Page 43 of Under Pink Skies

“Good Luck, Babe!” by Chappell Roan came on, and Imogen let out a shriek of joy, immediately grabbing Abbie’s hands and dragging her off the couch.

I thought women belting bridges was reserved only for Taylor Swift songs, but as the two of them screamed out the lyrics off-key at the top of their lungs, I realized the error in my assumption.

Lucas joined in with fists pumps and even Kameron nodded along to the beat as the two women danced around each other.

“My chaotic queer icon,” Imogen said, both hands clasped over her heart as she heaved a heavy sigh.

“Mainly because she brings outyourchaotic bisexual energy,” Abbie said, knocking Imogen’s hip with hers before returning to the kitchen for another sparkling water.

“Damn right she does,” Imogen said, strolling over to where Lucas’s phone was propped against the speaker. “I gotta say, Morales, I respect the playlist. Running aux at a party is no small task, but you’ve done well.”

Lucas gave an overdramatic bow, hinging at the waist and throwing his right arm out to the side. “I live to serve, m’lady.”

Imogen let out a small giggle, and I raised an eyebrow at the two of them. Kameron was in the corner, his mouth forming a frown as he watched the two of them. Very interesting, indeed.

“Hey,” Abbie said as she walked over to the fridge, grabbing another strawberry kiwi water from the fridge door.

“Hey yourself,” I teased. Abbie rolled her eyes.

“It’s been a long week. My brain power isn’t what it used to be.”

She cracked the can open with her thumb and took a large sip.

“Truth?” she asked quietly as Lucas and Imogen continued their music discussion. Chappell Roan faded from the speakers and Zach Bryan’s “Deep Satin” came on next.

“Truth,” I said, giving her what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

She inhaled deeply. “I hate the taste of every sparkling water I’ve tried except strawberry kiwi.”

A laugh escaped me at the honest confession.

“I know it sounds crazy, but when I decided not to drink anymore . . . Well, I didn’t decide for me, if that makes sense. My dad’s drinking is completely out of control. And giving up drinking felt like protecting what I had left. This isn’t making any sense,” Abbie said, pressing the cool can to the side of her face.

“I think I understand what you mean,” I said, taking a step closer and setting my glass of water down on the island. “Your dad is out of control, and that’s scary. It’s hard to navigate a strained relationship with the person who was supposed to love and guide you. So you took control in a healthy way. You can’t control what he does, how much he drinks, or spends on alcohol, but you can make a different choice for yourself.”

Abbie met my eyes, her lips parted in a small ‘o.’

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s exactly it.”

“I’ve been sober for a year,” I said, sliding my hand into my right pocket and pulling out the small silver coin, placing it on the kitchen counter. “I became a raging alcoholic when I got to my first unit. I hadn’t discovered therapy yet, and I came into the military with a lot of baggage from my childhood. That, coupled with my bank account being fatter than it had ever been, and being surrounded by grown men who also couldn’t handle their crap, and I dove headfirst into the addiction rabbit hole. That man over there?”

I inclined my head towards Kameron, who was scrolling through something on his phone with a furrowed brow.

“He saved my life. He was the first person to call me out on my self-destructive nonsense, and he was the one who helped pull my head out of my ass before I did something truly destructive, like wreck my career or seriously injure myself. I owe everything to him,” I said honestly. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I care so much about making this festival a success. If I can give to him and his mission of saving the people who need help most even a fraction of what he’s given to me, I’ll die a happy man when the time comes.”

Abbie said nothing, her eyes locked onto mine. I blinked once, briefly wondering if I’d exposed too much too fast, but in the next heartbeat her arms were wrapped around my waist, her face pressed to my chest.

It took several seconds for my brain to process that Abbie was hugging me, but as soon as I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and brought her impossibly closer to me, my chest sagged with relief. I rested my cheek on top of her hair, letting my eyes close as her lavender and vanilla scent enveloped me. Of course she used the same shampoo. I’d never forget this scent, this feeling, for as long as I freaking lived.

Nothing had ever felt as right as having Abbie in my arms like this. This was where I belonged. Embracing her like this, I felt like I could protect her from anything that sought to hurt her. I wasn’t her boyfriend. I knew she wasn’t capable of looking at me like that ever again. But I was someone she cared about. Not even the years between us could change that.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, her arms still locked around my waist. I was sure everyone else was gaping at us, but all I could see and feel was Abbie. People would have questions, and we’d answer them after we figured our own crap out, but right now, the only thing that mattered.

“That means more to me than you’ll ever know,” I said, emotion choking my voice. Abbie was the only person on the planet outside of my uncle that I’d ever sought true validation from. And knowing that she could see the work I’d put in, and all the effort I’d used to turn my life around, even after everything I’d done to hurt her?

My chest tightened painfully.

I would never deserve this woman.

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