Page 15

So Fast – Griff

Declan

Addie: I’m free at eight. After team dinner.

I read the text and turn to find her on the plane, but I can’t see her from my seat. I wish she were sitting beside me, but I’m stuck with Henry, whose head is resting on my shoulder as he snores.

I am a wonderful friend for not taking too many photos of him and sending them to his wife.

Addie: For our date.

If it’s still happening.

Me: Been planning it all day.

Addie: Planning?

I figured we would just watch a movie or something.

Me: You deserve far more than ‘a movie or something’.

Addie: Oh, alright.

Should I bring anything?

Me: Meet me in the lobby at eight. Wear something comfortable.

Henry rustles at my side, leaning his head against the window, and I take the opportunity to stretch my legs. If I happen to see a certain nutritionist on my walk, well, that would just be icing on the cake.

A head of auburn hair peeks out from the back row of the plane, I casually walk to the back. No one pays me any attention, and I slide into the empty seat beside Addie.

She leaps and barely bites back a scream.

“You scared me!” she hisses, clutching her chest. “What are you doing back here?”

“I didn’t want to wait until tonight to see you.” She blushes, and fuck me, a flood of inappropriate thoughts flood my mind. “What are you doing?”

“The girls are sending me updates about Nora.”

Addie hands over her phone, and I flip through a dozen photos of Nora. Her in the back of Maren’s car. In the toy aisle at the store. Sitting on Maren’s couch, surrounded by craft supplies. Nora's mouth is dripping with blood, and she holds her front tooth in her palm. She’s grinning like it’s the best thing to ever happen. Sawyer looks horrified in the background.

“They look like they’re having fun,” I say, giving back her phone.

Addie looks at the photos once more, and a flash of melancholy longing passes over her. Her voice is but a whisper when she says, “I’m missing it. Her first tooth.” I rub her bicep, and her head rests on my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’m missing it, and that kills me, but at the same time…”

“You’re not worried or upset to have left her with the girls,” I finish for her.

Her silence is heavy, and I hear what she doesn’t voice out loud. She feels guilty that she’s enjoying time alone.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing time for yourself. Does she look upset that you’re here and not with her?” I jerk my head toward her phone, where another photo appears of Nora holding a small purple flower in her hand. “She’s having the best time with the girls, picking flowers and losing teeth. Now it’s your turn to have some fun.”

She rests a hand on my forearm. “Thank you. For making it happen. Nora is having the time of her life.”

The pilot announces our descent before I can respond, and I have to work my way back to my seat, but I give Addie one more glance before she’s out of sight.

I’d give Addie and Nora anything they asked for—no questions asked. The fact that she’s grateful for a sleepover is enough to know my zing wasn’t wrong.

She’s incredible, and they both deserve someone to show them.

I pull up the book club group chat.

Me: Did you do what I asked?

Photos flood in of craft supplies, dolls, dresses, and children’s makeup. There’s a few large boxes and bags of bedding.

Maren: I love spending your money.

Nathalie: We had to cut her off. No one needs a life-sized unicorn.

Maren: Nora does.

Sawyer: His guest room isn’t large enough.

Me: You guys are the best.

Nathalie: You’re making a large leap, Declan.

Sawyer: Are you sure about this?

Maren: I kept the receipts, but I’m all for this.

Me: I’m sure. The zing is never wrong. They give me that forever feeling.

The lights are low in the lobby as I wait for Addie.

I’ve sat in this leather chair for the last fifteen minutes in case she shows up early, but the only people who have exited the elevators on the other side of the lobby are my friends who now watch from the bar.

The hotel is modern and industrial with exposed pipes and light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and the bar hums with people, brightened by light from neon signs.

A loud ding echoes through the lobby, and the elevator slides open. Addie slips out, eyes searching, before they land on me in the corner of the room. A smile blooms on her face, and my chest warms.

Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, but small pieces fall in front of her face, and she took me seriously when I said to dress comfortably. Baggy sweats hang off her hips, a contradiction to the tight tank top that hugs her curves. The outfit is finished with fuzzy white slippers.

I meet her halfway, carrying the tote bag with our date plans.

When she’s within arm's reach, I pull her into a tight hug. She melts into my arms.

“Hi,” she mumbles into my chest.

Warmth settles beneath my diaphragm when she releases me.

I lift the tote bag. “I bought a game,” I say, feeling slightly bashful about my date plan. It’s not flashy, but I want to know more about her, “I thought we could play. I also have some snacks.”

When I say it out loud, it sounds like a pretty lame second date.

“Snacks!? What kind?” I open the bag for her to look inside. She squeals. “Kit Kats!”

I look around the lobby, trying to find a quiet spot, but it’s getting busy.

“Uh, we could…” A special-teams coach takes the only empty corner in the room.

Addie is oblivious to my inner turmoil of finding somewhere quiet, but not immediately inviting her up to my room. I don’t want her to mistake my intentions. The game in the bag is a way to get to know her, and I don’t want her to think I’m inviting her up to sleep with her.

She’s halfway to the elevator when she spins. “My room or yours?”

“Uh…” I scramble after her. “My room is fine.”

I step into the elevator and press the sixth floor. Addie wraps her arm around my bicep and leans her head against my shoulder. “I’m really excited,” she whispers.

Well, I’m going to shit my pants.

She releases me as I swipe my key card and bounds into the room and flops onto the bed. “This is much bigger than my room,” she sighs, swinging her arms against the dark grey bedding.

The farthest wall is glass, offering a view of Broadway Street and the neon lights. A couch and a set of chairs sit beside the bed, and a large flat screen is mounted on the wall. I take the farthest seat in the room and place the board game on the table.

Addie crawls around on the bed and my dick twitches in my joggers. I squeeze my eyes shut to banish the erotic image. When I open them, she’s standing right in front of me. Her breasts are practically in my face, and it requires all my self-control to keep my gaze north.

She grips both sides of my armchair, leaning until we’re at eye level. Her irises are brown in the light of the room, and her pupils dilate as she moves forward, our lips inches apart.

“We should get this out of the way,” she says, her voice low and sultry.

“What?”

I desperately want to touch her, but I keep my hands at my sides.

“The kiss you owe me. A real one.” The corner of her lip ticks up. “Not the pathetic one in Deon’s driveway.”

Addie drags her lip between her teeth, and I lose function of my tongue. Now would be a wonderful time for a witty remark or flirty tease, but all words are lost when she looks at me like that.

She raises a brow.

I lift a hand to cradle her cheek, fingertips tangling in her hair. My heartbeat is in my throat as I lean forward and press my lips to hers. She melts immediately, a soft mewl escaping as I trail my tongue across the seam of her lips.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, exploratory.

We break apart, and Addie’s smile is spectacular. I feel the zing in my chest again—a zap of lightning to my solar plexus.

“Much better,” she murmurs.

She moves to sit in my lap, but I grab her hips to stop her.

“Let’s maybe not,” I grit out.

Her brows crinkle, then her eyes dart down to my lap where my dick is begging for freedom. Addie giggles loudly, but moves to sit on the couch. Her cheeks are flushed, but she wears a pleased smile.

“You said you had a game.” I nod, pulling the small box out of the tote bag and setting it on the table. I lay out the snacks, and she immediately digs into a KitKat. “I have to hide in my car to eat these,” she lifts the candy bar in the air, “or else Nora is on my ass to share with her.”

She moans as she eats the chocolate. “Addie, please .”

I am doing everything I can to keep this PG, but if she keeps making sounds like that, I’m not going to make it through the game.

She laughs—again. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t sound apologetic in the slightest.

“The object of the game is to get to know each other,” I explain as I stack the cards in a pile. “There’s no obligation to answer any question you’re not comfortable with.”

Addie nods and crosses her legs beneath her. “So, I pick a card and you answer the question and vice versa?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Alright,” she picks a card out of the middle of the pile. “If you came with a warning label, what would the label say?”

“Caution: snores loudly.” She laughs. “I’ve been compared to a broken lawnmower.”

She grimaces. “Might be a dealbreaker.”

“A sexy lawnmower,” I amend. She rolls her eyes, and I grab a card. “What memory instantly makes you smile?”

Her face lights up. “When Nora said her first word. It was ‘shit’.”

“No…”

“There’s a reason we have the swear jar.”

My muscles relax as we volley questions back and forth. I work through the shock of learning she played collegiate volleyball, and she falls over laughing, learning that Sawyer and I had a short stint where we dated.

“You and Sawyer?” she asks incredulously. I nod. “Ha! That’s insane.”

“She broke up with me at LongBoards, a local bar. It was the kick in the ass I needed.”

My choices rookie year are not ones I’m proud of, but I’m going into this with full transparency, which includes sharing how I was a complete and total dumbass.

Her brows furrow, and I power forward.

“I made some mistakes in my rookie year. Poor choices that hurt Sawyer, Henry, and me. It was self-destructive, but I couldn’t see it because the attention from other people felt good. For the first time in my life, it felt like I was wanted, but it was all circumstantial and the people who cared for me were the ones I hurt. It wasn’t until Sawyer told me I was a good person making shitty choices that I realized I didn’t recognize myself. I booked my first appointment with Sharon the following week, and it took a long time to make amends and rebuild relationships.”

Addie’s brows skyrocket on her forehead. Dread settles in my gut.

Maybe I was too transparent.

“It’s brave of you to admit your mistakes and work to fix them,” she says, and I blink. “We all make poor choices. It’s what we do after that that defines us.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. It feels like her silent way of telling me she’s not bothered by my confession—it doesn’t frighten her away.

A weight lifts off my chest.

I take a card from the deck. “What’s the most pain you’ve ever been in that wasn’t physical?”

The question lands like a blow, and Addie’s face crumples.

Oh my god.

Her lip quivers.

“You don’t need to answer,” I say, desperate for that look on her face to disappear. It’s fucking gut-wrenching. I rise from my chair to sit beside her on the couch, and she immediately crawls into my lap and drops her head on my shoulder.

Minutes stretch on between us, but I just hold her and bask in how right it feels to have her in my arms.

“You deserve to know,” she whispers. “It’s the day my parents told me they wanted nothing to do with me or Nora. That I was wasting my potential by having my daughter. How disappointed they were in me.” She hiccups, and her tears stain my shirt. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I rub soothing circles on her back.

How long has she been holding onto this pain?

I can’t imagine ever telling my child I wanted nothing to do with them. I know the feeling far too well to ever wish it on another person.

They don’t deserve Addie or Nora in their lives if they can’t see how wonderful they are.

“I had already lost volleyball and my friends. They were all I had, but they dropped me, too.” Pain laces her voice. “I had no idea what to do, but I hurried to finish my master’s degree, and as my friends celebrated in Tokyo at the Olympics, I gave birth to Nora alone at a hospital. The labor pains were nothing compared to the loneliness.”

“The Olympics?” I ask, not following.

Her laugh is a bitter, empty thing. “It’s why my parents told me I was wasting my potential.” She lifts her chin in defiance of whatever her parents told her. That’s my girl. “I was invited to the Olympic trials for volleyball. But then I found out I was pregnant with Nora, and the decision was to terminate the pregnancy or pull my name from the trials. It was an easy choice.”

A question sits on the tip of my tongue, but a part of me is afraid to know the answer. I ask anyway. “Nora’s father?”

“A loser.” Addie shakes her head. “Condom broke and he didn’t tell me. He signed away his rights before Nora was born. He’s never met her, and he is not her father. Just a sperm donor.”

“Got it.”

Am I a terrible person for the relief I have that he’s not in the picture?

“That’s all my baggage,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I wanted you to know before we moved any farther, just in case…”

“In case, what?”

“It’s too much,” she admits quietly. Her head drops, and I tip her chin so she looks me in the eyes. Vulnerability shines in those hazel eyes.

I have to bite back the uncomfortable laugh that threatens to escape. Little does she know her baggage is tiny compared to mine.

“If I told you all of my baggage, would it scare you away?” I ask. She shakes her head. “It’s no different for me. It’s hard for me to talk about,” my throat is thick with discomfort, “but I grew up in foster care.”

Addie sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

“For the first twelve years, I lived in a home with an older couple. They were kind, but they had multiple foster children, and when the husband got sick, they no longer had the capability to foster everyone. I was moved to a group home, but when I was fifteen, my high school football coach went through the training to become a foster parent. I lived with him until I went to Notre Dame.”

Her fingers swipe away a tear that trails down my cheek. This is not how I wanted the night to go; both of us in tears on my couch.

“He died last December of a heart attack. It was sudden, and it felt like my heart was ripped from my chest.”

It’s all the details I can get out before my throat closes up and the guilt begins to drown me. I’m floating away when Addie’s voice brings me back to the shore.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, fingers digging into the back of my neck.

The action is soothing, and for the first time in a long time, it’s freeing to share about my life with someone else. Maybe because in a fucked up way, Addie understands. While it’s not the same, she empathizes with the struggles of family dynamics and how heavily it can weigh on your shoulders.

We sit in silence on the couch as our confessions hang around us. Addie leans forward and grabs another card.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” she asks.

I let out a small chuckle. “The first time I heard your name was at Donna’s Diner when Deon waxed poetic about the new nutritionist and her ‘tropical bonanza’ smoothie. The first time I saw you was also clouded by Deon’s weird obsession with you.”

“He’s got the right idea. Everyone should be obsessed with me. You need to get to his level,” she teases.

“Oh, I’m there. Trust me.” I squeeze her sides and she giggles. “But the first time I truly saw you as anything more than a coworker was when I saved you from disaster. And you took my breath away as you gobbled down a cheeseburger and ribs with a gorgeous smile.”

“I am gorgeous, aren’t I?”

“And so, so humble,” I respond, then press a kiss on her forehead.

She preens and burrows deeper into my side, yawning heavily. The card game lies forgotten on the table as her head begins to drop then rise quickly. She shakes herself out of her slumber.

“Stay the night,” I whisper.

She sucks in a breath. “I—”

“Clothes on. I just want to hold you,” I admit.

I want to hold her in my arms and allow what I feel for her to grow. It’s beating in my chest, right beside my heart, and it deserves to be felt.

“Okay.”

She lifts from my lap and follows to the bed. My eyelids are still heavy from the tears, and my brain is fuzzy, but she slips under the covers beside me, and I pull her back against my chest.

We fit together perfectly, and there’s an instantaneous feeling of comfort when she slips her fingers through mine and rests them on her abdomen.

No words are exchanged, but our bodies are speaking a language we’re both learning to understand. Her breathing slows, and as my eyelids grow heavy, peace washes over me.

I could spend the rest of my life right here, holding Addie in my arms.