All this time, I’ve been holding onto the past so tightly I was suffocating myself. Emotional suicide. I ruined three lives. I didn’t deserve one of my own. Then Adrienne came and showed me how to breathe.
She made me forget.
I don’t believe in bullshit, but everything I’ve ever told her was exactly that—bullshit. I said I was protecting her. The truth is I’ve been protecting myself.
That day on the boat was the first time I’ve talked about Rebecca since she died. I sat there, open and exposed. Adrienne looked up at me with those eyes, those big, pretty eyes that do unexplainable shit to my body, and she saw me. That’s when I realized I couldn’t welcome her into my heart with open arms as long as I was holding onto the past with both hands. So, I let Rebecca go.
I let her go in order to take Adrienne’s hand.
Now I’m standing outside her door with a shit ton of Chinese takeout, praying that she’ll have me. If she won’t, no one will. I’ll just be alone again because I don’t want this with anyone but her.
I knock twice then wait in anticipation.
She opens and I don’t move, don’t even breathe. I stand here and take her in. This woman is so fucking beautiful. She’s gorgeous in yoga pants or jeans, in tiny shorts or pajamas, but this… this is her. This isn’t Saturday-night-out Adrienne or after-work-proper Adrienne. This is relaxed-Tuesday Adrienne. Her face is covered in purple—what the fuck is that—purple something. Everything is purple but her eyes and lips. Those lips. Christ, what I want her to do with those lips. She’s wearing baggy plaid pajama bottoms and a tiny tank top. Unruly strands of hair fall out of a messy pile on her head. She’s perfect, absolutely fucking perfect.
She covers her face with both hands. “Oh my God.”
I smile. “Nope. Just me.”
Her hands fall just below her eyes but still cover the rest of her face. She studies me for a second. “Are you okay? Why are you here?”
Because I couldn’t last another minute without seeing you.
“What? A guy can’t surprise his—” I stop. His what? Fuck buddy? FWB? Girlfriend? I almost said girlfriend. “A guy can’t bring a girl takeout without getting the third degree?”
A girl. Not his girl. She’s not mine yet, not officially anyway. But she will be.
“You didn’t call first.” She lets her hands fall to her sides.
That’s it, babygirl. Let me see your face.
I quirk a brow. “You have other plans?”
“As a matter of fact…”
I push the door open with my free hand. “How are we supposed to have spontaneous Tuesday night sex if you won’t even let me in?”
“I wasn’t ready. I didn’t shave.”
I let out a loud growl. “Fucking savage. I love it.”
She laughs and shoves at my chest but lets me inside. Adrienne clears the coffee table to make room for the bajillion containers of Chinese takeout. Seriously. The guy at Panda Express was probably wondering if I had a tapeworm. We have Kung Pao Chicken, Beef and Broccoli, Sweetfire Chicken, Grilled Teriyaki Chicken, Pepper Steak, chow mein, fried rice, and egg rolls. Her eyes are wide as she watches me unload box after box and set them on the tabletop. The apartment fills with the scent of sautéed vegetables, teriyaki sauce, and MSG.
I sit next to her on the floor. We’re doing this picnic style. “I didn’t know what you liked.”
She grabs a set of chopsticks and digs some noodles out of a red cardboard container. “You could’ve just asked. But then you’d have to call so…”
That sass. God help me.
“Keep up the attitude, and you will not leave this room unfucked.”
“Isn’t that the plan?” she asks then shoves a bite into her mouth.
No. Well, yes. That used to be the only plan. Now it’s only part of the plan—a big part, growing by the minute, but still just a part.
Good God, even the way she chews is sexy. She takes some Pepper Steak from one of the black plastic bowls and piles it on her plate. Between the mud mask, the pajamas, the sass, and the fact that she’s not embarrassed to actually eat in front of me, I’m damn near ready to get down on one knee. Near. Not there yet. Unless I’m on one knee because she’s got her leg draped over my shoulder.
I load my plate with Kung Pao chicken while she quietly sings along with the theme song on her television. Her voice is so sweet, so innocent-sounding. She’s trying not to let go, but I know if I weren’t here, she’d be putting Mariah to shame right now. “The Golden Girls?”
She stops singing, and a soft pink blush creeps up her neck. Fuck, it’s adorable. “They’re my inspiration.”
“The Golden Girls?” I ask again because… what the fuck?
People are inspired by Steve Jobs, Martin Luther King Jr., Maya Angelou. Even Walt Disney for fuck’s sake. They aren’t inspired by the Golden Girls.
“One day I hope to retire in Florida with three of my best friends. We’ll sit around and eat cheesecake at midnight and keep each other sane. We’ll be happy.” She scoops another pile of noodles in her chopsticks. Her eyes twinkle when she looks at me. “Golden Goals.”
“You’re serious?” I grab an egg roll.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“So that’s your life’s ambition? To be single with a bunch of other single women relying on cheesecake as your only means of satisfaction?”
“Have you met Blanche?”
I choke on the bite I just took. “Oh, so you’re Blanche in this scenario?”
She shrugs then passes me my drink. For some reason, the thought of her, at any age, being with another guy makes me want to lock her in a tower. Hell, I’d even feed her cheesecake.
I wash down the food lodged in my throat then hold her gaze. “What about marriage? And kids?”
“I already have five kids.” She answers as if it’s the only possible answer there is, ignoring the marriage part entirely.
“I mean of your own.”
“Those boys are mine. If they’re not, who else do they belong to?”
There’s that fire in her eyes. It’s the same fire I saw the night at the police station when she told me about Liam being a foster child. She loves these kids. She loves them more than she loves herself. I admire the hell out of that.
She opens her mouth wide, then touches her cheeks and jumps up off the floor. “Be right back. I’m starting to crack.”
So am I.
She runs to the bathroom and comes out two minutes later minus the purple stuff. Her ivory skin is flawless and I’m imagining the way it would feel under my fingertips, against my lips.
She plops down on the floor beside me then picks up her chopsticks again as though she never left. “You wanna tell me the real reason you dropped by my apartment with a Chinese buffet?”
I came here to make you mine.
After hearing her talk about her future, I’m not sure Adrienne wants to belong to anyone. I do know there’s only one way to find out.
“I’m re-opening The Taproom. The contractor said it’s safe as long as I keep people away from the construction area.”
“Blaze.” Her eyes light up. “That’s amazing.”
“I want you to be there on opening night… With me.”
“Like a date?” she asks, climbing over to straddle my lap.
She circles her arms around my neck and leans in. My hands grab her ass and pull her closer. I need her closer.
I place a gentle kiss on the skin I’ve been dying to touch. It’s so cool and smooth. “Like a date.”
She smiles then brings her mouth to mine, stopping right before I can kiss her. “It’s about damn time.”
Fuck yes. I grab her by the nape of the neck and claim her mouth. Her fingers tangle in my hair as she grinds against me. There’s nothing on earth better than this feeling right here. She lifts off my lap long enough to slide her pajama bottoms down. My hands trail from her ankles to her thighs, and I chuckle because she lied. She did shave.
> She lifts my shirt up over my head and starts placing little kisses over my shoulders and across my chest. I sweep her hair off her shoulder and kiss her neck, and she moans. Then she looks up at me. Her gaze meets mine and blessed hell, I am undone. She’s looking at me like no one’s ever looked at me before, like I’m the fucking sun she’s been waiting on so she can blossom. If we weren’t already on the floor, that look would bring me to my knees.
It’s official.
I am hers. And Adrienne Maddox is mine.
Five days ago, Blaze asked me on a date. It’s not a real date with candlelight and menus with words I can’t pronounce, but it’s more than a stolen moment in a back office. Haley refused to let me go without letting her do my hair and makeup. According to her two hundred thousand followers, she’s pretty good at it, so why the heck not. I’m sitting on a dining chair in the bathroom while she twists my hair into a loose updo. A few strands fall around my face, and there’s a braid along my crown. Her makeup job makes me look like the lovechild of Jennifer Lopez and Chris Hemsworth. If Jennifer Lopez was a fair-skinned white chick and Chris Hemsworth was a foot shorter.
“I can’t believe you’re dating Blaze Abbott,” she says as she tugs the last strand of hair loose.
“We’re not dating.”
She inspects her work. “But he used the word date?”
“Yes.”
She walks around in front of me, bending forward to rest her hands on her knees, so she can look me in the eyes. “Fuck buddies don’t go on dates, Addy.”
“But they go shopping together at Costco?”
She laughs as she dips her pinky into the cream eyeshadow and swipes my eyelid. “Oh, Hector and I are definitely dating.”
I smile because I am genuinely happy for them. They’re both amazing people who deserve to be with another amazing person.
A small pang cinches my chest. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up.”
“If he isn’t hooked after looking at this…” She grabs my hand and pulls me out of the chair, spinning me to face the mirror. “He’s either a complete idiot or you just don’t have the right parts.”
Damn.
The light pink off-the-shoulder dress is flowy but short with a hem of ruffles just above my knee. My hair and makeup are perfection. I almost don’t even recognize myself. I feel as though it’s senior prom all over again—if I had gone to senior prom. Nerves flutter in my belly, and I’m suddenly thankful that Hector invited Haley to go tonight too.
“Pretty sure he likes all my parts just fine” I smooth my hands down the front of my dress and take a nervous breath. At least I hope he does.
Haley grabs both of my hands and holds my gaze. “Stop. He’s seen you naked. You’re going to be fine.” She grabs her cell phone from her back pocket. “And this is definitely going on IG.” She holds her phone up. “Now smile.”
When I walk downstairs, Liam looks up from the tablet he’s playing on. His mouth drops open. “Wow. Miss M. It doesn’t even look like you.”
Ryder pauses the show on TV long enough to look my way. “Yeah, you look hot.”
As opposed to looking… not hot?
Liam tosses a throw pillow at Ryder, hitting him in the face.
“I mean you’re always pretty, but…” He looks at the ground and shakes his head. “Never mind.” Then he un-pauses the TV.
I smile then walk into the living room, grabbing the attention of both of them again. “You guys are the sweetest. Why can’t all guys be as awesome as you?” They return my smile, so I tap them both on the nose. “Behave tonight, okay? And I’ll see you tomorrow after dinner.”
They give me a collective “yes, ma’am” as I head for the door.
Haley walks me to the door. “I’ll see you later, hot stuff.”
“See ya.”
“Bye, Miss M,” Ryder says from the sofa.
“Make good choices,” Liam follows.
These boys, I swear. If they made my heart any fuller, it would burst.
The second I step inside, I can see why Blaze has missed this. The brewery is alive. The music from the band is its heartbeat. The flowing crowd is its bloodstream.
Conversations told in loud voices float through the air, all of them competing with the band on the stage. Big screen televisions hang on the wall behind the bar, muted but tuned into ESPN. The crowd is mostly young people, my age and a little older. They’re all beautiful, larger than life and happy.
Blaze is behind the bar, flipping nozzles and pouring beer from the tap. He’s wearing jeans and a bright blue Taproom T-shirt like the one he gave me the day of Liam’s party. And a charcoal gray beanie. God help me with that beanie. It’s an aphrodisiac.
He looks so natural, so at ease, so… sad. He missed this. I see the way he lights up when he talks about it. Why would he be sad?
I walk up in front of him and lean over the bar. “Hey handsome. Got any rituals I should know about before I order?”
He finishes filling a glass then slides it to the man beside me. When he sees me his mouth opens then closes again. He swallows hard. There’s an eerie seriousness in the air despite the life that thrums all around us. “Adrienne. Fuck.”
My smile is small. “I’m having trouble translating your fuck. Is that a fuck you look great? Or an oh fuck, you came?”
“You look better than great.” He doesn’t smile back, and something about that makes my hair stand on end. He nods to his left. “Come over here.”
When I meet him at the end of the bar, he pulls me around the corner near the door that leads into the actual brewery. He gives my entire body a once-over, swallowing hard as if the sight of me is painful. Then he takes my face in his hands and skims his thumbs over my cheeks, then my lips. I don’t want it to be painful. I want it to be enough—enough to open him up and let me inside.
He trails his fingertips to my nose then my eyes, down the side of my face to my neck then over my collarbone—slowly, deliberately, like he’s a blind man and my body is covered in braille. He exhales a breath so deep it makes his body shudder.
My heart isn’t just beating. It’s flailing, thrashing around in my chest, fighting to stay alive. “Blaze?”
His jaw tenses, and he takes a step back. I immediately miss his touch because somehow I know that’s the last time I’ll ever feel it. I want to scream, to beg, please touch me again.
“You’re freaking me out. Can you say something?”
He does that thing where he sighs and cups the nape of his neck. His fingers tighten and he tilts his head back, and stays that way, looking up at the ceiling, for an eternity before looking back at me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, finally shattering his silence. Then he rubs his hand over his face as if to scrub away the emotion, to hide the fact that he’s breaking.
We’re breaking.
His words, the way he says them, are like a punch to the gut. I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, waiting for the wall to go up around my heart the way it always has. It doesn’t, and I’m left standing here in front of him completely vulnerable. “Sorry? Sorry for what?” I ask even though I’m terrified to know. “Blaze? Talk to me.” My voice is weak, almost a whisper.
An older gentleman walks up from out of nowhere and claps a hand on Blaze’s shoulder.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asks. Even though he’s obviously not speaking to me, he looks directly at me.
Silence.
Long, heavy silence.
Blaze pinches the bridge of his nose then straightens and heaves a sigh. “Adrienne Maddox, meet Chase Abbott.” The air shifts. “My dad.”
His dad. His dark hair has hints of gray. His eyes are a deep honey with flecks of chestnut brown just like Blaze’s. His chiseled jaw is clean-shaven, not covered in stubble like Blaze’s. He’s wearing a suit, and when he brings a glass tumbler to his lips, I see the glimmer of a watch that looks like it cost more than my car. He looks so much like Blaze an
d still so very different.
Suddenly, I’m very aware of the man standing in front of me—of both men standing in front of me. I’m aware of the silent battle between them, aware of the way the very presence of Blaze’s father seems to cast a shadow over him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. You should be very proud of the work you do with those boys.”
“Thank you, sir. They’re my life,” I say with a calmness so far from what I’m actually feeling.
The music quiets, and the lead singer of the band introduces the next song, talking about how he wrote it at a point in his life when he was beat down and at his lowest.
Mr. Abbott raises a brow. The music starts again, gritty and raw. “As they should be. It takes a special person to make sacrifices for those things that are important to them.” He looks at Blaze as though he’s issuing a challenge.
There’s no doubt this man makes many people tremble in his presence. I’m not as easy to intimidate. I’m not competing with Blaze for person of the year. I probably wouldn’t win anyway. Blaze Abbott is pretty wonderful, even if he is about to break my heart.
I flash him a practiced smile. “I wouldn’t call it a sacrifice. More like a blessing.”
“They’re very lucky to have someone like you. Someone who cares. Someone who understands what they’ve been through.” A smug grin teases the corners of his mouth. “Coming from foster care yourself, you must have a better connection with them.”
His words make it hard to breathe. How does he know that? How does he know me? How do I explain to Blaze that after everything he shared with me, I kept this from him?
Is this why he’s so upset?
This has to be why he’s so upset.
Mr. Abbott takes another sip of the amber liquid then holds the glass up as if in a toast and smiles. There’s nothing friendly about that smile. “Well, I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about. It was nice finally meeting you, Adrienne,” he says, then he disappears as quickly as he came.
I look up to find Blaze intently focused on me. His eyes are filled with a heady mix of emotions I don’t understand.
Blaze: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World) Page 15
