Chapter 27
FLETCHER
“Want to go on a date?”
Those six little words had me all twisted and tangled up inside. A date? With Adam? Was this real life?
“Yes?” I breathed out, trying not to get my hopes up too high in case they’d come crashing down on top of me. “Can we?” I paused, biting my lip. “What if your dad finds out?”
Adam smiled at me. “He won’t. We’ll be careful, I promise,” he said, and that promise meant the world to me. I squealed and threw my arms around Adam’s neck.
He just laughed and kissed the top of my head. “Go get ready, then. Dress warm. It’s chilly out today.”
I wiggled my butt and took off up the stairs, my socks slipping over the hardwood.
Months ago, Adam had taken me out and bought me a wardrobe full of clothes, despite my protests that he was spending too much money on me, but he argued that I needed something to wear.
Secretly, I hadn’t felt like I deserved such a precious gift.
I’d never owned so many things in my entire life, and now?
I opened the walk-in closet doors and went inside, flipping through things on hangers. I hung everything—shirts, pants, hoodies—because now that I’d gotten a taste of freedom, I never wanted to go back to wrinkled clothes.
I decided on a pair of black denim jeans, these cute fuzzy boots that Adam had insisted would look “adorable” on me, and a soft cream cashmere sweater. I grabbed a jacket as well, just in case, and ran my fingers through my hair to try and tame it.
It was a cool autumn day, the air rife with birdsong. The two of us drove two cities over, to the quiet town of Leesburg, someplace where Adam’s pack wouldn’t be watching from the shadows.
Hopefully.
Still, Adam wore a baseball cap and sunglasses like a dramatic celebrity, which made me smile, but it was worth it to hold his hand in public as we walked down the street.
We went to a small cafe and ordered two coffees, then sat in the corner booth and people-watched, our feet knocking together beneath the table.
Adam’s hand stroked over my knee, warm and steady. I felt my cheeks warm up, and it had nothing to do with how hot the mocha was.
“I’ve never been on a date before,” I admitted softly, flicking a glance up at him. “Not even in high school.”
Adam squeezed my leg. “Well, this will be the first of many, then.”
My heart swelled with happiness at the tenderness in his voice. He meant it.
Something caught the corner of my eye. I looked over to see that someone had left behind a blue ballpoint pen, sitting there on the table. I picked it up, twirled it between my fingers for a moment, and then pulled a clean napkin out from between the tines of the napkin holder.
Adam leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table with his chin resting atop his hands, intent to watch me. I felt a small smile sneak up on me.
Adam liked to watch me draw. Sometimes, I even drew him.
Laying the napkin flat on the table, I began to sketch. Short, fine blue lines and cross-hatched shading until the picture was complete—a portrait of joined hands from the wrists down.
Our hands.
At the bottom, I wrote A + F and encased it in a heart, then tucked the napkin beneath the napkin holder. Our mark on the world that no one would ever know about.
“I like it,” Adam murmured, low.
“Me too,” I agreed.
Our Styrofoam cups empty, we tossed them in the trash bin and left for the next destination, which happened to be an old used bookstore.
When I saw the aged hardbacks in the front window, their spines creased and worn, I bounced on my toes. “Oooh, I bet there are priceless treasures in there.”
“Let’s find out.” Adam opened the door and held it. “After you.”
I giggled and ducked under his arm, and immediately, I was welcomed by the musty smell of old books and mildew, and a hint of old-person perfume. It smelled like an ancient library, locked away for years and years.
I ran my fingertips over the battered, bruised spines of tired hardbacks with torn dust-covers. Some of them were completely missing—okay, most of them. These books looked like they’d been printed in the Stone Age!
Some shelves had newer books, books no doubt traded in for credits, books that were read two or three times and tossed aside.
And then some shelves had exactly the opposite—books that looked about ready to fall to dust if you so much as flipped a page. Some of them might’ve even been haunted.
I leafed through the textured pages of an old-but-never-written-in journal. It wasn’t lined, so it would be a nice sketch book, and it had a soft leather cover and a satiny ribbon to hold your place.
I wanted it.
Apparently Adam had the same idea, because when we met back up at the front register, he had a slightly larger journal in one hand and an old calligraphy pen in the other.
“I thought perhaps calligraphy might be fun for you to try?” He opened the hard case to show me the pen and its nib and my eyes widened. It looked like something out of the movies. “We’ll find some ink at the craft store the next time we go,” he assured me.
After paying, we tossed the bags in the backseat of the car and stopped to get some lunch. Nothing fancy, just burgers and cheese curds, which were amazingly crispy and gooey. Then Adam drove us to a secluded park, near a riverbank.
“What’s this?” I asked, peering out the window. The scenery outside was pretty, though the day itself was overcast and cloudy and a bit windy, tossing leaves around in the breeze.
“Thought we could go for a walk,” Adam said with a shrug, and I smiled. It was such a simple thing, but out here, away from everyone? He didn’t have to wear his goofy disguise. We could just be us.
We got out of the car and, hand in hand, walked together along the riverside. My boots scuffed along the grass. Every now and then, I could’ve sworn I could see fish swimming in the river, beneath the rippling surface, but then they were gone, like quicksilver.
We chatted about things, and the subject of Adam’s father came up. I knew it would; it was like a festering wound, seeping around the edges of a scab, just waiting to burst with infection.
He told me about what his father had said, the other day when he went to meet him. About how he wanted Adam to marry wealthy to secure his place in the company, despite Adam’s wishes. It made me ache for Adam—and, selfishly, for me too.
“It’s not fair,” he murmured on a sigh. “No woman Father would ever set me up with would be happy with a date like this.”
I turned so that I was facing him, capturing his cheeks between my hands. I gazed into his troubled golden eyes, then leaned up on my tiptoes and kissed him softly.
“I’m happy with our date, Adam,” I told him sincerely. “It’s been wonderful. I only wish we could be free to be ourselves more often.”
Adam responded by peppering kisses all over my face—my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, until finally, my lips. “I know, baby. I know. Me too.”
I understood, though. If anyone from Adam’s pack saw us together and reported back to his family, things could get bad for us, quick.
“C’mon,” I said, giving Adam’s hand a gentle tug. “It’s cold.” I gave one final glance to the river, where the invisible fish were swimming. “Can we go fishing next spring?” I asked, peering up at him.
“Fishing?” He seemed surprised, but also amused.
“Yeah, I went a couple of times when I was a little kid, but I was shit at it. I was afraid of hooking the worm on the hook. It was gross.”
Adam grinned. “I’ll hook your worm for you, darling.”
I laughed. “I’ll hook your worm, too, if you know what I mean.” I waggled my brows, but flushed when Adam’s grin turned decidedly feral.
He chased me the rest of the way to the car.
Thankfully, we were parked in a secluded spot, because we happened to get up to hijinks that included us getting sweaty and Adam’s sweatshirt getting covered in cum as we frotted together in the back seat.
After, spent and sated, we laid together, our breathing uneven, and I kissed Adam. I knew that someday this would end, but right now I was going to pretend that it was never going to, that Adam Sinclair was mine to keep, forever and always.