Her Best Friend: Braxton Brothers Series Book Two Page 3

  Jonathan dropped his arm and shrugged. “Not much. I guess I just…” He met her gaze. Did he really want his best friend to know how much of a loser he was? There was only so much a blood oath could cover.

  “Just work. It’s stressing me out.”

  Tiffany nodded and looked as if she were intently listening. “Why is it stressing you out?”

  “I might get traded.”

  Tiffany glanced up at him. “Really? Oh, Jonathan, I’m sorry.”

  Jonathan reached out and traced his fingers in the sand. “It happens. I just love the Steelers. I don’t want to leave.”

  “It’s just a rumor, right?”

  “For now.”

  Tiffany smiled. “Then I bet it’ll blow over. You’re the best player they have. I wouldn’t stress about it until it’s for sure.”

  If only Tiffany understood, she wouldn’t sound so sure. But he didn’t want to drag down their conversation, so he just nodded. “Yeah. I’m probably freaking out more than I need to.”

  Tiffany stood and brushed the sand off. “Should we see if our tree is still standing?”

  Ready to move on from the heavy discussion, Jonathan stood and nodded. “Yep.”

  Thankfully their conversation remained light as they walked through the small stand of trees in the center of the island. After making sure the tree that they’d carved their initials into was still standing, Tiffany slapped Jonathan on the shoulder and took off down to the water, yelling that he was “it.”

  Smiling, Jonathan jumped into the water and swam as fast as he could through the water and to the other beach. Once he was on the shore, he walked up onto the sand and then turned, looking for Tiffany.

  A few waves crashed onto the shore, but Tiffany did not come with them. Confused, Jonathan glanced toward the water, hoping to see Tiffany’s head bobbing up and down.

  Nothing.

  Panic rose up inside of Jonathan as he began pacing the water line, looking for her. Where could she be?

  He ran his gaze along the path from where he stood to their island, but he didn’t see anything. Focusing his gaze, he strained for movement. Any movement.

  Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small splash. It was about five feet off from the direction of the island. Not thinking, he dove into the water and pushed as hard as he could to that spot. When he got there, he straightened as he treaded water. Where was she?

  Seeing nothing, he dipped below the surface. Despite the fact that his eyes were stinging, he searched the water below. Then, in the pale light of the moon shining above, he saw her. His heart pounded as he pushed against the current until he could wrap his arms around her waist.

  Kicking hard, he pushed toward the surface until he finally broke through, gasping for air. He flipped Tiffany onto her back, and, with one arm firmly wrapped around her, he pushed through the burning sensation in his legs, arms, and lungs as he swam back to shore.

  He was so close to the beach, and he just needed to get there. Then he could collapse.

  Just when he was sure that he wouldn’t make it, Jonathan felt the ground under his feet. His toes dug into the sand as he dragged his body through the crashing waves. And before his body gave way, he laid Tiffany down as carefully as his rubbery muscles could manage before collapsing next to her.

  Taking a second to catch his breath, he pushed himself up and crawled over to her.

  “Tiffany,” he said as he crouched down next to her, waiting for her chest to rise. When he saw no movement, he pressed his fingers against her throat.

  Nothing.

  Panic coursed through his veins, giving him the strength to pull himself up until he was kneeling next to her. After tipping her face so that her neck was straight, he opened her mouth and blew into it. After a few chest compressions, he blew again.

  Every emotion was rushing through him like an avalanche. She needed to breath. She needed to live. This was his best friend, and he’d let her down. Why were they so competitive that he would just leave her in the ocean like that?

  “Come on,” he yelled as he continued chest compressions.

  Glancing up, he took note of his clothes a bit down the shore. He needed his phone so he could call an ambulance. But if he left to get it, no one would be here to administer CPR.

  Cursing under his breath, he blew into her mouth a few times and then returned to compressions. “Don’t go, Tiffany,” he yelled, his voice breaking under the emotional strain pulling at his soul.

  “I can’t be here without you,” he whispered as he closed his eyes and said a prayer. To God. To anyone who would listen.

  Just as his body was about to give out from the physical and emotional strain, he heard a cough, followed by a whole lot of seawater.

  Tipping Tiffany onto her side, he held her as she coughed and vomited up more water. Finally, she calmed and he slowly laid her back down on the beach. Her eyes were wide as she glanced around.

  Unable to control himself, Jonathan threw his arms around her and squeezed her to his chest. She winced, and just as quickly as he’d hugged her, he let her go.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, dipping down to see into her eyes. Just to make sure there was still life in them.

  She shivered and brought her arms up to hug her legs. Realizing that she must be freezing, Jonathan told her he would be right back and then rushed over to their clothes and gathered them up.

  He returned, shaking the sand out of her clothes and helping her slide on her shirt. Just as he moved to help her with her pants, Tiffany held up her hands.

  “I can get dressed,” she said, holding out her shaking hand.

  He hesitated, but when she gave him an are you serious? look, he forced out his overprotective instincts and handed her the pants. Needing a distraction, Jonathan dressed as well.

  As Tiffany pulled her pants up to her thighs, she began to shift as if she were trying to stand. Wanting a job, Jonathan lifted her up and then set her feet gently down on the beach. He held her steady as she wiggled into her jeans and buttoned them.

  “We should get you to the hospital,” he said, glancing around for their shoes.

  Tiffany let out a soft laugh. “Hospital? What are you talking about? I’m fine.” She waved to the front of her body.

  Jonathan shook his head. “This is not an option. You were under for a while. We’re going, and I’m not going to let you push me away. It’s my job as your best friend.”

  Sighing, Tiffany nodded. “Fine.”

  Thankful that she wasn’t going to fight him, he looked for their shoes. They were halfway from where they were standing and his car. Bending down, he swiped her legs with his arm and pulled her up, cradling her next to his chest.

  “Jonathan, I can walk,” she said, tipping her head back so she could stare at him.

  There was no way he was going to do that. “No. Please,” he said. He wanted to meet her gaze. He wanted to ask for her forgiveness. She would have never gotten hurt if he hadn’t left her like that.

  She studied him for a moment but then nodded. “Okay,” she whispered.

  Jonathan’s heart was hammering in his chest as he carried her to his car and opened the door. He set her down gently into the front seat and moved to buckle her in, but she beat him to it.

  Just as he pulled his hand away to shut her door, Tiffany grabbed him. “Hey,” she said. Her voice was low and raspy—no doubt from the salt water she’d consumed. “I’m okay. Really.”

  Jonathan flexed his jaw as he stared down at her. His body coursed with fear and joy—a strange combination. It was causing his stomach to tie into knots. He could have lost his best friend. She could have died. What would he have done then? He would have never been able to forgive himself.

  Worried that his voice might break if he spoke, Jonathan just nodded and then shut the door behind him.

  He fisted his hands as he rounded the hood to climb into the driver’s seat. They drove in silence toward Honey Grove General, where he pulled in
to the parking lot and turned off the engine.

  Tiffany was out of the car by the time he jogged around to help her out. He dipped down to scoop her up, but she gave him a death stare.

  “I can walk in there on my own,” she said, lowering her voice to sound threatening.

  Jonathan contemplated ignoring her and scooping her up into his arms anyway. After all, she was about as heavy as a feather. But he decided to just nod and step out of her way. He’d keep a close eye on her, and if he saw any sign of struggle, he’d ignore her insistence and help her out.

  Two hours later, Jonathan followed her out of the hospital. After some tests, they said she should be watched but that she could go home. Jonathan nodded, listening to everything the doctor said.

  When they climbed into his car, Jonathan glanced over at her. “Anyone at your apartment tonight?” he asked.

  Tiffany sighed. “I’m fine Jonathan. I’ll be fine. I can spend the night in my apartment. Alone.”

  Jonathan started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “The doctor said—”

  “I don’t care what the doctor said. I’m fine. You can stop treating me like something that’s broken.”

  Jonathan tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he narrowed his eyes. Sure, Tiffany was strong. But with something like this, her strength was irritating. It was a wall she’d built up around her heart ever since her parents left her. To her, letting someone in was a sign of weakness.

  She didn’t want to appear to care about anything, because then she could never be hurt. It frustrated him that she was pulling this crap on him.

  So, despite her insistence that he take her back to the Tavern to get her car, he drove her over to his house.

  “Seriously, Jonathan?” she asked, twisting in her seat to stare at him.

  “Come on. Just one night, then I’ll leave you alone.”

  Tiffany’s jaw dropped as she stared at his house and then back over to Jonathan. “And I get no say in this.”

  Jonathan shot her a smile as he grabbed the door handle and climbed out of his car. “Nope.”

  He watched her through the windshield as she sat there with her arms crossed over her chest. He could tell that she was frustrated, but he didn’t care. It was his fault that she was in this mess, and it was his job to make sure she was okay.

  He pulled on her door handle and waited. Finally, she climbed out—but not before she gave him an annoyed look—and he shut the door behind her.

  They walked in silence up to the house and into the kitchen.

  His mom was sitting at the table and reading a book when they walked in. Her eyes widened as she took in their appearance.

  “What happened to you two?” she asked, standing up and coming over.

  “We went swimming and Tiffany almost drowned,” Jonathan said.

  Sondra glanced between them and then ushered Tiffany farther into the house. “Oh my goodness, come inside, sweetheart. Let me get you some tea.”

  Tiffany walked past Jonathan, ignoring him as she went. Then she glanced over at his mom. “Actually, I’d love to just take a shower. I’ve got sand everywhere.”

  Sondra wrapped her arm around Tiffany’s shoulders and nodded. “Of course. Jonathan?”

  Even though he was frustrated that his mom was taking over, Jonathan pushed aside his feelings and joined them. “Yeah?”

  “Take her upstairs and help her get the things she needs.”

  Jonathan let out his breath and nodded. “Of course.”

  He went to rest his hand on her lower back, but Tiffany moved away before he could touch her. She grabbed onto the railing and made her way up the stairs before he could say anything.

  “I know the way,” she said over her shoulder without even looking back.

  Jonathan watched her retreat. He could feel her frustration as she walked away. He knew she didn’t want to stay here, but he hadn’t realized it would make her this upset.

  He glanced over to his mom. She had a concerned expression on her face.

  “You okay?” she asked, walking over to wrap her arm around his shoulders.

  The weight of the evening bore down on him. It had been so terrifying, staring at Tiffany’s lifeless body. Worrying that she might be gone.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice breaking.

  Sondra pulled him into a hug and held him. “She’s fine.”

  Jonathan forced away the tears that built up in his eyes and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I just hope she doesn’t kill me in my sleep. She’s not too excited about our little sleepover.”

  Sondra chuckled as she pulled back. “That doesn’t surprise me. Tiffany has never liked to be forced to do anything.”

  Jonathan pushed his hands through his hair and nodded. The feeling of sand and saltwater coated his whole body. He glanced toward the basement. “I’m going to take a shower downstairs.”

  Sondra patted him on the back. “All righty. I’ll bring you two some cookies and tea when you’re done.”

  Jonathan thanked his mom and slipped into the basement, where he was determined to wash off the beach and the stress of the evening.

  Chapter Four

  Tiffany stood in the shower as the hot water beat down on her. She leaned against the wall, and the water washed away the stress of the night. She didn’t remember much of what happened after swimming away from the island, there was just a jabbing pain in her side and the rest was a blur.

  She could handle pain. That had become second nature to her. But what was playing over and over in her mind was the terrified expression on Jonathan’s face when she’d come to.

  She’d felt his fear, and that was almost as terrifying as the thought that she’d almost drowned. And it wasn’t helping that he was doting on her like a broken china doll.

  She wanted things to go back to normal—no, she needed them to. Not only did Sean break her heart, but now her best friend was acting weird around her. She prided herself on being able to take care of herself, and having Jonathan insist on doing things for her was bringing out a side of her that she didn’t like. But she couldn’t help it. She was so used to being the one thing standing between her and a broken heart.

  And when her father left, saying he was relieved to dump the burden that had been dragging him down, she couldn’t help but project that onto every aspect of her life. She couldn’t be a burden to the people she loved. She just couldn’t. Jonathan loved her as a friend now, but what was she going to do when he decided that he didn’t? Rejection from him wasn’t something she could come back from. If he left her, too, she’d have no one.

  Sighing, she grabbed the shampoo and lathered it up. Once she was clean, she grabbed a towel to wrap up her hair and then wrapped another around her body.

  She stepped out onto the plush bathmat and wiped at the fog on the mirror in front of her. After staring at her blotchy skin and tired eyes, she sighed and opened the door. Just as she was about to walk out, Jonathan appeared.

  He’d showered as well and was now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. His eyebrow raised as his gaze roamed over her. Her skin heated from the intensity of his gaze. Then, as quickly as it came, he dropped it and cleared his throat. “Here’s some pajamas,” he said, holding them out for her.

  Tiffany took the stack of clothes. “Thanks,” she said. For the first time, she felt very aware of the fact that she was wearing only a towel.

  Since when did she care about that around Jonathan? He was her friend. That was it.

  She was more than ready to get to bed and sleep off the weirdness of this whole evening. So she turned and made her way back into the bathroom, where she slipped into his old t-shirt and gym shorts.

  After pulling her hair up into a messy bun at the top of her head, she forced herself not to look at the mirror. No need to see what she already knew—she was a hot mess.

  She opened up the bathroom door and turned off the light. She made her way down the hall to the guest bedroom.

  “Where are
you going?” Jonathan asked.

  Tiffany stopped and slowly turned. “The guest room.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “Not tonight. Doc said I have to keep an eye on you. You’re bunking with me.” He pointed his finger toward his room, as if that was all it was going to take to get her in there.

  She folded her arms. “Are you trying to get me into your bed?” she asked.

  Jonathan’s cheeks flushed as he cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Um. No.”

  Startled by his reaction, Tiffany let out a laugh. “I was just joking.” Realizing that she may have crossed a line, she walked over to him. “I know you see me as a sister,” she said as she punched his arm.

  Jonathan winced and nodded. “Of course.”

  Ignoring the fact that his words sounded slightly forced, she made her way into his room. It hadn’t changed much since they were kids. Except for the treadmill in the corner.

  “Yours?” she asked as she made her way over to the bed and sat down.

  Jonathan smiled and shook his head. “Naw, that’s Dad’s.”

  She nodded as she scooted back against the headboard.

  “Knock knock.” Tiffany turned to see Mrs. Braxton make her way into the room. Her gaze roamed over Tiffany and a smile emerged on her lips. “You look better. That shower did you some good.”

  Tiffany nodded. “It was needed.” She’d always liked Mrs. Braxton. She’d always acted like a second mother to Tiffany since her actual mother was some deadbeat who’d left her when things got hard.

  Mrs. Braxton set a plate of cookies and two steaming mugs on the nightstand next to Tiffany then she straightened and glanced around.

  “Well, then. I’ll leave you two to your sleep.” She turned and stuck her finger against Jonathan’s chest. “I’m right down the hall,” she said in a tone that sounded more threatening than informative.

  Jonathan held up his hands. “We’re just going to be sleeping.”

  Mrs. Braxton narrowed her eyes. “Better be.”