Page 67 of Grand Escape

“Did he now?” I thought back to when Chewy was here last, and how he sat at the end of my bar, asking questions under the guise of chatting with his favorite margarita maker.

“God, I’m stupid,” I murmured. “What I mean is, back in June when Chewy was here, he had a lot of personal questions for me. I never put it all together. I underestimated the power of networking because I’ve been living in make-believe for so long.”

A tingle ran up my spine. Adam had been keeping tabs on me. The idea both thrilled and scared the shit out of me.

Adam glanced away. “I asked him to find out how you were doing. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but I had to know. It’s not like I could call Tony.”

“We were over.” The words flew out of my mouth as fast as a rolling wave. I walked toward the window and looked out at the beauty surrounding me, yet I was empty.

“We weren’t,” Adam said as he came up behind me. “I missed you.”

Leaning my forehead against the glass, I said softly, “I missed you too. More than I should have. I missed everything we had together—running, eating, kissing, all of it. God, I’m not even making sense.”

“Even Cal?” Trying to break the tension, Adam only made it worse.

I sighed. “Even Cal. Meeting him made you more real. One of three, you know? After meeting your brother, part of that trio, I wish I’d known your sister too.”

“She would have liked you.”

We were right back where we started that first night at the bar—Adam way too melancholy, and me as snarky as always. But this time, I was the cause of his unhappiness.

Adam

Rylan’s entire body went rigid at my words.

“I mean that in a good way,” I said, standing behind her. “Becca was the best part of our trio. Cal, Becca, and me. She was the sweetest and softest triplet, the one with all the feelings. She’s the one who had to tell us how to feel, what to do, how to act, where to be and go, how to live right. She was the leader, until she couldn’t do it anymore. All those feelings got in the way of reason, and instead of following her or paying attention, we failed her.”

“Ad,” Rylan said, trying to turn in my arms to face me, but I held her tight.

Although I’d wanted her to be fully in my arms since we came inside, now I didn’t want to face her. I wanted to be the strong one in her eyes, a man who could lead and listen. But I was neither.

“No. It’s not like that,” I said. “I know we failed her, and I’m at peace with it. We failed ourselves too. We could have been better at our feelings. At showing them, saying them, knowing them without being prompted. For as much as Becca was too intense with her emotions, Cal and I weren’t in touch with ours. I’ve learned that in therapy, and I’m not weak for going, if that’s what you think. I want to be a better man, a better person as a whole.”

This time Rylan shoved back just enough to swivel in my arms. Standing there looking at me, she brought her palm to my cheek.

“I don’t think that at all about therapy,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. You should know, I’m glad you’re finding your peace, but I never thought you should blame yourself. Becca was sick. Sadly, she didn’t get the right help, but you tried. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping in saying that, but you said that a while back, and I hate to hear you’re still carrying around guilt.”

Closing my eyes, I blew out a long breath. I never wanted Rylan to feel she had to hold back with me.

“You’re right, and I’m trying to tell myself that every day. We tried with Becca, but it’s all in the past now. My mom says it’s not our fault. I think we just failed her in not knowing all the intricacies of her emotions, but that would have been impossible. But right now, I’m here, finding my future.”

I reached up to hold Rylan’s fingers on my cheek, desperately needing to feel her touching me.

Her eyes met mine. “Please ...”

Was she begging for space? A kiss? More? I didn’t know, and quite frankly, I didn’t care. I wanted to give her the world.

“No.” I brought my lips to hers in a closed-mouth kiss, lingering a moment. “I. Am. Here. To get you on board with me. To get you back.”

Slipping from my hold, Rylan crossed the room. I didn’t crowd her—that wasn’t the kind of guy I was. One week together was more than I’d ever had with anyone. In my mind, Rylan was mine, across the room or not.

“I just came back from my run. I smell,” she muttered.

“Oh, please. I’ve been dreaming of your intoxicating scent for months.”

“We knew each other a week,” she said, tossing the same bullshit at me while standing next to the chair. The same one where she’d sat in my lap the last time I was at the Grand.

“The best week I ever had.”

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