The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1)

by Martin, R. C.

  “Hey,” Addie pulls me from my thoughts as she pokes my leg with her toe. “Where did you go? Come back.”

  I plan to, I think with a small smile. I promise.

  “How did today get away from us?” Dottie moans as she bags up two chocolate croissants for me. “Tomorrow, just before we open. Got it? With my new cranberry-orange loaf!”

  “Deal,” I say with a grin.

  It’s my last week working with Dottie before I start getting ready for fall semester to begin. We realized that this will probably be my last week working with her ever, as next summer I could be anywhere. We’ve been talking about a celebratory/farewell moment—with just the two of us and a slice of bread to commemorate the occasion—but we haven’t gotten around to it yet. I keep trying to remind her that we’ll still see each other at church every week, and any other time I feel like dropping into the shop, but she insists that it won’t be the same. I have to admit, I know she’s right.

  Dottie. She’s so sentimental. I love it!

  “Are you really going to go stand out in this drizzle for the rest of the afternoon?”

  I look behind me, out of the big store front windows, and my smile slips. It’s been cloudy and overcast all day and it looks like now the rain is finally going to come. It’s only sprinkling, though, so maybe it will hold off for a little while longer. I giggle when Daphne appears at the front door. Her hands are full with our coffee from Little Bird and she holds them up and flashes me a cheesy grin as she bounces up and down, indicating her excitement.

  “I take it that is my answer,” says Dottie, amused.

  “Daphne said rain or shine, we can’t miss this band. Thanks for the treats! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Don’t catch pneumonia.”

  “Don’t worry, mom, I won’t,” I say with a wink before heading for the door.

  This summer has gone by faster than I ever imagined possible. It’s like three months just disappeared. The only proof that I have of its existence are the memories I’ve stowed away in my heart. Daphne has definitely been my second favorite part of the summer. Ever since that concert at the Golden Brew, she’s been inviting me to any and all live music events around town—and sometimes out of town. While I haven’t been able to make it to all of them, and while I haven’t enjoyed all of them, I have gotten a kick out of getting to know Daphne. I didn’t really expect for our friendship to blossom the way that is has, but I’m so glad that she’s a part of my life.

  Of course, having Daphne as a part of my life sometimes means hanging around Logan, which is not my preference. But, just like Daph told me, I’ve gotten used to her and her flirtatiousness. It's still annoying, especially the way she is around Hammy, but what can I do? I'm just grateful she's toned it down with Sonny. Sadly, it's not just her flirtation that rubs me the wrong way. She's just one of those girls that doesn't like other girls. At least, that's the impression I've made over the past dozen weeks. How she and Daphne are so close is still a mystery to me. No. Not just a mystery. Considering how they met? It’s more like one big fat mind numbing conundrum. I actually only heard that story a couple weeks ago.

  The tale behind her phoenix tattoo wasn’t what I was expecting. After having heard it, I understand why she doesn’t like to discuss it. It’s a painful memory. Even though she found me to be a trustworthy keeper of such history, she still managed to leave out a ton of details. When she told me, I left with a lot of questions; but I refuse to press for any answers. I’m grateful for what she gave me and the best way for me to show my appreciation for her confidence is to let her hold onto the bits that hurt too much to divulge.

  So, the Reader’s Digest version? She trusted someone who didn’t deserve it; she said yes because she couldn’t find the will to say no; the consequences were more than she thought she could bear; the decisions she made as a result were the ones she was taught; and in the end, the people who taught her judged and betrayed her. She hasn’t been back to church since. It breaks my heart that her church family would treat her the way they did. I wish I could fix it, change her mind about God’s people, but I know that I can't. I mean, come on, if Roman—the brother she adores—can’t change her mind, how can I? But just because I can’t heal the scar that others made, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can do. I can be her friend. I can love her just the way she is. With Daphne, that’s not hard. Not even a little bit.

  Speaking of love, hanging out with Daphne frequently translates to hanging out with Trevor, too. Now him, I like! He’s a tough guy; I can see it in his eyes. He’s been through something…but he’s always so tender with Daph. He's older than us by a few years, but he doesn't seem to mind it when all of us youngsters get together. I still don't know his story, but I know he’s in a different place than Daphne is. He doesn’t hate the church. In fact, he goes from time to time. He and Roman actually attend the same place when Trevor feels inclined to go. That fact alone encourages me to keep praying for Daphne. If she loves Trevor, maybe one day she'll learn to love God again. And love Trevor, she does! He feels the same way—it’s so incredibly obvious. Then again, I suppose they never try and hide it. They just don't act on it. Watching them, I now have an idea of how everyone felt watching Sonny and me.

  Only, our stories cannot really be compared. Theirs is full of heartache I know I’ll never understand.

  “I know I'm a knock out, but you really can't stand on the other side of that door gawking at me for the rest of the day.” I laugh my way out of my reverie at her comment. Now that I'm back in the present, standing in front of the door that separates me from the dreary weather and my friend, I see she's just as unprepared as I am for the possible downpour that could wash away our afternoon plans. She's in a pair of converse sneakers, cut-off shorts that show off most of her trim legs, and a plain white t-shirt, with what appears to be a pink bra underneath. Well, if it rains, at least people will know her underwear matches her hair.

  “Get your ass out here. You won't melt!”

  As I step outside, a cool breeze wraps around my bare legs. I, too, am in a pair of shorts that I changed into a few minutes ago. The clothes I shoved into my purse this morning were picked without checking the weather. There was no way I could have predicted rain at five thirty in the morning. I can barely predict the sunrise that early! I would have left my jeans on, but they are definitely a casualty of my clumsy morning at work and covered in lemon glaze. At least my simple baby doll t-shirt isn't white and the maroon color will keep the sky-blue bra I’m wearing underneath my little secret!

  Ha. Little. No pun intended.

  “See? It's not that bad! A few drops, but it's still warm. Now let's get going.”

  We don't have far to go as the outdoor venue—or, rather, street corner turned venue—is only a block away. All summer long, Old Town has been buzzing with fun things to do. There are food events and bicycle parades, fairs and—of course—beer festivals. This weekend is the End of Summer Music Jamboree. For the next three days, every nook and cranny of our cute little downtown will be hosting mini concerts. Saturday and Sunday will be crazy with more popular bands, street closures, and all out dance parties in the middle of the parking lots. Tonight, though, is more of a warm up. Thirsty Thursday, meant to wet people’s appetites. The local talent Daph wants me to see is one of the first to kick things off. They play at four, which was perfect timing for both of us; we were off at three, giving us time to meet up and walk over.

  “Man, the next few days are going to be pure bliss. You'll know where to find me if you need me.”

  “Oh, I know—wandering up and down the streets checking out every single show.”

  “Not every one,” she says, fighting a smile and feigning a nonchalant shrug. “Just the good ones.”

  “Except for Saturday night, right? You promised you—”

  “I'll be there. Chill, little one, I'm a woman of my word.”

  “In that case, here is your croissant!”

  “Oh, goody. H
ere’s your coffee—with non-fat milk and a dash of sugar.”

  I accept the beverage gratefully and slow my pace so I can sneak a taste. “Mm,” I hum as I sip. “That memory of yours is a thing of beauty.”

  “What can I say? It's a gift.”

  Just as expected, we reach our destination in no time. With twenty minutes before the band goes on, we snag ourselves a great spot as people are just now beginning to trickle their way into the growing crowd. Prepared for the possible rain, the stage is covered by a tent; and while it is sprinkling pretty steadily, I don’t mind that I don’t have a covering. This feels like one of those moments that is meant to be embraced. Daphne makes me feel like that a lot, as she’s always introducing me to new things and encouraging me to just ride my way through the experience.

  “So, are you ready for school to start?” she asks around her mouthful of croissant.

  “I am! It’s going to be a busy semester, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Have you and your man decided where you’ll be applying to grad school?”

  “Yup,” I say with a nod and a smile. Just thinking about Sonny and the plans we’re making together for our future always makes my stomach tingle. After talking it over with my parents, I decided that I did want to continue my studies. I know that going to grad school isn’t the only option available, in terms of staying close to Grayson, but after doing a little research, I decided it was the best plan for me. In fact, I consider it a blessing that my relationship pushed me in a direction I should have been considering anyway. Choosing where I wanted to go and aligning my choices with nearby schools that Sonny could apply to was just a bonus. “We’ve narrowed it down to a few schools in Chicago, New York, or Boston. There are also a couple here Colorado, of course. So, we’ll see what happens.”

  “That sounds exciting. I’ll be crossing my fingers for Chicago.”

  “Are you getting sick of me already?” I gasp teasingly.

  “No,” she laughs. “But if you’re there, it’ll give me an excuse to go visit.”

  “Good point,” I concede before taking a bite of my treat. “What about you? Is it weird that everyone is going back to school and you don’t have to?”

  “Yeah. A little too weird, actually. I mean, I was pretty sure that I needed a break; but now that I’ve got one, I’m not sure what the hell I'm going to do with it.”

  “You could always start a band,” I say with a wink.

  She rolls her eyes at me before she sips at her coffee. Something I learned about Daphne: she has absolutely no music ability. She’s got rhythm, and that’s about it. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll write a novel or something. Isn’t that what people with English degrees do while they’re slaving away at coffee shops all over the world?” she says with a chuckle. “I’ve also considered starting the application process for grad school. I just haven’t decided yet.”

  With a shrug, she changes the subject. I follow along as she fills me in on the band we’re about to see. Apparently, they’re a folk group known mostly for their lead singer. Daphne describes his voice as smoky and tried, but beautiful. I love listening to her talk about what she hears as she describes it in a way I know no one else ever could. As the band takes the stage, before a single note is even played, I know that I’ll enjoy them. How could I not? They’ve got a violinist and a cellist right alongside their electric guitar and bass players. When the lead singer sets himself up behind his keys, I’m transfixed for the next forty minutes. I barely even notice as the rain picks up.

  It’s not until after they’re done that I realize that the temperature has dropped and my clothes are completely damp. Daphne’s pink undergarment is definitely now fully on display but she laughs it off. My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t had an actual meal in hours, and I suggest we grab something for dinner.

  “Well, I sort of made plans to eat with Logan. You’re more than welcome to come, but—”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I say politely. “I’ll just head home. This was fun! Thanks for inviting me.”

  “Anytime,” she says, bending down to give me a hug farewell. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  “Yes you will!”

  Saturday is Sonny’s birthday and I can hardly wait. I plan on spoiling him rotten. While it took a lot for me to convince him to go out with all of our friends in celebration, he finally gave in. I had to make a compromise; he got to pick the place. He chose Cooper’s, and I know it’s because it’s a familiar setting and it’ll almost feel like any other night we spend out with our friends, but I’ll take it! Baby steps, I keep reminding myself.

  By the time I get to my car, the rain is really coming down. I’m grateful that the sky saw fit to open up after the concert, but now I’m freezing. I blast the heat in my car all the way home, but I’m still damp when I pull into the parking lot—and now it’s pouring. I don’t have an umbrella with me, so I take a deep breath in preparation for the sprint I’ll be making to seek shelter. I think of a pair of sweatpants I’d like to be wearing right now, which makes me think of snuggling, which makes me think of Sonny…

  A grin spreads across my face as I hop out of my car and race my way through the rain. I’m shivering when I knock on their door and I hope and pray that he’s home. I don’t have to wait long before my prayers are answered. Sonny opens the door, looking so delicious I could jump him. He’s in a CSU t-shirt, the sleeves ripped off, leaving his muscular arms on display. His legs are covered up in pair of sweatpants that hang low around his hips; and when he reaches up to run his fingers through his damp hair, the elastic waist band of his briefs is revealed. He’s freshly showered, I can tell by the overwhelming scent of his body wash, and I know he hasn’t been home from football practice long.

  When my eyes finally reach his face, I can tell by the smirk on his lips that he just watched me check him out. I get caught all the time. He’s got a lot less stature to cover! It’s so unfair. The blush that follows can’t be helped.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Were you playing in the rain?”

  “Mmhmm,” I manage. Hearing him call me sweetheart, even after a summer of getting used to it, still makes me weak at the knees. “I thought I’d come see if you could warm me up.”

  He all but growls as he takes a step toward me, effectively eliminating the distance between us, and decisively grips his hands around my face. His lips are pressed against mine before I can take a breath—which is unfortunate for my lungs, as I could really use a big gulp of air just now—but there isn’t another part of me that can complain. The heat that radiates from his body seems to engulf me and the warmth from his hands makes me forget that I’m cold. When his tongue seeks permission to enter my mouth, my shiver turns to one of desire. Our kiss deepens, I grow light headed, and I have to remind myself to breathe—which is nearly impossible to do as I can barely think when he starts gliding his hands down my body. They move from my cheeks to my neck; from my neck, across my shoulders; from my shoulders down my back. He slips my purse off of me and blindly tosses it behind him into the apartment. When his fingertips lift the edge of my shirt and graze my bare skin, I feel like I might catch on fire.

  “Breathe,” he whispers between kisses.

  “I—can’t.”

  He chuckles as he flattens his palms against my back, drawing me closer. I circle my arms around his neck as I'm forced onto my tiptoes. “You’re freezing,” he mumbles, trailing open mouth kisses along my neck.

  My head falls back on its own accord, granting him easier access to what he wants. “No. I’m not,” I practically pant. Seeking shelter in Sonny’s arms is the best idea I’ve had all day. I also know that there is no way I can be cold, seeing as how I feel like I might burst into flames any second now.

  “Yes, Shorty, you are.” He pulls his hands from underneath my shirt and I mourn the loss of his skin pressed against mine. That is, until his fingers graze their way over my backside. My breath hitches in my throat as he hoists me up. My legs circle ar
ound his waist instinctively and he brings his mouth to mine, kissing me hungrily before dragging his lips to my ear. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes.”

  My eyes grow wide and I feel a blush I’m sure covers every inch of my body. “Sonny—are you trying to seduce me?” I tease. Well, I meant to sound playful, but the quiver in my voice is anything but…

  “You’re the one who came to my door in a wet t-shirt. If anyone is seducing anyone, it’s you,” he tells me as he shuts us inside. I can’t help the nervous giggle that bubbles out of me as I bury my face in his neck. Me? Seductive? Yeah, right! With one arm underneath me, he reaches up to pull my hair out of his way. I can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them against my exposed neck. Grayson, on the other hand...

  All too soon, he’s setting me down in his room. He pulls away from me and begins digging through his clothes. After a minute, he hands me a long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of cut-off sweats. “Put these on before I lose the tiny bit of self-control I have left,” he orders, kissing my forehead on his way out.

  I don't fight the grin that pulls at my lips as his words take on meaning.

  I love him. God, I love him so much.

  I know that I live upstairs and I could have just as easily sought out a change of clothes that belonged to me and come right back, but I relish in the opportunity to wear something that is his. Even though I’m drowning in what he has given me, I’m warm and engulfed in his smell and it’s almost just as good as being wrapped in his arms. Emphasis on almost. I pull the draw string in his sweats as tight as it will go and then roll the top over itself until the crotch is where it belongs. Even still, the shorts hang past my knees. I then roll up the sleeves of the shirt until the fabric rests just above my hands. No telling what my hair looks like at this point, damp and all, so I take the hair tie from my wrist and pull it up into a messy bun. A really messy bun, since I usually need two hair ties to make my long, thick hair stay up. I could braid it, but I’m feeling far too impatient for that. I give this bun twenty minutes. Tops. I’m sure I look ridiculous, but I don’t care. I hurry out of the room to find the man who has undoubtedly been the best part of my entire summer.