Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Adeline is curled up on the sofa when I step into the living room. Her long legs are tucked under her, a throw blanket draped over her lap. The heat has only worsened this week, reaching new records for this early in the summer, but the air conditioning is on full blast. Thankfully, I had a technician come out and replace the entire system before the heat made its way to the Northeast.

Addy is scrolling through her phone while an investigative crime documentary plays in the background—something about a husband who found his wife lying in a pool of blood in their basement.

I catch her attention when I sit in the chair opposite the sofa, and she looks up from her phone. Her eyes drop to my clothes.

"Can I be honest?" she asks, a little smile tugging on the corner of her mouth.

"Aren't you always?" I toss back.

She shrugs. "I try to be." She points to my chest. "Honestly, I forgot what you look like in a suit. It's a little odd."

"Bad odd or good odd?" I raise my eyebrows.

She considers me a moment and clears her throat. "Good."

My heart flutters at the sight of her sitting here in my house, comfortable. Months ago, this place was a ghost house, covered in cobwebs and dust, only breathing through the memories that had been left behind by the family who sold it, and the ones I refused to create. Now, this house is breathing with life. The walls are painted a warm cream color. The floor is restored to a rich, hardwood brown. There are small bits of Adeline littered throughout the living room; decorations I've seen buried in boxes or left in the old hutch between the living and dining room. Pieces that have always been here but forced to stay hidden.

"I only meant I was getting used to seeing you in jeans and a T-shirt," she clarifies.

I pinch my tie between my fingers and glance down at it. I drop it and lean against the arm of my chair. I study Adeline, focusing on the way her eyes shimmer in the sunlight.

"Breakfast with my brothers."

"Do you normally meet them for breakfast?"

"Ever since our father died." I clear my throat, allowing Addy's stare to consume me. "We've always been close but even more so after he passed. It's tough because no matter how much my brothers made me feel like I was one of them, my father reminded me daily that his support for me only came from obligation."

Her eyes turn down at the corners, and her gorgeous mouth frowns. "Obligation?"

"Aside from money, my father only cared about one thing: image. He could lie and cheat his entire life as long as his image wasn't tarnished. When it came out that my mother was pregnant with me after an affair he'd had with her, he couldn't deny me. My mother threatened to expose all his lies and the illegal activity she'd witnessed during her time with him. Unlike his wife—my older brothers' mother—mine was a stripper. Her career was ruined when she'd found out she was pregnant, and without James Harding's support, we would have been living on the street. Apparently, James couldn't have that."

Adeline sighs, pressing her mouth into a thin line as she nods. "So, he cared for you out of obligation?"

"Yep. Though I guess you could say I was lucky. Better to have him claim me out of obligation than to be raised in some back alley under a tent, sleeping on a bed of cardboard boxes."

An emotion washes over her face that I can't explain, and It tugs on my chest. I want to cross the room and wrap my arms around her.

"I'm familiar with the feeling of being loved out of obligation." Her shoulders rise and fall on a heavy breath. "When, deep down, you know the truth and how it isn't true love."

Her confession slams into my chest like a ton of bricks. I understand her, but the deeper part of me wants to know who she's talking about.

Is she talking about Archer? Someone she dated? Her parents?

I realize I don't know much about Adeline personally, despite having known her most of her life, but these glimpses she's given me the past few months have opened a side of myself that's laid dormant for quite some time.

My heart hurts knowing there's been a time when she felt someone didn't give her honest love.

"Do you ever feel like you've wasted time?" she asks me, her voice heavy and weighted. "Like your life should be on a different path if you'd just changed one thing?"

The pile of bricks on my chest grows heavier. I look into her eyes, and my heart fractures. The cracks widen, exposing the feelings I've locked away for years.

"I do." I sit back in my chair, loosening my tie. "When I got out of prison, I struggled to find my footing. My place. Spending the time away from the life I was building set me back. Every breakfast I meet with my brothers is another reminder of where I should be at this stage of my life. At my age, they were already married, their wives pregnant with the first or second?—"

"You aren't that old," she cuts in.

I chuckle. "To you. But when you reach your thirties, it's like, suddenly, you're more focused on where you should be in life than any other time. Your twenties are spent discovering yourself. You aren't really looking too far into the future, or thinking what the consequences will be of the choices you make. When you're in your thirties, you've already discovered who you are."

Her eyebrows pinch together. "Says who?"

I pause, unsure of how to answer her question. "I don't think anyone says it should be that way." I attempt to explain, reaching and grabbing at the first thoughts that come to mind. "I think it's more about how everyone's lives around yours constantly shifts. Most people in their thirties have kids and are married. Then there are the stragglers, like me, who feel we've somehow been left behind, or we've missed out on some secret password to get into their exclusive club."

"I don't think you've been left behind or missed out on the password. There's no magic wand or secret to getting there," she argues, tucking her long brown hair behind her ear. "Everyone's lives move at different paces, Micah. Not everyone is the same."

I give her a smile of appreciation, but it's hard to accept her comment when I've sacrificed so much for the ones I love and all it's gotten me is feeling hollow.

"Consider yourself lucky," I tell her. "You're twenty-one. You're still in the process of discovering who you are."

Her mouth twitches. I want to kiss it away, but I hold myself back. Again.

She tilts her head to the side and grins. "How do you know I haven't already discovered who I am?"

I smile back. "I don't, but I'm sure I could find out."

What the fuck does that even mean?

I'm certain Adeline can hear my heart pounding in my chest. For the longest time, I've been living in the dark, but now that I'm sitting here in the sunlight with her, I've opened my heart to her, sharing parts of my soul I've never shared with anyone before now.

"I don't know about not knowing who I am," she confesses. "But I do know I've been unfortunate to live in the existence of constantly feeling alone. I know what it feels like to have been treated a certain way by almost everyone in my life, which has left me with the privilege of constantly questioning everyone's intentions."

"I've heard LA has that effect." I tap my finger on the arm of the chair. "It's a city full of people wearing masks."

"It isn't just LA. I've felt that way here. In some ways, I think I've felt more alone at home than anywhere else." Darkness clouds her eyes, the weight of our conversation weighing heavy on her. I can't describe the shift. How and when did this become a topic of feeling alone?

I understand her in a way I never have, and again, I'm left wanting to know more.

"Do you feel alone here? With me?" I dare to ask. My voice deepens, carrying with it the weight of my question. The words fall from my tongue before I'm given the chance to swallow them back.

Her sparkling eyes widen. The air turns thick, and my chest stills. There's a magnetic pull to Adeline. I want to examine her soul. I want to let her in. But there's a part of me that holds back, afraid of what it might mean if she says she doesn't feel alone here with me.

Sensing the tension and heat in the air, she tosses the blanket aside and stands, folding it without answering my question. She turns her back to me. I study her, knowing there's something building between us. I just don't know what it is yet, and I'm not sure I'm ready to admit it. All I know is that every time I'm around her, I don't want her to leave.

I consider my own question. Do I feel alone with her ?

The answer is an easy no, but I keep it to myself.

I stand as she drapes the folded blanket over the back of the couch.

"I was going to head to the bath remodel store to pick out some tile for the upstairs bathrooms. I thought you'd like to come with me."

Her shoulders visibly rise before she turns around. She smiles. "Sure." Her focus shifts to my hands undoing my tie and top button of my shirt. "I'll go change, then we can head out."

She swallows, her throat visibly bobbing. She blinks and brushes away her hair. "I'll go and freshen up."

After getting changed into jeans and a T-shirt, I meet Adeline out in the driveway, sighing with relief when I see she's still wearing her black leggings and fitted white shirt.

I walk over to my bike and grab the helmet sitting on the back seat.

When I turn around, her eyes are spread wide. She chuckles, but her eyebrows are knitted as she shakes her head and takes a step back. "Oh, no. Not the bike again."

I laugh, loving the way I make her squirm. Heat pools in my lower stomach when I look down the length of her legs and close the distance between us.

"You aren't wearing a skirt this time," I say, standing in front of her. "You'll be fine."

My cock jumps at the thought of having her thighs wrapped around me again.

Her dark lashes rest above her cheeks as her eyes flutter on a sigh. She opens them again, her mouth falling open, too, before she surrenders, standing still in front of me.

I gently slip the helmet over her head. The visor is propped open, revealing the top half of her face. Her eyes stare into mine, and I'm crumbling on the inside. It's been years since I've felt this way when looking at someone. I adjust the helmet on her head and bend my knees, lining my face with hers.

"How's that? Is it okay?"

"Yes," she says, quietly.

I spin around and place my own helmet on before straddling the bike. Adeline climbs on behind me without another word, then she slips forward, pressing her body to mine.

I close my eyes and focus on my breathing when she slinks her arms around my waist, gripping onto my chest. She doesn't fist my shirt like she did the first night she rode my bike. Her hands are pressed flat against my chest this time, one hand pressed to my right rib, the other over my heart. Her body is still warm behind me, but it's different. She isn't bare like she was before. Her leggings provide an extra barrier between us, and I'm thankful for it. I don't need the distraction again.

But who am I kidding?

It doesn't matter what she's wearing.

She's always a distraction.