Page 18 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

“All right.” Watching her leave, I wait until the door is shut before carefully standing from the bed and walking over to her mirror above her dresser, seeing those familiar postcards that her grandfather wrote to her grandmother before examining the bruise on my side.

The fucker got me good this time, but at least I can hide this one.

It’s going to hurt like hell at practice tomorrow, but I just have to make sure he doesn’t see that I’m in pain. That will only make him happier.

Shaking my head, I grind my teeth together on my way back to Laney’s bed, kicking off my shoes before lying under the covers and putting the ice back on my ribs. I just hope to God nothing’s broken.

Laney enters the room again a few minutes later in green flannel pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt.

Fuck, she looks cute.

“You better scoot over and make some room, Adams.”

“You got it, angel.”

She shakes her head, but there’s a smile on her lips. “Not sure I’m a fan of that nickname.”

When she climbs into the bed and slides under the covers with me, I don’t leave too much space between us. She radiates this quiet warmth—not just in her body, but her soul. Being alone with Laney after a long time is like feeling sunshine on your skin after a week of cloudy days.

But then as soon as my dad comes around, the storm returns and I become accustomed to the darkness, forgetting how bright the sun can shine.

It’s part of the reason I came back to her again after my dad and I got into a fight, much like I did the last time and the time before that.

“Do you want to live in Blossom Peak for the rest of your life, Laney?” I ask, watching her as she gazes at the ceiling.

She considers my question, turning on her side and sliding her hands under her head as she faces me. And fuck, those green eyes of hers captivate me when we’re this close.

“I do. This is home. My parents are here, the winery is here, and honestly, I could write from anywhere.” She sighs. “I’ve always had this vision of living in a house up on one of the mountains that encircles the town, you know?”

“I think so,” I say, trying to picture it.

“The house would have these giant picturesque windows, kind of like the ones we have in our living room, but I could set up a desk right in front of them and write, staring out at the town full of cherry blossoms in spring, admiring the snow-covered peaks when winter comes, and watching the gorgeous sunsets that come late in the summer.”

As she describes the image, I can see her there too. “Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into it.”

“A little,” she says with a shrug. “But I’m also a realist.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m going to get my degree in English so I can teach while I work on my novel. Or… I’ve always wanted to own a beauty salon.”

“Those are two very different things,” I reply, which makes her laugh.

“I know. I feel like a little kid when you ask them what they want to be when they grow up, and they tell you an astronaut, the president, or a ballerina.” She waves her hand in the air. “I’m all over the place.”

“That’s not a bad thing. It’s good to have other interests. Sometimes I wish there was something else I wanted more than making it to the NFL.”

“You don’t have a backup plan? Something that would keep you in Blossom Peak at any point?”

“Nope. I want to start somewhere fresh, even if it isn’t playing football for a living. But if I do make it to the NFL, I’ll have to live in the city of whatever team drafts me.”

“True.”

“But if not? Well, I’m not sure where I’ll end up. I haven’t lived here all my life like some people in this town, so I don’t think it will be as difficult to leave.”

“Yeah, this is the kind of place that’s hard to leave when it’s all you’ve known.”

“Rhonan wants to leave, though,” I counter, remembering for a moment that my friendship with him is the reason I met her in the first place… And also why I shouldn’t be lying in her bed.

Laney shrugs again. “For school, yes, but he hasn’t said that he wouldn’t move back when he’s done.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really talked to him about it. Maybe I’ll ask him the next time I see him.”

Laney grows quiet. “Does—does Rhonan know that you’ve been sneaking into my room?”

“No,” I answer honestly.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, her eyes locked on mine.

“Probably not.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I reach out and stroke my hand up and down her arm, loving how soft her skin is, admiring her freckles and the way her pulse is thrumming when I reach her wrist. “I don’t think it’s any of his business.”

“But weren’t you looking for his room that first time?”

My heart pounds harder as I look at her, our eyes locked. “I was, but I found yours instead.”

Her eyes dip down to my mouth and then back up. “You did.”

“And I’m glad.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, hearing her breath hitch. “You’re my angel, remember. You saved me.”

I watch her tongue dart out to lick her lips, and I struggle not to reach out and pull those lips to mine.

“And what am I saving you from, Fletcher?” she whispers, throwing a bucket of ice water on our heated moment.

I take my hand back and avert my eyes from hers. But she grips my jaw and forces me to look at her again. “How did you really get that bruise on your ribs? Because I know damn well it wasn’t football, and you thinking that I’m that stupid just pisses me off.”

“I know you’re not stupid.”

“Then talk to me.”

I clench my jaw, but she keeps my chin in her hand while she takes my hand and places it over the center of her chest where I can feel her heart hammering as hard as mine. “Fletcher, it’s me. You know me. I promise, I won’t tell anyone, but I need you to be honest with me.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “You already know the answer, Laney.”

“I think I do, but I need to hear you say it.”

“Fine.” Fury and shame race through me as I close my eyes and say, “No, I didn’t get hurt playing football, but it’s a good thing I can blame my injuries on that because, otherwise, I’d have to admit to people that my dad fucking hits me.” My eyes pop open as I add, “There. Are you happy?”

Her eyes fill with tears as she reaches out and pulls me into her, our chests now pressing together, my head resting on her shoulder. “No, I’m not fucking happy, Fletcher. I’m so sorry…”

I push her away gently and avert my gaze from hers. “Don’t feel fucking sorry for me, Laney.”

Fuck, I need to get out of here.

This is exactly what I didn’t want. I don’t want her pity or anyone else’s because it’s my fault.

I’m the one who mouths off. I’m the one who says shit that makes him angry.

I’m the one who has a love for the same game that he lost, but I refuse to quit because football is the only thing that makes me fucking happy.

Dad never hit my mom, but she got sick of the drinking and left him. But she left me too. And now, when Luke Adams gets pissed—and it’s usually about football—he takes it out on me.

I whip off the blankets and start to get up, but Laney pulls me back down to the bed and shocks me when she pins my arms at my sides and straddles me.

Oh fucking hell.

“Laney…”

“No, Fletcher. You aren’t going anywhere.”

I close my eyes and beg my dick to calm down. Otherwise, this conversation is going to take a turn that I’m afraid might freak her out more than the information I just shared.

“Okay. I won’t leave. But can you please lie back down?”

She slides off me and I quickly pull the covers back over me to conceal my boner.

“Fletcher…”

“You can’t tell anyone, Laney,” I say, cutting her off as we lie facing each other again.

“I won’t. I promise.” She bites her bottom lip. “But can I ask you something?”

I mentally prepare myself for the inquisition. “Sure.”

“When did it start?”

Memories assault me like raindrops hitting a windshield during a storm, fast and at random. But pinpointing the first time it happened is easy.

“The first time, I was twelve. It was after a peewee football game… He told me I didn’t execute a play correctly, and I told him he was wrong. He smacked me, and I was so shocked that it probably took me five minutes before I realized what happened.”

Laney pulls in her bottom lip between her teeth. “Jesus.”

“It didn’t happen for a while after that, so I thought it was maybe just a fluke, you know? But then freshman year when we moved here because he got the coaching job, I started to put two and two together.”

“What do you mean?”

“We moved because he got fired from his last coaching job. I guess when you show up to coach kids smelling like alcohol, people get concerned.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah, so now he saves his drinking for after work, and when he’s had a lot, he comes looking for me to pick a fight with. Most of the time, I don’t say anything back. Sometimes he’ll just walk away when he doesn’t get a rise out of me. But tonight, I said something back to him, so I got hit.”

A tear slides down her cheek. “Fletcher…”

I brush her tear away with my thumb, hating that she’s shedding any for me, but also feeling lighter—like letting her in eased a weight I’ve been carrying alone for too long.

“I’m tough, Laney. I can handle him. But I sure as fuck know that I’m never getting married or having kids. I don’t ever want to end up like him.”

“You are not like him, Fletcher.”

“Maybe not now, but look at how him not being able to come to terms with losing a fucking game has affected my family.” I shake my head. “I could never do that to someone. What if I do end up like him one day?”

Her hand curls around the side of my face. “You won’t. That’s not who you are.”

“I hope you’re right.” Sighing, I continue, “I love coming here so I can escape for a while. I didn’t know that I’d end up being taken care of by you, but I’m grateful.”

Her green eyes lock onto mine. “You come here anytime it happens, okay? Or before you think it will get to that point. I don’t care.

I don’t care if my parents find out, but I can’t stand the thought of you getting hit.

You…” She sucks in a shaky breath. “You don’t deserve that, Fletcher. You’re a good person.”

“I don’t know about that—”

“I do,” she says, cutting me off. “You’re smart, funny, kind to everyone, and loyal.”

“Not so sure about loyal...”

“Why do you say that?”

Because if your brother found out, he might murder me.

Because your parents trust me—and they wouldn’t if they knew how I feel.

“Because I break rules,” I say instead, opting for a vague answer.

“Well, some rules are stupid.”

I laugh and can’t deny that being near her is making it just a slightly bit easier to breathe.

“Yeah, they are.”

She grows quiet for a moment. “So, the first time you came here…the hit on your head?”

“I ducked before he could hit me completely, so it was just a graze.”

“And the time after that?”

I point to my forearm, where he had wrapped his hand so tightly around my wrist, I thought he might break it. “Him too.”

“And last week?”

“The bruise on my back? He shoved me into the door and I hit the knob.”

She gently rests her hand on the ice pack that I put back on my ribs. “But this?”

“This was his fist.”

Her eyes become glossy again, her voice a whisper. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Maybe I do,” I whisper back.

“In what world does anyone deserve to be hit?”

When she says it like that, something in me shifts, like she pulled back a curtain and revealed a window I didn’t know was there.

I know that I try to take the blame when he gets physical, but no matter how mad he gets, it doesn’t excuse his behavior.

“Next time I’m going to hit him back.”

She sits up. “What?”

“I’m about to be eighteen, Laney,” I say, which reminds me that in a few months, me being alone with her in her room has bigger implications if her parents or Rhonan finds out.

“So…”

“Well, then I can press charges against him if he hits me. It’s not child abuse then. It’s assault.”

“What if you move out instead?” she suggests as she lies back down.

“And where would I go?”

“Here,” she replies like the answer is so simple.

“Ha. Yeah, I don’t think your parents would want me here if you asked them. That would be suspicious.”

“Then we have Rhonan ask.”

“Rhonan can’t know about this,” I say quickly. “And neither can your parents.”

“Why?”

“You promised you wouldn’t say anything, Laney.”

“I won’t. I just… I want to help.”

I reach out and cup her face. “You are helping. You help me more than you’ll ever know.” A yawn escapes my mouth, so I take this as the perfect time to let this conversation die down.

I know Laney won’t let this go, but she has to. I really hope I didn’t fuck up by telling her the truth. My gut tells me that I didn’t, but when emotions get involved, people can do things they wouldn’t normally.

“Let’s get some sleep.”

“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over, Fletcher.”

Chuckling, I reply, “Oh, I’m aware.” Despite the pain that it causes me, I lean over and press a kiss to her forehead, even though I really want to go for her lips. “Thank you, angel…for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Fletcher.”

“Can I hold you?” I whisper as she stares at me, her eyes bouncing back and forth between mine rapidly.

“Okay.”

She turns, pressing her back against me, and I slide my arm around her waist. She places her hand over mine, and we fall asleep like that, holding each other.

And when I sneak out before the sun comes up, I try not to think too hard about how it might have been the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.