The Way We Loved Read online

  “Okay, be safe.”

  “Thanks, you too.”

  I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped she would stay for good, even knowing the chances of that happening were slim to none. Blake had made a big life for herself on the West Coast. A life she has always dreamed of having. I’m proud of her. I just wish she had room in it for me too.

  It’s already late on the West Coast. Late on a Friday evening. The chances of her meeting with a lawyer today are nonexistent, which means she will be there all weekend, at least. I debate my options, walking a path in the dirt outside of my truck door. I should wait for her to call. I should trust her to not crush me again, but my chest is tight and my nerves frayed. I didn’t want to lose her again. I can’t.

  Grabbing my cell off the seat of the truck where I tossed it, I text Beau.

  Blake’s gone to the airport.

  I know. Just dropped her off. His reply is instant.

  Well, fuck me. For a split second, the sting of betrayal takes my breath. My phone starts vibrating in my hand before I have a chance to text him back.

  “Yeah?” I answer, anger flooding my tone.

  “Figured you were probably losing your shit right about now.” The sound of horns honking echoes through the phone. I calculate the time difference in my head. Rush hour in Birmingham is no joke. I try to avoid the whole area at all costs, but especially during rush hour traffic.

  “You could say that.”

  “She will be back home on Tuesday. She booked a round-trip flight.”

  “She can change it.” I hope she doesn’t. The knowledge that she plans to return offers a little relief, but my chest is still tight.

  “Yeah, but she won’t. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. She didn’t leave you high and dry once already.”

  “Yeah, she did. She didn’t just leave you, Cal. She left us all, and she came back. I trust her, and you should too.”

  I can tell he’s worried too. He doesn’t want me to know it, but when you’ve been friends for as long as we have, it’s easy to read behind the words.

  “Yeah. What the hell did she need to fly back out there for, anyway?”

  “Her asshole ex is trying to sue her for rights to her company.”

  “The fuck?”

  “Don’t worry, she’s got it handled.”

  I want to hop on the first plane and fly to her. I need to be by her side, but I know how that will look to her. She needs to know I trust her, even if I still struggle with the fear of losing her. I know that whatever decision she makes won’t be done with malice. She not that type of person.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Over the next twenty minutes, Beau fills me in on everything that has happened since I left yesterday morning. My temper rises with each passing second. If I ever get my hands on that weaseling son of a bitch, I’m liable to kill him. How the hell does he justify this shit in his head? There is no way in hell I’d be able to live off my woman for three years, and I damn sure wouldn’t try to take the thing she built from the ground up, the thing she’d poured her blood, sweat, and tears into.

  Piece of shit. That’s not a man. That’s scum.

  The more I hear, the more I want to fly to Arizona. And not just to be there for Blake.

  “I should go—”

  “No. She’s got this handled. She doesn’t need either of us fighting her battles for her.”

  “But—”

  He cuts me off again. He’s right. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. “Calvin. She’s got it.”

  28

  #fuckingex

  Blake

  My flight back to Arizona lasts about four hours. The sun is starting to set across the Alabama horizon. When we land, the sky is tinged with the last vestiges of sunlight. I’ve always loved Arizona sunsets across the desert. The light reflects off the sandy dirt, creating a picture-perfect moment.

  Shelly picks me up at the airport. I don’t have any bags with me other than my carryon, so we head straight to the parking deck and her car. I fill her in on the papers I was served on the way to my house. I’ve read over them at least fifty times since the weasel had me served.

  The thought that he believes I owe him any of my company blows my mind. He hasn’t lifted one finger in the four years since I’ve known him. Four years I worked my ass off trying to make something of Fresh Start, a company I started on my own six years ago.

  The lawyer’s secretary penciled me in for Monday morning at eight. That leaves me with just over forty-eight hours to handle everything else I’ve been putting off here.

  “Do you still have the information for the real estate agent who sold me the house?” I ask Shelly.

  “Yeah. I have her stored in my phone. I planned on using her when I decide to sell my condo. Why? Are you planning to sell the house?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Oh, man, are you sure? That place is worth what, $300k more now than when you bought it? It’s a great location and prime residential, great schools. It’s like a five out of five.”

  “I don’t need it. I could keep it, but I’m not planning to live in Arizona anymore.”

  Shelly gawks in my direction wide-eyed until traffic forces her to put her eyes back on the road.

  “I’m sorry. I know I just sprang that on you. I planned to talk to you about it this weekend. How about we stop at Durant’s and talk over dinner?” I ask, knowing she won’t turn down a chance to eat at the city’s best fine dining establishment. After my in-flight peanuts and Coke, I could stand to put something more substantial in my stomach.

  “Sure.” She clicks on the blinker to change lanes so she can exit I-10.

  I had planned to approach the subject with more grace than I did. Shelly is a wonderful assistant. Truthfully, the title Assistant does her little justice. She’s my left hand, right hand, and frontal lobe all rolled into a perky, charming, sophisticated package. I’m so thankful she found me all those years ago and demanded that I accept her help.

  When I first began taking the idea of starting a company for myself seriously, I hit the ground running. I wasn’t the type of chick who could sit and weigh options. I decided in a second and then dealt with the fallout. I’ve never been one to jump between this or that. So, in typical Blake fashion, when the thought struck, I jumped.

  And then fell.

  Hard.

  I had no idea what it meant to run my own company or to be my own boss. I lacked the structure needed to make it work. My mind flited between ideas like a hummingbird between flowers. I had no direction and a shit ton of ambition.

  I was flailing, drowning, ready to quit it all when Shelly messaged me. She had read a blog post, loved it, and wanted more. I didn’t have more at the time. I had gotten distracted with something else and hadn’t updated my website in months. She offered to help.

  I paid her in hugs and funny memes.

  Then the blog took off and I started the podcast. I went from eating ramen to dining on the best of the best. Shelly had stuck by me through it all. She was more than an assistant to me. She was my lifesaver.

  “So, you’re leaving Arizona.” It’s not a question. She knows me better than I know myself, and once my mind is made up, it’s done.

  “Yes.” I take a sip of my wine and wait for her to process that.

  “Because of Brad?” she asks.

  “No. Not at all. Actually, Brad is the only reason I thought about staying. I hate the idea of his thinking he chased me out of town.” It still left a bad taste in my mouth.

  “Then why?” she asks, and I don’t get angry or frustrated with the question. I understand why she’s confused. For years, I’ve talked about Alabama with nothing but disdain. Until going back, that is how I remembered it.

  “It’s home. I know I’ve always said I hated it, but now that I’m there? I can’t imagine being anywhere else,” I tell her truthfully.

  “I understand.” And that’s the thing about
Shelly. She’s genuinely happy for me. Even if finding my happiness means a lot of unknowns for her. I can almost physically see her mind working, planning for the future.

  “Relocating Fresh Start to Alabama shouldn’t be that hard. It’s mostly online, anyway.”

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t want to move Fresh Start. I want you to take it over.” I hold my breath and wait. I hope this is something Shelly would want, but it’s hard to gauge. She’s never complained about her job, so I don’t know if the idea of having more will appeal to her or not.

  “What?”

  “I want to assign you as CEO or President of Fresh Start. I will still own the company, but as CEO, I’ll sign over ten percent of all shares to you.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. You’ve worked your ass off for this company, and you’re the only person I could ever trust to take over. This is your baby, too.”

  She leans back in her chair and stares. “You’re serious?” she asks again.

  “Yes. I’m positively serious. I’ll have the lawyers draw up the paperwork Monday.”

  “Holy fu . . .” I laugh into my napkin. That’s the closest I’ve heard Shelly come to cursing.

  “I’m assuming this comes with a raise?” she asks.

  “A big one.”

  “Nice. In that case, can I buy your house?”

  “Hell, yeah.” That settled, we move on to more important things. Food. By the time my plate arrives, I feel like I could eat an entire cow. Not that I would, but I’m starving so I can’t really be trusted. My phone dings halfway through the meal, and I pull it from my purse. Fireflies take off in my belly when I read the text from Calvin. It’s a picture of the Alabama night sky. The ranch is far enough from the city that none of the city lights affect the view of stars.

  Almost as beautiful as you.

  I smile and reply with a picture of my half-eaten steak.

  Almost as tasty as you.

  “Okay, chick. Dish.”

  “Huh?” I ask, putting away my phone.

  “I know that face. You’ve been holding out on me. I want details.”

  I spend the rest of the meal with a grin on my face that I can’t seem to wipe off. I tell her all about Calvin from years ago and then catch her up on Calvin from right now. I’ve become a blubbering girl who only wants to talk about her boyfriend. Shelly doesn’t seem to mind. It’s been a while since we sat and talked about nothing. It’s nice. By the time we finish dinner and she drops me at the house, I’ve caught her up on everything and calmed her worrying heart.

  29

  #tipsy

  Calvin

  Blake calls as soon as her friend drops her at her house. Her voice sounds a little high-pitched, and every couple of seconds, she giggles. I imagine her there all alone, stumbling through the house, flicking on lights, and peeling off layers of clothing.

  It’s killing me to not be there with her.

  “What are you doing?” I stack the pillows on my bed against the hotel headboard and lean back. It’s gotten late here, but with the time difference, it’s barely ten PM there.

  “About to take a shower if I can find a towel in this place.” She grunts, mumbling to herself, “Ah, got one. Shit.” Her voice disappears for a second, followed by more rustling. “I dropped you.”

  “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “Oops. You’ll be okay.” I want to kiss the slight slur off her lips and then run my tongue along every inch of her body until she can’t form another thought.

  “Take your clothes off and start the shower.”

  “Wha . . . ?“

  “Don’t argue. Just listen. Is there someplace you can set your phone so it doesn’t get messed up?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Good. Put me there and then answer my FaceTime.” I tap the Video Call button on the screen. It’s a pretty cool feature that I had no idea about until last week when Blake showed me. I plan to use it for all its worth tonight. Blake answers the call and then sets her phone down and stands back. She’s already lost all of her clothes. Her skin begs to be touched.

  She turns the dials on and steps back, waiting for the water to warm.

  “What are you planning here?” she asks, stepping into the shower stall and leaving the door open so the phone won’t fog up.

  “Pour some shampoo into your palm and wash your hair. You’re not going to want to fool with it in a few minutes.” She does as instructed, and I watch her scrub the shampoo to bubbling suds before rinsing and adding conditioner. The sight of her glistening wet skin has my cock straining for attention in my jeans.

  “Okay, now what?” Her hands wrap around her chest, trying to cover herself.

  “Since your hair is clean, let’s concentrate on more important things, like your body. Squirt some body wash into your hands.”

  She pours body wash into her empty hands. “Okay.”

  “Now spread the body wash in your hands over your soft, wet breasts. I love your fucking breasts.”

  I imagine taking one in my hand and rubbing the wash across her taut nipple. “Feel the water cascading over your shoulders and running down over the mounds of your breasts, streaming off your stiff nipples.” She closes her eyes, tilting her head back. I know it’s stupid, but I’m so fucking jealous of the spray of water right now. I’d give anything to be there with her, running my fingers feather-soft across the perky mounds. ”Does that feel good?”

  She nods her head. When she lifts her breasts, kneading them, my cock jumps in my pants. I’ve never seen a more glorious sight in my life than the one of her standing under a streaming waterfall, following my every command. The water washes away all traces of soap, leaving her skin squeaky clean and begging for my touch. She leans against the shower wall, and it might be my imagination, but I think her chest is rising and falling faster than it was a few minutes ago.

  “Open up your hands and slide your nipples between your fingers. Caress and pinch them.” She follows my direction without a moment’s hesitation. Her hands trace along every curve and hollow with the care of an artist.

  Her moan echoes in the shower stall, and my cock twitches in my jeans.

  “I’m so fucking hard right now, Blake.”

  “Slip a hand down over your belly and between your legs and rub your clit with your fingers. Imagine me licking you, sucking your clit, making you pant.”

  I unzip my pants and my cock springs free. Seeing Blake masturbating in the shower with my words as her guide has done nothing for my sanity, but the sight has made me rock-hard. My hand grips the base of my cock, and I pull, tugging on it in long, slow, torturous strokes. I squeeze the head and twist my hand in semi-circle motions before sliding back down, spreading a trail of precum as I go.

  “Shit, I’m not the best at this facetime thing, but I’m going to try to do it one-handed. The thought of you touching yourself in the shower, following my commands, getting off because of me . . . it’s making me horny as hell. I’m stroking my cock watching you.”

  A whimper escapes her lips. “I want to see. Show me,” she demands.

  I prop my phone up on the nightstand and angle it so she can watch me stroke myself.

  “Slide two fingers inside yourself. Feel how soft that sweet pussy is.”

  She moves the phone to a bench in the corner and then sits across the stall under the spray of water. I can see every fucking beautiful inch of her body.

  “I want you to slide your fingers out and circle around your clit, tease yourself with your wet juices.” I stroke up and down faster and faster while she does the same. I’m so fucking close to exploding, but I hold off so I can make sure she finishes first.

  “Now go back into your slick wet pussy and pump your fingers in and out. Rub your palm against your clit as you stroke inside.” She’s panting, her body quivering with the anticipation of release. “Fucking hell, Blake. I’m about to come for you. Are you ready? Can you come for
me, baby?”

  She nods, barely, curling her fingers inside herself and then sliding out, circling once, twice, and sliding back inside. Her free hand reaches for her breast, and sliding her nipple between her finger and thumb, she pinches, tugs, while the other hand slaps against her clit, her fingers pounding into her glistening pussy.

  My body twitches. I grind out her name and tilt my head back against the headboard, gasping while the waves of my orgasm wash through me again and again until a warm calm takes its place. Blake is slouched against the wall, staring at the ceiling of the shower stall, trying to right her breathing. But that sinful grin tells me everything I need to know.

  “Fuck, Blake. You drive me wild.”

  She laughs and stands on wobbly legs to rinse off before shutting off the shower and wrapping herself in a fluffy white towel.

  “I can be out there by eight tomorrow morning if you give me the word.” I mean it. The only keeping me here, 1500 miles from her, is her. If she says the word, I will book the ticket right now and fly out of here.

  “No. I’m fine here, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

  My heart stops when I hear those words. I haven’t heard her refer to Alabama as home in a long time, if ever. The fact that she sees it that way now has me wanting to shout from the rooftop. The raging desire to chase her down has consumed me since she called and told me she was heading to the airport. Talking to Beau helped a little, but not as much as hearing it from her own lips.

  “If you’re sure, but I perform better in person.” That gains a laugh from her.

  “Where are you? That doesn’t look like your room.” Pulling back the comforter, she crawls into bed and turns on her side.

  “I stopped for the night in Winchester,” I said.

  “Oh, okay. Room looks nice.”

  “It would be nicer if you were in the bed next to me and not two thousand miles away.” I hope to pull another smile from her, but the comment seems to sober her.

  “I meant to catch you up on all the stuff here, but I got distracted with Shelly and then the shower.”