perfect way to end the weekend.

And when I step out from behind the counter and see him sitting there, he steals my breath like always.

He’s … beautiful. There’s no other way to describe him.

Circus has his mom’s Italian skin and black hair, his dad’s smoldering gray eyes. And I say “smoldering” not to sound like a complete douchebag, but because it’s the most accurate way to describe them. They’re always a little squinty, a little lustful, and they’re what ultimately made me give in to every urge I’d been fighting for the better part