AVA
I’ve just finished blow-drying my hair when someone knocks on my door.
Uh-oh.
I send up a small prayer to the universe that my visitor is Raven, Sarah, Callie, Halley, or pretty much anyone on the planet besides Reed Madigan.
No such luck. When I swing open the door, he’s standing there breathing hard, two pizza boxes stacked on one lifted hand. “Delivery,” he pants.
I glare at those pizza boxes and then at my ex. “Nice try, but you can’t go backward in time, Reed.”
“Oh, I know it. This is me trying to move forward for once. Now let me in before the pizza gets cold. I ran here so it would still be warm.”
Still, I hesitate. I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I let him into my apartment. Not an hour ago I lip-locked myself to this man and then I…
It’s not easy to hold back my groan of embarrassment. But I manage. Just barely.
“Ava,” he says with a winning smile that isn’t helping. “I was hoping to stay here with you tonight. I just gave away the Vista Suite to my most recent ex.”
“What?” I’m not sure which part of that is the most surprising. Then I notice the suitcase behind him. “You want to stay here? Room twenty-five is still available.”
He drops the smile, and his eyes turn both begging and heated. My record for saying no to that look is probably even worse than my record against his smile.
I open the door wider. Because there is pizza, and I never ate dinner. I’m only being practical. “I’ll book you another hotel room after we eat,” I say, feeling very pragmatic.
“Good luck with that,” he says, grinning as he steps into my living room. “The snow in the forecast has done some things to your availability rate. Sheila already checked.”
I groan. “Really?”
He just smiles. “I got one with pepperoni for old time’s sake. The other one is BLT.”
“Ooh.” My stomach rumbles, because I love the BLT. It’s a bacon and garlic pizza with a heavy helping of Caesar salad plunked right into the center of the pie. “Take off those wet boots and sit your ass down at the counter. I’ll get some plates and forks.”
“Excellent,” he says, handing off the boxes. He whistles to himself as he tosses his bag down and unlaces his boots.
“You’re presumptuous,” I grumble as I head for my tiny kitchen area. “That hasn’t changed.” He follows me into the kitchen before I’m ready.
And did I mention how small the kitchen is? Reed comes up right behind me and wraps his arms around me. I drop the forks on the counter, and I try not to shiver.
“Hey,” he whispers into my ear. “You used to like it when I was presumptuous. You never wanted to make the first move.”
Hell. He isn’t wrong. “I never got over that,” I admit.
“There are things I never got over either,” he whispers. “I want to own that. I think it will help.”
Again, I have to fight off a shiver. I’ve spent a decade feeling like Reed Madigan owed me an apology. But I didn’t ever realize that hearing it would be almost as complicated as his silence. “Help who, though?” I spin around in his arms and give him my best laser stare.
But he’s so close to me that I draw in a breath. And that makes things worse, because it means I’ve just inhaled a whiff of frosty night air, chlorine, and Reed’s piney scent.
My laser can hardly function under these conditions.
“We both have some things to overcome,” he says. “Maybe we can move on together.”
“Together,” I repeat. “What does that even mean? Your life is in California. Mine is here.” I take a step to the side and turn back to my meal preparations. “We’ll eat at the counter.” I was going to lay out the food on the coffee table, but I don’t trust myself on the sofa with him.
Reed takes the hint and begins sliding pizza slices onto plates. I get two sodas out of the fridge, and we sit down on my kitchen stools like any two friends sharing a meal.
As if it were that simple.
“You’re right,” Reed says after a few bites. “I love my job in California, but I let it take me away from this place for too long. I won’t be doing that again. I’m going to visit more often. It’s not right to stay away for so long.”
“Cool, cool,” I say. “So I can look forward to more emotional whiplash whenever you randomly show up to use the hot tub?”
Reed puts down his slice of pepperoni and props his handsome face on one hand. “I don’t have all the answers, Ava. But I’m trying to ask the right questions for once. Avoidance hasn’t worked for either of us. Just ask Harper.”
My chest squeezes at the thought of that beautiful, successful-looking woman showing up here. I shove a bite of Caesar salad into my mouth to cover up my discomfort. Then I make myself ask a polite question about her. “How long were you two together?”
He shrugs. “Maybe we went out half a dozen times? But we’re in the same circle of friends, so I’ve known her a while. She’s a great lady, but she didn’t stand a chance. Because she’s not you. Ten years ago, I left my heart on your doorstep—and never got it back.”
Oh boy. I wish he wouldn’t say things like that out loud. Not that it doesn’t accurately portray my own romantic disasters of the last ten years. I’m starting to realize that Reed and I broke ourselves so completely that we might never be right again. Like that coffee mug on my desk—split right down the center.
“That sounds familiar,” I admit quietly.
“Look, I don’t want to put words in your mouth,” he says. “But I did a terrible job of moving on. And you’re not the only one in my life who probably noticed. I have a shitty relationship with my brothers. I dated a string of women like Harper, good people who I never gave a chance. Even my dad seems to have his shit together like a champ these days. But I spent the last ten years thinking I was the functional one, and he was the wreck. I don’t want that for you.”
Jesus. This new Reed—the one who admits his mistakes—is a little hard to take. “Don’t worry about me. I’m…” I was about to say fine. But fine isn’t really living, is it? “I’m coping. This job has been good for me. Except…” A slightly maniacal laugh honks out of me.
“Except what?”
A frisson of hysteria jolts through me and I laugh for a minute more. God, I am so tired right now. This has been one of the most exhausting days of my life. I take a deep breath. “Except I wonder what a therapist would say about my life choices. It’s totally normal to secretly relocate to your ex’s small town to work for his father. Right?”
Christ, I walk past his photo on the wall of Mark’s office every morning.
Reed grins, but he’s kind enough not to comment. He finishes his pizza instead.
I eat mine in a fog of intensifying exhaustion. And then I yawn so hard that my jaw cracks.
“You look beat,” Reed points out.
“That’s flattering,” I grumble. But we both know the reason I’m so tired is that I stayed up late being sick last night.
“I can sleep on your couch,” he offers. “Not my first choice, of course, but I don’t want to be presumptuous if that’s not what you need from me.”
I get up and put our plates in the dishwasher. Then I return to stand right in front of the stool where he’s finishing the last of his soda.
Why does he have to be so attractive to me? The connection that blossomed between us all those years ago is still there. Touching him seems so natural that I have to clasp my hands together to avoid it.
He sets the can down on the counter and studies me. “Are you okay, Ava?”
“I’m too tired to answer that question. Complicating my life with you again is scary.”
He takes my hand, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses my palm. The brush of his whiskers gives me goosebumps, and the tenderness in his eyes isn’t helping the flutter of confusion in my chest. “I think we did all the complicating already. The way I feel about you tonight is awfully simple.”
Oh boy. I’m having some pretty damned simple thoughts about him, too. But I don’t give in to them. “What I need right now is eight hours of sleep. And you probably do too.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, dropping my hand gently.
“But you can’t get that on my sofa. It’s too short for you. You can stay in the bed, and we can resume what I’m sure will be an emotionally fraught discussion tomorrow. With the possibility of additional bad decisions afterward.” I clear my throat. “Tomorrow.”
Reed grins. “Tomorrow, huh?”
“Right,” I say firmly.
His smile is that of a man who just won a prize. “Well, okay. I’m going to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.”
“You do that.”
Ten minutes later I climb into bed.
Reed climbs in on the other side. He’s shirtless, that rascal. If I ask him why, he’ll claim he runs hot. But I think it’s a tactic.
Or maybe I’m giving myself too much credit. After all, I’m the one who couldn’t stop grinding on his lap in the hot tub earlier tonight, kissing his face off until I actually…
Eep. I can’t believe that happened. In fact, I’m going to pretend it didn’t.
I shut off the light and flop onto my back, my head smack in the center of the pillow, my arms carefully down at my sides.
There is a moment of silence from the other side of the bed. And then two hands slide underneath my body like a forklift and roll me toward Reed. I land on my side, with my head tucked onto his bare shoulder.
This is how we used to sleep in the too-small college dormitory beds. Exactly like this. He smells good, too. Like warmth, with top notes of chlorine and bad decisions.
Reed follows this maneuver by gently rubbing my back and smoothing my hair away from my face. “Goodnight, Ava.”
“Goodnight,” I whisper.
I close my eyes. My body is exhausted, but my mind is still racing. This is the second night in a row I’m sharing a bed with Reed. This is really stupid, right? I should roll over and pretend he’s not here.
Yet, I can’t make myself do it. Drowning myself in memories like this can’t be healthy. But here I am, listening to his steady breathing. I’ve missed this, damn it.
I suppose it’s healthy to finally realize how lonely I am.
Eventually, my eyelids get so heavy that I nod off. That’s when the dreams begin. Reed in his Middlebury sweatshirt. Reed in his racing suit. Reed smiling at me in the pottery studio.
Reed in bed, holding my heated body.
In my dream, we’re making out in a dormitory bed, our clothes magically gone. His hands are everywhere. He groans my name, and I lean in and lick the column of his neck, feeling stubble against my cheek…
My eyes fly open in the dark, and I find myself pressed hotly up against him, my face buried in his strong neck, his skin wet from my kisses.
I roll quickly off him, hoping he won’t wake up.
“Ava,” he mumbles from a foot away. “Were you just licking my neck?”
“Maybe,” I say as my heart gallops. I’m trying to decide whether or not to admit it. Licking his neck in my sleep is awfully weird. But if I say no, he’ll think I was drooling on him.
That’s worse. Isn’t it?
Reed turns toward me, his hand squeezing my hip under the sheets. And that simple touch is enough to make my body flare with heat. “Well, fuck. Don’t stop. Is it tomorrow already?”
“Close enough,” I say as my nipples harden against my nightgown.
With a chuckle, Reed rolls onto my body, settling his arousal between my legs. Suddenly, I’m twenty-one again and letting out a shameless moan.
Reed Madigan is going to wreck me all over again. And I’m going to let him.
Propped up on muscular forearms, he looks down at me. Moonlight shows off his strong body, as well as the gleam in his eye. “It’s always been you for me,” he whispers.
“Reed.” That’s dangerous talk. So dangerous.
“I know,” he says, as if he can read my thoughts. “I know.”
