Chapter 22 #2
But keeping what happened to myself hasn’t helped me at all.
I’ve been isolated for years—from friends and family.
Cruz knows the whole sordid story, and he still did something he swore he wouldn’t do.
He did it for me, knowing everything. If I hadn’t been so jaded and secretive, could I have spent some of those years with him?
All of the blackmail would’ve stopped before it started, I know that. Cruz would’ve made sure of it.
How’s he doing?
The more I think about him, the more anxiety will eat me from the inside out. He talked to his dad. He’s been adamantly avoiding everything about his dad, but he must’ve done it. For me.
I love that man.
I swipe at my drying cheeks, straighten my shoulders, and take a seat. “I have to tell you guys about what happened after culinary school.”
Cruz
My place is a mess. I didn’t think I’d ever say that again, but it took a little over a week to get cluttered and full of crumbs.
At least I haven’t crept into disgusting territory, although I haven’t cleaned up all the cat treats that Basil spilled yesterday, or the toilet paper from the roll the kittens dragged to the hallway and demolished.
I’m off today, but I’ve been worthless at work since I returned from my trip to Bourbon Canyon and then Colorado.
I’ve been working every waking moment, and I’ve needed to in order to fix all the fuckups I caused.
A batch of gin was mislabeled as vodka. I got the bottle sizes incorrect, and Haven had to refigure the distribution so we didn’t have to dump and rebottle it all.
Then I messed up an entire batch of whiskey yesterday, and Lane finally sent me home.
My sleep has been shit. Elodie still hasn’t reached out, and she had to have heard something by now.
If I expected her to fly across town and into my arms, that’s not happening.
My appetite is crap, but Lane puts packaged leftovers of his food in my fridge, and the Hennessys must have some food rotation set up.
One of them is always casually bringing in something for lunch that’s enough for everyone.
I scratch at the stubble at my jaw. Shaving went out the window several days ago. Without the guys, I wouldn’t have eaten. I owe them, and I owe them not to muck it all up at work. So I’ll take today to get my head and my heart patched up. Maybe someday I’ll feel normal again.
It’d help if I knew what was going on. Have I made everything worse?
The worst-case scenario is that I’ve undone everything I’ve achieved in the last fourteen years, but even sitting in my quiet house with a kitten chasing a scrap of toilet paper and wondering if Elodie will ever smile at me again, I know I’m not that kid anymore.
It’ll take more than decking a guy or talking to my dad to turn me back into the old Cruz.
Trusting myself is a mild consolation prize for the mess I’ve made.
An engine sounds in the distance. Not Lane’s pickup. Maybe the mail?
A minute later, there’s a knock at the door.
Shit. I’m not presentable. My basketball shorts got a hole in them two days ago when I wore them out with my muck boots to do chores, my hair is going in a few different directions, and there’s a drop of mustard on my shirt from the brat Lane made and dropped off that I ate for breakfast. Regardless, I push off the couch.
When I open the door to a wide-eyed Elodie in a sundress and sandals, I nearly shut it again. I’ve gone off the deep end and I’m seeing things. It’s been weeks since she kicked me out of the bakery and out of her life.
I blink. “Elodie?”
“I know what you did.” She clutches her hands in front of her, and a crease forms between her brows. “Did you really go to see your dad?”
I’m not too far gone to notice the flare of her hips in the loose material or how the sunflower on the top hugs her tits.
Damn, she looks good. Still edible, like her sweet treats.
I scratch the back of my neck. A lock of hair falls in front of my eyes.
Did I comb it this morning? What was her question?
Right, my dad. Anxiety courses through my veins. Time to face the reckoning. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I couldn’t let your ex blackmail you.”
The furrow deepens and her gaze intensifies. Damn. As I suspected, my interference is the nail in the coffin. My stomach twists. Now I have to live with it.
“Oh, Cruz.” She throws her arms around me, nearly barreling me over.
Her sugar-cookie scent washes over me, along with shock and sweet, cool relief. I catch and embrace her, a smile tugging at my lips for the first time in weeks. The door swings shut behind her as I move us farther into the house. “Are you telling me I’m forgiven, sugar?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Her reply is muffled by my shoulder. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away.”
I bury my face in her hair and inhale everything Elodie. “As long as you want me, you’re never going to be able to push me that far.”
She pulls back, searching my face. She brushes my hair off my forehead. Her lips curve into a small smile that rights my crooked world. “Kind of nice to see you a rumpled mess.” She holds me at arm’s length. “Not even jeans. Oh my god, is that a hole in your shorts?”
The urge to run and change is fleeting, thanks to her smile rooting me in place. “There are no holes in my underwear.”
She laughs. “It’s going to take more than ratty undies to keep me away.” Her grin fades. “If you’ll give me another chance.”
“You never lost your chance. I thought you’d hate me.”
She strokes her warm fingers over my face and scratches over my whiskers. “I can never hate you. In fact, I was about to pay Damon last night when I realized that paying him wasn’t worth losing you.”
I grind my teeth together. That fucker didn’t do what he was told to. “He didn’t tell you that you no longer owed him?”
Her lips curve up and she puts her hands on my chest. “I think he was afraid of bothering me at all. Terrified even. Your dad has guys?”
The lump is back in my gut. That whole visit was a revelation, a mindfuck, and also oddly settling. “I guess so.”
She slips her hand into mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I told Lane the gist of my conversation with our father, and my brother eyed me like he knew there was more, but I didn’t elaborate. I was trying to figure everything out, but my despair over losing Elodie took over.
I lead her in. The kittens skitter across her feet, batting around the treats I spilled earlier.
“Sorry, I, uh, haven’t swept in a while.”
“I think Sage has you covered.” She turns into the living room and stops. A piece of toilet paper flutters and gets caught on a rug by the coffee table. “Oh my. They got to something.”
“Toilet paper isn’t safe. But don’t worry, it’s not used.”
Her soft laughter is everything I need to hear when my house is the least tidy it’s ever been.
I sit in the corner of the couch, pull her down next to me, and wrap my arms around her again. “I just need to hold you for a while.”
She turns into me and I end up with her cradled on my lap. I rest my head against hers and enjoy the pleasure of her weight on me and her fingers dancing across my chest. She doesn’t prod me with more questions, and we sit in comfortable, relieved silence.
“He wasn’t what I remembered,” I say after a few minutes.
A tightness in my chest that I’ve carried all my life loosens.
Lane and I don’t talk about Dad much, and maybe I should change that.
“He’s hard. Grizzled. And gray. God, he looked so much older than I remembered.
And smaller.” I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“He’s still a tall guy, and he has muscles I’ve never seen.
So excited to see me,” I finish quietly.
“I don’t even remember when he last tried to visit me.
I was in high school, I know that. He bailed so often, and then one day, he was there with some burgers.
Lane and I ate with him, and he was gone.
Then Mom said he’d been arrested after a bad accident and was going to prison for a long time. ”
Elodie puts her hand over my heart, and it grounds me.
“It was weird, honestly,” I continue. “Here’s this guy I thought I knew, but he’s nothing like the dad I remember.
I didn’t get long to talk to him, but he’s clean and sober, and apparently popular.
” My laugh is dry. “He’s got connections everywhere, and when I told him I needed a guy to leave a girl I love alone, he didn’t flinch. ”
She pushes up, her eyes glowing. “Cruz? A girl you love?”
I play with the ends of her hair hanging over her shoulder. “A girl I’m madly in love with. So in love that I’ll burn my relationship with her to make her life better.”
She grabs my face and smashes her mouth against mine. I’m hard and aching in an instant. Two weeks have been more like two years when it comes to my dick.
Her lips are still touching mine when she whispers, “I love you too.”
A groan rips from me. I lift her across me to straddle my lap. “Sugar, it’s been too long since I’ve had you, and now that I’ve heard those words on your lips, there’s only one thing I want to do right now.”
“Fuck now, talk later?” She reaches between us and tugs at the waistband of my shorts.
“My condoms are in my wallet.”
“And that’s where?” She looks around, but resumes moving fabric out of her way until she wraps her hand around my dick.
My balls tighten, and I moan. It’s not going to take much before I lose my control.
What the hell did I do with my wallet? “It’s, uh .
. . it’s . . .” Fuck, the way she’s pumping me feels too damn good to think straight.
I slide my hand up her thighs and under the skirt of her dress.
Just a little touch to ground me while I unscramble my brains.
“Do we . . .” She grips me so nice and tight. “Do we need them?”
I stop my trek up her legs. “No condoms?”