Flower in the Flame (The Scattered Series - Book #1)

Chapter Seventeen

17 | Nadia Spencer

There's this ache that sits at the bottom of my stomach. It's cruel, lingering for far too long and frightening away my appetite. There's probably pillows filled with rocks that are more comfortable than this couch, and yet most days I still want it to swallow me whole and spit me out when this horrible dream is over.

Finally, finally, I was happy. Billie Joe was like this breath of fresh air which ushered away the tar that Carter had set in my heart and replaced it with shimmering gold dust. The kind of gold dust that companies sell for $10 a bottle claiming if you rub it on your temples it will rid of nightmares. Billie was my bottle of gold dust. He was the love I wanted, the man who would go to the end of the earth for me. And now it's gone.

For what? A bit of money? I'm not sure why the hell he thought what he agreed to was even remotely a good idea. Because you didn't listen to him when he tried to explain himself. I was too angry. He'd kept this from me.

"He's outside." Benjamin says, but he's not looking at me as he speaks. His eyes are focused on his hands, where he picks at the skin around his thumb. He lifts his hand to chew at the nail. How does he know Billie is outside? Well that's easy, since he last showed up, he's made a point to come by every day with some kind of gift for me. It's been a week now, and so far I've had bath bombs, a box of face masks, 3 bottles of perfume, a moisturiser, and a gel nail kit.

Last night I grew curious and looked up the moisturiser online, it cost $415. Four hundred and fifteen dollars. He's either insane or desperate for me back. I think a bit of both.

It's raining today. With a sigh, I get up, draw the curtains so I can look at Billie on the doorstep. He's thoroughly drenched, his hair stuck to his head and crystal drops of water cling to his sooty lashes. He blinks them away as a droplet cascades down the length of his nose, where it drops to his lower lip. He licks it away, tosses his weight between his feet impatiently.

He's holding a white box under his arm, and he's certainly not dressed for the weather. Black jeans and some white graphic t-shirt I can't make out. Much to the pleasure of my hormones, the white shirt hugs his frame where it's soaked, revealing every dip and angle of his torso and belly. I think I can even see that trail of dark hair that begins at his navel and disappears beneath his waistband. 

Did he just poke out his tongue to catch a droplet of rain?

"You can't just stand there and watch him, it's kinda cruel." Ben comments, and as if timing couldn't get more perfect, Billie sneezes, his nose scrunching and head jerking with the sneeze.

That was kind of cute.

Yeah, if you like secret keeping assholes who like to pick up drugs for dodgy men.

Sighing, I head to the front door, opening it. "What do you want?" I plant my hands on my hips. His head jolts up at the sound of my voice, his lips curling into a sheepish smile. "Oh, hey." He says, his hips swaying slightly. Abruptly, he takes the box in both hands and shoves it in my direction.

"What is it?" I arch a brow. 

Billie visibly deflates at my question, all hints of his smile gone. I almost feel bad. Almost. "I baked you cupcakes."

I blink at him, "you did what?"

"Well, Fallon helped me. She's getting into baking, and I asked her to help me make you some cupcakes." He says the work cupcake in such a cheery voice. It's weird, kinda cute, but definitely more on the weird side.

Slowly, I take the box, opening it. Inside are 6 cupcakes. One has this perfect peak of swirled icing, but the remaining look like whoever was icing them decided to make this the worst thing possible. I think my mother's cat could do a better job at icing these cakes than whoever did.

He chuckles nervously as he watches me study the cakes. "Fallon told me I need to practice with the icing."

"Yeah, no shit." I mumble with a slight smile, trying to ignore the roar of my blood. The man must have spent over $1000 on me last week, and yet the idea of him with his sister baking me cupcakes is a whole lot sweeter than any money he could have spent. I have to remind myself what he did.

I place down the box on the table beside the front door and look up at him, "thanks. You can go now."

Gaping, he stands still, waiting for me to change my mind. There's this little beam of hope shining in those bottle green eyes, and I hate to be the one to extinguish it. He waits, frame shivering from the chill of the rain. When I say nothing, he takes his cue and turns on his heels, walking up the drive. He's about to round the corner when I call after him.

"Billie!"

I've never seen someone stop so fast. He visibly perks up as he pauses, turning to look at me. "Come and sit with me for a bit, just until the rain stops." I have to raise my voice a little so he can hear me over the gentle tap of the rain.

Armstrong nods, though I step away from the doorway before he gets back as Ben is whisper-shouting me. "What the hell are you doing?"

"He's soaking, Benny. He'll catch a cold."

Billie steps through the front door, rubbing his shoes off on the mat before shucking them off. He shuts the door behind him, rubs his hands over his bare arms.

 Sighing, I look at Ben, "could he borrow some dry clothes please?"

"Fucks sake." Ben stands, "He shouldn't even be here, Nadia. He's a jerk."

I can see Billie visibly bristle as he goes to open his mouth, but I hold up my index finger. He clamps his mouth shut. Ben make sure to shove his shoulder against Billie's as he walks past him to get upstairs.

My knees feel weak at the sight of Billie, so I keep my eyes on the TV, stepping into the living room to sit down on the couch. It should be criminal to look that good when you've been soaked by the rain. I hate him more for how good he looks, except, I don't hate him at all.

Ben calls Billie up, and I turn down the TV, listening for an argument, but there's no sound other than the drag of feet.

Only a few minutes later do they return, Billie in some of Ben's black sweats and a white and brown stripy tee. The white and brown stripy tee that I stole from Billie and sometimes hold to my chest when I'm sleeping. Billie Joe makes no comment on it as he sits beside me, but I know Ben gave him that shirt as pay back for me letting him in.

"Grab the cakes off the side, Benny." I call to him, and I can hear the playful huff he emits. He comes in with the box, dropping it down on my lap before sitting the other side of me. I open up the box, "Want one?" Of course I have to offer one to the boys.

Each of them take one, leaving 3 messy cakes and the single perfect one. I take one of the messy ones before placing down the box on the floor. Maybe I will forgive Billie Joe, because no one who sucks that much at icing cakes would ice cakes for me other than him.