Page 54 of Worth the Rush
I was drowning in grief while he was attending company events, telling people I was at a spa. Most people assumed it was a rehab facility. Somehow, that was more palatable to the social circle I found myself in when I married Noah. How laughable.
But now, envisioning the little boy I never got to be a mother to, I know in my heart I would have been a good mother to him. I know I would have done anything for him. Would do anything for him to still be here with me. For the first time since his loss, I refuse to believe the lies I’ve told myself. I’m choosing to believe that sharing how my loss has affected me won’t make me weak; it will help me keep that love and the memory of Silas alive.
I swipe the tears from my face and smile. I’ve always prided myself on being capable. If I want something, I’ll figure out how to get it, but this may be the first time I feel the strength behind that sentiment. I feel resilient. I don’t want to let the fear of that pain stop me from experiencing love in other ways. I look down at the small glass jar I’m holding filled with candy strips. Alder. Alder, with his effortlessly kind and thoughtful nature, is helping me to realize that I don’t have to be fully healed to be cared for. I don’t think my objective has to be complete healing; I don’t think the love I will always feel for Silas requires healing, but maybe with Alder by my side and being vulnerable with him could help me find some peace my way.
It’s with this new outlook on life that I walk to the lodge. When I open the door to my office, the feelings of hope I’m getting used to are reinforced by the coffee cup that’s waiting on my desk and the absolute heartthrob of a man sitting behind it.
“Good morning, Stormcloud,” he says, rising from my chair and coming over to kiss me.
“Good morning, action hero,” I respond with his mouth still on mine and his arms wrapped firmly around my body.
“Have we had this conversation before?”
“Mmm…just this morning. And the one before. And the one before that…” I tell him in a singsong voice. He smiles so wide; those dimples I love so much pop. I sigh; I’m in so deep. I don’t want to get out.
“I missed you,” he whispers, and I grin.
“I left your house less than an hour ago. Obsessed much?”
“Possessed,” he says without missing a beat. I blush.
“I know the feeling.” Feeling brave, I continue, “What we’re doing here…it’s…”
“It’s everything, Ivy.” He finishes my sentence, and I nod.
“I…” I clear my throat. I’m ready to declare myself. I want him. For as long as I can have him. I want his sunshine and warmth, and I want all his late nights, and I want to be his first call when he gets off a shift. “I have a lot of baggage, Alder. Likea lotof baggage, and I haven’t always been good at letting someone take care of me.” He smirks at that, and I glare at him. “If you’re going to look at me like that, then we can forget I said anything at all,” I threaten.
He pinches his lips between his teeth to stop what I’m sure is a smile and mimes locking them shut before smoothing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“With that being said,” I hedge. “I like it when you check on me.” But that’s not exactly what I’m trying to say here. I try again. “I like that you care enough to check on me. I like that you want me to eat a more balanced diet and you like going grocery shopping with me. I like that you sing all the time, and you don’t care that you look like an idiot.”
“That’s debatable. I look good when I sing,” he cuts in, and I laugh a little, a tear slipping down my cheek. He swipes it away, and I speak again.
“I like that you’ve been through something awful and remained the kind of human that people benefit from having in their life.” I choke a little. “I like that your family has little picture frames on their Christmas tree, Alder. I think…” My eyes water again, feeling the words before I speak them. “I would like to be on the tree someday,” I say, barely able to get it out because I've started breathing so hard, and his answering smile makes him look like light, personified.
“If you want to be on the tree, then you’ll be on the tree, baby,” he says with a voice that sounds like something contained, but that’s about to be let loose. “I’ll get seven trees, and they’ll all be filled with pictures of you,” he tells me before his warm, strong hands thread into me. One at the base of my skull in the messy braid that’s there, and the other grips the back of my jacket. This kiss consumes me. I’m filled with fire, and it’s spilling out of me and into Alder as we claim each other. I love him. Our kiss is interrupted by a loud ringing. Not a phone, but similar. Alder pulls back and looks into my eyes. His are like blue flames and reflect the heat I feel all over me.
“That’s the emergency SAT phone. I have to answer,” he tells me, and I nod.
“No, of course.” I try to pull back, but he holds me for asecond longer and kisses my forehead before releasing me to retrieve the phone from his coat that’s slung over the back of my office chair.
“Alder Holloway” he answers, then he’s quiet for a few moments. I wait, reeling from our interaction and also watching his face shift into stone. He’s locked in on this call. It’s now making me anxious. “Understood. Ten minutes.” He hangs up and looks at me. “If it wasn’t an emergency—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I know who you are.” I smile. “Go be the action hero I know you to be, and then come home to me.” The word home hits us both in the chest if his next move is any indication. He picks me up and kisses me so deeply it makes my head spin. If I’m a flame, then he’s pure oxygen. I’m lit up with him.
“I’ll be back. We’ll talk more,” he states, and I laugh. The levity of telling him how I feel threatens to have me floating out to space. He kisses me again, hard. “We’ll do a lot more of this too,” he demands, and I giggle. The return of the giggle.
“We will.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He grabs his jacket and walks by me again, pulling me to him once more, and my cheeks have to be fire-engine red at this point.
“Be careful,” I whisper.
“Always, baby.” He winks, and then he’s gone. Leaving me with a goofy smile and enough adrenaline to restart a heart.
Noah James is standing in my office. Again. He’s supposed to be gone. Far away from here. The sight of him is so unsettling it makes me nauseous.
“We really need to stop meeting like this, Noah. Or at all,” I say with as much venom as I can muster. “Why are you in my office?” I ask, then think of a better question. “What are you still doing in Silverthorne?”
