Page 73 of Unraveled Love

With that thought, I met Lincoln outside. We spent forty-five minutes walking a perimeter around the house, slowly widening our circle while keeping our radios on in case anything new happened. Fortunately, it didn’t, and by the time we got back to the house, Cort had multiple trays of appetizers ready to eat.

“Has Addi come down?” I asked, tossing a chunk of cheese into my mouth.

“No. I was going to take her a plate but figured you’d want to do that.”

He was right.

I piled a plate high with crackers, cheese, and a variety of meat slices, some ridiculously folded into shapes like flowers, pulled out the bottle of white wine Addi had left in the fridge in case she wanted a refill, and then grabbed a beer for me.

I found her exactly where I’d assumed she’d be, the comforter from our bed yanked off and draped over her lap while she lounged on a bright red Adirondack chair. On the matching red table between her and the other chair was her glass of wine, emptied. Her head rested on one shoulder, and from the view I had, I couldn’t see her feet, but they were most likely tucked up under her based on the way her knees were resting on the armrest.

Carefully, managing not to spill the snack plate or drop the drinks in my hand, I slid open the slider door to where she sat and set down the drinks before I closed the door behind me.

“If you’re coming to ask me if I’m okay, I have to tell you first that I’m getting really, really tired of having to answer that question.” There was barely a hint of teasing in her voice, but mostly she sounded like she’d been awake for thirty-six hours and was in desperate need of rest.

I bent over the back of her chair and kissed the top of her head.

She twisted and smiled up at me. “Does that mean you’re not going to ask?”

I grinned down at her and winked. “You made your point loud and clear, honey.”

Her expression softened, and I thanked God I’d given her some time alone.

“Hungry?” I lifted the plate. “I figured you might need a refill or some food.”

“Ah.” She shoved her hand out from beneath the thick covers and laid it on her heart. “My hero.”

I walked around her chair and leaned over her, caging her in with my body while I set down the plate and moved in closer to kiss her.

She lifted her chin, making it easier, and as soon as my mouth brushed over hers, that familiar electric spark shot straight to my chest, down to my hips and inward. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Please,” she murmured against my lips then leaned back. “Are you going to join me?”

“Yeah.” I slid into the chair and slouched all the way down. I hated Adirondack chairs. Chairs meant to make your ass almost hit the deck and your knees come up to your chest weren’t built for men with long legs and who were taller than six feet. Still, I settled down and poured Addi a glass of wine before grabbing a cracker and taking my beer. “You have enough alone time, then?”

She sighed and picked up her glass, cupping the goblet in the palm of her hand. “I couldn’t listen to it anymore.”

“I figured. No one blames you for that, either, you know. Just in case you care.”

“I think right now I’m beyond caring about a lot of things.”

Her tone was dull, almost lifeless, and God that pissed me off. She had too much life in her to be so morose.

“When you were a kid,” I began, and she turned to me, brows pulled in. “What did you want most in the world?”

“What?” She shook her head, chuckling. I’d surprised her with the question, as I’d known I would. “What do you mean?”

“When you were little, there had to be something you wanted and never got, something you’d beg your parents for—what was it?”

“Why are you asking?”

Mostly because I wanted to spend the rest of my life giving her everything she wanted, past, present, and everything she could possibly dream of wanting in the future. Partly because I knew she didn’t like talking about her family or her life growing up, not that I blamed her, but she’d already shared it wasn’t all bad, not when she was young.

“I’m curious. Let’s consider this a day of getting to know each other.”

She flashed me another strange look, this one slightly more playful, before bringing her glass to her lips and facing back to the mountain. “A dog,” she finally said, “or a kitten. I didn’t really care what kind of pet I had, but I always wanted one.”

We had five dogs, six outdoor cats, and a variety of farm animals. I couldn’t imagine Addi’s dad or mom would be at all welcoming to the mess even one small house pet could make.

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