The Friendship Pact. Tara Quinn Taylor

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      Chapter Two

      October 2001

      “Come on, Bail, wear the black sweater we got last weekend. You know you look too hot to touch in it.” I held it out to her. The very expensive long, thin sweater was one of a number of garments we shared. We’d both chipped in for it—me from my allowance, and her from the money she made working in the college agricultural building three days a week.

      “It’ll be perfect with those new jeans. They’re tight all the way down to your ankles. And with your wedge sandals...” I put my free hand to my lips and made a kissing gesture in the air.

      “You wanted to wear it for homecoming.” Arms crossed, Bailey faced me in the middle of our dorm room.

      “Yeah, but then I remembered this.” I grabbed a tie-dyed gauze number Mom had sent home with us the last time we visited.

      “Danny’s already seen it.”

      “Danny’s already seen everything underneath it, too,” I reminded her with a wicked grin. “Besides, he’s going to be paying more attention to a leather ball a bunch of guys are passing around than he is to me.”

      I didn’t really believe that. Danny Brown might love the game of football enough that we’d decided to attend Wesley, a smaller college about an hour from home, rather than Penn State, when he got the Wesley football scholarship. But I always came first with him.

      I had no worries there.

      Bailey eyed the sweater. “You want to wear it tonight,” I said, handing it to her. “You know you do.”

      “You just want me to wear it because Jake’s here,” she said.

      That was the problem when your best friend had been your best friend since you were five and you lived with her and shared all your secrets, too. I didn’t even have to say a word and Bailey knew what was on my mind.

      “You like him, Bailey.” That was the flip side; I knew her just as well.

      “And you want me to marry him. Regardless of what I want.” Her tone was accusatory.

      If I didn’t love Bailey so much, I’d have grown weary of this topic long ago. I’d have given up. But I did love her, more than almost anybody, so...

      “I want you to have what you’ve always wanted, Bail. A home of your own, with a family who loves you and stays together.”

      I had that family, had the promise of it continuing in my future, too, with Danny, and hadn’t done anything to get it or deserve it. Hadn’t had to work for it. Bailey, on the other hand, spent half her life watching her mother’s back, texting her brother, Brian, every hour to keep his spirits up, keeping in touch with stepsiblings and making sure she was part of her father’s life—and the other half watching out for me and trying to please my mom and dad. And I sensed that she still felt alone a lot of the time. No matter how connected my heart was to hers.

      “You want me to have what you want,” she said softly, implying that she didn’t want what I wanted or what I had. But I knew her.

      She did want what I had—a secure and loving family. Parents she could count on. A nice house, one that wasn’t filled with chaos and fraught with tension. Not only did she used to tell me that, it was why she’d practically moved in with me when we were kids.

      I wanted to tell her that actions spoke louder than words, but I didn’t. Bailey was well aware of what I was thinking. And I felt convinced that I was right about her deep-down craving for a family of her own.

      Letting the sweater dangle toward the ground, I gently squeezed Bailey’s shoulder with my free hand, looking deeply into those striking brown eyes, letting her look into my eyes—my soul—too.

      “All I want is for you to be happy, Bail. And sometimes, you put up roadblocks.” I chose my words carefully. No matter how deeply you knew someone, sometimes words could hurt. Sometimes you reacted to them, got defensive and lost the truth along the way.

      “I can’t help it.” Those brown eyes were wide open to me and my heart just about burst. Bailey’s hurt was my own. Like we were Siamese twins of the soul. “Your life...your heart...it’s always been protected, Kora. Mine hasn’t.”

      In a flash I remembered Bailey’s whisper in the night five years ago, when she told me what Stan had done to her. And then had an instant replay of the day, our freshman year, when the sorority we’d pledged chose me and not her because my mother was an alumna, and hers hadn’t even attended college. They hadn’t said so, of course. Nor had they commented on the roughness around Bailey’s edges—a natural defensiveness—but I knew that was the real reason they’d shut their door in her face.

      Mom, an active alumna, had called our advisor, of course, and Bailey was in, too. And now in our junior year, she chaired the Charitable Works Committee, which was so Bailey. But those protective walls around her heart had thickened and sometimes that scared me.

      I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Other people didn’t know Bailey like I did.

      Not even Danny. He didn’t get why I was so close with someone who seemed so cold.

      But in some ways he was like Bailey. Needing a family to call his own. His folks were divorced, too, and Danny was kind of forgotten sometimes.

      I’d tried to explain things to him. Over and over again. And Danny’s and Bailey’s inability to become real friends was all that kept me from accepting the secret proposal my high school lover had issued over the summer. Up on my special mountain, just outside town—the place I went when I needed to think. I wanted to marry Danny. Even more, probably, than he wanted to marry me, which was saying a lot based on how many times a week he begged me to make it official so all the other guys would know I was permanently taken.

      But Bailey and Danny were still resisting each other, and I couldn’t go without Bailey. We were family. And that was that.

      “But you like Jake,” I said now as Bailey, obviously restless, turned her head, glancing toward the closet. “Really like him,” I added, in case she thought this was one of those times I’d let her get by with less than the complete and painfully open truth.

      Her head СКАЧАТЬ