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“I see you smashing some blonde bitch’s head open with a baseball bat.

” I slide a long lock of hair off her shoulder and thrill in the goosebumps spreading beneath her skin.

“The Alana I knew would run a hoe down for even looking at me. You were the least demanding person I knew.” I lean in and inhale the scent of her shampoo.

“You didn’t care what we ate. Where we hung out.

Who we were with or what we were doing. But dammit, Alana, you demanded me . ”

“And now I’m demanding something different.”

“You were so sweet. So placid. So fucking easy . Because you never expected anything materialistic, ever. But babe, you demanded that lap to sit on. My hand on your leg. You settled for nothing short of absolute fucking devotion.”

“You’re confused,” she groans. “You gave absolute devotion. That was you.”

“And you grew accustomed to it. So if I slipped, even for a day, and forgot to tell you I loved you, you were so far up my ass, calling me out on it, it almost became a fun game to see how wound up I could get you.”

“Makes you an asshole. ”

My lips curl into a devious grin. “Remember when Kayla Reddington asked me to ask her to prom?”

She breathes out a dangerous snarl. “Stupid, suicidal bitch. What’d she think was gonna happen? Do I look like I share?”

I laugh, my chest and shoulders bouncing because of it. “Sure, Lana. I’ll invite this other hypothetical whore to our future barbecues. Since, according to you, you’re a different person now. Matured or something.”

Frustrated, she pulls back, tucking her own hair behind her ears and exhaling a tired sigh. Then she meets my eyes and shrugs. “I’ll learn. And when the time comes, you’ll be thankful you listened to me. Now let’s go inside before my son thinks I’ve run off without him.”

“Can we still have sex while we’re waiting for my future hoe to arrive?”

“No.” She smacks my stomach and pushes through the door, ignoring my wheeze and the way I rub my belly.

Then she changes, like night and day, from the Alana I knew once upon a time to the Alana she is now, a mom, a caretaker.

Matured, allegedly. “You guys have started a game already?” She leaves me behind and crosses to the table, stopping beside her son and sliding her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Sheesh. You’re already a whole bunch of moves in. ”

“Makes my brain happy watching him play.” Chris sits back, quiet contemplation as he sips his beer and looks my Alana up and down. “How’s it going?”

“Can we stop feeling awkward yet?”

She doesn’t notice me as I wander through my kitchen. As I move to my counter and position myself perfectly to witness his stony stare and her nervous worry.

She wrings her fingers together again, fidgeting while he appears as nothing more than completely fucking cool and unbothered.

“You feel awkward?” He sets his right foot on the opposite knee, bouncing it. Which, really, is proof he’s nervous, too. “I don’t feel awkward.”

“Yes, you do!” Ten years apart did nothing to stunt her ability to read him as easily as she reads me. She points down at his bouncing foot. “We never used to be like this, Chris. We used to be friends. Good friends.”

“Lot of time has passed since then.” He’s an ass, playing with her emotions as payback for her screwing with mine. “I’m not even sure you’d like the guy I became. Maybe I drink from the carton and put empty bottles back in the fridge.”

“ I drink from the carton,” Franky snickers. “Sends my mom crazy. ”

“And it would send you crazy if literally anyone else came into our home and did that,” she scolds. Then back to Chris, “Be my friend.”

His eyes dance with affection. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Be my friend.”

“And you just…” He casts a glance around the room. “You think you can demand it and make it so?”

“Yes.” She sets her hands on her hips. “My son and I are here in Plainview to stay. I wasn’t planning to force my company on anyone since I know the mess I left behind and the pain I caused.

But now I’m tired of that. I don’t have leprosy, Tommy and I are…

” She hesitates before settling on, “Friends. And you know damn well we have a history worth fighting for. It wasn’t always me, you, and Tommy.

And it wasn’t always me and Tommy. There was a me and Chris, too.

Independent of him. So stop with the shit and just be my friend already. ”

“Chris’ move,” Franky declares, oblivious to the double meaning in his words. And because Chris has never been a guy to rush for anyone, he gently brushes Alana aside, sets his foot on the floor, and leans forward to study the board.

His lips curl up on the side, a taunting smirk he doesn’t allow Alana to see, and after a moment of consideration, he moves his queen and goes on the hunt. “Gonna get you, kid. Watch your back.”

“Don’t make me take your games away until you acknowledge me, Christian Watkins.” Alana grabs his face, clutching his jaw between her thumb and fingers, and drags his focus back to her. “Be my friend. Or I’ll hit you with a baseball bat.”

“Mom.” Hardly alarmed, Franky pulls his knight around the front and reinforces his king’s guard. “That’s coercion.”

“Yeah, Mom.” Chris snickers. “Coercion is bad.”

“Don’t make me beg.” Demand turns to vulnerability, and confidence makes way for the constant doubt her mother hammered into her heart. “Please.”

“Jesus.” He brushes her hands away and pushes to his feet, wrapping her in a tight hug and crushing her face to his chest. He holds her when a sob crawls along her throat, and presses a kiss to the side of her head, closing his eyes for a long, cathartic hug I’m not sure either of them realized they needed until now.

“Don’t cry on me. You know I can’t take it.

” He squeezes her extra tight and sighs when she circles his torso with her arms, holding on for as long as she needs it.

But his eyes come to mine in the silence, apology in his gaze like he thinks he owes me something.

“We can be friends,” he murmurs. “Never actually stopped, just so you know.”