Chapter 20
20
Poppy
Faris.
Laird Faris.
Faris Wheel.
Oh.
My.
God.
Laird’s been asleep for forty-five minutes or more. Just a nap after sex, and although I’m exhausted, I’m wide awake watching him sleep.
His sister? Nikki Faris . . . and she’s married to Tulsa Crow. So many rock stars in one family. Geez. I squeeze my eyes closed, so embarrassed for not knowing on my own.
The photos in the bedroom and the other obvious signs—the guitar in the living room and his hesitation in even telling me. Oh God, I accused him of being a venture capitalist, a tech bro. Mortification sets in. And then I remember . . . My hat.
I shake my head, knowing I’ll never be able to look him in the eyes again. I should just crawl out of bed now and do a walk of shame across the hall. Although I’m seriously considering it, I stay because he’s worn his heart on his sleeve for me. And he’s just so appealing—inside and out.
He speaks of bad deeds and hell as if he’s already been sentenced, but doesn’t that come with the territory? Not that I’ll give him a free pass, but maybe what pains him isn’t so bad?
The past twenty-four hours have been amazing. And by how he sleeps so soundly beside me, I imagine they have been for him as well.
“I was afraid of this,” he says, his tone groggy, his eyes opening to the late afternoon sunshine diffused through the sheer curtains. The lightness of his voice makes me smile, his eyes finding happiness in mine.
I run my fingers through his hair and whisper, “What are you afraid of?”
“You’re still thinking about my name. It’s not a big deal.”
“I should have known. You’re rock-star royalty, Laird.”
“I’m a musician who got lucky with a few songs and a great band,” he says like Faris Wheel isn’t one of the hottest bands around. Every song they release turns to gold. Apparently, I saw them after the P1 race the weekend of the accident. I spent so much time tracking down every detail that I’m missing, but I can’t actually remember any of it. I must have gotten the hat as a souvenir, though, like the tattoo.
“Semantics.”
Chuckling, he reaches over and pulls me to him, bundling me in his arms and kissing the back of my shoulder. “Fame doesn’t matter. This does.”
I prefer to stare at him, so now that he’s flipped me to face the other side, nothing captures my attention like he did. Covering my hand over his, I hold him probably too tight, wanting to live in this moment forever, but a new fear creeps in. “What happens when we leave here?”
A kiss is placed on the back of my neck and then a little higher around the bend. He whispers, “Nothing changes. We get to be together.”
“Together?” I don’t whisper, not wanting to keep such things under wraps.
“Yeah, we’re both in LA. Nothing keeps us apart. We’re just moving what we’re sharing from here to there. Unless you leave for another job, and then I might have to kill the bastard to keep you to myself.” Gentle laughter rocks his body, and he kisses me again as if he can’t stop himself. I relish his addiction, hoping he never does.
“No murder needs to happen.” I laugh again. Why is he so perfect? “I don’t have anything lined up.” Turning in his arms, I wrap my arm around his shoulders as our legs tangle together. “This is the first job I’ve taken since the accident. It’s going to be hard to top this experience.”
He shifts me so fast I can’t protest. Now straddling him, he pulls the covers up my back and drapes them on my shoulders. “I know how to top it.”
Bending, I kiss him and then whisper, “My body needs an intermission, but I’ll hold you to it in the form of a rain check.”
Laird’s eyes contain a happiness that should always be there. He kneads my breasts in the palm of his hands. One hand moves to my ass to hold me as his mouth takes over a nipple, tonguing it until it peaks. Running my hands over his back and into his hair, I say, “It might be dangerous to be with you in LA.”
Looking up, he quickly gnaws on the end before sitting up to meet me at eye level. “Why is that? ”
I smirk. “Because my body needs to recover from all the attention.”
“Hmm,” he says, seemingly pondering the situation. With the tips of his fingers, he hardens my other nipple, then licks the bud. “I can’t show favoritism when they’re both so perfectly pink for me.” When his hand dips between us, he touches the bud between my legs. “This doesn’t feel good?”
Breathing in a harsh breath, I try to control my body’s reaction, but there’s no fighting fate with him. “Too good.”
“But I don’t want you sore . . . more than you already are, that is. I want you ready.” His obsession continues as he drags those fingers up to the tattoo nearby. Lying back down, he admires me, allowing his gaze to run amok on my body. What catches his attention is something I’ve come to peace with. His fingers are gentle on my scar when he asks, “Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s just . . . there. Marks to remind me my life was spared.”
“Do you get tired of talking about the accident?”
“Sure, it’s been a hot topic. Now, not many are interested.” I lie on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as I stretch my legs out. It’s a balancing act, but it makes me smile with our bodies like this. “I can tell my best friend anything, anytime, and she checks on me regularly, but the accident has started to fade a bit, like the scars.”
The breadth of his hands extends across my back. The size difference is as obvious as our full bodies in comparison. He rubs my back, giving me comfort from his embrace. “I’d like to hear about it, whatever you want to share.”
I don’t know why I tear up, but my emotions overwhelm me. After taking a moment to collect myself, I finally say, “You mentioned other jobs, but this was the first I’d had in years because the damage was . . . extensive. They didn’t know if I’d survive. It’s weird how that happens.” Another tear escapes and pools on his skin. “I never saw it coming, and it could have been over before I realized.”
His heart beats stronger, matching mine. I hate that I can be in his arms, the place I’ve felt safer than any I can recall, and still have the devastation of that day trying to ruin it all.
Still holding me, he tightens his arms. “You were meant to live, Poppy. You were meant to carry on with your life.”
“That’s been the hardest part. Carrying on like it didn’t happen.” I don’t fight the tears. I just let them fall. “And then I ended up here in your arms.” The smile comes naturally. “We’ve already said it before, but whatever got us here at the same juncture in time makes me believe the universe had a hand.”
“Destiny.” Laird kisses the top of my head. “There’s no other explanation.”
Lifting, I pull my arms under my chin to see him. “I can’t deny the hand that’s been played. I would have never thought my first job back would lead me to lo—” I catch myself. Not even two days , I’m quick to remind myself. It would be absurd to think love happens that fast. Even more absurd to tell a guy that I love him after such a short time. And . . .
He’s a rock star.
He’s a rock star.
He’s a rock star.
He has women throwing themselves at him all the time. Wouldn’t that just make me the next in line? Oh God, I’m a groupie. I mean, I’ve seen him in concert, so I can’t claim innocence. Just because I didn’t know what he looked like doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have recognized the signs. It’s him. HIM. Laird freaking Faris .
“Why are you blushing?” Caressing my cheek, he smiles, trying to do me in again. “Come on. Tell me.”
I don’t need a lot of convincing. “I just don’t know how I got so lucky.”
Our eyes are fixed, our hearts beating heavy in our chests that are pressed together. Sweeping the back of his fingers over my cheek, he says, “Trust me, baby, I’m the lucky one.”
His stomach growls, though I’m not surprised. We’ve had quite the workout and left foraging around the kitchen, eating nuts and grains, some fruit and snacks, basically anything nonperishable. “The snow was starting to melt this morning. I bet the truck can get us into town.”
“If you say for the catfish—”
“No shredded catfish.” A deep chuckle wracks his body, sending me rolling to the side. He’s quick to lean over me before I climb out of bed, and his smile loosens his cheek, but I can tell his seriousness by his eyes. “When you’re ready, I’m here to listen. I mean that.”
I cup his face, staring into his caring blue eyes. “Same goes for you.” We kiss in the middle, long and lingering before getting up to shower and dress. I don’t know why I feel lighter when I head for the door to the bedroom, but I have a feeling it’s about Laird and the safe place he’s given me to share my fears and insecurities. I sneak a glance at him just before exiting, knowing his arms will always be a haven for me even when we leave Deer Lake.
“Do you think my car will still be there?” I search the road ahead, trying to remember where I left it.
“Nobody was out in the storm, especially in this area.” He glances over at me. “It’s less populated with bigger properties scattered about.”
The snow drifts are still on the shoulders, but the roads have cleared nicely under the afternoon sun. We round a bend, and then I see it. “It’s there.” Relief washes through me as he pulls up behind it.
We both hop out at the same time. He circles it and then reports, “It’s still in one piece.”
“That’s good. No bear attacks.”
I like that my jokes make him laugh. “No, no bear attacks.” Heading back for the truck, he says, “I can call the mechanic to see when they can get it towed in.” He leans against the truck, scrolling on his phone.
Standing on the passenger’s side, I look out at the valley below. The view steals my breath, and I cover my heart with my hand.
“Pretty amazing, right?” Laird comes to stand next to me. Our bodies aren’t touching, but there’s still a sense of intimacy.
The sun isn’t setting, but it hangs lower in the sky, and the clouds are even sinking in the valley. “Nature’s showing off.”
Reaching over, I hold his hand. His grip tightens around mine, giving me that sense of security he did back at the cabin. I love that it moves with us instead of being trapped in a bubble. We’ve shared so much of ourselves that I don’t feel vulnerable around him. I feel like myself.
Not needing to be loud in the beauty of the environment, I say, “The progress was slow in the healing process.” I keep my eyes steady ahead, though I feel the weight of his gaze hanging on me. “The frustration with not remembering . . . I could overcome so much physical damage, heal, and see the results. But the memory loss, the loss of my prior life, my career, even my freedom to some extent was gone.” I take a slow and calculated breath, not wanting to take a mental step back. I dance around the details to avoid regressing, but what if this wide-open valley could help me on the journey? It sure does make it easy to believe in miracles.
I continue. “I could be happy for my best friend and enjoy her wedding, even help oversee the menu after the accident. I could laugh while spending time with her family. She has the sweetest baby. I could shop in New York City, look the part, and even dress it. Lunch with the ladies from Beacon Pointe like I’d been raised, but that wasn’t me. Not on the inside. I always hated that scene. That’s why I left in the first place.”
Shrugging, I laugh with no humor involved. “Imagine ending up in the place you most despise. That was the hell I was living, but I was too scared to be on my own again.” I glance over at him to find his expression shifted into neutral. I suppose for my well-being.
“Why did you despise that life?”
“My biggest fear was becoming a mini version of my mother. I would never marry for money. I have no interest in having kids to use as bargaining chips. But there I was, feeling indebted to her while sitting like a good little girl in my Sunday’s best at every fundraiser she’d guilt me into attending. Prim and proper.”
“As hot as that is to imagine for a little role-play, it’s the opposite of who you are. The accident fucked up a lot of things, including messing with your head. But I think you’re right when you said you were scared to be on your own. You had to fill the hole in your memories with something—”
“Fear.”
He nods, angling toward me as he leans against the side of the truck. “Look, I don’t know your mother or anything about her other than what you’ve told me, but you’re nothing like her. Clothes didn’t change you. Your fears did.”
I don’t know why I thought this was the place to unload, but regret hasn’t taken hold. Laird’s managed to get me talking, and it feels good to release some of what I’ve been hiding inside, especially in the fresh air.
Marina is amazing, the best friend I could ever wish for. But she doesn’t need me weighing down her happiness. She has her husband and a baby, a busy life, and her acting career. She has enough on her plate, especially after doing so much for me in the past two years. I can’t burden her.
Is it fair to place it on Laird’s shoulders?
Treading carefully, I ask, “Is fear what happened with you? Fear of being alone after your loss?”
“No,” he says, redirecting his attention back to the safety of the scenery. “I was fucking pissed.” He chuckles to soften the blow, but when I look at him, his eyes don’t hold the same emotion. “I was angry.” When he glances at me, he adds, “I was in love.”
“What happened to her?”
Kissing my hand, he seems to think about the answer. After taking a long inhale, he replies, “She didn’t die. Well, in some ways, I guess she did.”
“Oh.” I don’t know why that nugget twists in my gut. “That’s good.”
“Yeah. I had a bad breakup without the chance to say goodbye.”
Ah, that makes more sense. “No closure. That’s the worst.” He doesn’t say anything, but now that Pandora’s box has been opened, I ask, “Are you still in love with her?”
I won’t ever argue with any opportunity to stare in his sky-blue eyes, so when he cuts in front of the valley, I’m not upset with the change in scenery. I hate that I feel sick to my stomach and appreciate the view.
I’ve fallen for him. Whether I was ready to admit it out loud or he was ready to hear the words earlier, they hold true.
I love Laird Faris.
But is he in love with another woman?
Grasping my hips, he wiggles me back and forth when a smile creases his lips. “It’s hard to explain. She’s not who she was anymore, and I’ve changed too much to go back. I realize that now. That doesn’t change what we had, but the life I lead now is where I’m supposed to be.”
I want to bathe in his words, swim in his eyes, and fall for him all over again, but I’m already too far gone. Head over heels in love with him.
“Poppy?” he asks, standing so close that not much could fit between us. Pressing his lips to mine, he kisses me, making me forget about valleys and broken-down cars, lost loves and past lives. In his kiss, I’m found, and he’s given the second chance he’s been wanting.
In this kiss, I know he loves me. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”