Page 58 of My Almost Ex

“I’m sorry.”

“I want those words to stop coming out of your mouth. Well, until you figure out why you’d leave a catch like me. Then you can get on your knees and beg forgiveness.” He chuckles and stands. “Seriously though, you need to stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong, Lucy. You had an accident and fell off a horse.”

He walks toward the door, and when his hand lands on the doorknob, I stop him.

“Thank you, Adam.”

He doesn’t turn around. “I’ve always been here for you and that’s not going to change now. Then again, depending on what we find out at the end of this, maybe it will.” He opens the door and disappears on the other side of it.

Adam is still sleeping when I wake in the morning. His sisters are like their own little cleaning crew. They wouldn’t leave last night until the house looked like it did before they came.

I move around the cabin quietly, not wanting to wake him. When I insert the key in the closet and pull the door open, it makes way more noise than I expected and I freeze, looking up and listening. He’s done me this solid, and I don’t want to cause him more pain by having him look at our wedding photos or whatever else is in here.

When I hear no movement in the bedroom above, I finish opening the door. I release a breath when I see stacked boxes, none of them labeled. I pick one up and tiptoe back to the master bedroom. I go back and forth from the closet to the bedroom until I can shut the door and lock the now empty closet.

I open the first box and find a bunch of framed photos. There are a few of the two of us when we were younger. Another one from when we were crowned homecoming king and queen in high school. A few medals and trophies of Adam’s. A newspaper clipping of what an athlete Adam Greene was and how Division One schools were bidding on him due to his older brother Xavier already having a killer start at his college.

There are a lot of pictures of Adam’s family and one of him and his mom when he was younger. Then I realize these pictures aren’t from our house together—these are from his room. His childhood bedroom.

It was right after our high school prom and I’d brought him over the framed picture. Marla and Hank were gone. We were allowed to be in his bedroom but with the door open. Since his parents were gone, he shut the door and we laid on his bed side by side.

He turned to face me, his hand sliding under the hem of my shirt, running back and forth along my bare skin.

“So they say you’re the next big football star,” I said, reading over the article again from the fall season.

He took it out of my hands and put it next to his bed. “Forget that. We’re going to Anchorage.” He nuzzled his face in my neck, his hand sliding up my torso toward my breast. “We only have an hour before they get back.”

“Are you going to hate me in ten years?” I turned toward him and his hand pulled my body flush against his.

He kissed the tip of my nose. “We’ve been over this. I want this.”

“I can’t have you hate me. I’d never be able to live with myself.”

“Relax, I’m good. As long as I’ve got you, I’m happy.” He kissed my lips, but I brokeoff the kiss right away.

“You sure?”

“Yes, now we have fifty-five minutes until they get home.” His hand slid up my back and unclasped my bra. “Whoops.”

“What if Chevelle or someone comes home?”

“I’m the only one here and since you were so kind to bring over that framed picture of us, it’s my responsibility to give you a proper Greene thank you.” His lips found my collarbone, and for a moment, I lost myself in his intoxicating touch.

“Is this the way all the Greenes say thank you?”

He chuckled into my skin on the way down to my breasts. “Only to special people.” He peeked up through his eyelashes. “In case you’re wondering, you’re the most special of them all.”

I laughed until he flipped open the button on my jeans. Then he rose on his knees and I opened my legs wider.

Since we’d first had sex after prom, there’d been no more making out, no more stopping at second base. Hell, we never even stopped at third unless I was giving him a blow job.

He shimmied my pants down my body with my help and lit up looking over me, as though he couldn’t believe I was his. As though I was the last Christmas gift under the tree—the one he’d asked for hundreds of times but never thought he’d get. I was addicted to that look,drunk on the fact that I’d somehow found my soul mate when I’d only been thirteen.

The flashback fades, although I remember how his bed squeaked as he pushed inside me after putting on a condom. The way he was so gentle and sweet and loving. The way we fumbled through movements like an unchoreographed dance. Nothingfluid with motion, but a lot of “hold on,” “I got it,” “oh wait,” “maybe we need to.” But that was also the fun. Us finding our groove together. Teenage exploration at its best.

A knock interrupts my memory and I shove everything in the box, rise from the bed, and inch open the door.

“Just seeing if you were up.” Adam’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt that hugs the muscles in his chest and arms. “Want me to make you an egg since you like them now?”

---