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Charade

Charade (Heven and Hell #2)(45)
Author: Cambria Hebert

Her shoulders tensed, but she turned. “What?”

“Can’t we put all this behind us and be friends again?”

“Are you serious? You stole my boyfriend, you’ve been a lousy best friend, and to top it off you’re a liar.”

“I’ve never lied to you,” I protested, hating myself. In a way, I had lied to her by omitting many things about myself, Sam and even Cole. But those things were only done to protect her, not to harm her.

She snorted. “So you’re telling me that Cole didn’t dump me because of you?”

“No, he didn’t.” I turned and looked at Cole for some back up.

He sighed and stepped forward. “Come on, Kimmie.”

The use of his nickname for her seemed to anger her more. “Don’t call me that.”

“Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “But, I told you, this is not Heven’s fault.”

“So you said,” she snapped. “But yet every time I turn around, you’re at her house, or at her work, hell, you even sat with her today!”

“I thought we were all friends,” he said.

“Not anymore,” Kimber said, yanking her hand from my grasp and rushing away.

I turned on Cole. “What happened with you two?” I demanded. “You should have told me you broke up.”

“It just happened last night.”

“Why?”

He shrugged and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s just things are different now. I feel different and Kimmie just…” He sighed and sat down on the bleacher.

“Yeah, I know. You feel different.” I reminded him of our little conversation the night he came over and was a little drunk.

“Damn beer,” he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. “It’s for the best anyway. I don’t want her involved in everything that’s going on.”

“I get it,” I said sadly, sitting down next to him and laying my hand on his shoulder. “Did you at least tell her about our father?”

“No,” he said. “I told my mom I wouldn’t tell a bunch of people. She isn’t dealing with this so well and the idea of word getting out…”

“Yeah. Okay.” I stared forward, trying to think of something to say, to do, anything to make any of this easier. Ms. Merriweather was dawdling at the bottom of the bleachers. When I first looked her way, she was staring at us with a thoughtful expression on her face. When she noticed me looking, she turned away, but I had a feeling she was listening to our conversation. Sam and Logan were already standing down at the bottom behind her, waving at me to hurry up.

“Come on,” I said, standing. “Let’s go.”

The four of us walked outside, none of us speaking until we made it to our cars. Cole was the first to climb in his truck and back up, but before driving away, he stopped and rolled his window down. He didn’t look at me, though, but at Sam. “So I’ll see you later on at the farm… for training?”

Sam’s eyes widened like he forgot, but then he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Training?” Logan asked. “What kind of training?”

“I’ll tell you about it in a few,” Sam answered quickly.

I wondered again what was going on with Sam and exactly what it had to do with Logan.

“Cool.” Cole nodded at Sam and then gave me a wave before driving away.

“He seems awfully eager to get his butt kicked,” Sam mused, watching the truck pull out of sight.

“I don’t think he’s thinking about getting his butt kicked so much as who is going to be kicking it,” I murmured.

Sam whistled between his teeth. “Gemma and Cole?”

“He’s interested—that much I know. It’s all over his aura.”

Sam laughed. “Something tells me Gemma would be a handful.”

I didn’t think it was very funny. Cole already had his hands full with an angry ex-girlfriend hell bent on revenge.

*   *   *

Maybe what I did next wasn’t the most intelligent thing ever, but still. I had to see if my friendship with Kimber had any chance of survival. I felt bad for the way things had been going and for the fact that she was hurt. And I knew she was hurting. I have been friends long enough with Kimber to know when she was putting up a front and she definitely was. Kimber was really good at making people see what she wants them to see: a spoiled daddy’s girl whose only worry was what to wear the next day and what flavor coffee she was going to drink. She’s gotten so good at the charade that even, I, her used-to-be best friend, bought into it.

With Sam spending a few hours this afternoon with Logan (I still didn’t know what was going on) and then his training session with Cole and Gemma (a training session he didn’t really want me around to watch), I figured that now was as good as any time to see if our friendship was salvageable because, deep down, I still hoped it was.

I turned onto the street that led to her house and drove slowly past the huge lake-front homes while I wondered if she would even let me in.

See, the real Kimber feels as alone and insecure as the rest of us—if not more. Her parents ignore her and barely notice when she is around. She’s come to think that having money and popularity is the only way she’ll ever get noticed. In a sad way, it’s worked for her. But there is a price for popularity, which I learned too well last year after my accident and was left scarred. The more popular you get, the more you have to hide because if one thing gets out that goes against that perfect image you crafted for yourself, then it’s all over. Kimber may not realize it, but high school friends are fickle and only looking for the next thing (or person) that can make them feel like somebody. I’d guess that right about now, Kimber’s perfectly crafted world is tumbling around her, and her only ‘real’ anchors (me and Cole) were gone.

I pushed away the niggling thought that maybe Kimber had been using me all those years to gain her popularity and maybe we just weren’t that good of friends. I didn’t want to think that way. Kimber and I did have some great times before my life took a wild turn. I wasn’t ready to believe that those good times were all for the sake of her popularity.

I took a deep breath and knocked at the front door, waiting to see who would answer. I was beginning to think no one was going to answer when the door cracked open, and through the small space, I could see Kimber’s green eye staring at me.

“Go away.” She started to close the door, but I threw my palms against it and pushed.

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