1. Liam

Liam

Chapter one

Ihated parties.

Having people over wasn’t high on my agenda, but part of the deal with having a highly extroverted roommate like Maeve and a tight-knit, needy friend group was that I ended up at something social most weekends. And since it was Maeve’s birthday, I couldn’t possibly get out of attending the cram-packed party at our apartment.

Maybe I could at least kick them out at nine.

“Look who just showed up,” Rhys said, drawing my attention to the door.

I followed his gaze. In walked Theo with Lex, his new boyfriend, who he’d been denying dating until recently. The guys made a cute pair—Theo, a burly bear who wore the hell out of nice suits, and Lex, a tall, lanky charmer who wouldn’t wear formalwear if his life depended on it. A smirk curled my lips. I’d seen that relationship a mile away, even if no one else had.

“I still can’t wrap my brain around this,” Cole said, rubbing his nape. “It’s been a long-ass time since I’ve seen Lex look so settled down.”

Rhys had drawn Cole into our merry band of friends, and with him had come his best friend, Lex, who’d snatched our forever unlucky-in-love Theo. Though it looked like his luck had finally changed.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” Sammy called to Rhys, kicking his little feet on the couch. The two-year-old was Rhys and Kelsey’s son, the result of the two of them giving “best friends to lovers” a good old college try. Kelsey was happier in her triad with Marco and Ruby, while Rhys had met his match with Cole. They’d proved clear as day that best friends didn’t just develop feelings after years of friendship.

No matter how much I wished it would happen.

I’d never admitted the words out loud, but Oliver Brannon was my first crush, and those stupid swoony butterflies had never gone away. No matter how many roadblocks stood in my way—especially the two biggest.

Straight.

Married.

Theo and Lex marched my way, and I couldn’t hide my smirk. I adjusted my perch on the side of my couch, which I’d much rather be curled into while playing Final Fantasy 14, but we were apparently being social tonight, at least until I escaped to my bedroom to crash out.

Theo slipped over to me, his hand entwined with Lex’s, and fuck, he looked so happy. His eyes were glowing, his expression light, and I couldn’t be happier for him. Committed relationships might not be for me, but Theo had wanted one for so long, but instead of finding a good guy, he had only attracted shitheads. Our entire friend group had breathed a sigh of relief to see him with someone who cared.

I’d had one far-too-long stint with a shithead, and that had soured me on the whole deal for good.

I had hookups, and I had Ollie. Both my needs for sex and camaraderie were filled, so why change a solid thing?

The door to our apartment flung open, and as if summoned by thought alone, Ollie stormed in.

My big bear of a best friend was burly in the best ways, with a light, trimmed beard and tattoos and gauges. Fuck, I lost my mind over all three of those things. He’d tossed on a black tee and wrinkled flannel, and his tight jeans might have been distracting if I hadn’t seen his expression. Ollie was brightness incarnate, one of those guys with the booming laughs that made you feel warm just by being in his presence.

Except today, he looked devastated.

Dark circles were under his deep brown eyes, and his haunted expression had my internal alarms clanging.

I missed what Maeve asked Ollie, but I definitely didn’t miss my best friend’s next statement as he marched into the house.

“I need to drink tonight. Josie wants a divorce.”

Divorce.

Ollie was getting divorced.

I sat frozen, not believing my ears as Ollie headed toward the kitchen where we kept the booze. Theo jostled my shoulder.

“Go get him.”

Theo passed me a meaningful look. If anyone would’ve pieced together my crush, it would’ve been him.

“Right,” I said, rising from the couch and all but floating toward the kitchen. Ollie clanked around with bottles and hadn’t even looked my way, but that didn’t matter. I needed to be by his side.

My chest squeezed tight at the memory of when he’d first told me he and Josie were going to get married. They’d been fighting a lot our senior year of high school, and I was going away for college, so I had been about to spill my guts. To tell Ollie how I felt.

Except he’d interrupted with the three words that wrecked me to this day. “Josie said yes.”

I stepped onto the tiled floor of the kitchen, the rest of the apartment in view due to the open layout, yet I felt worlds away from everyone at the party. Ollie looked up at me, and the devastation in his expression had me racing to close the space between us. Any thoughts flew out the window as I threw my arms around him and plastered myself to his chest. Ollie smelled like a mix of metal and patchouli that always felt warm and familiar to me, and even though he sagged into my tight hold, I soaked in the comfort of him.

“Left field, huh?” I murmured against his shoulder.

He pulled away but kept a grip on my arm and let out a shaky sigh. Ollie tried to force a grin because of course the cheerful asshole did. “I mean, she wasn’t cheating on me at least.”

“One up on Patti Lennon, then,” I responded, my lip quirking the slightest bit.

“Wow, my judgment’s vastly improved since sophomore year of high school,” Ollie muttered, dripping sarcasm. “Now come help me make a drink. I don’t think I put the right ratio in.”

“You never do.” I shook my head. He’d pulled out a bottle of Triple Sec, gin, and vermouth. No mixers in sight. So damn typical. “Out of the way.” I muscled past him and pushed the empty glass away from whatever nightmare he prepared to pour into the cup. Ever since our senior year of high school, when Ollie made a concoction of tequila, red wine, and Mountain Dew that ended the party with everyone puking their guts up, I’d been designated his official bartender.

Ollie moved right next to me, heat rolling off him as he loomed by my side. I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to summon sad thoughts to tamp down the stirring of my cock. Ollie’s divorce wasn’t doing the trick, because the minuscule hope I’d been repressing ever since we met in the first week of our freshman year of high school sparked to life with the fervor of a cheerleader on meth.

I grabbed the rum and ginger ale from our makeshift bar—aka, the huddle of bottles along the back of the counter. In a few quick motions, I poured the shots of rum and filled the rest up with ginger ale, all while Ollie stared at me with an intensity that had always weakened my knees.

“So, what happened?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the fucking flutters in my chest. Knowing a divorce was on the table had cracked open the box I’d locked my crush into years ago, and I was fucking buzzing.

Ollie heaved a sigh and leaned against the kitchen counter. Maeve shouted from the other side of the room, but she was loud by default, so I didn’t bother glancing in her direction. No, my gaze locked and loaded on my best friend as I passed over the drink, my hand surprisingly steady.

“She got this job offer for a senior-level marketing position in her company.” He took a sip from the glass. “Fuck, you make good drinks. Anyway, she accepted it without even talking to me. Despite the fact that my whole family’s here, our business is here, whatever. She said she thought we got married too young, and she needed a chance to fucking find herself.” He glanced away, not meeting my gaze.

“Well, shit.” I licked my lips. I needed to approach this one carefully. Did I think they’d gotten married too young? Well, yeah. Given the amount of fights they’d had through the years, even post marriage, they’d never felt like a good fit. But I was biased as hell. I’d always had a stupid thing for my very straight best friend, who still wouldn’t be looking my way with any interest now that he was single. I was setting myself up for more heartbreak.

I mean, if I had a cold, dead little heart to break. Feelings only happened on Tuesday evenings, which I reserved for playing Final Fantasy.

“Were you guys fighting more or anything?” I wrinkled my nose. My hands started moving on their own volition as I made a rum and ginger ale for myself. I would need it tonight.

“That’s the weird part,” Ollie said, raking his fingers through his thick, dark strands. “We’d barely been fighting all year.”

I arched a brow. “I’d say that’s the weirder part.” Ollie was one of the smartest fucking people I knew when it came to anything practical, working with his hands, piecing fixtures together, but my god, he couldn’t read people worth a shit. His fights with Josie had been steady through the thirteen years of their relationship, so for them to all of a sudden have smooth sailing would’ve been a massive blinking signal something wasn’t right.

Ollie tipped back his drink, and just like that, half of it vanished.

“Oh, so it’s one of those nights?” I asked, trying to keep the mood lighter for him. If he needed to sob into my shoulder, he could, and if he needed to blow up things, I was game.

If he needed to fuck his feelings out, hell, my ass would be on offer so fast it was ridiculous, but that was a fantasy that would never come true.

“I’m pretty sure impending divorce ranks pretty high on reasons to drink,” Ollie said, running his thumb over his lush lower lip, which glistened from the liquid. I swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the rampant lust I had for my best friend. If he wasn’t stupidly hot, funny as fuck, and the easiest person in the world to be around, it might be easier.

“So, Josie’s moving away?” I took a sip of my drink while casually leaning against the counter.

Ollie hissed. “Don’t say her name, Liam. That’s like rule number one of ex-wives, right?”

A snort escaped me. “What, like she’s Beetlejuice or something? Recite three times, and she’s summoned?”

“Look, I don’t make the rules,” Ollie said, scrubbing his face. My palms itched as I restrained myself from grabbing his hands to keep him from doing the motion again. I hated seeing him this distraught, but I’d be lying if a part of me wasn’t relieved. He and Josie had never been a great fit, clear by the amount they disagreed, but they’d leaped headfirst into marriage and tried to make it work for years.

“Okay, bitches, it’s cupcake time,” Maeve called in her bullhorn-like voice, loud enough to wake the dead.

“Why don’t you have a cupcake? Divorce rule number two, binge on sugar.” I placed my hand on Ollie’s low back and steered him toward the dining room, where everyone had gathered around the table. At least, those who weren’t sitting on the couches. We had a regular-sized two-bedroom apartment and not enough room for our growing number of friends. The obvious solution would be to off them one by one and stage a murder mystery, since our friends loved games.

Might be a little morbid, but working as a PT for so long had clearly affected me.

“I’m not above eating pity cupcakes and getting trashed tonight, but you better be prepared for me to crash here,” Ollie said as we joined the others so we could sing happy birthday to Maeve. She was in her element with the people crammed into our apartment, and as much as I whined about crowds, seeing her at her prime, all pure energy and excitement, was always awesome. Her ear-length, flame-red hair matched the equally loud green dress she wore, like she repped Christmas real hard, despite it being summer.

Ollie and I wedged ourselves into a spot at the table. “Like you don’t crash here most of the time anyway?” Whenever we pulled late nights, Ollie stayed over, which I fucking loved. Our friendship had always been like that, with us in each other’s pockets—at least until he got engaged and I headed across the state for college. However, when I moved back to the area, we’d picked up our friendship like nothing had changed. And maybe it hadn’t been the sign of health for his relationship that he never seemed too eager to get home to Josie, but I wasn’t complaining.

“You’ve got a comfy couch,” he said with a shrug.

The “Happy Birthday” song kicked in, and Ollie and I joined into the fray, our friends getting louder with each verse if that were humanly possible. Sammy let out an excited shriek, and Maeve scooped him up to let him blow out the candle on her cupcake. My heart squeezed tight at the sight of everyone here, at the makeshift family of friends we’d somehow cobbled together. Ollie bumped his shoulder against mine, and I leaned against him.

Sure, the thought of us standing here as part of a couple made my chest ache something fierce, but I’d reconciled long ago that fantasy would never become true.

Ollie might be single now, but that didn’t make him queer. Besides, I’d left the idea of relationships behind. Sure, Ollie was the one man on this planet who could make me reconsider, but that was as likely to happen as the Pope doing a striptease.

“Get your cupcake, Hunger Games style,” Maeve called out, snagging two cupcakes, one for her and one for Sammy, before bolting away with the kiddo. Everyone dove in at once and grabbed the lemon and vanilla cupcakes Theo had made for her. The man could bake, so I wouldn’t pass up on a chance at his cupcakes. Still, I wasn’t in any rush to pull myself away from Ollie. The feel of his big body against mine and the heat emanating from him lured me in, and I’d hold on to it for as long as I could.

Finally, he took a cupcake as well, and I followed suit.

The party had returned to the living room, but the kitchen was still fairly empty.

I nudged him in the side. “Want another drink?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Liam Kelly?” Ollie said, his tone lighter than it had been all evening. I’d distract him for as long as he needed to stave away the pain.

“Tonight calls for Karaoke Drunk.”

“Oh, fuck,” he said, letting out a low whistle. “That’s some sort of legendary. How many drinks will it take to get you to belt out Queen again?”

I winked and blew a kiss. “Let’s find out?”

Time to drink hard enough to forget I had a raging crush on my now-single best friend.