Chapter 4
Four
I dial Mick’s number, pressing thoughts churning in my mind. He answers on the third ring, and I drag the phone onto my balcony and light a smoke.
“You okay?” he asks.
No. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About Remy?”
“About all of us, really,” I murmur. “But one thing specifically. I don’t want to do any more drugs.”
Mick exhales loudly. “I had the same thought. With everything happening with Remy…if it wasn’t clear before now, that shit is poison.”
Relief spreads through me. I was unsure how important partying was to Mick, and this confirms it’s not. “Watching Remy get hooked liked that…seeing where he is now…scares me. I don’t want it to happen to me. Or you.”
He hums then I hear his Zippo flick as he lights a cigarette, visualizing just the way his head tilts as he does it. “I think some are prone to it, maybe? Meaning, hardwired. Remy’s never had boundaries. He’s always been the life of the party, the instigator, the master of ceremonies. ”
“No brakes.” I take a long pull and the cherry burns brightly.
“Exactly,” he mutters. “And he was— is —a difficult, stubborn motherfucker to rein in.”
“Tell me about it.” Whenever I tried, he lashed out, blew me off, or worse, made me out to be a nag.
“I figured he’d grow out of it. I assumed we all would.”
This is precisely what I’ve realized in the past twenty-four hours.
“It was wearing thin. In hindsight, my attitude about it was stupid. I made those same assumptions…that I’d wake up one day and boom , have my shit together, act like a responsible adult.
And after watching my father abuse alcohol and my mother become addicted to pills, you’d think I’d have the sense to steer clear. ”
“You’re on your way now, baby.”
“Yup. Not looking back. No more drugs.”
“No more drugs,” Mick agrees. “But I’m hanging onto this bad smoking habit a bit longer,” he adds, inhaling another audible drag.
I groan, gazing at the dwindling cigarette still trapped between my two fingers. “Not quite ready for prime time there yet either. But someday.”
He chuckles. “Someday.”
Weeks pass without another word from Randolph Remington III. I’ve never been more grateful for Mick’s presence, and we spend every available second together. He’s extremely good at distracting me…surf lessons, fires on the beach, dinners at sunset, languid lovemaking.
It’s what our relationship would have been like if Remy and I had never gotten romantically involved.
Despite the numbing pain the absence of my red-haired, blue-eyed lover brings, I’m okay.
More than okay. I’m madly in love with Mick Callahan and have been from the moment I laid eyes on his perfect lips, haunting eyes, scarred eyebrow, and droolworthy hardbody.
Mick helped create our powerful connection by letting me in, sharing his painful past, and embracing whatever we are or could be.
He once told me I was giving, but in truth, he’s the giver.
Damn near selfless. He’s infused me with pride, confidence, and validity.
He believes in me—the most potent aphrodisiac on the planet.
I can’t imagine loving another human being more than I do him. Ever.
Not that I’ve written Remy off or don’t obsess about him. But what choice do I have except to wait until he’s out of rehab to know how to move forward—or even if we will? As Mick suggested, I’m waiting for more information instead of drowning in all the what ifs .