Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Legacy’s worst-kept secret,” I agreed, grabbing my thermos and the bag of leftover s’mores supplies Maya had insisted I bring home. “They’ve been circling each other like wolves for months.”
Adrian fell into step beside me as we headed toward the parking area. The snow had picked up, fat flakes drifting down to catch in his hair and on his shoulders. Without thinking, I reached over to brush them away, my fingers lingering longer than necessary against the soft wool of his coat.
“So,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended. “About that toothbrush…”
His eyebrows shot up. “Did you actually—”
“No.” I hesitated. When his face fell, I quickly added, “Come home with me, Hayes. I mean, if you want. No pressure. Just…” I shrugged, trying for casual and probably failing. “I didn’t pack a toothbrush because I wanted to invite you to my place. Maya’s spending the night with Rosie again.”
The smile that spread across his face was worth every moment of terror at putting myself out there. “You know you can’t just leave if we’re at your place.”
Yeah. I’m very much aware.
“Shut up and get in the truck,” I muttered, fighting a grin of my own.
The ride back to town from the SERA campus went by quickly. Adrian asked a lot of questions about the Slingshot Emergency Rescue Academy and the people who worked there.
When I’d gotten held up at the Hernandezes’ photo shoot, Adrian had snagged a ride to the bonfire with one of the SERA instructors, and I could barely get a word in while he gushed about how nice the guy was.
“Foster Blake’s dating someone,” I warned. “Just so you know. A doctor. He was there, too. Blond guy, attractive. Was probably looking at Foster like the man invented cheese.”
I could feel the heat of Adrian’s stare on the side of my face. “Damn. And here I was hoping Foster could rail me later tonight.”
I glanced over at him in time to catch him rolling his eyes, but he was also grinning at me. “Why are you smiling?” I grumbled. “I was trying to be polite by letting you know he’s not available.”
“How’s it possible for you to deny you’re interested in me but also be possessive of me? It boggles my fucking mind. But even more mind-boggling is the fact that… I’m kinda here for it.”
My stomach tightened. “I’m interested in you,” I admitted gruffly.
His laughter rang out in the truck’s dim cab. “No shit, Maddie. Fuck. Sometimes I wonder if this would all be easier on you if I got you drunk first so you could stop overthinking. But that’s a little fucking creepy.”
When I pulled into the parking spot behind the store and turned to him, the laughter was still in his eyes, and his cheeks were still dusky from the time outside. “Don’t need to get drunk to want you.”
His smile softened. “Good to know. Maybe I’m the one who needs a little liquid courage. Gotta admit, I’m kind of expecting you’re going to boot me out in a couple of hours.”
Rather than giving him a promise I might not be able to keep, I hopped out of the truck and came around to take his hand. “C’mon, Hayes. I have all the liquid courage you need upstairs.”
“That sounded dirty,” he murmured, leaning in to bump my shoulder as we approached the back stairs. “But maybe I’m just keyed up enough to think everything sounds dirty right now.”
The apartment felt different with Adrian in it. Smaller, somehow, but also more alive. I watched him take it all in—the exposed brick walls, the leather couch Dad had insisted was an investment piece, the bookshelves Maya had organized by color despite my protests. His gaze lingered on the family photos scattered throughout the space, and I found myself seeing the place through his eyes.
It wasn’t much. A small, two-bedroom apartment above a hardware store, furnished with a mix of our family stuff and impulse purchases from garage sales. But it was ours. Maya’s personality was all over it, from the colorful “temperature” blanket she’d crocheted with the folks at the yarn shop to the “World’s Okayest Brother” mug on the dish mat by the sink to the purple “Future Husky” hoodie thrown over the arm of the sofa.
“This is perfect,” Adrian said quietly, stopping in front of a framed photo of all four of us taken the Christmas before the accident. We were wearing matching plaid shirts—Mom’s idea—and grinning like idiots in front of the store’s holiday display. “You all look so happy.”
“We were,” I said, moving to stand beside him. “Mom insisted on the matching shirts every year. Said it was good for the Christmas card, but really, she just liked having us all coordinated like some kind of lumberjack boy band.”
Adrian’s laugh was soft. “I love that. The coordinated chaos of it all.” He moved to another photo—Maya’s acceptance of an academic award at last year’s end-of-the-year ceremony. “She must be so excited about college.”