The Road To Heaven (Allendale Four 3)

No. Amber and Ginger didn’t deserve that. Not on their special day. “No drama. I promise.”

“Good. I have no doubt you guys can figure this out. Communicate. That’s always been big between you all. Talk to them. All of them,” she said, the implication heavy that Anderson needed to be told.

“You’re right.”

“And one more thing…”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t be afraid to have a little fun while you’re figuring this out. Those boys are worth it.”

32

Oliver

I’d thought long and hard about that kiss two nights ago.

Long and hard.

I’d barely slept either night, tossing and turning, reliving the moment, overanalyzing the way she responded before, during and after. I’d lied when I said I’d been wanting to do that for weeks. I’d wanted to do it for years. I wanted to do it again.

I hadn’t been jealous when Jackson revealed they’d had sex. I was glad. Relieved that the embargo of the past two years had maybe finally been broken. Of all of us, Jackson was the easiest to let down your guard; I understood the appeal. Low pressure. Fun. Re-entering relationships with any of us required a different approach and at first, I was willing to bide my time. Until he said it was about closure and that stopped me cold. Closure?

That created a mass of dread in my stomach that’d I’d been carrying ever since, which was why when I had my chance with her at the game night, I didn’t waste it. She liked it. I liked it, and it was time for us to move forward, except now it’d been two days since I’d heard from her—seen her—and once again my life was left to her discretion.

Fuck this, I thought, as the first light of the day sliced through my windows. I pushed back the twisted covers and reached for my gym shorts lying on the nearby chair. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging over my dresser. I was no longer the skinny boy that dried Heaven’s tears all those years ago. I wasn’t the kid that waited for the g

irl of his dreams to call all the shots—make the decisions.

Hell no. The person reflected back was a man; a business man. Successful. Strong. I took in the muscles I’d developed and honed. In the two years we’d been apart one thing was for certain, I had control over my life and I didn’t want to wait for her any longer.

I wanted to know what she thought.

I needed to know how she felt.

I tugged on a shirt and sneakers, then reached for my keys.

I needed to know and I didn’t want to wait a minute longer.

33

Heaven

Since being on hiatus, I’d taken to a morning run. Exercise became part of my life over the past few years, mostly due to my therapist demanding it as part of my long-term treatment for anxiety and depression. At first, I’d resisted it, refusing to believe that physical activity really made a difference. It didn’t help that I was a spaz and had zero background with athletics other than mandatory P.E. classes. In college, I’d dragged the guys and Amber to a series of classes and sports, but nothing stuck until Hayden dragged me to the soccer fields one afternoon during his practice and told me to start running laps around the track. At first it was awful, like I was dragging my whole body through sand, but over time it got a little easier and now? I kind of liked it. I wasn’t particularly good, but over the years, running switched from a chore to a habit and slowly became part of my daily schedule; vacation or not.

I rolled out of bed and reached for my tank and running tights. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and splashed some water on my face. After wedging my feet into my shoes, I slipped my key into my pocket, walking out the door and instantly tripping over a large, formidable object in the hallway.

“What tha—” I cried, falling forward, but regaining my balance before face-planting. I glanced over my shoulder. “Oliver?”

“Hey,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “You okay? I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I thought maybe we could go on a run together,” he said. “And then maybe talk.”

Oliver wanted to run. And talk. And he’d come over here at the ass-crack of dawn to do so.

“I can’t run as fast as you,” I said, eyeing his long, muscular legs.