Fuck me she’s beautiful.
I can’t tear my eyes off the side of her face as she stares out the window, clearly lost in her thoughts. I watch the way her forehead creases, the way her eyes are laser focused—staring past her own reflection in the tinted glass to what lies beyond.
I don’t know how I looked past her.
How did I hold this girl in my arms, feel myself buried deep inside of her, and not realize right then and there just how special she was?
Because you were only focused on yourself, asshole, I answer my own question.
It’s true, too. Two years ago all I cared about was the music, making it big, and getting laid. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I probably slept with a handful of girls over the course of the few weeks Rae and I were hanging out.
The thought causes a sick feeling to settle in the pit of my stomach. Fuck, when did I become such a stereotypical asshole, and how has it taken me this long to realize it?
I ignore the nagging feeling in the back of my head, the one that reminds me that she has a child. A child that may or may not be mine. A child that looks a hell of a lot like me and whose age lines up with around the time Rae and I were fucking.
I silence that voice, the one screaming inside of me, trying to force itself to be heard. That’s the last thing I need to lay on this girl right now. She needs to know she can trust me before I start throwing out questions like—“Is your son mine?”
I watch her chest rise and fall as she takes a deep breath and slowly releases it before finally turning her face back to me.
I want to reach out, feel her skin come to life under my touch the same way it did just minutes ago. I don’t know what’s stopping me honestly. I guess a part of me is afraid I might scare her off.
She hits me with a forced smile, her hands knotting nervously in her lap.
“So…” She’s clearly trying to find something to say. Something to just fill the silence that has settled down around us.
I can tell it makes her anxious, us not speaking, but it’s the opposite for me. I could sit here for hours and just be. I feel at peace just being near her. She dulls the storm raging inside of me, clearing the way for calmer waters.
She’s my new bottle of Jack. My drug. She makes me feel high as fuck, and I love every fucking second of it.
“So…” I draw out, unable to fight the smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth.
“How long are you guys in town?” She relaxes into the seat slightly.
“I think about six more weeks.” I shrug. “Really just depends on how much time we need in the studio. We’ve got a lot of material, but we still need three songs to complete the album and then, of course, we have to lay down all the tracks.”
“Have you gotten much done since you’ve been here?” She immediately keeps the conversation moving.
“We’ve got two songs completely finished and a few others that still need to be fine-tuned. We’re not rushing the process. We’ve been on the road for two fucking years, we’ve earned a little time.”
“Do you miss it? Being on the road, I mean.”
She seems super nervous which I find both extremely fucking cute and honestly a bit disheartening. I wish she felt as comfortable with me as I do with her.
“For the most part, yeah. I love being out there. The rush I get from the crowd, the people I get to meet, the experiences…” I don’t miss the way her face slightly falls. “But there’s something to be said about having somewhere to plant your roots too, ya know?”
“In L.A., you mean?” I cock a brow the moment the question leaves her lips.
“Now who’s stalking who?” I joke, nudging her shoulder with mine.
“I don’t think it’s classified as stalking when such information is freely available for anyone who cares enough to look.” I can tell instantly that she wishes she could suck the statement back in.
“So you’re saying you cared enough to look?”
I can’t pass up the opportunity to tease her. I love the way her cheeks flush crimson under my gaze.
“No.” She shakes her head adamantly, her hair moving across her shoulders as she does.
“Uh huh,” I challenge, unable to wipe the fucking smirk off my face.
“Stop looking at me like that.” She shoves playfully at my shoulder before scooting closer toward the door.
I laugh and move as well, essentially trapping her between my body and the door, eliminating her ability to go anywhere.
“It’s okay if you’re obsessed with me, Rae. You can admit it. You’ve clearly been looking into me, why don’t you tell me what else you found?” A shiver runs through her as I whisper the last part, leaning in so close that my breath dances across the side of her neck as she does her best not to look at me.
“I’m not obsessed with you,” she grumbles, trying to ignore my closeness. “I just wanted to make sure the life you up and left me for was everything you’d hoped it would be.”
Her words hit me like a slap across the face, stinging so hard I draw back, suddenly very aware of the hurt in her voice.
“Rae,” I start, hitching my finger under her chin in an effort to get her to look at me.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t care. It’s whatever.” She immediately tries to recover.
“Rae,” I say more forcefully which causes her gaze to snap back to mine.
“I’m sorry I was such an asshole.” I can see her visibly relax at my words. “I can’t change the way I treated you, which I’m gathering wasn’t very good,” I admit. Two years of constant alcohol and drugs have skewed my memory a bit.
I may not remember specifics, but I do remember I didn’t treat this girl nearly as good as she deserves. This knowledge only further intensifies the guilt I feel. It’s apparent I hurt her. I’m just not sure yet how deep that pain runs.
“It’s not a big deal.” I can sense the deceit in her words, but I don’t push the matter. At least she hasn’t shut down on me completely yet.
“It is a very big deal,” I assure her. “I’m not proud of who I was two years ago or of the man I became while on the road. I lost sight of what really matters, blinded by the fame, the women, the alcohol. I’m not asking you to forgive how I treated you.”
“Then what are you asking for?” Her words are so weak they come out barely above a whisper.
I can’t resist the urge to reach out and drag the pad of my thumb across her lower lip, not missing the way her lips part slightly as I do. It takes everything in me to draw my eyes back up to hers and not close the distance between us.
“A chance to prove to you I’m better than the man you think I am.”
I can’t pinpoint her reaction. I can’t tell if she’s happy or sad or thinks I’m one hundred percent full of shit. All I know is when she speaks again, my heart fucking melts to liquid.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?” A big ass grin spreads across my face, and some of the tension surrounding us seems to evaporate.
“God, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” She shakes her head, laughing at the pure fucking excitement I know is written all over my face.
“Only a little,” I promise, throwing her a wink before sliding away, giving her a little room to breathe.
Trust me when I say that separating myself from her is the last thing I want to do. But it’s the one thing I know she needs right now. I can tell by the way she relaxes back into the seat and hits me with an amused smile that it’s the right call.
“So tell me, Raelyn Abbott, since I don’t have the luxury of learning your life story from the Internet, what have you been up to these past two years.”
“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.”
She laughs when she catches sight of my expression.
“What?”
“I don’t know that I’d classify having a baby as the same old, same old.” I shake my head on a laugh. “You gave life to a fucking person, Rae.” Even saying it out loud doesn’t quite put it into perspective for me.
“I did.” She looks to where her hands are once again knotted in her lap before finally meeting my gaze after a long moment.
“Did you finish school?” I move to ask another question, seeing she has no intention of saying anything.
“I did.” She nods. “Last year.”
“And you’re working at the diner now?” I just want to keep her talking, to know as much about her as she’ll let me.
“Here and there. I help my dad with the paperwork and finances more than anything. Every now and again I will pick up a shift if he’s short staffed. I’m just working with him to learn the business. He plans to retire in the next few years and leave it to me, so I guess I should know how to run it before he does.”
“You’re taking over the diner?”
I don’t know why I’m surprised by this. Probably the same reason I was surprised to learn she still lived here. I may not remember much, but I remember how badly she wanted to get out of here.
“I am.” She pauses. “It’s not exactly what I had planned for myself but life happens. I always wanted to own my own boutique in New York, but after Landen, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave home.” She shrugs, breaking eye contact. “Besides, Athens is a good place to raise a child.”
“And what about Landen’s father? Does he live in Athens?” I plant the seed, testing her reaction.
“Nope.” The word is clipped as her face turns toward the window. “He’s not in the picture,” she tacks on after a long moment.
“Why? If you don’t mind me asking.” I stare at her reflection in the glass, watching the way her lips part as she lets out a slow, controlled exhale.
“He didn’t want to be,” she finally answers, turning to meet my gaze.
“Stupid bastard.” I shake my head, meaning the words truthfully.
Any man who would walk away from this girl, myself included, is a fucking moron and needs to have his fucking brain checked.
“Landen. I like that name.” I can sense her desperation to change the topic so I try a different angle.
Deep down a part of me really thinks he might actually be mine. And while the knowledge that she kept him from me, if he is in fact mine, stings, I also get it. I don’t know that I would have told me either. But if he is mine, I’m determined to prove to her that I’m the kind of man who deserves to be in his son’s life.
“Thanks.” She quickly moves past it. “So that’s about all there is to know about me.” She crinkles her nose and shrugs. “I’m pretty boring.”
“You may be a lot of things, Raelyn Abbott, but boring is not one of them.”
“You say that because you remember the old me. I’m not the person I was two years ago.”
“That makes two of us then.”
She eyes me skeptically, choosing not to comment on my statement.
“My idea of an exciting night is getting Landen to bed early enough that I can indulge in a glass of wine and watch The Bachelor.” She pauses, taking in my reaction. “What?”
“You seriously watch that crap?” I laugh, shaking my head.
“Shut up.” She lays a playful smack across my chest. “It is not crap.”
And just like that, the dynamic inside the vehicle completely shifts and the heaviness of our previous conversation falls away.
“It most certainly is,” I disagree. “The entire premise that you can find true love in the matter of a few weeks while the entire country is watching is completely ludicrous.”
“That’s because you’re closed minded.”
“I have been called many things, but I think this is the first time anyone has ever called me closed minded.”
“Well there’s a first time for everything,” she states matter-of-factly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“That there is,” I agree, knowing this to be a very true statement. I’m experiencing something for a first time myself.