CHAPTER 43
Delicate beauty can be found in the simplest things if we let it.
Like a rare flower, thorns and all.
The day finally comes when I’m determined to talk to Goose about the pills.
He’s been looking better. Addiction, though, is tricky, and I know there are good days and bad.
It’s not something that can be kicked overnight.
It’s a constant struggle, but one I want him to know that he doesn’t have to go through alone.
My mind is screaming at me to stay strong, have courage, but my heart… my damn stupid fucking heart can’t help but stumble when I see him standing there outside the back door of the club, holding a flower this time.
It’s purple. The rarest and hardest peony to find, and it’s stunning. It symbolizes royalty, wisdom, and admiration. And it’s not something you can find at just any old flower shop.
I love pink. To me, it’s always been the equivalent of a feminine grey.
A grey sky can easily bleed to pink with a bit of sunlight, turning what could have been a dreary day full of cloud cover into a sky stretched with splendor and serenity.
But purple holds a special place in my heart.
It represents spirituality and loving the mystical, darker side of myself, which senses otherness in the world and is open to the energy around me.
But it’s not the only thing about this moment that hits me like an arrow to the chest. It’s the perfection of it.
“Hey.” He twirls the flower in his fingers and smooths his other hand down over his button-up shirt, which is black and nicely pressed.
His jeans look new, and so do his combat boots.
His hair is tied partially back away from his face in a half ponytail, although there are strands still tucked behind his ear.
“Hey, yourself.”
When I close the distance, he holds the flower out to me. My heart lights up because I’ve always felt that a bouquet diminishes the power and brilliance found in a single flower.
I don’t see the box until he pulls it out of his pocket and holds it out to me. It’s small, tiny really, and baby blue.
I blush, like honest-to-God blush, as I take the flower and thank him, and then the box. I open it, and pull out a small keychain. It’s a wooden dreamcatcher with three feathers in varying shades of purple and pink attached to it.
“I had a little extra wood sitting around the shop and thought I’d try my hand at carving some smaller pieces. This was my first attempt, so hopefully it’s all right.”
I rub my thumb over it and smile. “It’s beautiful.”
How can he get this so right? Does he know the profound impact these little symbols have on me? How my heart both soars and wants to curl up to protect itself? Because this hints at something. A past he’s claimed to have no memory of. Is it coming back to him, or is this a coincidence?
I thank him again, close my eyes, and smell the peony. I take in the sultry, subtle scent while telling my inner girly girl to chill the fuck out. When I blink open and peer up at him, he’s smiling.
“You like it?”
Holding it up, I say, “I like them all, but this one. It’s my favorite.”
“Yeah?
My grin is genuine.
“What’s the occasion?”
He shrugs, and he kicks his chin toward the lot. When I move closer, his hand goes to the small of my back. I put the key chain back in the box and tuck it into my purse. Together, we make the short walk to my car.
“What else do you like?”
“Oh, are we doing the get-to-know-you thing?”
He shrugs. “If you want. Or you could reveal the more important stuff. Favorite position. Pet names you love. How a man might convince you to go for a ride with him on his bike?”
I stall at this and look up at him. He shifts in place, goes to run his hand through his hair, but stops before he can ruin its perfect placement and drops his hand.
The air vacates my lungs. “Are you asking me out?”
The corner of his lip pulls to the side. His fingers press more firmly into my back. “I thought it was obvious that that’s what I’ve been working up to.”
“What about everything else, the rules or whatever?”
He squints and scratches his jaw. He peers at me with kind eyes.
It’s a soft, sweet look, and the walls around my heart crumble to dust. “There’s not a damn person working here that isn’t aware of my attraction to you.
The rules have been followed for as long as physically possible.
Now, I’m getting shit for not manning the fuck up. ”
It shocks me at first, but then causes a laugh to bubble out of me. “Are you serious?”
“As a fuckin’ heart attack.”
“So is this you manning up?”
He takes the flower from me and tucks the stem into my purse, then he grabs my hand, pulls me into him, and pinches my chin.
“No, babe. This is.” The kiss is a feather-light brush of lips at first, followed by a soft exploration.
I fucking melt and give myself over to it.
I run my hands up his chest and then lace them behind his neck and pour myself into the kiss.
When we finally break apart, he takes my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine. He tugs me after him toward my car. “So tomorrow, are you free?”
The club is closed tomorrow, and I did have plans—a hike with Raven, and a girls’ night with her and Bethany, but nothing that I can’t change. It’s not smart. In fact, it’s completely and utterly stupid. It’s the opposite of what I should be doing, which is to put him at a distance.
But I’m weak for this man. Weak for him in a way that can never be explained. It’s just something that is.
“What might I be doing if I said I was free?”
“Taking a ride with me somewhere. You’ll want to bring a swimsuit and something to change into. There’s a special place I want to take you to. Raven says you like to hike, and there’s this hidden gem I think you’ll like. If we make good time, I’ll take you out to dinner on the drive back.”
“But your bike’s not made for two people.”
He raises a brow and smirks. “True, that’s why I’ve asked to borrow a friend’s.”
Fuck. Him. Fuck this man. His smile is devastating and knowing. Like he knows I won’t be able to say no.
He invades my space. “Say yes.”
So, in somewhat of a daze, I do. He leads me the rest of the way to my car. Opens the motherfucking door for me and holds it as I get in. Instead of closing it, he takes a moment and simply looks at me. And I realize something when he does.
It’s the silences.
The way we can look at one another and enjoy the silences. The way we know, without it ever being spoken, what’s here–energy, attraction, and something magnetic that pulls, and it’s irresistible.
He tells me goodnight and turns to head back to his bike. I exhale and suck in air, place my hand over my chest, and try to breathe. Because fuck it’s hard, another panic attack in reverse.
I can’t help but ridicule myself later that night for being a coward and selfish. I’m ignoring the problems in favor of finding some personal joy in the present.