The Best Kind of Forever (Riverside Reapers Book 1)

AERIS

He’s not who you think he is.

I haven’t been able to get those words out of my head. They’ve been circling my thoughts like a vulture waiting for its next meal to drop. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus on my work.

I’m outside of Hayes’ house right now, but I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to him. I can’t just walk up and ask, “Hey, you’re not hiding anything from me, are you? Maybe a life-changing secret that’ll show me your true colors?”

I trust Hayes; I do. I mean, yeah, he lied to me about his occupation, but with good reason and explained why. My dad’s just trying to scare me. He’s probably trying to ruin the only good thing I have in my life right now.

I come to my senses and start inching away from the door, but not before I hear it swing open. I freeze in my tracks, slowly turn to look over my shoulder, and try to plaster on the most convincing smile I can.

“Aeris? Did you need something?”

It’s Bristol. Thank God.

“Oh, uh, I…I was just leaving,” I stammer, awkwardly jerking my thumb toward my car. I’m not ready for an interrogation. I’m barely holding it together just standing here.

“You were hanging out on our porch for five minutes…because you were ‘just leaving’?” he asks, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. Does hockey require some kind of height requirement? Why are all hockey players so tall and buff?

Anxiety lights a fuse in my veins, threatening to scorch me to a crisp. “How did you know how long I was out here?”

He gestures to the device next to the door that I somehow didn’t notice.

“Ring Doorbell,” he says, tousling his hair back with a swoop of his hand. “Was pretty helpful when we had that crazed fan turned stalker a few months back.”

Stupid Ring Doorbell.

“Mm-hm.” I tuck my hands into my jean pockets, evading his gaze to the best of my ability. Jesus. It feels so hot out here. Why is it so hot? I’m sweating like a pig, my heart’s racing about a million beats per minute, and there’s not enough saliva in my mouth to help me form more than a one-word response.

Thankfully, Bristol doesn’t comment on my clear nervousness. Either he’s polite, or he’s not super perceptive. “Were you looking for Hayes?”

“Ah, I, yes?”

“I think he’s at lunch with his agent right now. Can I give him a message?”

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Thank you.” We both stare at each other for an unusually long amount of time, neither of us moving, and then I finally rally the courage to scuffle a few inches back. God, kill me now. Have a sinkhole open underneath me.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Bristol proposes, angling his body so I have clear passage. “Hayes should be back within the hour.”

Wait for him? And tell him what? That I let my father infiltrate my mind and poison all my thoughts like some kind of egg-laying parasite? No, Aeris. Respectfully decline. Tell him you have to bathe your cat. Tell him you have jury duty, and you may or may not be in the process of putting away a serial killer. TELL HIM ANYTHING.

“Okay.”

Agh! No!

I politely make my way past Bristol, and once my feet step over the imaginary line I’ve drawn in the imaginary sand, my fight or flight response kicks in. This is bad. If I don’t tell Hayes the truth, he’ll know I’m hiding something. If I do tell him the truth, he’ll think I don’t trust him. There is no winning in this situation.

“Do you want some tea?” Bristol offers, walking over to the open-plan kitchen.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” I shrug my purse off my shoulder and sit down on the couch.

With a heavy stare, I watch as Bristol turns the burner on and places a kettle on the stovetop.

“I’ll make some just in case.”

I trade my aimless fidgeting and focus on a distressed hole in my jeans, curling my fingers around the white threads. “So…”

“Why are you really here, Aeris? You look upset.” The brazenness of Bristol’s words cut me like the serrated edge of a knife, and I stiffen, drawing in a breath that fails to slow my stumbling heart rate.

“I…I guess I’m just having second thoughts,” I answer in a timid voice, flinching upon hearing my insecurities fizzle to the surface.

“Second thoughts about your relationship with Hayes?” Bristol takes a seat across from me, and even though he’d presumably be on Hayes’ side, he’s looking at me with a kind glimmer in his eyes.

More nerves take flight in my stomach, and I scratch my fingernail against my knee through a lattice of fraying strands. “I guess…”

“I know you aren’t asking for my two cents, or my advice, but I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t tell you how much Hayes likes you. I’ve never seen him this way with anyone before. He never stops talking about you. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

He talks about me? He’s over-the-moon-happy to be with me? I’m so stupid for even tricking myself into thinking I had something to worry about.

“It’s hard for me to be completely vulnerable with him. And it’s not because I don’t feel safe with him. I just…haven’t had the best luck with relationships in the past.” The tears have yet to materialize, but if this conversation turns into a therapy session, they’re going to make a very unwanted appearance.

And suddenly, my pants aren’t a sufficient distraction anymore.

Bristol nods. “That’s understandable. Hayes is still getting used to the relationship scene. He means well, but I don’t think he really has a clue what he’s doing. If something’s bothering you, you should talk to him.”

“Even if it might cause an argument?”

“Arguments are healthy for couples to have. And I know Hayes has a bit of a temper, but I assure you that he’d never do anything to make you regret opening up to him. Communication is important to him. You’re important to him. Whatever it is that you want to discuss with him, he’d be more than happy to hear you out. A relationship only works if both parties are honest and receptive.”

My breath stalls. “You’re right.”

He then leans into me, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I know I’m not Hayes, but I know him well enough. I’m all ears if you need some extra help.”

Bristol doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would lie, much less lie to save his friend’s ass if said friend was being an idiot. Maybe being honest with him will help me tackle this thing with Hayes.

A bomb of anxiety detonates against my breastbone. “Hayes hasn’t slept with a sponsor’s daughter, has he?”

Oh my God. I can’t believe I just said that aloud.

He pauses to think, then eventually shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”

Whew. That’s a good thing, right? I should be relieved, so why do I still feel so…yucky? Maybe my body’s subconsciously projecting from the gross aftertaste that my father left with his half-assed rumors. Hayes didn’t sleep with a sponsor’s daughter, and he’s definitely not using me to better his image. Case closed, never to be reopened for as long as I live.

I open my mouth to blubber about how stupid I was, but Bristol cuts me off.

“I’ve been where you are. Your fears and doubts are valid. I don’t know how much Hayes has told you, but he got out of a two-year relationship about six months ago. She was a self-made influencer, and the only reason she was with him was to piggyback off his fame. He found out the hard way when he caught her cheating.”

I hadn’t realized how hurt Hayes must have felt from that betrayal. When he brought it up to me at the game, I don’t think I fully grasped the extent of how badly this girl fucked him over. And now I feel like a piece of shit for letting some unsubstantiated rumor get to me.

“If you decide to go ahead and ask him, I don’t think he’d be mad at you. I think he’d feel bad for making you worry, or for giving you that impression. Yeah, he’s a bit of a ladies’ man, but I really think he’s trying to change for that special someone. For you, maybe.”

The twinge of panic that had been rippling through me is nothing but a lusterless hum now. “Thank you, Bristol. For talking me down from the ledge.”

“Of course. You’re family now. The guys and I will always be here if you need us.”

I lunge into Bristol and wrap my arms around him in a bear hug, genuinely meaning it with every fiber of my being. The slight breath I punch out of him dissolves into a chuckle, and he returns my embrace with a tight squeeze.

“Aeris?” The husky timbre of a deep voice kisses my ears, and it’s second nature for me to register the handsome face behind the equally seductive drawl.

I pull back from the hug, homing in on the sight of Hayes dressed in a blue button-down and tight-fitting pants. A jacket is folded over his arm, and his hair is free of product, fringing down the sides of his temples.

Instead of greeting him like a sane person, I run at him and jump into his arms, meshing my lips to his. He sighs into my mouth, his arms tightening around me, and the hungry pressure from my tongue draws his out from its hiding place.

When we pull away, he’s flushed.

“What was that for?” he pants.

“I missed you,” I tell him, my calves straining from standing on my tiptoes. He cranks his neck down to look me in the eyes.

He fingers a wisp of my hair, brushing his knuckles against my cheekbone. “You came to my house to tell me you missed me?”

I beam from ear to ear, probably lighting up brighter than the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree. “I’d cross the ocean to tell you I missed you.”

A smile adorns his mouth, warmth crystallizing in his eyes.

“Come on. Let’s go upstairs.” He leads me by the hand, nodding to Bristol as he makes a beeline for his room, practically dislodging my arm from its socket with the way he’s pulling me.

Once we’re out of ear and eyesight, he locks the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

I’m about to question why we were moving at Fast and Furious speed, but then I glance down at the huge boner he’s sporting, and everything falls into place.

“You do unspeakable things to me, Aeris Relera,” he says huskily, pulling me flush against his body.

My heart’s doing a fifty-yard dash in my chest, and my vision spins with a solar system of stars. I adjust my hips slightly, allowing his ever-growing erection to nestle against my stomach.

“Use your words, Hayes Hollings,” I purr, my voice as soft as buttercream.

His fingers come down roughly on my sides, and he skates his teeth together, his features tightening like the drawstring of a bow. The muscles in his upper body ripple under his shirt as he tries to leash the last bit of his self-control.

“Let’s just say that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that sweet fucking nectar between your legs, and I can’t wait until I’m nose-deep inside your gorgeous pussy again—until I can wear your scent like my new favorite cologne.”