Page 18 of Love is Fake (Love is Everything #1)

“No more than usual,” he answers, his tone broadcasting the fact he really doesn’t want to talk about it.

Okay then…

The temperature in the car moves down a few notches and it has nothing to do with the air conditioning.

Lennox’s death grip on the wheel tells me whatever’s going through his mind is far from good.

Even though it’s not my place, I feel bad that I can’t do anything to take that haunted look out of his eyes.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I tell him, looking straight ahead to avoid putting him on the spot. “But if you do, I’m here.”

Lennox is quiet for so long I’m fairly sure he’s ignoring my offer, but then – like he always seems to do – he surprises me.

“I lost someone in a car wreck. The idiot wrapped his damn car around a lamppost,” he admits. His words are so quiet that I almost have to strain to hear them. What’s hard to miss, however, is the emotion in his voice that damn near splits my heart in two.

I lay my hand on his, resting on the console between us as I turn to face him.

Unsurprisingly, Lennox doesn’t look at me, but he does flip his hand over so we’re palm to palm… holding hands.

“We hadn’t known each other for long,” he continues. “But he was important to me. When I lost him it hit me pretty hard.”

“I’m so sorry, Nox. That must have been awful, I can’t even imagine.” My words don’t feel like nearly enough.

No-one close to me has ever died. My mother walking out on us was as close to a loved-one’s death as I’ve ever experienced and, still, it’s a world away from what Lennox must have gone through, must still be going through because he’s talking about actual death.

Not someone turning their back on him. Not someone choosing to walk away.

But death. Unplanned. Unprepared. Unexpected.

“I don’t know what the right thing is to say,” I tell him.

“You don’t have to say anything, Isabella. This,” he squeezes my hand, “this is more than enough.”

He draws circles with his thumb along the soft skin of my wrist, making me shiver. There’s such a feeling of rightness in being like this with him that it almost bowls me over.

“Was it,” I clear my throat, trying to rid it of the huskiness that has suddenly taken over. “Was it recent?”

Lennox shakes his head. “Last week is five years since it happened. Right when I first moved to New York. The person that died, he was one of the reasons I first came here.” His sentences are short, as if he’s struggling to get the words out.

“He was an alcoholic. Had been for most of his life. But he’d gotten sober, or at least that’s what he told me.

I guess he lied,” he sighs heavily. “The cops found a quart of whisky in the front seat. I guess it was lucky he didn’t hurt anyone else. ”

His response to the almost-accident we just had makes so much more sense now.

So does his exaggerated reaction to when I rear-ended him.

He’s got a whole heap of trauma wrapped up in car accidents.

The pieces all fall into place including Declan’s comment about ‘the anniversary’ having Lennox out of sorts that night.

He was talking about the car wreck, about Lennox’s friend’s death.

I wince, remembering how rude I was to him. “I’m sorry for calling you an asshole that night.”

Lennox looks at me out of the corner of his eye and smiles, giving my hand that he’s moved to his lap a squeeze.

“Don’t apologize, you were right. I was an asshole to you! I’m embarrassed at what a tool you must have thought I was.”

Now why did he have to go and remind me what a decent human being he is? It’s much easier to pretend I’m not drawn to a man when I can reason he’s a complete douche. Unluckily for me, that doesn’t seem to be the case with Lennox.

“You weren’t that bad,” I hazard. Lennox gives me a skeptical sidelong glance. “Okay, you totally were!”

He chuckles low in his throat, throwing his head back just a little. God, it’s a sexy sound. And I really shouldn’t be thinking about that, or how much I like the feel of his absent strokes on the back of my hand.

“Isabella?”

My name really shouldn’t sound so good coming out of his mouth.

I snap out of the loaded direction my thoughts have taken. “Mmmm?”

“Thank you,” he says softly, his eyes on the road.

“For what?”

“For listening. It’s not something I get into with many people, but you’re just damn easy to talk to.” He shakes his head a little as if he doesn’t understand why that would be.

“That’s what friends are for,” I shrug, uncomfortable with the praise. It’s not as if I’ve done anything out of the ordinary.

“Is that what we are?” Lennox looks at me intently as we stop at a red light. “Friends?”

It’s only been a few days, but…I think so.

Regardless of our rocky start, I guess I can honestly say that a friendship with Lennox feels like it could happen.

Plus, being friends is safe. Friends don’t have to worry about the complications which come with attraction, with wondering what could be.

Being friends is simple. Being friends is enough.

“I’d like that,” I nod. “And I’m guessing so would you.

You don’t make a four hour drive to help your employee move, unless you want that employee to consider you a friend.

Just saying.” Lennox doesn’t laugh. Instead he keeps looking at me with that intense stare of his, something he shouldn’t be able to pull off while still driving but there you go.

“No, you definitely don’t do that just for an employee,” Lennox agrees, and I can hear there’s a silent ‘but’ at the end of that sentence. I wonder what it is he’s not saying. Because I know there’s a helluva lot I’m holding back.

“Friends then,” Lennox says eventually.

“Friends,” I agree and we lapse into silence again, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it this time. It’s the kind of silence you have with someone you’ve known for a long time, one without any expectations, one that says their company is all you need.

Neither of us says anything for the rest of the drive, not until we pull up to the Gray Mansion and hop out of the truck. Neither of us mentions the fact that we’ve held hands all the way to the house.

Just like friends do.