Fragile Lives: A small-town, age-gap, brother’s best friend romance (Little Hope series Book 4)
Fragile Lives: Chapter 4

We drive to the house in Kenneth’s police cruiser, and it’s weird to be in the passenger seat and not in the back of it. I acted out a lot when I was a teenager and often found myself in trouble with the police. The type of trouble that gets you booked overnight.

To tell the truth, I’m a little nervous, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m some teenager meeting my girlfriend’s parents—which I’d never done, by the way—but I’d imagine the feeling would be the same. Maybe it’s because Alex is like family to me, and I’ve never met anyone from his real family besides Kenneth. And we served many years together. Or maybe it’s because I don’t actually know what a normal family looks like.

So, when Alex called and told me that I was invited to dinner at his parents’ house, I took time with my wardrobe. And that’s precisely why I’m currently feeling like a total moron, wearing a dark-gray button-down and black pants while Kenneth wears comfy pants and a sweater.

When we park, he turns to face me.

“I apologize for anything that might happen here.” He nods at the house with a slight wince.

I laugh. “You don’t have any hope for your family?”

“I love them, but I stopped expecting normal meals a long time ago. So yeah, sorry for everything in advance.” He sighs resignedly.

I take in the beautiful, homey house. White brick covers the front of the building, and a cute bench sits next to the burgundy front door. The perfectly shaped bushes lining the sidewalk are covered in snow. The front yard is adorned with Christmas decorations, and electric candles twinkle in every single window. It looks like the perfect home to me, so I don’t know what Kenneth is talking about.

“Whatever happens, it can’t be worse than mine. Trust me.” I get out of the car and look around.

The neighborhood is just as perfect: Christmas trees and Santas everywhere.

“You might eat your words later.” Kenneth draws my attention to him. Leaning against his cruiser, he sends me a funny look. I just smile and gesture to go inside.

“It’s cold here. Let’s go.”

“I don’t see you shivering.” His eyes narrow, and I laugh again.

Fuckin’ cop.

“Let’s go.” I keep laughing as we walk toward the house, and I feel his stare on my back, assessing me.

Once we’re at the door, he whips it open, stepping inside. “Mom, we’re here!” he yells.

A small ball of ginger curls, supposedly Kenneth’s mom, rushes to greet us.

…And I get hit by a strong case of déjà vu—she reminds me of someone. Someone I’ve met recently but can’t forget. Such a weird and unwelcome memory coming out of nowhere.

The woman wipes her hand on her stained apron and offers her hand. “I’m Stella. And you must be Archie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply and give her small hand a gentle shake. I feel like a fucking elephant next to her, and I eye Kenneth who’s even bulkier than I am. It’s unbelievable that such a tiny human could produce him.

“Everyone’s already here,” she announces cheerfully and gestures somewhere behind her.

“Are we late?” Kenneth glances at his wristwatch.

“No,” she waves him off. “Everyone is early today for a change.” She sends me a conspiratorial wink, and I smile back as if I understand what she means. “Let’s go.”

She puts her hand on my shoulder and nudges me forward, so I follow her lead. It’s pretty quiet here for everyone to be “already here.” I only hear one voice belonging to Freya. No one else is talking.

When we step into the living room, the tension is so thick that it can be cut with a knife.

Alex sits in a chair, a deep line between his furrowed brows, his hand resting on Freya’s lower back. Planted on the armchair next to him, she chirps away some nonsense as she usually does when she’s nervous.

An older man who looks a lot like Alex and Kenneth sits in the other chair, the same look on his face as on Alex’s. His eyes are trained on the wall in front of him. A young man who reminds me of young Alex in both looks and attitude is planted at the table, glued to the phone in his hands. I can see the family resemblance among everyone here.

“You know Freya.” Stella draws my attention back to her. “This is Keith.” She points to the older man. “Well, and that’s Kenneth.” Then she adds with a cackle, “I didn’t know you guys were friends.”

“I didn’t either,” Alex says, eyes narrowed a little. It’s the first thing he’s said since we showed up.

I give him a half-smile, mentally urging Stella to continue introductions and save me from the incoming interrogation.

“Aiden is right there,” she tells me, eyeing him. “Drop your phone,” she scolds him.

He rolls his eyes but puts the phone face down on the table. “’Sup.”

I nod at him, seeing so much Alex in him. He came to the service just like that, angry and bitter but able to follow the rules.

“And this is Leila.”

…A bucket of cold water is dumped over my head.

And a second bucket follows as Stella points to the silent woman sitting on the low window. She’s half-hidden behind a heavy curtain. Her long, red hair is thrown over her right shoulder and lies across her chest in soft waves. A thick book is open in her hands. Her eyes are wide, her mouth slightly ajar.

“Leila, this is Archie, Alex’s friend from the military.”

“Archie?” she asks, her voice small.

“Yeah. Archie. Hi,” I reply firmly, not giving her any indication that I recognize her. It’s an asshole move, but a needed one to survive this dinner. It’s going to be tough. I should have listened to Kenneth’s warning.

“Hi, Archie,” she says, stressing the name. Her face is full of disgust, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s mad that I pretended not to remember her or because of what she witnessed on the bridge and what happened after. I’d be pissed, too, if she forgot the kiss. Because I haven’t.

“Alright!” Stella claps her hands excitedly. “Now that everyone is here, let’s go eat. I spent the whole day cooking, so you all better clean your plates or else.”

I don’t remember when I last ate a homemade meal. I would be excited about it if not for the hot glare from the little ginger. She avoids looking at me, but every so often, her stare lands on the side of my face, and when I look, her nose scrunches as if she smells something foul, and she turns away.

At the table, everyone takes their assigned spots. I wait for everyone to be seated so Stella can point out where I should sit. Keith sits at the head of the table, and to his left are Alex, Freya, and Aiden. Opposite them are Leila, me, and Kenneth.

Fuck.

Stella runs around the table serving everyone food and chirping nonstop. I haven’t seen her stop moving for a moment.

“Mom—” Kenneth wants to say something; his voice is annoyed, but he’s interrupted by Leila.

“Ken,” she calls quietly for only him to hear. When he looks at her, she subtly shakes her head. The sheriff purses his lips and nods curtly, surprising the hell out of me.

The food in front of me looks like a hill I’d be happy to die on, but I can’t swallow a single piece because of the woman to my left. She’s tiny, but her presence is large. She moves a carrot on her plate without taking a single bite of anything.

“You better start fuckin’ eating because mom is getting upset that you don’t like it,” Kenneth hisses to my right.

Oh shit—that was never my intention. In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m so grateful for the invitation to be included, yet I behave like an ungrateful asshole. So, I dig into my food, and for a moment, I forget that I should be embarrassed and uncomfortable. Because this, right here, is what heaven might taste like—like a homemade beef roast with crunchy veggies.

Besides that, the tension at the table is thick without me making it worse. Alex and his father clearly have never resolved their issues. Ever since the service, Alex never talked much about his family. I knew he was forced to live with his father and his family when his mother died, but Alex never shared much. Neither did I, and that’s why we bonded there.

Right now, Alex is being Alex. Every so often, his father throws him a heavy stare, making him a beastly Alex—and that’s someone I don’t want to witness today.

I watch Leila through my peripheral like a hawk, expecting her to throw a fit at some point. That’s what women usually do when guys upset them, but she’s quiet. She just picks on her food and subtly watches everyone at the table.

Stella and Freya chat about Freya’s PTSD center and how much it’s grown since opening. Kenneth is devouring everything on the table. Keith’s brows droop lower with every look he sends Alex’s way while Alex methodically chews his beef. I must admit, it’s an interesting dinner.

Finally, Alex places his utensils to the side and clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. Then he drops a bomb.

“We are getting married.”

Freya’s eyes widen. She turns to him. “A little warning the next time, Boo Bear,” she hisses.

He turns to her. “What next time? We are getting married fuckin’ once. There will be no next time for you, woman.”

Stella covers her mouth with her hands in silent excitement. Big tears run down her freckled cheeks.

Kenneth drops his fork on his plate with a loud bang and draws everyone’s attention.

“Pay up,” he says, stretching his arm out, palm open.

Leila rolls her eyes and digs into the back pocket of her jeans, produces a twenty, and reaches over me toward Kenneth. Her forearm grazes my chest, and she quickly pulls away as if it burned her. She drops the money into Kenneth’s palm and retracts back into her seat, attempting to avoid touching me like the plague.

Then their father follows and does the same. Aiden groans and digs into his pocket, taking a dollar out.

“I’m nineteen bucks short.”

I glance at his mischievous face—the dude is funny.

“Pay up.” Kenneth wiggles his palm. Aiden rolls his eyes, takes a twenty out of his pocket, and drops it into Kenneth’s hand.

“What the fuck is happening?” Alex asks with furrowed brows as Freya bites her lip, trying not to laugh.

“What is happening, brother, is that I am the only one who still has faith in you.” Kenneth dramatically counts his money, folds the banknotes, and puts them into his pocket. Then with the satisfied look of a cat who just ate a canary, he leans against the back of his chair and crosses his hands over his stomach with a wide smile.

Alex shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement. I’d expect an outburst from the old Alex, and this new one is clearly a stranger to me.

“Yeah, you’re getting old, ya know. Shouldn’t wait any longer.” Aiden wiggles his brows at his brother and gets a smack on the back of his head from him.

I quickly glance at Leila, wanting to see her reaction the most. She has a beautiful, secret smile on her bright face as she watches their interaction without saying a word.

A loud sob stops everyone, and we all turn toward Stella, who’s wiping her eyes with her linen napkin.

“Mom, what happened?” Alex asks, and Stella sobs even more.

My head whips toward Alex, and his good cheek, the one without a burn scar, turns pink. No, not pink—bright red. He just called his stepmom he used to hate ‘mom.’ One of the few things he said about his family during his time in the Navy was that he didn’t want to go home because he had an ‘evil stepmother’ there. As far as I can see, the tables have turned, and Stella looks the furthest thing from evil to me. Trust me, I know. I grew up with one.

A subtle sniffle to my left makes me instantly switch my attention to Leila. Her eyes are watery, and her nose is red. But she looks happy, so I let out a sigh of relief. I can’t explain why my heart skipped a beat when I thought she was upset and crying.

“I’m so happy!” Stella sobs. “So, so happy!”

“Alright, alright,” Keith says, subtly wiping his pink nose. “Congratulations, son. You finally grew some balls.”

Everyone at the table freezes, expecting Alex to go ballistic. My old muscle memory works, and my body tightens, preparing to drag him away if needed. There were too many stories from when Alex couldn’t control himself, and shit hit the fan. But it looks like he managed it, since he lets out a loud chuckle, throwing his arm over Freya’s shoulders.

“It was about time,” he says.

I feel Kenneth and Leila relax next to me. Kenneth leans back in his chair, letting out a relieved sigh, and Leila wipes her palms on her jeans.

“That’s right, bro.” Kenneth cackles. “Can’t say I don’t agree with Aiden.”

“You’re older than me, idiot.” Alex flips him off with a smile.

A cloud rolls over Kenneth as he thinks. “Oh shit, I’m not twenty anymore.”

“And it’s been like that for a long time, honey.” Stella pats his hand on the table. “When will you replace a nice girl and settle down too? I want grandchildren.” Her face is twisted in a silent plea, focused on Kenneth while he manically looks around the table for support. None is offered. Instead, they’re all happy he’s at the center of the roast, so he clears his throat.

“So, when is the date?” he asks Alex.

I send Kenneth an appreciative glance—sleek move, man.

“Next Saturday,” Freya spits out as fast as she can, blinking rapidly.

“What?” comes a chorus of voices, followed by “Why?”

“Well,” Freya exchanges a happy look with Alex, “we’re expecting.”

“What?” exclaims another round of excited voices. Everyone seems surprised, but not Leila. She’s sitting back in her chair silently with a knowing smirk plastered on her face as she sips her water. She’s quiet again. In fact, I’ve never seen a woman so quiet. It’s funny, considering she had so much to tell me on the bridge.

“Did you know?” I can’t resist asking her, bothered by her ignoring me the whole evening.

She finally turns to me slowly, with a lifted brow. “I had my suspicions.”

“Don’t you always?” I whisper, a little more flirtatious than I intended, but it comes naturally.

Her brows stay arched. “Do you really wanna go there?” She licks her lips. “Archie.”

An inappropriate ping of excitement in my dick makes me clench my jaw, but she takes it as an act of aggression. “Yeah, didn’t think so,” she says, turning away.

Everyone is talking around the table, but my mind is far away. I’m fucking happy for Alex, but he was the last straw that connected me to the past. The last thread. The more I’m around him, the more I understand how much he’s changed, and I can’t use him as a crutch. I’ll only drag him down because that’s where I’m headed. It’s time to check out from Little Hope.

I keep stirring in my unhappy thoughts until my name is called.

“…with Archie. What do you think?”

I lift my eyes and replace everyone watching me. I clear my throat, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked,” Alex repeats, “if you would be my best man?”

My throat contracts and I look around the table, searching for any indication that I’m being pranked. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

I replace Alex’s eyes, and he gives me a subtle nod.

“I thought…” I blink. “I mean, I thought Justin or Kenneth would be your best man.”

“They’ll be in the groom’s flock. But I want you by my side,” Alex states firmly.

I can’t breathe. That’s not what I expected. I’ll fuck it up somehow; I just know it. I want to refuse, but instead, I replace myself saying, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be happy to.”

“Great.” He nods again. “It’s settled then.”

They launch into a long conversation about the wedding and how small it will be. I’m only half listening since I’m trying to process the news. I never go to weddings since it’s never in the cards for me. I don’t want to be a Grinch and ruin all the fun, but also, I can only push myself so far—there is a limited number of smiles I have per day.

Soon I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. I wash my hands, lean on the sink, and look in the mirror. What are you doing here? Why do you keep coming back to this small town? I thought it would be therapeutic, but it’s not. It’s actually making things worse.

Here, I can see how lonely I really am and how much I don’t fit in with anyone. Back home, alone in my mansion that I bought because I thought it would help me be less miserable—spoiler alert: it didn’t—I can be myself. I don’t need to stretch my face in a pretend smile, and I don’t need to act happy all the damn time. Everyone thinks I have it all figured out, that I ride my life as a careless surfer riding a fuckin’ wave, but none of those things are true.

I open the door and jump, startled—Leila leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

“All yours.” I give her a lopsided smile and go to pass her by, but she stops me by calling my name. My real name.

“Stephan,” she whispers, but she might as well be yelling.

I whip toward her and lean closer. “Archie. Call me Archie.”

“Who is Stephan?”

“Not me.” I feel my nostrils flare, and suddenly I can smell her floral perfume. It’s so subtle. Maybe it’s her shampoo. I inch closer and inhale deeply.

She pulls away, her eyes rounded. “Did you just sniff me?”

“I did.” I stand to my full height, dwarfing her, but she doesn’t look affected by it.

“Why would you do that?”

I can flirt my way out of this, but for some reason, I don’t want to do that with her. “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully.

Her demeanor changes instantly—she’s understanding.

“You can tell him no, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” I pretend not to understand, scared that she sees too much. She had seen too much.

“That you don’t want to be his best man.”

“Who told you I don’t?” I narrow my eyes at her.

She shakes her head, disappointed, and I feel a knot form in my stomach. How the hell am I so attuned to this woman and her mood changes?

“I don’t know what’s going on in your life, and, actually, I don’t even know you, Archie, but what I do know is that you’re allowed to say ‘no.’ At some point in your life, you will have to drop this guilt-driven act and live for yourself.” She keeps her eyes on mine the whole time she speaks, making me feel bare in front of her.

I breathe like a bull, not knowing what to say, and she turns to walk away, but I don’t let her. I grab her hand and pull her toward me. Her back ends up pressed to the wall, my body flush to her front. It’s a fuckin’ bad idea—we’re in her parents’ house with her whole family in the dining room. It’s a bad idea because I’m twice as big as her and act like a neanderthal.

The moment I think about that, I want to pull away. Making her uncomfortable is the last thing I want to do, but she surprises me—as usual—by rising on her tippytoes and getting into my face, challenging me.

“This man right here,” her eyes roam my face, “can offer so much more to the world than the carefree bad boy you pretend to be.”

“Pretend to be?” I inhale sharply, cursing myself for enjoying her smell too much. “Want to talk about pretending? Don’t pretend to know anything about me. You think I pretend to be a bad boy?” My hand drops down and lands on her hip. “Well, I don’t pretend.” I press my nose into her cheek, and she lets out a gasp. Good. She should stay away from me, and this interaction should ensure it. “And I don’t think I asked your opinion about anything. Go stick your nose in your book instead of my life.”

With that, I replace the willpower to push away from her, feeling like a piece of shit. It was needed, but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.