All Amity Allows (Fall for You Book 2) (12 page)

Drew took a deep breath. “Could you just forget I ever said anything?”

“I can if that would make things easier.” Amity assessed him for a moment. The corners of his eyes were pinched with stress and the post-exercise glow had faded. Knowing the personal cost would be high, but not really caring, she reached out her hand and placed it on his arm. She barely flinched as the ache of his broken heart and torn soul stung her fingers and echoed throughout her body. “Or you can keep talking. I’m a good listener.”

She drew her hand back and placed it in her lap, trying not to be obvious as she tried to shake away the pain.

“I don’t want to burden you with my bullshit.”

“It’s no burden. And it’s not bullshit. You loved and lost. That hurts.”

“You’ve experienced heartbreak too?”

Her statement had obviously come out with such sorrow he could tell she’d been hurt. If only he knew the truth—that her hurt was from the very mistakes that had led him to experience the heartache he was going through.

“You could say that.” She was worried he might ask the next, inevitable question. One which she wouldn’t be able to answer in any way that could satisfy him—who broke her heart and how? She pleaded with him silently not to.

As if reading her cues, he snorted and held up his wine glass. “Here’s to us, a couple of heartbroken saps.”

She gave him a grin, willing to move on and change the subject. “Cheers.”

The conversation ebbed and flowed with a natural ease after that. At least until Drew waxed lyrical for five minutes on why it was so important to maintain a good career trajectory. That the only way to be truly successful in life was to have a great job and constantly strive for the next level.

“Bullshit,” Amity said, not willing to allow him the concession of her pandering to his beliefs.

“What do you mean bullshit?”

“I mean it doesn’t matter if you are the chief of staff at a hospital or a homeless person left destitute by your own choices.”

“Of course it does.”

“No. It really doesn’t. What matters is whether you are a good person. Whether you do what you can to help your fellow man. Whether you support the dreams and interests of those you love. That’s what matters.”

“But why can’t you do both?”

“I’m not saying that you can’t. I’m just saying that at the end of it all, it doesn’t really matter. When you die, it’s how you were as a person, and not what your career was, that matters. That’s what determines whether your soul moves up or down.”

Drew looked at her in shock. “You mean Heaven or Hell?”

He frowned, no doubt at the turn the conversation had taken. Amity instantly regretted saying anything. Faith was always a touchy topic with humans—she could never know whether they would be offended or not or which particular strain of religion they had chosen to follow.

“I didn’t take you for a religious person,” he added.

It was Amity’s turn to snort. “Heaven and Hell have nothing to do with religion. They are to do with faith.”

“Same thing.”

She shook her head sadly. “No. They’re really not.”

“How so?”

“Faith is trust that there is something bigger than yourself in the world, something magical that guides us all. Religion is one particular group’s interpretation of that trust.”

“Okay, so your faith says that I shouldn’t work hard to become a doctor?”

“Not at all.” She smiled in a way she hoped was reassuring and friendly. She needed to remember the reason she was even in Flint. Getting on the good doctor’s bad side wouldn’t help her goal. And she really didn’t want to upset him, that hadn’t been her intention at all. “Just that it shouldn’t be the be all and end all of your life. When was the last time you did something fun?”

“This afternoon was fun.”

She sighed. “I mean something fun just for the sake of being fun. Not because it was good for your body or for your career.”

Drew looked deep in thought for a moment. Then his frown deepened. He didn’t seem willing to say, so Amity reached out her hand and, ignoring the shooting agony associated with his touch, pulled the truth from him. A vision swum into her mind: Drew standing on Becca’s porch while she berated him for not dressing up for her costume party.

Even though she knew from his touch that Drew would never reveal that as the last time he tried something “just for fun,” she decided to take away the option because she knew he wasn’t there for fun and he hadn’t dressed up anyway.

“And not because you felt you were obligated to do it. Come on, it can’t be that hard. Tell me the last time you had fun.”

His smile turned wicked. “Oh, I’ve had fun. Plenty of fun.”

“Outside the bedroom. I want to know the last time you did something completely insane for no other reason than doing something insane.”

He cleared his throat. “Oh.”

“Well?”

He sat in thought for another few seconds then smiled triumphantly. “I played a game of football at Dad’s when I first arrived home.”

“Did you use it as a chance to get to know your new colleagues and as a workout?”

His smile dropped.

It was Amity’s turn for the triumphant grin. “So?”

He huffed. “Well, if you’re going to be so specific, then I don’t know that I ever have.”

“You’ve never had fun?”

“Not by the narrow definition of fun you’ve given me to work with, no not really.”

“No movies? No rollercoasters? Nothing like that?”

“Not really. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You haven’t wanted to?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I am who I am. Before their divorce, my parents were more the dinner-party-with-colleagues than hours-at-the-playground-with-a-child type.”

The thought of a child growing up without learning how to have fun broke Amity’s heart. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugged again, but the movement was somehow sadder than before. “It is what it is.”

Amity sat in thought for a moment. Then she lifted her hand to call for the waiter and the check. “Well, tonight, that changes.”

Chapter Eleven

With a fair
amount of trepidation, Drew followed Amity’s lead out of the restaurant and back to his car. As he drove, she directed him to some secretive location. When they arrived at their apparent destination, he gaped in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, glancing up at the building and then back at Amity.

Amity climbed from the car before Drew could drive off again. He groaned because although it was tempting considering where she’d led him, he was far too much of a gentleman to leave her stranded alone on the side of the road.

She leaned over into the car, giving Drew an eyeful of cleavage—which just wasn’t playing fair in his opinion. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I really think your definition of fun is a little different from mine,” he muttered.

“You admitted that you don’t have a definition of fun,” she pointed out, unhelpfully. “So that means we try my fun.”

Against his better judgment, Drew climbed from the car and followed Amity into the building.

“But bowling?” He looked around as they entered the darkened bowling alley. The sound of balls rolling down the lanes and smashing into pins was barely audible over the thumping music. His own voice was barely audible for that matter. Even his thoughts seemed dulled in comparison to the loud thrumming bass line.

“Trust me!” Amity shouted, just loud enough for him to hear, before clapping her hands and turning to the counter.

Drew looked around. It seemed like everything was covered in the sort of paint that glowed under UV lights. He wondered what other things might begin to glow on the seats and bowling balls if it was subjected to the stronger CSI-style UV lighting. After a second, he decided he was probably better off
not
thinking about that.

“Here.” Amity thrust a pair of bowling shoes at him. They appeared fairly well maintained, but they were still second-hand shoes. They’d still been on other people’s feet. Other people who might have all manner of bacteria and conditions.

“My idea of fun certainly does not include getting athlete’s foot,” he said.

Amity just laughed at him before pointing to herself. “Life coach remember.” She winked. “If I can take off my Jimmy Choos to put on these bowling shoes, you can too.”

“But I don’t have Jimmy Choos on,” Drew teased.

“You know what I mean. Now, come on.” She grabbed the cuff of his jacket, leaving his hands free to hold the unfashionable white, black, and red bowling shoes while she dragged him to their lane.

After he’d tugged on the offending footwear, which were about as comfortable as they were fashionable, he glanced at Amity. She was in her element. Her hair, still up in a high ponytail from their workout, hung down her back and flicked from side to side as she flittered about tucking her shoes under the plastic seats. As if she felt his gaze, she looked up at him.

“What?”

“I just didn’t peg you for a bowler.”

She grinned. “I’m full of surprises.”

He nodded. “That you are.” He stood and clapped once. “Okay, now, what exactly am I supposed to do?”

She laughed. Then her expression became one of confusion. She must have realized he was being serious. He’d never bowled before. His mother would have conniptions being anywhere near a place like the one he was in, and his father . . . well, his father would probably love to bowl—
now
. His new wife had filled his life with love and laughter that had been absent throughout Drew’s entire childhood. Even at Becca’s birthday party, his father had gotten into the swing of things and dressed in costume. In fact, it had been yet another source of contention between Drew and Becca. Drew had thought the whole concept childish and inane.

When Drew had first returned home, he’d thought the new, carefree model of his father was the result of a mid-life crisis of sorts, but after the conversation he’d shared with Amity over dinner, he was willing to concede that maybe, just maybe, the way his family had been when he was young wasn’t entirely normal. Perhaps he did need to learn how to loosen up a little from time to time. Why that had to include second-hand shoes and a bass line loud enough to interrupt the rhythm of his heart was beyond him, but he supposed he was willing to try it. After all, when he’d made the agreement he’d come to with Amity, he’d obviously—in his highly inebriated state—realized something that his sane self would never admit: that something had to change or he would be forever doomed to repeat the same mistakes.

“First, you need to select a ball,” Amity said, pulling him from his thoughts. She pointed in the direction of several racks of balls of varying color.

Drew looked at them in disgust, wondering what critters might have been rampantly breeding underneath the racks. How many creatures had littered feces across the surface of the balls and inside the set of holes drilled into each one.

“Get the heaviest ball that you think you can comfortably throw,” Amity said before disappearing from his side while he tried to work out what he needed.

She returned to him with a sparkling pink ball that looked brand-new.

“Do they have another section somewhere?” Drew asked as he looked around to see if he could spot where she’d found her spotlessly clean ball. “Are they hiding the good balls there?”

Amity just laughed and pointed to a fluorescent blue ball on the bottom row of the rack. “Just use that one.”

Drew didn’t argue. The sooner they started the game, the sooner he could be done with the whole charade of having to pretend to have fun in a bowling alley. Amity would realize that it just wasn’t him, and he’d be left to do the things he wanted to do.

By the time he’d retrieved the ball and returned to the lane they’d been assigned, Amity had already typed in both of their names and was ready to start. He pulled off his jacket, and then loosened the top buttons on the business shirt he had on before rolling up the sleeves. If he was going to be doing something so ridiculous, he at least wanted to be comfortable doing it.

Amity hadn’t
been bowling for years. She tried to think back to the last time she had, but it wasn’t like she’d taken specific note of the date or even the year. All she knew was it was before she’d been assigned to Rose’s case. Since then, she’d become so focused on trying to escape the pain—of trying to bury it beneath brand-new cars and designer outfits—that she hadn’t done much at all just for the fun of it. She was as bad as Drew. Worse, because she knew how much richer life could be when you filled it with more than just designer threads and ever-increasing pressure, yet she’d cut fun and interaction out of her life.

She hadn’t expected it, but dragging Drew out for the night was actually helpful for her as well. Of course, that at least partly came down to the fact that she was trouncing Drew in the lane. Seeing him pout and proclaim that he’d never done this before over and over was actually surprisingly entertaining for her. He was the sort who didn’t fluster easily, so it was refreshing to see him out of his comfort zone for a while.

Truthfully, he’d scored fairly well for a beginner, getting over 130 in each game. Despite that, she’d managed to edge him out with a few miraculous curves on balls that looked destined for the gutter. True, she might have used her influence on them to ensure they hit just right for a strike, but that was beside the point. She didn’t view it as cheating as such, just playing to her strengths.

By the time they’d finished two games, the music and atmosphere had loosened Drew up a lot. She’d spotted a smile on more than one occasion, and had even managed to get him to do a little victory dance at one point after he’d scored a strike. It was certainly a long way from the crazed, potentially violent man that she’d stopped from going to Becca’s house to confront Evan and Becca the night before.

Not that she’d admit it to Michael, but she’d actually enjoyed being hands on with a case again. It didn’t hurt that Drew was easy on the eyes and mostly easy to talk to. Or that she really wanted to get “hands on” with him. Although there were many times that she’d been so tempted to, she hadn’t touched him. Not even just to remember what it was like to trace soft fingers over solid muscle.

“So what now?” Drew asked as they left the bowling alley.

“What?”

“Well, surely you’re not going to let me just call it a night there after introducing me to this thing you call fun?”

Amity grinned at him. True, she’d plied him with a fair bit of cheap beer while they’d been bowling, but she hadn’t expected him to become so loose so fast. She wasn’t sure what else they could do that was fun, at least none that wouldn’t lead to expectations from his side—from hers too if she was honest with herself.

“We could go get ice cream?” she suggested.

“Ice cream? It’s freezing out. Do you think—?”

Amity touched her fingers to her lips to tell him to stop talking and grinned.

“The point is to do something stupid. To do something you wouldn’t normally do. To do something a little crazy. To. Have. Fun.”

He assessed her for a moment. “Okay, ice cream it is.”

They drove around for a while, trying to find somewhere that was open at the late hour. In the end, a small pizza and ice-cream place fit the bill. They grabbed a cone each and then Amity convinced Drew to go for a walk through the park as they ate them.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asked again. His gaze darted from tree to tree, as if he was just waiting for a mugger to jump out from behind one of them.

“There’s no one here,” she said. “And if someone jumps out, I’ll protect you.”

Drew rolled his eyes. “My hero,” he deadpanned.

“Well, come on, live a little.”

“Wanting to live a little is exactly why I think walking here at night is a bad idea.”

“Trust me?” she asked. What he didn’t know, and what Amity would never have been able to reveal to him, was that at that moment, she kept them both safe in a little bubble. She’d extended out her cloak, so to the rest of the world, they didn’t really exist.

With a sigh, he fell into step beside her.

As they walked, they talked about everything and nothing.

By the time they returned to his car, Drew seemed to have developed a peace of mind that Amity would have thought impossible just a couple of days ago. He wasn’t completely healed. There was still a tear in his soul, the remnants of the hole that she’d opened, but it was smaller. It was possible that he’d be able to recover on his own. It was likely that her proximity was exactly what he’d needed to start the process of healing and that he’d be fine without her. She could probably let him down easily and then leave him to move on by himself.

Only she didn’t want to.

She argued with herself that maybe he’d turn violent without an outlet to release the pent-up frustration he’d feel each day going to work with Becca, but deep down, she didn’t really believe him capable of that. The fact was simply that she didn’t want to leave. Not yet. She was enjoying the sensation of being helpful again—of being more hands on than she had been in too long. As she settled into the passenger seat of Drew’s car, she could almost hear Michael’s voice echoing through her head.

“You mustn’t lose faith, Amitiel, just because some humans do not know the meaning of love, doesn’t mean that humanity is doomed or inherently evil.”

He’d told her so many times not to give up on humanity. That they weren’t all bad, but she’d grown ever more jaded as the years passed. Instead of letting the legions of Heaven guide all mankind together to a glorious utopia, humanity had perverted the angels’ hard work and just made up new and terrible reasons to go to war.

As much as the angels suffered from the continued spiral of hatred, Amity was one of the hardest hit. It was a well-known fact that the truth was one of the first casualties in any war. She was affected by the lies humans told themselves—the little ones and the big. Over the years, it had become harder for her to deal with the barrage of emotions with one-on-one access to the inner-truth of another person. She’d closed herself off and turned her back on it. She hadn’t even regretted it.

Until now.

She looked over at Drew, who had no reason to suspect she was anything other than what she’d told him she was. How could one man have churned up her belief system so completely? It should have been a signal to run in the opposite direction.

“So what’s on tomorrow’s agenda?” she asked instead.