Page 8 of Addicted to You
“You weren’t joking about being cold, were you?” I asked, reversing out of the driveway.
The roads were clear, though the sidewalks were covered in muddy piles of snow from the last storm.
He shrugged. “Honestly? It’s not as bad as I expected. I just needed an excuse to leave with you.”
“Why?” I glanced at him.
“Britt was looking at some earrings online last night. She doesn’t think I noticed, but I figured I’d try to find them for her.”
“Did you wait until the last minute to shop too?”
Cash shook his head. “I’ve had her Christmas gifts picked out for a while, but she’s been stressed about her job search. I thought it would be nice to get her something to celebrate getting the position.”
“That’s cool,” I said, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to a beat playing in my head. Keeping time with music was something I did even when I wasn’t sitting behind a drum set. “So, what do you do when you’re not being the perfect boyfriend?”
He laughed, then paused briefly before he answered. “I’m a sober companion.”
I stiffened slightly. “Sober companion? Like, you help people stay off drugs?”
“Pretty much. I work with clients who are in recovery. Basically, I help them stay on track while they adjust to life outside of rehab.”
“That’s gotta be heavy sometimes,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral. He’d likely have something to say if he knew what I likedto indulge in.
“It can be,” he admitted. “But when you see someone put in the work to turn their life around, it makes it all worth it.”
I nodded absently, my thoughts drifting to Donnie. I’d been planning to swing by and pick up some coke while I was out but with Cash tagging along, there was no way that was happening.
“So, what about you? Britt told me about your band. You guys have an album coming out soon and headlining your first tour, right? That’s huge.”
“It is,” I agreed. “We’ve been playing together for almost ten years, and all of our hard work started paying off a couple of years ago.”
“She’s proud of you, you know,” Cash said, and he sounded genuine.
I lifted a brow. “Interesting. It’s sort of nice hearing she brags about me. Growing up, she was the golden child.”
“She talks about you a lot,” he explained. “You two are different, but it’s clear she cares about you.”
I didn’t respond, unsure of what to say. Instead, I nodded toward the mall as I pulled into the nearly full parking lot. “We should find those earrings before this place gets even busier.”
“Good idea.”
When Brittand I were kids, we’d race downstairs at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, barely able to contain our excitement as we tore into the presents waiting under the tree. Breakfast was an afterthought, something we rushed through just to get back to playing with our new toys.
Now, things were a little more laid-back. We didn’t wake up as early, and breakfast came first. One thing that hadn’t changed was Mom’s pancakes with red and green sprinkles.
The smell of coffee and bacon greeted me as I headed downstairs. My mom was at the stove, humming along to “Jingle Bell Rock” as she added ladles of batter onto a skillet.
“Morning.” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and started pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“Morning, honey. I was about to send your dad up to drag you out of bed.”
“Got the fire started,” Dad announced as he walked into the kitchen. When he noticed me standing near Mom, he grinned. “Merry Christmas, Son.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“Okay, everything will be ready in just a minute. Silas, can you set the table while your dad helps me with the food?”
“Sure.” I grabbed a stack of plates from the cabinet before snagging some forks and knives from the silverware drawer.
