Page 70 of Everything We Give

“That’s understandable. James threw us both for a loop.”

“What happened last June hurt, I’m not going to lie. But there’s more to what I’m feeling and it’s not easy for me to admit.” I stop and take a moment, lightly knocking my knuckles on the sink counter.

“What is it?” Aimee asks.

I take a breath. “I’ve resented you.”

“Me?”

I nod. “I envied your bravery. You faced your worst fear when you found James after you thought he died. You not only let him go and moved on, you forgave him. You’re a much better person than me.”

“Don’t say that, Ian. Don’t think so little of yourself. Look at you and your success. You’ve come so far considering what happened to you.”

I shrug. “It’s how I feel. And I can’t keep living this way. I need to put the anger and resentment I feel toward my dad behind me, and I need to deal with my guilt about my mom. That’s why I’m meeting with Lacy. I don’t know what I’m going to find out from her and I’ve got no clue what’s up with my dad, other than my gut telling me something is wrong.”

“And you always follow your gut.”

“I trust that sucker,” I say with a half smile. “I moved up my assignment so I could be in Idaho by Tuesday. Lacy’s favorite day of the week.”

“She’s an odd woman.” Aimee shakes her head, incredulous. “Have you tried reaching your dad?”

“I called him during my layover. He hasn’t called back.” My eyes search hers, so blue and vibrant despite how tired I know she is. “Why are you here? What about the café and your deadlines? You could have called me about Lacy.”

She skims her hands under the unzipped flaps of my hoodie and pushes it off my shoulders. I let her tug the sleeves down my arms. The hoodie drops to the floor. “A long time ago, there was this girl and she was sad. She had lost her fiancé and was desperate to find him. But there was this other boy who loved this girl very much. So much that he traveled to the ends of the world to help her search for the fiancé she thought was her true love.” Aimee lifts my shirt. I raise my arms and she pulls it over my head. The shirt lands on the sweatshirt. Cool air hits my torso and my skin puckers.

“What happened to this boy and girl?” I rasp, my eyes fixated on her fingers as she unbuttons her blouse.

“This girl found her fiancé, but he’d changed. The girl had to let him go, not because he changed, but because she’d grown up during his absence. Now a strong and independent woman with a clear head, she saw the imperfections in their relationship and acknowledged the damage they’d done. But in finding herself, she discovered she loved the boy as much as he loved her.” She parts her blouse, exposing the black lace bra underneath. I groan.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The blouse floats to the floor. “Five years ago, you dropped everything to help me search for James. I want to do the same for you. I want to help you find your mom.”

I steal a kiss from her and it tastes like heaven. My heaven. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ian. You’re my husband. We’re a family. You don’t have to do everything alone anymore.”

I clasp her head, my fingers threading through her hair, pressing into her scalp. Emotion squeezes my chest. “I thank God every day you walked into Wendy’s gallery and into my life,” I say against her lips, my voice gravelly. I kiss her hard, and when I come up for air, my forehead pressed against hers, our breath hot and mingling, I ask her about Caty.

“She’s fine. She’s with my parents. They’ll watch her as long as we need them to.”

“And the café? Your plans?”

Aimee moves from my arms. “Can we talk about that over dinner?”

“Sure,” I say, somewhat hesitant. “Everything OK?”

She smiles winsomely. “Everything’s perfect. I’ll tell you about it, but after I shower.” She points at herself. “Travel scum.”

I tap my chest. “Hiking scum. Shower with me.”

She winks seductively, sending a zap of electricity straight to my center. “I thought you’d never ask.” She shimmies from her jeans and I’m instantly on fire for her. She’s wearing it, that swatch of lace that matches her bra and covers nothing.

I shove down my jeans and briefs and flip on the shower. Ice-cold water sprays the tiled walls. I rope an arm around her waist and haul her into the stall with me. She screams, ice water sluicing over her head and down her back.

“You jerk.”

“You love this jerk.” I laugh against her mouth, reaching behind her to adjust the water temperature. I unclasp her bra.

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