Page 33 of Bad Luck Club

He turned from her then, her back missing the constant press of his warmth, but only for a moment, because he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his hands clasping beneath her breasts, his head resting on her shoulder.

She leaned back into him, savoring the closeness. Needing it in some way she couldn’t define, couldn’t understand.

“Is that when you came to Asheville?”

“Almost. I left him for three weeks. I stayed on my mom’s couch. She made it clear she’d support me, whatever I chose, but I wasn’t ready for another divorce. So when Remy hired someone to fashion one of the spare bedrooms into a studio for me, I let him win me over. I went back and tried to make it work. I started crocheting my octopuses in the studio he’d made for me, but he thought they were gauche and flashy, and he refused to display any of them in our house. And when I told him I was thinking of opening a studio and selling them, he suggested no one above the age of ten would want to buy one…and that my time would be better served by getting pregnant. He didn’t want his wife embarrassing him by trying to sell art as if we needed the money, when any fool could see we didn’t. So that was when I left him for real.”

“How did your father react?” he said softly, but she could tell from the way he said it, from the way his arms tightened around her just slightly, that he already knew.

“The first time I left, he threatened to disown me if I didn’t go back to Remy. And he really did it. He won’t even let Hattie, my little sister, talk to me.” Tears built in her eyes again, but she held them back. “He checks her email and her phone, once a week, but she keeps a second Facebook account so we can exchange messages every now and then.” She snorted. “Trust me, I know how pathetic that sounds, but I’d do anything to feel like she’s still in my life. He won’t let me see her or talk to her again unless I ‘get it together.’ Which, to his mind, means going back to Remy.”

“Remy wanted you back.” It wasn’t a question, and she couldn’t help but appreciate his certainty of that fact. As if he couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting her.

“He did.” She bit her cheek. “Every now and then he puts on a show to let me know he still does. But I recognize it for what it is. He doesn’t really want me at all. He never did. He just wants to win.”

He squeezed her slightly, but he was silent for a moment. Considering that. “I’ve been guilty of that, Blue. It’s a hard trap to avoid. Ever since I was a little boy, it was always about winning. My father always told me it was only the end result that mattered. History wasn’t written about losers.” He huffed a laugh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised by the whole fraud thing. Hindsight, right? My mom always told me he was wrong, that the way you did things mattered and decency mattered most of all. I knew she was right, but after I lost her…I wanted him to respect me. But he never did. I guess maybe he never respected anyone but himself.”

She wanted to turn around, to take him into her arms, but that would be too intimate, wouldn’t it? That would be crossing a line.

Buford, who’d apparently hopped around to the front of the couch without her noticing, tilted his head to look at her, his eyes wide and warm. It felt like he was saying,Oh, you poor fool. You crossed that line an hour ago.

She knew it. She knew it deep in her core, so she only slid a hand down and clutched his joined hands, moving them up slightly so they covered her heart.

“Getting lost doesn’t mean you can’t be found. That’s the self-work we’re doing at the Bad Luck Club.”

He slackened his grip on her slightly, as if being reminded of why they were here and what they were supposed to be doing had awakened him in some way. “You were telling me about coming to Asheville.”

She nodded. “It was only after I left that I started going by Blue. The name I was born with is Enid.”

He chuckled, a slight movement of his chest against her back, his breath warm against her neck. “Enid? I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone who seems less like an Enid. That’s an old-lady name. But why Blue?”

“My mother has always called me that. Blue light is healing light, and she told me that I was the only thing that could heal her heart.”

“That’s too much pressure for one person,” he said, sounding troubled by it. “She shouldn’t have put that on you.”

“Maybe not, but I didn’t choose to be known as Blue for her. I wanted to heal my own heart. I came here promising myself I wouldn’t ever let anyone else control me again…and I haven’t. But recently, after meeting Maisie and Adalia and joining the Bad Luck Club, I’ve realized that I let it go too far. I avoided letting the right kind of people in too.”

“It’s hard to find balance,” Lee said into her neck. “Sometimes it feels I ping from one problem straight into another one. Some more honesty…it embarrassed me, telling you I hadn’t tried a Buchanan beer before. It was small of me to avoid it for so long. Spiteful. I blamed the brewery, and maybe my sisters and brother, for what happened. I was the one who let it happen, not them. But it’s not so easy to admit to that.”

“Is that why you walked away from your job?”

“How do you know I walked away?” He paused. “Oh, Addy.”

“It was the wholeI’m no longer employedthing that first clued me in. Plus, they never would have fired you. Not even if you peed in all the kettles.”

He paused, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d finally overstepped with him. If this would be what drove him out the door. But he stayed put, his arms still around her.

“You’re right.” He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “But can you imagine how much more River would hate me if I peed in the kettles too, after what Lurch did? It might finally make him snap. Even more than he did yesterday.”

“I don’t know River well,” she said, “but I suspect you remind him of all the things he was raised to think ill of…just like he probably reminds you of the same. He’s not the kind of man who holds his emotions back.”

He stiffened a little, and again she wondered if he was going to pull away. She leaned back a little more as if to keep him there.

“You’re right,” he said. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

She was newly aware of his closeness—his arms still clasped beneath her breasts, his whole body wrapped around her, and his head lowering to her neck, his lips hovering. They could lower to the flesh there, and oh God…she could feel him against her. His arousal, hard and demanding. Needy. The maddening, delicious excitement of knowing he might lower those lips to her neck and kiss her there, where she’d always been so sensitive. All she had to do was lean back a little more…

Her phone buzzed on the table beside them, startling her. Shattering the moment that had begun to feel like warm honey drizzled over toast. Comforting and nurturing. Intimate.

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