19. Ray

Slamming my hands against the steering wheel trying to suppress the urge to scream seemed to be the only thing that remotely calmed me down.

This morning was a goddamn disaster. It was the third anniversary of Dad's passing, and usually I was the only one affected by it because Mom wasn't aware enough to understand what day it was. Even if I explained it to her, it would just result in a fit of tears for twenty minutes before she forgot why she was crying. But this year, with Mom's new medication making her much more lucid and less forgetful, she knew exactly what day it was. She was inconsolable.

I would be going to the cemetery alone.

But of course, nothing was going right. As I sat in the parking lot of the hospital, the snow falling around me, my engine refused to start. It wouldn't even rev. I wanted to fucking cry.

My phone rang from my purse. I swiped away the few stray tears that had managed to slip out as I searched for my phone, slicing my finger open again as I got my hands around it. Brute lit up my screen.

I didn't want to answer. Today was not the fucking day for him to beg me to sleep with him—again. But I also knew damn well that I was expected at work almost an hour ago, so the call was more likely regarding that.

"What do you want?" I said, my voice breaking far more than I wanted it to.

"Where are you?" he asked, concern tainting his voice instead of the irritation I expected. At least that was a single, lonesome positive in an otherwise shitty start to the day. "You were meant to be here an hour ago."

"I'm having the worst fucking morning of my life." I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "I'm sorry. I'll be at work soon."

"What's happened?"

I didn't need to explain myself. But it all seemed to bubble up, desperate for some kind of escape, and poured from my mouth before I could stop it. "My car won't start and I wanted to go to the cemetery before work because it's the anniversary of Dad's passing. Mom is toolucid to go with me and understands everything that's going on so she's impossible to comfort right now." The backs of my eyes burned as more tears managed to pass through. "She's inconsolable. And my phone is fucking broken and I'm exhausted but I need to go to Dad's grave. I also need to get to work, and I can't fucking breathe right because I'm a snotty mess?—"

"I'll come get you," he said without any hesitation. His voice was calm, soft, a cool breeze on a hot day. If only I wasn't freezing my ass off in my car. "I'll take you to the cemetery. Where are you, Ray?"

I didn't want him to have to do that. I didn't want to be a burden. But I also didn't have any other choice. "I'm at the hospital," I sobbed, more of me cracking from the relief. "I'm in my car."

"Hey, hey, calm down," he cooed, the jingling sound of keys and a door closing coming through the phone. "It's okay. Do me a favor and go inside, okay? It's fucking freezing and you don't need to be sitting out there in it."

I nodded and pushed the door open before remembering he couldn't hear a nod. "Okay."

"I'll be there in ten. Do you want me to stay on the phone?"

"No," I croaked, the little bits of broken glass poking into the numb skin of my face. "I'll wait."

————

By the time Wade's car pulled up to the front doors of the hospital, I'd managed to calm myself down significantly. My eyes were swollen, my nose and throat raw, but at least the tears had stopped.

I didn't wait for him to get out. I yanked the passenger side door open and flopped down into the warm interior, placing my bag at my feet wordlessly. I wasn't sure what to say to him nor was I sure I could actually talk.

He reached behind into the small back seat and grabbed something before placing it into my lap. "Which cemetery is it?" he asked.

I stared down at the black box, a far too familiar logo on the top of it.

He bought me a new fucking phone.

"Ray?"

I looked at him, my breath catching in my throat as his soft gaze met mine. Just the way he looked at me tempted a sob to break through and warmed my cheeks, daring me to say thank you. I hated that I wanted to do more than thank him.

"Columbia," I managed.

He nodded and shifted into drive.

————

The flowers I placed on Dad's grave were getting battered by the snow and likely wouldn't make it to the end of the day but it didn't matter. I'd made it, I'd said my words, I'd cried my tears.

Wade stood off to the side with enough distance between us so that I had privacy. The snow had seeped through my jeans while I was kneeling, and as I stood and brushed myself off, Wade stepped over to help me steady myself. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

He shook his head. "Don't apologize. Your dad meant a lot to you. I'm happy I could get you here." His eyes stared straight ahead, locked on my father's headstone as if it were hypnotizing. Adam Harleson. I knew the feeling.

"Thanks." I sniffled and wiped my nose with the sleeve of my jacket, not even caring anymore if he saw. "He was… he was a great man. All he wanted to do was make people happy, you know? That was all. Mom, me, his friends, the people that he drove from place to place. It might sound silly?—"

"It's not," Wade said. "I get it. I can tell it isn't simply love for a person that helped create you. You know why?"

I shook my head and looked up at him.

"Because if my dad died tomorrow, I don't know if I'd cry. I don't think I'd visit his grave every year." His arm came around my shoulders, tugging me toward his side. "There would be a part of me that missed him, sure, but there wouldn't be this all-consuming ache years after he was gone. He'd have to be a fucking incredible human being for me to feel that way and he just isn't. And from the little bit you've told me about your father, it sounds like he's worth the tears."

I didn't know what to say. There wasn't a world I could imagine where Dad's death hadn't had the toll on me that it did, and maybe he was right—maybe that wasn't just because he was my father, but because of who he was to me and to others. The backs of my eyes burned for the millionth time as I recognized that he saw that and that maybe, just maybe, Wade had been listening to me at the ice rink.

Why did he have to be such a rollercoaster?

"He signed me up for lessons," I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

"What?"

"The question you asked me on the ice, why I was so good at skating.I didn't answer you," I clarified. "Dad signed me up when we could barely afford it. I wouldn't shut up about how all my friends were taking figure skating lessons and it made my parents feel bad when they said no because I didn't understand. He picked up an extra shift a week just to afford it."

I could hear the breath in his chest slowly leave. I wanted to push myself into it, let his warmth envelop me the way I wanted to be held, but I knew damn well that was just the grief. When today was done, I'd be back to pushing him away. I knew it wasn't healthy. It was heartbreak on a platinum platter. But just for today, I'd let myself.

He rested his chin on the top of my head and pulled me in just a little bit closer.

"We'll stay as long as you need. Work can wait."

————

Wade's eyes looked me up and down, lingering far too long on my body. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Toothbrush and all. I'm positive." I leaned against the body of my car. Wade had paid upfront to have the alternator and battery replaced and the window repaired. I'd failed to tell him about the check engine light or that the repairman had said my coolant was leaking, but that was for future Ray to deal with.

"And everything's sorted with your mom?" He popped the lid on the trunk of his car.

"Yep. Caregivers round the clock. But if something happens?—"

"We'll drive straight back."

I'd told myself for days now that everything would be fine. It was only an hour's drive at most in the snow, and with enough preparation on my part, I could make it back if things went south for Mom. I'd only been away for a night at most over the last three years, and five nights felt like a lifetime in comparison.

I pulled my suitcase out of my car and pushed it into Wade's waiting hands. His eyes looked from me to the empty trunk of my car, to my far too-light bag in his hands. "There's no way this is all of it."

I shrugged. "I've got my dress, underwear, bras, pajamas, makeup, toothbrush, toothpaste…"

His eyes bugged. "Your dress is in here?"

"Uh… yes?"

"The one you charged my card nearly seven grand for? That dress is in this bag?" He shook it in front of me as if to emphasize how light it was. "You can't—… Ray. That should be in a garment bag. You know those long bags with the zipper up the front and a hanger?"

I leveled a glare at him as I snatched it from his hands, dropping it into the trunk on top of his two suitcases. "I know what a garment bag is."

He blinked at me in disbelief. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't satisfying to fuck with him. "Did you even bring casual clothes? We're going to be there for five days, Ray. You can't be in pajamas the entire time."

"You're such a buzzkill." I pulled open the back door of my car, keeping my eyes locked on him. An irritated twitch ticked in his jaw when I slid my actualsuitcase off the seat along with a garment bag.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" he asked, his lips flat but the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"April fools," I grinned. I pushed the bags into his arms.

"It's February," he laughed, the veil of irritation slipping entirely. He placed my suitcase carefully on top of his own before hanging the bag in his backseat. "You're positive you've bought enough to look the part?"

"I hope so. I mean, I spent like forty grand. If that's not enough then I have no idea what is." The words felt obscene coming out of my mouth. I recalled seeing the total flash-up on the card readers and I could feel my face scrunching up at just the thought of it. "You can return this stuff, right?"

Wade's answering snort told me that he absolutely would not. "I could give it away if you don't want it afterward."

"To whom? The bunnies you've ghosted and will have to grovel back to after all this is over?"

His eyes rolled so far back into his head that I thought they might permanently stay there. "So mouthy," he mumbled as he closed his trunk, securing everything in place.

Two nights ago, the photos we'd had taken of us with Jackson and Mandy had been posted on a handful of news websites. Wade had sent them to me, claiming they'd be enough to really sell it, and warned me ahead of time that there would likely be more photographers wanting pictures at the resort. It wasn't anything unusual to him—in fact, he'd mentioned it with such intense nonchalance that I'd had to ask him to repeat himself. But as I walked around the car it was all I could think about. The moment we arrived at the Colchester Ski Resort, it was game on. Full-blown intensity until the quiet of the suite.

"Ready?" he asked.

I pulled the sleeves of my sweater down over my palms. "I guess. I'm a bit nervous."

He sighed and opened the car door. "Yeah, I figured from the jokes. That's not really like you." He closed the distance between us, taking a full three steps before stopping directly in front of me, arms crossed over his chest. "What are you worried about?"

What was I worried about?Everything. Not selling it, not looking the part, not acting the part, sleeping in the same room as him, my body getting the better of me if we had to be publicly affectionate. The times when that had happened, I'd either run away or fucked him. Neither had been successful in being what they were meant to be, practice.

"If it's because of my family, I'll do most of the talking?—"

"It's not that," I sighed. "There's a lot I'm worried about. But mostly it's the affection stuff. I mean, I know we can't avoid it, but the times we've kissed haven't exactly ended well and I'm worried I'll look either extremely uncomfortable or extremely turned on."

He cracked the smallest grin and placed his hands on my shoulders, leaning down to my height. "You're worried about kissing me?"

"Please don't make it a big deal."

"I'm not," he chuckled. "I'm flattered."

"You're annoy?—"

He pressed his lips against mine before I could finish. There wasn't anything to it, just an extended peck, a slow yet firm kiss that meant nothing. But it still made my stomach twist and still made me jittery, my fingers twitching toward him as if they had a mind of their own.

He pulled away just a hair. "See? It'll be fine."

Snaking my hands up between his arms, I pushed them off my shoulders and raised up on my toes. "You know it'll be more than that," I mumbled. I was now the one closing the distance, kissing him easier, gentler. I knew I shouldn't, knew that in my bones and blood, but I was trying to combat the issue that my worries stemmed from and besides, I wanted to.

Warm fingers slid across my cheek, holding there as his lips parted, letting me in. He tasted of his morning coffee again, no hint of sweetness, just that and the scent of his cologne. I dove deeper, taking control, and he battled me for it. Too much heat, too much intensity. This sort of kiss wouldn't be what we did in front of others. The way he was kissing me was meant for the damn bedroom and I didn't have a single problem with it while our lips were pressed against one another's.

When he pulled back, however, it felt like a different story. He caught his breath as he put a foot of space between us, the apples of his cheeks turning a pale pink. I could feel a little bit of swelling in my lips, could taste the absence of him on my tongue. "I guess it won't be that hard," I breathed.

He dragged a hand down his face. "Maybe for you," he groaned. "You don't have a visual cue for when you're turned on that you have to worry about."

My eyes widened as I glanced down, and sure enough, behind the zipper of his well-fitting jeans was a bulge. "Shit."

"It's fine. We'll just keep that to a minimum outside the suite."

"Nothing is happening in the suite," I deadpanned. "If we're sharing a room, we'll be keeping our distance. I expect you to hold me to that."

The sly little grin that spread across Wade's face did absolutely nothing to help the little damp patch in my underwear. "Oh, Ray," he cooed. His fingers twisted around the handle of the passenger side door and opened it up for me, gesturing toward the seat. "We're not just sharing a room. We're sharing a bed."