I smile then walk into the living room, grabbing the attention of both of them again. “You guys are the sweetest. Why can’t all guys be as awesome as you?” They return my smile, so I tap them both on the nose. “Behave tonight, okay? And I’ll see you tomorrow after dinner.”
They give me a collective “yes, ma’am” as I head for the door.
Haley walks me to the door. “I’ll see you later, hot stuff.”
“See ya.”
“Bye, Miss M,” Ryder says from the sofa.
“Make good choices,” Liam follows.
These boys, I swear. If they made my heart any fuller, it would burst.
The second I step inside, I can see why Blaze has missed this. The brewery is alive. The music from the band is its heartbeat. The flowing crowd is its bloodstream.
Conversations told in loud voices float through the air, all of them competing with the band on the stage. Big screen televisions hang on the wall behind the bar, muted but tuned into ESPN. The crowd is mostly young people, my age and a little older. They’re all beautiful, larger than life and happy.
Blaze is behind the bar, flipping nozzles and pouring beer from the tap. He’s wearing jeans and a bright blue Taproom T-shirt like the one he gave me the day of Liam’s party. And a charcoal gray beanie. God help me with that beanie. It’s an aphrodisiac.
He looks so natural, so at ease, so… sad. He missed this. I see the way he lights up when he talks about it. Why would he be sad?
I walk up in front of him and lean over the bar. “Hey handsome. Got any rituals I should know about before I order?”
He finishes filling a glass then slides it to the man beside me. When he sees me his mouth opens then closes again. He swallows hard. There’s an eerie seriousness in the air despite the life that thrums all around us. “Adrienne. Fuck.”
My smile is small. “I’m having trouble translating your fuck. Is that a fuck you look great? Or an oh fuck, you came?”
“You look better than great.” He doesn’t smile back, and something about that makes my hair stand on end. He nods to his left. “Come over here.”
When I meet him at the end of the bar, he pulls me around the corner near the door that leads into the actual brewery. He gives my entire body a once-over, swallowing hard as if the sight of me is painful. Then he takes my face in his hands and skims his thumbs over my cheeks, then my lips. I don’t want it to be painful. I want it to be enough—enough to open him up and let me inside.
He trails his fingertips to my nose then my eyes, down the side of my face to my neck then over my collarbone—slowly, deliberately, like he’s a blind man and my body is covered in braille. He exhales a breath so deep it makes his body shudder.
My heart isn’t just beating. It’s flailing, thrashing around in my chest, fighting to stay alive. “Blaze?”
His jaw tenses, and he takes a step back. I immediately miss his touch because somehow I know that’s the last time I’ll ever feel it. I want to scream, to beg, please touch me again.
“You’re freaking me out. Can you say something?”
He does that thing where he sighs and cups the nape of his neck. His fingers tighten and he tilts his head back, and stays that way, looking up at the ceiling, for an eternity before looking back at me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, finally shattering his silence. Then he rubs his hand over his face as if to scrub away the emotion, to hide the fact that he’s breaking.
We’re breaking.
His words, the way he says them, are like a punch to the gut. I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, waiting for the wall to go up around my heart the way it always has. It doesn’t, and I’m left standing here in front of him completely vulnerable. “Sorry? Sorry for what?” I ask even though I’m terrified to know. “Blaze? Talk to me.” My voice is weak, almost a whisper.
An older gentleman walks up from out of nowhere and claps a hand on Blaze’s shoulder.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asks. Even though he’s obviously not speaking to me, he looks directly at me.
Silence.
Long, heavy silence.
Blaze pinches the bridge of his nose then straightens and heaves a sigh. “Adrienne Maddox, meet Chase Abbott.” The air shifts. “My dad.”
His dad. His dark hair has hints of gray. His eyes are a deep honey with flecks of chestnut brown just like Blaze’s. His chiseled jaw is clean-shaven, not covered in stubble like Blaze’s. He’s wearing a suit, and when he brings a glass tumbler to his lips, I see the glimmer of a watch that looks like it cost more than my car. He looks so much like Blaze and still so very different.
Suddenly, I’m very aware of the man standing in front of me—of both men standing in front of me. I’m aware of the silent battle between them, aware of the way the very presence of Blaze’s father seems to cast a shadow over him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. You should be very proud of the work you do with those boys.”
“Thank you, sir. They’re my life,” I say with a calmness so far from what I’m actually feeling.
The music quiets, and the lead singer of the band introduces the next song, talking about how he wrote it at a point in his life when he was beat down and at his lowest.
Mr. Abbott raises a brow. The music starts again, gritty and raw. “As they should be. It takes a special person to make sacrifices for those things that are important to them.” He looks at Blaze as though he’s issuing a challenge.
There’s no doubt this man makes many people tremble in his presence. I’m not as easy to intimidate. I’m not competing with Blaze for person of the year. I probably wouldn’t win anyway. Blaze Abbott is pretty wonderful, even if he is about to break my heart.
I flash him a practiced smile. “I wouldn’t call it a sacrifice. More like a blessing.”
“They’re very lucky to have someone like you. Someone who cares. Someone who understands what they’ve been through.” A smug grin teases the corners of his mouth. “Coming from foster care yourself, you must have a better connection with them.”
His words make it hard to breathe. How does he know that? How does he know me? How do I explain to Blaze that after everything he shared with me, I kept this from him?
Is this why he’s so upset?
This has to be why he’s so upset.
Mr. Abbott takes another sip of the amber liquid then holds the glass up as if in a toast and smiles. There’s nothing friendly about that smile. “Well, I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about. It was nice finally meeting you, Adrienne,” he says, then he disappears as quickly as he came.
I look up to find Blaze intently focused on me. His eyes are filled with a heady mix of emotions I don’t understand.
Confusion.
Anger.
Defeat.
Grief.
“I was going to tell you. It’s not like I’m ashamed of it or wanted to keep it a secret. Is this why you’re mad?”
“You think I give a shit about where you’re from?” He looks at me with this cold, dark stare that has my stomach twisting in knots. “Do you? Because if that’s what you think, then you don’t know me at all.”