by Melissa Blue
Ashley grinned. “Wow. You are a good liar.”
She stammered, “W-What?”
“You saw me and then you tried to skitter away. I was going to tackle you if I had to.”
Hell. “Oh.”
Ashley peeked into the hand basket. “What are you making?”
She sighed since there was no slick escape out of this. “Likely a mess. I've been trying to learn how to cook for the past four days or so, and every night is a disaster. I've started to buy double the ingredients because I will fuck up the first batch. Too much salt or pepper. Or I burn it.” She kept talking and didn't know how to stop. Though the next words seemed to get clogged up in her throat. She had to force out the next. “I can't cook.”
Why the confession made tears sting her eyes, Sophie didn't know. It didn't help when Ashley pursed her lips, her expression so understanding.
“It's bleeding over,” the woman said.
“What's bleeding over?”
Ashley winced. “Why is cooking so important? There's take-out. There's services you can hire that could make you meals.” Ashley looked her up and down, and her shoes became the focus of the stare. “You could hire a cook.”
Another wave of helplessness hit her. She whispered, her voice catching on the swell of emotion, “How could I possibly take care of him when he needs it most when I can't even put a meal together?”
“You are going to listen to me.” The strength in Ashley's voice rang out and stopped the onslaught of tears in a snap. “Wade is not a goddamn meal.”
Horrified that's what the woman believed, Sophie said, “I know. It's—”
“You just want to be sure you have what it takes to face what's ahead of you.” Ashley softened her tone. “No wonder you feel like you can't because of broccoli. It's not a science, not something you do with step-by-step instructions. You love him and you endure. Do you have the backbone, the fight?”
She'd survived Angelo and that aftermath. She had the fight. “What do you do? For work?”
“I work in admin, but in my spare time I stir shit.” Ashley put her hands on her hips, and Sophie could absolutely believe it. “But you're not a lost cause. Everyone makes mistakes, especially in the kitchen. Can I tell you a secret?”
Secrets. Always back to them. “Yes.”
“My brother Porter is a fantastic cook and he taught me everything I know. He tells the boys he only barbecues. So if you ever need me to help...in the kitchen, you can call me. I know what it's like.”
What it's like. Sophie knew it was more than cooking, but being a partner to someone who couldn't always be at one hundred percent. Victor was a vet and she could only imagine the kind of shit he'd seen. And Ashley faced it with him.
“I really want to hate you.”
“Why?”
She wasn't sure if Wade had told Ashley how he felt, and Sophie wouldn't be the one to tell the woman. “You're perfect.”
Ashley laughed. “I'm not. I'm so far from that.” She smiled at her. “Nor would I want to be. Imperfect is so much more interesting.”
She lifted her brows. That was true. “And imperfect people fight?”
“With their everything.”
Sophie wouldn't be able to fix Wade...nor did she want to. But she could love him. She could love him with her everything.
CHAPTER
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Wade widened his eyes and tried not to blink as the woman continued to talk. If he did he might fall asleep standing up.
“I've always believed that my horoscope was correct, and after your talk I understand we are much more connected to the stars.”
“Interesting,” he intoned at the pause and did his best not to call her an idiot. She'd written a ten thousand dollar check to the observatory. A fact Dr. Scott had told him a few minutes ago, the older man's gaze pleading.
“Are you okay? Your eyes are—” She motioned with her hands.
“Something in my eye. Excuse me.” He searched the room for an easy escape. They held the fundraiser in the conference room. Only one exit and Dr. Scott stood guard. Sophie had likely told him to do that, but where in the fuck was she? He hadn't even seen a corkscrew curl of her at the podium with that bird's eye view.
With his escape waylaid he snaked through the crowd, not stopping long enough to make eye contact and moving as soon as someone tried to catch his attention. A dark corner in sight, someone stepped into his path.
Blond hair, chiseled chin. “Hell, Oliver,” Wade muttered. “What hole did you crawl out of?”
His friend adjusted his bow tie and grinned. “You told Porter that Victor was coming here with you tonight then told Victor that you were going with Grady. So on and so forth.”
He'd wanted one night without someone breathing down his neck. “Did you lose the coin toss?”
“Yup. I had plans to finish the tat on my back.”
And that meant Oliver was struggling with something. Still he dropped his plans to help Wade. God, he had it good. He wished it was enough, but the ache in his chest wouldn't allow him to be content. “There's a buffet.”
“I was also promised a free wet bar.”
Wade gestured to the back of the room, his gaze scanning the space. Dr. Scott had moved away from the door to talk to a nearby donor. “Have you, uh, been here long?”
“I didn't see Sophie.”
Wade blinked and glanced at his friend. “Am I that obvious?”
“Have you considered just going to her house if she's not here?”
Wade stuffed his hands into his pockets. He'd told Oliver all the details, every single one. Or rather, Oliver showed up with his quiet presence, his sketchpad and Wade had spilled out the story while the man listened the day before. “Cal could be there with her at her house. Cal could have made his move.”
“And you left her with him all vulnerable and with someone who isn't an asshole?” Oliver scoffed then dragged a hand in his hair. There was a restless edge to the gesture.
“You all right?”
Oliver's jaw clenched. “Didn't see Sophie, but I ran into Nadia.”
Wade whistled low. “Haven't heard that name in a while.”
“Since college.”
He let his gaze rove over the room and easily found the redhead talking animatedly with another donor. The press badge rested against her breasts. The black dress curved to her. He could see Oliver's problem. Ex-girlfriends weren't supposed to look better with time.
“Fucking women.” Wade shook his head.
He tried to let the humor of the statement push back the hollowness in his gut, but he'd hoped to see Sophie tonight. Hoped to tell Sophie he loved her. It wouldn't fix a damn thing but if she knew...
Inhaling deeply, he held his breath and prayed this time his heart wouldn't ache. Nope. Still. Where the fuck was Sophie? So he could tell her the rules he'd come up with Grady and the rest of the Goon Squad, list out the signs that he'd lost his hold so she'd never have to wonder if it was sane Wade or the monster he could turn into. He'd make it so she knew his every secret then she'd never feel vulnerable or alone with him. She'd feel safe.
“Fuck, fuck,” he whispered.
Oliver sighed. “Go find her. She's probably at home.”
He glanced at the door. “My boss won't let me leave.”
His friend slapped a hand on his chest. “Let me handle that. Give it ten minutes.” Oliver's gaze went to Nadia.
Too amused, Wade asked, “What are you going to do?”
Oliver smiled and it looked like trouble. Wade laughed. “Never mind, I don't want to know.”
“Just meet me at the tat parlor tomorrow and I'll consider us even.”
“Deal.”
Oliver stepped forward then stopped. “Reassure her.”
Wade considered the advice. “That's it?”
“That's all.”
Oliver left him with that. Wade rounded the room, sticking to the wall. After about a minute, raised voices broke ov
er the music. Dr. Scott's gaze tracked to the front of the room...where ex-lovers were arguing, loudly. Wade smiled. He was going to owe Oliver big time.
Fifteen minutes later, Wade pulled up to Sophie's home. Only her car sat out front. No lights illuminated the upper floors upstairs but the living room's light filtered through the curtains. He left his Jeep, went to the door. Took a long moment to get his head together before he rang the doorbell.
Wade's breath got stuck in his lungs as she opened the door. A pale blue apron covered half an evening gown. Stains decorated the front of the apron. Her hands curled into the stiff material when she met his gaze.
“Wade...”
“I didn't see you tonight...at the observatory.”
Her hair was wild and the light from her home seemed to stream through the strands. “I planned to go.” She gestured behind her. “I needed to make dinner first.”
Sophie missed an event, a big one, where his boss would breathe down his neck, her boss would attend...to cook dinner. He didn't understand that at all. Her expression was too earnest for him to be an ass about it. But what to say in reply? Oliver told him to reassure her. If she needed to cook then she needed to cook.
“Uh, do you need help?”
“No, but come in. Have a seat at the kitchen table.” She hurried from the door. “I had hoped that the meal wouldn't take too long. Once I was done, I could go and everything would be fine. Ashley told me it didn't matter, but it does.”
He closed the door and frowned at her retreating back. “You talked to Ashley?”
“Ran into her at the grocery and she practically tackled me in the produce aisle.”
Wade could see that. “And you went grocery shopping because everything would be fine if you cooked dinner?” That didn't make sense. He followed her into the kitchen and tried to keep his face blank.
The hardest thing he'd ever had to do since the kitchen smelled like burnt...He inhaled and regretted it, but, yeah, burnt broccoli. One counter was lined with cakes that had most of the icing pooled around the lower layer as though she had slathered it on before the pastry could cool and it had melted.
He glanced at the back of her head unsure what he'd walked into. “I thought you didn't cook, Sophie.”
“Yes and no. We had a cook when I was growing up. In college chicken was the cheapest thing to buy and fried chicken can keep for a few days. Then I moved in with a chef. So...” She shuffled to the oven. Two steaks sizzled in a pot. The smoke rolling up from them guaranteed they'd be tough as leather. She lowered the fire, uselessly.
“Sophie...”
She balled a hand in her hair and frowned at the food. “You're supposed to be sitting.”
“Are you sure?” he offered. “I can take over the food and you can sit down. You look a little stressed.”
“No. No. I have this. Do you want some cheddar broccoli?” Her eyes were so wide, the quiet plea in them so loud, he couldn't tell her no.
For some reason she needed to feed him. Starting in on one of his speeches...that she didn't need. She needed to know he could be kind even when they were at odds, especially when they were.
“Okay, Sophie.”
He shrugged out of his jacket to drape it over the chair. She scrambled around the kitchen. She brought him silverware, a napkin and a bowl of something he could only guess was cheddar broccoli. The little green trees were more like sad lumps, swimming in an off-yellow pool of goop.
He glanced at her as she went to save the steaks and get her own silverware. “Wait, don't eat,” she said. “I forgot the bread.”
She ripped two pieces from a store bought loaf and threw them on a plate then brought them to the table. Wade waited until she went back into the kitchen to give the soup a try. Cautious, he dipped the tip of the spoon into the cheese and put the barest amount of that into his mouth.
Salt punched his tongue and tried to steal his breath. Burnt broccoli came next. He did his best to keep a straight face when she came toward the table with the steak. He reached for the bread to drown out the horrors playing over his taste buds.
“Did you like it?” she asked, eyes wide again.
Reassure her.
She needed to know her every fear wouldn't be used as weapon.
“It's good, Sophie.” Why were they talking about this of all things? He didn't know, but he reached for the steak and prayed it was salt-less. Took about a second to realize he needed a chainsaw to cut through the meat, but it didn't taste bad.
She smiled across from him at the table. “It's good too?”
He nodded and chewed and chewed and chewed. She settled in about to eat and he couldn't let her do that. He swallowed the lump of steak, and tried to think. Why would she do all this instead of talking to him? Why even let him in the house if she didn't want him there? And to feed him of all things?
He thought about the woman he'd gotten to know, and remembered how she'd taken him to dinner after his attack. Food and comfort was a language she understood and could offer him. Wade placed his fork down. His heart—she was his heart.
“Sophie,” he said, slowly. “Did you cook this dinner for me?”
She bowed her head, not meeting his gaze. “I had this idea in my head I would invite you over after the fundraiser and we'd talk over a meal. I'd apologize. You'd steal a kiss, because it's you. We'd be okay again because I could...But the meal kept getting out of hand. And I couldn't leave until it was done.” She picked up her spoon to eat the soup.
“Sophie,” he said, his voice sharp, but it was too late.
She'd taken a spoonful of the soup. Her lids lowered and she made an ungh sound, but she managed to swallow. “That's awful. So fucking awful. Why did you eat it? Why did you tell me it was any good? This—” She pointed at the soup with her spoon. “—Could kill terrorists.”
Why didn't she understand he'd do just about anything for her? “You needed to feed me.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “But it's so awful.”
He reached for her hand again, and this time she entwined her fingers with his.
Wade could breathe again, really breathe. What had his brother told him? Next time just say love instead of like. Fuck, self-preservation.
He worked his mouth to say the words and his throat tightened. “The food is...”
“Dear God, the steak.” As that slow realization came to her she stood. “Is it worse? Do I need to drive you to the hospital to get your stomach pumped?” She dropped his hand and rounded the kitchen table to inspect the steak on his plate.
He closed his eyes and inhaled when she stood a foot away. The scent of coconut filled his nostrils. “I'm fine,” he said, opening his eyes.
She tugged a hand through her hair. “She told me it didn't matter but it matters.”
He pulled on Sophie's apron until she faced him. “What matters?”
“That I can take care of you. When you're sick. At the least, I can feed you.”
His heart skipped for a beat. That's not what he'd expected. He'd come to reassure her and instead, he'd fallen in love with her again.
He dragged her into his lap and sighed. “What I need when I have an episode is someone who can anchor me. Someone who will remind me who I am. That I'm not alone. Someone who could remind me to cut my hair, wear slacks and pretend as though I like people for minutes at a time. I have a plan already with my friends and brother. I can give it to you. It covers everything from how to deal with my boss, my rent, daily shit that maybe I can't do for myself. It's manageable, and not overwhelming because you're not alone. When I can't be me, you'll have Grady, Porter, Victor, Oliver, Ashley and Eva. Would you like to see that plan?”
She inhaled, tears still shining in her eyes. She nodded. “I would, Wade. And it helps to know I won't be alone.”
“Okay. First thing when I get home, I'll print it off.”
“What else?”
“At the end of the day...I need a companion. Do you think you can manage that?”
>
She cupped his face. “You didn't shave today.”
He smiled. “See. Getting into the swing of it already.”
Instead of laughing, the tears pooled. “What else?”
What were the most important things, his every secret? “I watch tentacle porn and it really gets me off.”
“Hentai?”
He loved her. He loved her to the end of the universe and back. “I'll want to watch it with you sometimes and get you off.”
“I have a client who makes them. They are really good.”
“Fucking, Sophie.” He loved it.
She smiled. “What else?”
“Everyone thinks it's my brother that holds the group together. It's not him.”
“Grady?” Her brows furrowed. “He's the glue?” There was a bite to her tone and he loved her for it.
He laughed. “Grady needs to be an asshole. Keeps him from being perfect. So poke at him. Prod him so he doesn't get sanctimonious.”
She laughed then too. “And Victor?”
“Go toe to toe. If he insults you, insult him back. It's how he feels normal.”
She nodded and he knew she'd remember every detail. “Porter?”
“Don't let him think too hard on one thing. He's got a temper under all that patience.”
“Oliver? It's the bets right?”
He blinked, surprised she'd noticed. “Yeah. He needs vices.”
She pursed her lips then nodded again. “That makes sense, and I'm already helping him.”
He frowned. “How?”
“The bet about...”
He raised a brow and she sighed. “You guys have the bet that Grady doesn't know Eva's pregnant. And Eva has a side bet going with Oliver that you'll be the first to blurt it out. I put two-hundred on Victor, because he seems really impatient. They keep—”
Wade laughed and then laughed harder. “I love you. I love you, Sophie Lake.”
She gasped. “You love me? Still? When I kept running and hurting you...”
He took her chin between his fingers, lowered his gaze so she could see his eyes. He wanted her to see his sincerity, to feel it as he spoke. “I have seen the birth of stars. Their death. I study the farthest reaches of the universe. Beauty so breathtaking, and it doesn't compare to you. I look at you and I—it doesn't compare. I wish I could tell you there won't be hard, ugly days, but I can promise you I will love you until the end of time.”
