I wish she’d just look at me.
Having her not look at me is torture.
Liam circles his arms around my waist and presses his head against my chest. “I miss you, Blaze. Take care of your dad then come back, okay?”
I smooth my hand over the back of his hair and nod because I’m done making promises I’m not sure I can keep.
“You didn’t do this, you know.” Adrienne’s voice slides over me then seeps inside.
God, I’ve missed that voice.
My eyes travel over her body, soaking in every inch of her. My insides go haywire. I’m itching with the need to touch her. She’s a goddamn tornado in a black dress, ripping through me and stirring up everything I thought I had under control.
When I don’t answer, she continues. “Micah made his own choices. He was the exception. Not the rule. Foster kids may not have the same chances as kids raised in traditional homes, but they do have a chance.”
I know that. The proof is standing right in front of me.
She licks her lips—lips I should be kissing. “You didn’t pull that trigger. You didn’t cause that fight. You have to stop blaming yourself for other people’s pain. It’s going to tear you apart.” She smiles, and that smile, that fucking smile, is the goddamn death of me. “You deserve to be whole, Blaze.”
Always worried about everyone else. Always trying to save the world. Why can’t we just save ourselves?
Jesus, this is hard.
Why the fuck is this so hard?
“Thank you.” It’s all I can manage because begging her to forgive me isn’t an option.
She nods once, a simple tip of her chin to her chest, then turns to leave. I don’t have the strength to let her go. A better man would watch her walk away, but I’m weak. So, I reach out and grab her hand.
The words get trapped in my throat when she stops and looks over her shoulder at me. I never thought touching Adrienne would hurt, but it does. It hurts so fucking much I almost sink to my knees.
It feels as though my heart has grown wings and is trying to fly right out of my chest, but I know that can’t be true because she’s holding my heart in her hands. I gave it to her that day on the boat.
Her lips curve in the slightest of smiles and tears swell in her eyes. “Goodbye, Blaze.” Then she pulls her hand from mine and walks away.
“Goodbye, Adrienne,” I whisper because it hurts too damn much to say out loud.
I’m up to six miles now. I stopped at six two weeks ago, maxed out, hit my limit. It’s starting to rain, but I have one more mile to go. The droplets pouring over my skin cool the burn.
Fuck those droplets.
The burn is the only thing that takes my mind off her.
I can’t stop thinking of how she looked at the funeral. An angel in a sweet black dress that hugged her curves and showed the line of her cleavage. It’s not just her body, though. It’s the way she looks at me, so full of hope and fire, and that smile… Fuck me that smile. That smile makes me feel like I can do anything—anything except let her go.
I hear her voice in my head, “Goodbye, Blaze.” She did what I didn’t have the courage to do. I grit my teeth and press harder on the last stretch. The rain is falling harder now, tiny pellets against my face.
“Morning, Morie,” I say as he holds the door open. This time he follows me inside. He walks over to the concierge desk and hands me a towel.
He holds it out but doesn’t loosen his grip when I go to grab the towel. His dark brown eyes narrow in on mine. “I watch people run in here and out of here and by here every day. You’re not like them. You’re not running just to run. You’re running from something.”
My mother used to always tell me that there were angels among us. That sometimes we would meet people who just knew things. We wouldn’t know how they knew. They just knew. I’m thoroughly convinced Morie is one of those people.
“I lost someone I care about.”
He grins then lets go of the towel. “Then go find them.”
I laugh and wipe my face.
I wish it were that easy.
“Dad went all out for you. Didn’t he, little bro?” He whistles as he glances around my office.
Levi.
Motherfucker.
He pushes himself up from the leather chair behind my desk and walks toward the window.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be somewhere dipping Skoal and making left turns?”
He laughs. “Such a fucking douchebag. In spite of your stereotypical observation, I don’t dip Skoal. And I’m here because of you.”
I lean my butt against the desk and cross my arms. “Well, I didn’t invite you, so you’re welcome to leave.”
“I’m here to say I’m sorry,” he says as he spins to face me.
What.
The.
Fuck?
I can count on one hand the number of times my brother has apologized to me. He didn’t even say he was sorry the day I caught him with his dick in my girl.
My gaze sharpens in on him. “For which part? The part where you let Dad weasel his way into your deal with Adrienne’s foundation? Or the part where you let him know I liked her, so he’d know exactly what to take from me?”
He pushes off the window and makes his way back to my desk, stopping a few feet in front of me. The muscle in his jaw tics. “I let him help with the sponsorship because he said it would be a good look for the bank to do something like this. He asked me what I was donating and said he would match it. I never thought it was a bad thing. I never thought he was doing it to hurt anyone.”
“He’s Dad. Hurting people is what he does best.” Just ask our mom. I grip the edge of the desk to keep from choking the life out of him. “Why the fuck would you tell him about Adrienne? What does she have to do with any of this?”
“He just asked me if you were happy, and I told him yes. I thought he might actually give a shit. Turns out he was just being Dad.” He leans one hip against the desk. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I miss you, Blaze. I want my brother back.”
It’s hard not to believe him when he sounds so genuine. My brother is a lot of things—selfish, arrogant, impulsive—but he’s never been a liar.
Levi and I used to race cars at the fairgrounds before either one of us even hit puberty. Before that, we raced bicycles in our neighborhood. It didn’t surprise anyone when he wanted to go to NASCAR. When I would finally fall asleep after staying awake to watch our mom breathe after one of her benders, Levi would pick me up and carry me to bed. He would make his friends wait in the driveway just so he could shoot basketball with me for a few minutes before he went out.
I can hear Adrienne now. People make mistakes, but at the end of the day, he’s still your brother.
He didn’t make Rebecca sleep with him, and he didn’t make her get in her car and follow us when we raced.
It’s time to let it go. All of it. The anger. The hurt. I want my brother back, too. I’m tired of saying goodbye to people I care about.
“I miss you too.”
He narrows his eyes then stands with resolve, shoulders straight, chest puffed out like he’s about to announce the winner of the Nobel Prize. “I came to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.”