Page 39 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

I know Fletcher isn’t a complete stranger to my niece, but I haven’t witnessed their relationship firsthand because I always avoided my brother’s house when Fletcher visited.

However, as I stand here, listening to them talk to one another, watching the way Ellis smiles at him or how hard she laughs when he makes a joke—it’s showing me this entirely different side to the man that has been frozen in my memories for twelve years.

Fletcher Adams isn’t the same boy I cared about all those years ago—he’s grown up, and so have I. I’ve spent so long assuming I knew who he is that I’ve neglected to understand who he is now. And that version of him is even more dangerous to my heart.

“Auntie?” Ellis’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Yes, sweetie?”

She pats the space on the couch next to her. “Come watch the movie with us.”

Nodding, I walk over and join them. Ellis offers me popcorn, but I decline.

I’m staring blankly at the TV, trying to recall what part of the movie we’re at, when I feel a hand at my neck.

Slowly, I turn to the side to find Fletcher staring at the television, his eyes not pointed in my direction—but his arm is outstretched on the back of the couch, just long enough to reach my neck and tease the sensitive skin there.

His fingers trail along my collarbone, up the column of my neck to right under my ear before they make their way back down. He repeats the motion over and over again, making my skin pebble, heating me up from the inside out.

“I’m done,” Ellis says, handing me the popcorn bowl before leaning in closer to Fletcher. I glance at the clock and notice it’s almost her bedtime.

“You need to brush your teeth, Ellis,” I say as she snuggles in closer to Fletcher.

“I don’t want to miss the movie,” she whines as if she hasn’t seen it a million times.

“One night of not brushing her teeth won’t kill her,” Fletcher mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Rolling my eyes, I settle into my spot and let the argument die.

Fletcher’s voice cuts through the silence. “Thanks for letting me crash your sleepover.”

“You’re welcome. Although I’m sure you’re used to much wilder Friday nights.”

He turns to face me. “How so?”

Shrugging, I say, “You know… Clubs, half-naked women dying for the chance to spend the night with you…”

“Actually, that sounds like hell.” His eyes fall to Ellis as her eyes start to grow heavy. “This is much more my style.”

“That’s not what your father said,” I mutter, catching myself right as the words leave my lips.

“What about my dad?”

God, why did I say that?

“I, uh, ran into your dad yesterday,” I say. “He was at Blossom Brews when I ordered food for the party.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this last night at the salon?”

“You were already upset, and I didn’t want to make it worse.” Dropping my eyes to my lap, I continue, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“But you did.” He clears his throat. “So, what did he say to you?”

I look back up at him. “He was asking me if I’d seen you since you got back in town and mentioned the wedding and how he felt that Elliot was rushing into it.

When I told him that some people don’t want to wait when they find the right person, he said that he hopes you won’t make the same mistake, that you’d be a fool to ever get married…

to let a woman get in the way of the game. ”

Fletcher’s brows draw together as his eyes move back and forth between mine. “Why are you bringing this up, Laney?”

“Like I said, it was my mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything, but when you implied you enjoy Friday nights like this—” I gesture to Ellis and myself, “I just thought…”

He tilts his head to the side. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

I shrug and look back at the television. “Never mind.” Fletcher continues to stare at me, but I don’t look in his direction.

God, Laney. Why did you even say anything?

A few moments later, the movie ends, and I look down to find Ellis fast asleep. “I’m gonna take her to her room,” I say, but Fletcher beats me to it.

“I’ve got her.” He lifts her into his lap and then stands from the couch, carrying her in his arms down the hallway to the spare room I direct him to.

I have a bed and toys just for her when she spends time here with me.

He lays her down gently in the middle of the bed. “Does she sleep in here all night?”

“Inevitably, she’ll end up in my bed with me, but I always start her in here.”

We stand there, staring at her small size in comparison to the bed before I glance over at Fletcher and he does the same to me. Our eyes meet and that familiar electricity starts to flow between us.

“Where is your room?” he whispers.

“Across the hall.”

“Can I see it?”

My mind tells me it’s a bad idea, but my heart and libido have me leading Fletcher across the hall into my bedroom. When I spin around to face him, his eyes are on me. But then they dart behind me to where my dresser is before he walks in that direction.

He pulls one of the postcards from the mirror and studies it. “You still have these?” he asks, looking at the postcard from my grandfather that I’ve had on my mirror since high school.

“Did you think I’d get rid of them?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s just bringing back memories…” He trails off, not finishing his thought.

I watch him, waiting for him to continue speaking, but he remains silent. “Fletcher?”

He blinks and his trance is broken. Placing the postcard back in its place, he backs up from my dresser and then turns to face me. Reaching for my hand, he leads me out of my room, back to the living room and around the corner into the kitchen.

“My father chose football over everything in his life, Laney,” he says, confusing me at first until I realize he’s giving me insight to what his dad said earlier. “He chose the game over my mom and me. It’s all he ever cared about.”

“I know.”

“But I’m. Not. Him.” He punctuates every word.

“I know that, too.”

“I sure as fuck hope so.”

I reach up and run my hand down the side of his face, trailing my finger along his jaw, making this fire between us burn even hotter. “I do, Fletcher. I know you could never be your father.”

“Why didn’t you still come to Florida State, Laney?” His question is full of pain, curiosity, and longing.

“Fletcher…”

“No.” He reaches for my hand on his face, putting his over mine. “I need to know.”

“Why?”

Inhaling deeply, he says, “Because for the past twelve years, I’ve relived that night over and over again. For the past twelve years, every time you’ve scowled at me, it’s felt like a knife being shoved right through the center of my chest.”

“I don’t scowl…”

“We’ve been over this, Laney. Your scowl is fucking terrifying.” I roll my eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on my lips. “But the thing is, I’m pretty sure I know what happened that night, but I feel like I’m missing something too.”

“Fletcher…”

“Please, Laney.”

This is it. This is the opportunity for me to let Fletcher know how he made me feel all those years ago.

But what happens after?

Does it change what’s happening between us?

Laney, the lines between you two are so blurry, not even a magnifying glass could clear it up.

Sighing, I say, “Okay.”

A breath of relief leaves his lips. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be thanking me just yet, Fletcher Adams. You’re about to find out why I’ve been calling you Lucifer all this time.”