Reckless Abandon (23 page)

“It’s him or me, Ember. When you figure it out, come find me.” Adrian’s voice gets softer as he walks away.

“What the fuck is
that
supposed to mean? This isn’t a competition, Adrian. I’m with you.”

Ouch.

“Figure it out, Em.” He slams the door shut. For a moment, I can’t tell if Ember’s left with him, until I hear her feet pad down the hallway. I close my eyes and pretend to still be asleep.

“Bo?” she whispers as she quietly opens the door.

I don’t respond. Ember walks to the side of the bed and stands still, but I can hear her breathing and smell her perfume. I hear her dresser drawer open and chance a glance with one eye in her direction. She lifts off her dress from last night and reaches for a t-shirt. She really has lost a bit of weight; her shoulder blades don’t hide in her skin the way they should when she puts her arms down.

I close my eyes when she starts to turn around. She sinks slowly onto the bed. Suddenly, her hand is on my bare chest, just over my heart. I beg it to slow down, but it won’t; her touch is its life. Without a word, she rests her hand there for what feels like a minute. I hate that I can’t see her face. With a heavy sigh, she moves her hand to my forehead, brushing my hair aside. Her soft fingertips glide down the side of my face and her thumb traces my bottom lip, pausing long enough for me to have to suppress the urge to kiss it. I can feel her pulse pounding against the pad of her thumb.

Ember stands, balancing herself on my arm and running her fingers along the outside of the leather cuff Rae bought me for my birthday last year. She lets her fingers trail the length of mine as she pulls her arm away and walks out of the room. I hear her leave her apartment, get in her car, and drive away. I reach for my phone.

It’s now or never.

“Rae? Yeah, it’s me. No...I’m fine. Listen, I need your help.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ember

I drive straight to Monica’s. My mind is spinning—I had to get out of there. I managed to leave Bo a note, telling him to feel free to use the shower so he doesn’t smell like a frat house when he gets home.

It’s me or him
. Adrian’s words echo through my soul. I shake my head and try to figure him out. He knows about the kiss. I didn’t deny it and I don’t know why.
You know why.

Sleepy, and probably hung over, Monica answers the door.

“You look like hell,” I tease as I slide in. She groans in response and wanders to the kitchen and pours coffee.

We settle onto the couch and let the caffeine work into our systems in silence. I take a breath and share my version of the night. I have to back up a bit to remind her of the parts she’s hazy on, but as soon as I say “Better Man,” her eyes widen as the night seems to fall back into place. Josh staggers out of the bedroom in time to hear the blow-by-blow of getting Bo into my apartment and to bed.

“Wait. C.J. didn’t help you at all?” Josh rubs his eyes and gulps coffee.

Monica rolls her eyes. “
That’s
what you’re pulling from the story? You need help.”

“Or more coffee,” he grunts and walks to the kitchen.

“So what are you going to do about Adrian?” Monica sets her coffee down and crosses her arms. “I mean, clearly you’re thinking about it, or you would have followed his sorry ass straight to Boston.”

I snort, “Adrian Turner doesn’t need me to chase after him, Monica.”

“Maybe he does.” She shrugs.

Maybe he does.

“I can’t believe he told me he loves me.”

“Yeah, right before he told you he figured out Bo kissed you.

“Good point.” I arch my eyebrow.

“I know.” She arches hers.

“I don’t think I love him. I mean, I care a lot about him and, sexually...come on. But ...” I shake my head and look past Monica.

“Say it, November.” She can see my thoughts, I swear it.

“I know I said it the night of the Coldplay concert but...I really think I might still love Bo.”

Monica raises her palm
s to the sky. “Praise the friggin Lord!”

“What’s with the revival in here?” Josh chuckles as he reenters the room. I often forget his dad is a preacher. It makes me laugh every time.

“Our girl here has finally admitted, out loud, to still having feelings for Bo.”

“I said
might
.” I’m ignored.

“Thank God.” He sits back, seemingly relieved.

“You two are awfully spiritual this morning,” I mumble into my coffee.

Monica laughs. “We’re going to Josh’s parents for the week, gotta practice.”

We all laugh at the double life they’ll have to lead before the wedding. They’ve agreed to keep separate apartments until the big day, but the rest of their private life is top secret around Josh’s conservative parents. They nearly keeled over when he decided to move to the Cape and manage a bar. His business sense is sharp, though, and he single-handedly saved Finnegan’s from going under.

“So,” Josh interjects, running his hand through his sandy-brown hair, “does this mean you and Bo will stop being so shitty to each other?” The question takes me by surprise, and I furrow my brow at him.

“Oh come on, Ember ...” Monica rolls her eyes.

“I’m not with Adrian to hurt Bo, guys.”

“Well, it hurts him. And after Regan told you Bo and Ainsley don’t really seem to be together ...” Monica leads.

“What? Is he using her to hurt me?”

Josh senses an argument and raises his hands. “Ladies...we all know Bo wouldn’t ever  do anything to hurt Ember. I’ve seen him talk about her; it’s just not possible. But, guys don’t think straight—”

“Ever,” I cut in.

“No, smart ass, guys don’t think straight when they’re heartbroken. You women chop off and dye your hair, curling up on your best friend’s lap to cry for days.” Monica and I stare at each other, on the brink of hysteria regarding his accuracy. “Guys,” he continues, “we just want the hurt to go away. I’ll reference my drunken showdown with you, Ember, as an example of not thinking straight.”

I mull over Josh’s words and think about Regan not having seen Ainsley and Bo together. I begin to wonder if Bo thinks I’m with Adrian to hurt him.

“Take the blackmail out of the equation completely.” Monica leans forward and touches my knee. “Would you have ever second-guessed your relationship with Bo for another go ‘round with Adrian Turner? I mean, Turner’s fine as hell—”

“Nice, Monica,” Josh chuckles.

“Seriously, is he anything more than walking sex?” Her eyebrows shoot up.

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Mon.” I stand and bring my coffee mug to the kitchen.

“I already did,” she shouts, reminding me she thinks I’ve royally screwed myself.

I pause at the sink, sick with the realization that a sane person doesn’t take care of a drunken ex-boyfriend while their current boyfriend wanders up and down the beach.

“I’ve gotta get to Boston.” I sigh and walk to the door.

“By the way, Asshole,” Monica walks over to me and smacks my arm, “I googled your parents after the night of the Coldplay concert. You and I are going to have a serious discussion.”

“Way to hold out on us, Ember.” Josh fakes annoyance as I leave.

* * *

After the longest drive to Boston in my life, I’m standing at the private entrance of The W, filled with dread. Adrian’s going to want answers and I don’t know if I have them. Why did I carry Bo out of a bar when he was doing a perfectly fine job of drowning his sorrows? Why did I insist my ex-boyfriend stay at my house when Regan offered his? Why, for the love of God, why did I walk away from Adrian last night when he headed down the beach? I have the answers...there’s only one answer.

My body has been rejecting my actions with Adrian for weeks. I’ve lost weight, I can’t sleep, and I walk around with a solid knot in my gut most days. I’ve lied to my friends, my family, and myself. And for what? Because I was pissed off a few weeks ago? My spirit has become a complete disaster, a junkie tapping its veins for the release Adrian Turner provides.

“Ms. Harris.” The doorman nods and I force a tight smile, mouth closed so I don’t throw up all over his nice suit.

“Thank you,” I whisper through my clenched teeth.

With trembling knees, I knock on Adrian’s door. It swings open freely. Adrian doesn’t look at me as he motions me in.

“Hi.” I jump with the slam of the door behind me.

“You came.” With a dead tone, he leans against the door, crossing his arms and ankles.

“You’re kidding,” I punch up the sarcasm. “You don’t answer my calls all night, then tell me your brother drove all the way from Boston to pick you up. Then,” I stand toe-to-toe with him at the door, “you barge into my apartment and demand that I choose between the two of you? What does that even mean?” I can’t let Adrian know how I’m feeling until I get some answers about last night. His face doesn’t change.

“I saw you watching him play. You were in your own world. Damn, Ember, you jumped three feet in a crowded bar when I came up behind you.” He slides past me and paces thoughtfully toward the expansive window.

“It’s music, Adrian, I’m always lost in it.” I shoulder next to him with a whisper as we watch the busy city below.

“You should have seen your face when he started playing that song. It was like someone punched you right in the gut.”

“It hurt my feelings.”

Adrian takes my hand. “He shouldn’t affect your feelings at all, Ember.” Hurt saturates his eyes and seeps down his face.

As I lock into Adrian’s eyes, I know Bo will always affect me. I’m miserable and it’s not Adrian’s fault.

“No,” Adrian startles me from my thoughts, cupping my face in his hands, “You’re mine, Ember, and I’m yours.” His vocal cords strum panic as he scans my eyes.

“Adrian ...” My voice has never been so shaky. He tightens his grip on my face as I try to pull away.

“You’re not bailing on us, Blue. We just got started.” His voice is approaching a yell.

Grabbing Adrian’s wrists, I pull his hands away from my face. “It’s not about bailing, Adrian.”

He walks over to the bar, pouring himself a shot, while I sit on the couch. I don’t mention that it’s barely past noon on a Sunday.

“So what’s it about, then? I sat by and watched you date another guy who was lying to you. You bailed on him and came to me when shit hit the fan. What is it now, if this isn’t bailing? What’s it about?” The shot glass glides between his thumb and forefinger.

“Me,” I state flatly.

“Goddammit, Ember, it’s always fucking about you!” Adrian hurls the shot glass through the air, and it shatters against the window. Reflexively, I stand and walk into the kitchen. My heart races as he strides toward me and starts yelling. “In college you wouldn’t even let me speak when you
broke up with me. It was about
your
fears, and it crushed me, November. It fucking crushed me!”

His nostrils flair with each ragged breath he takes. Anger clashes with the hurt in his eyes, and I start doing the most unattractive thing possible—yelling and crying at the same time. The feral yell that comes from my throat startles both of us as tears pour down my face. I’m exhausted, angry, and confused.

“So what the hell is your problem then, huh?” I sniff back the tears that are pouring through my nose. “Why the hell would you want to be with me again if I hurt you so bad?”

In a flash, Adrian’s lips are on mine, his tongue thrashes desperately through my mouth. I try to pull my head back but his fingers thread tightly through my hair. I want to give in to it; to submit to the physical intoxication that is Adrian, but I can’t. I have to respect myself, and this certainly isn’t the way to do it. Adrian pulls away from me and, with swollen lips, starts to speak.

“Because I’m addicted to you, Blue. Five years of withdrawal was torture without you in my life. I need you.” He unwinds his hands from my hair and glides them down my shoulders before stepping back and leaning against the counter with clenched fists.

We’re addicts. Co-dependent on lust. We’re sick with it, and sick without it. At least without it we have the option to heal. My tears have stopped, and my breathing has returned to normal. I stare at the broken glass across the apartment before returning to Adrian’s glare.

“That’s not healthy, Adrian. It’s not healthy that you’re addicted to me, and it’s not healthy that I feel the same about you. Too much will never be enough for us. You tell me you love me when you’re scared, and I ignore who I am to escape with you.”

“That’s all I’ve ever been to you? A fucking escape?” Adrian slams his fist down on the island, and I wonder if granite can crack.

“I never meant to hurt you in college, Adrian. God, we were barely twenty-one! A lot has happened between then and now, but the fact remains that we’re too much for each other.”

His ragged breathing returns as he takes one step forward. I take one back.