Reckless (Irresistible 6)

“Yes?” I said, wiping away my tears and remembering the prized ninja toy that Adam had given Cole before he left. I imagined that Cole had treasured it. That Heidi had named her café after it because it was the one thing her boys shared even after they were separated.

I had a feeling that hunch was right when I learned later that night, with a sharp twist in my chest, that Cole and Heidi still spoke, but thanks to her relationship with Adam, there was a strain. Apparently, it happened when Cole found out that she hadn’t opened Gizzy’s on a loan, but from money gifted by Adam.

And as much as I knew I would be in Adam’s corner for the rest of my life, I could understand every bit of the hurt. Cole had been rescuing his mom since he was a little boy. He’d probably gone into baseball thinking he’d make it big and set her up for life. But his career didn’t pan out as he thought, and it had to sting to see his brother swoop in after all those years apart and save the day.

“Don’t be sad,” Adam laughed, thumbing a tear from my cheek. “She still flies to see his games every month. They still talk all the time. They just don’t talk about me.”

“That leaves such a big gap in the conversation though,” I said. “She spends every single morning with you.”

“Exactly,” Adam smiled. “We’re in each other’s lives now. We might not be a family anymore, but at least she has both her sons back. That’s all that matters.”

I nodded even though I didn’t feel totally settled on that. Of course, I knew I was being partly irrational. Defensive of Adam. I loved this man so much I just wanted him to have everything. To be happy and have the fullest life he could. But as much as it bugged me, I didn’t let it bother me for long.

Because at least I knew I was here for him now. Maybe his life wasn’t whole.

But I had now till forever to try and get it as close to that as possible.

35

AJ

Though we obviously kept it professional at meetings and games, Adam and I had a few days to act like a couple during our business trip to Arizona.

We took turns driving from ballpark to ballpark, and we took detours here and there, just to extend our time alone. We stopped in little towns, we bought chicken mole tacos from a small Oaxacan restaurant, and we ate leaning against the car, watching the brilliant red sun set across the desert horizon.

It felt like I was collecting sunsets with Adam lately, which I loved because each one came with a new story from the part of his life I didn’t know. His true childhood that he never got to reminisce about with anyone except Heidi.

He talked about failed games of hide and seek with Cole, since Cole could never stand to be anywhere but Adam’s side. He talked about how Heidi had always dreamed of opening a place that served breakfast. He even confessed why he liked Rocky, Heidi’s half-blind, fully elderly chihuahua-pug, so much more than her glorious German Shepherd. As it turned out, the explanation was simple.

“Because Rocky grew up with Cole,” he said, laughing as he watched my face light up with realization—realization that included the fact that I was now partial to Rocky as well.

Sorry, Ruby. Still love you though.

On our last sunset, we tried to figure out when and how he would tell Holland the truth about everything. He’d have to give his dad the heads up, but it was going to have to happen. After a long silence, I said, “I know it’s scary.”

The moment had felt so heavy that I didn’t expect the happy kiss Adam buried in my hair.

“I got you. I can do anything.”

He’d said it almost breezily, so matter-of-factly that I was glad he wasn’t facing me to see me swoon.

After that, we spent an hour trying to figure out if and where our paths could’ve crossed when we were little SoCal kids.

Growing up in Torrance, it wasn’t uncommon for Dad, Mom, Emily and me to make the occasional drive to Los Angeles—mostly to visit relatives, but often to see Lakers games, since my dad was partial to basketball like Adam. But we’d definitely gone to a few Dodgers games growing up, and it was fun imagining little Adam and toddler me cheering for the same home run at some point.

It was mostly silly, but it was also like we needed the explanation for our connection.

It had always been strong, but now it felt bigger than anything else we knew. Like perhaps it was fated. So with his arms wrapped around me, my body leaning back on his chest, we stared out at the burnt orange sky and pictured all the signs we’d missed in the earliest parts of our lives. Clues from the universe that one day, we’d find each other again.

Like I said, it was silly. But it felt so good that it felt like we’d somehow floated back to Los Angeles. I barely remembered the flight home. It just felt like I’d transported from that last Arizona sunset to the dark of his bedroom, and his arms wrapped around me again.

I felt light, just brimming with content the next morning when we headed to work. Adam had to go to a meeting first, so I walked into the office myself.

And upon walking in, I felt a strange energy.

Along with stares. And smiles.

Ummm.