Page 47 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

Fletcher

Spaghetti and Hot Tub Admissions

I fluff the pillows on the couch for the third time as I walk past them again. Fuck, I’m nervous. I don’t know why, but maybe it’s because tonight I’m going to lay everything on the line with Laney, and I only hope that she’s open to a future for us.

When I texted her this morning to let her know where I was staying and when to be here, she insisted that we at least use this time tonight to work on a few wedding things so we don’t have to scrape anything together at the last minute like the bachelor and bachelorette party—even though everyone had a great fucking time last night, Elliot and Tori especially.

I had planned on ordering dinner for us since I’m not that great of a cook and didn’t want to risk food poisoning, but Laney insisted she cook for us instead. And as I stand in my rental cabin, waiting for her to arrive, that gesture makes me feel even more inadequate.

What I have to offer her isn’t much. In fact, besides the size of my bank account, I have a grueling career, a lack of relationship experience, an alcoholic father who puts me in a bad mood any time we speak, and a group of friends that all agreed we would never date each other’s sisters—a detail I’m choosing to ignore as I ask Laney for a chance for us to be together.

A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. I race to answer it, and when I see her on the other side dressed in a simple navy cotton dress with her hair pulled back from her face and a nervous smile on her lips, my chest instantly relaxes.

“Hey, angel.”

“Hi.” She holds out a grocery bag to me. “Can you take this, please? I need to get the wedding stuff out of my car.”

“I can get it,” I say, preparing to drop the groceries on the ground and retrieve the rest of the stuff for her.

“No, it’s fine. There’s some cheese and stuff in that bag that needs to go in the fridge anyway. Start unpacking it and I’ll be right back.” She moves to walk away, but I reach for her hand before she gets too far, spinning her back into my chest. “Fletcher…”

I swallow her words with my mouth, not wanting one more second to pass without feeling her lips against mine. Her mouth opens for me as I coax her tongue with mine, teasing her and drowning in the way this woman makes me fucking feel—like she was always meant to be mine.

“Sorry. I just needed that real quick.”

She rolls her eyes. “You act like you didn’t just see me last night.”

“Yeah, but it’s been almost twenty-four hours.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, a quirk of amusement on her lips as she heads back out to her car. I watch her the entire time, and when she returns and realizes I’m still standing there holding the bag of groceries, she scoffs. “I told you to unload those.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back inside okay,” I reply, shutting the door and locking it behind her.

“It’s not like someone was going to kidnap me in your driveway.”

“You never know.”

“This is Blossom Peak, Fletcher. Our crime rate is like nonexistent.”

I step up to her and pull her into me by her waist. “But if anything were to happen to you, I’d lose my fucking mind.”

Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “Your caveman is showing, Fletcher Adams.”

“Well, you bring him out of me, Laney Hart.”

I release her as she starts taking items from the bag and placing them on the counter. “You know, I’ve survived twelve years without you just fine.”

“Only because you thought you hated me.”

“Who says I still don’t?” she fires back, a playful quirk in her lips.

“Well, the way you were screaming under my hand last night in the storage closet sure didn’t sound like you hated me. In fact, it sounded like you were having the best orgasm of your life.”

She rolls her eyes again. “Eh, I’ve had better.”

“Then you were lying to me yesterday?”

She squeals as I lift her up and place her on the counter.

“Hey!”

Holding her chin between my fingers, I lower my voice. “Just admit that no other man who has had the honor of being with you has fucked you the way I do, Laney.”

“You already know that.” She runs her hands up my arms to my neck, wrapping her arms around me.

“Damn right. And you know why?”

She sighs dramatically. “Why, Fletcher?”

“Because none of them were me. None of them had our history.” I nip at her bottom lip. “None of them has wanted you since they were seventeen…”

And refuses to let you go again.

Softly, I press our lips together, fighting to keep myself from spilling my guts to her this early in the evening. But when I pull back, that’s when I actually take a moment to assess the items she’s brought with her.

“Are you…making spaghetti?”

“Yeah. My mom’s recipe,” she answers so easily, as if she didn’t just make me fall in love with her even more.

“You have no idea how much I want to cry right now.”

Her giggle makes my heart beat even faster. “It’s just spaghetti, Fletcher.”

“That spaghetti was one of the only things I looked forward to for years, Laney. Being invited to have dinner with your family gave me an escape from the hell of living with my dad. It gave me stability, calm, and hope—that is until I ended up in your room that first night, and then it was your smile, your eyes, and your heart that kept me going.”

“Fletcher…” Her eyes are shining from unshed tears, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pulls my mouth to her this time. When we part, she hops down from the counter, but I press one more kiss to her lips before I let her go completely. “Do you want to help me?”

“I don’t want to fuck it up,” I say, referring to more than just spaghetti.

“You won’t,” she assures me. “Besides, you should learn the recipe. My mom would want you to have it.”

I can only hope that Mrs. Hart would have approved of me for her daughter.

***

“I watched the draft,” Laney admits from her spot next to me in the hot tub. We ate dinner, cleaned up the mess, finalized the place cards and seating chart for the wedding, and now we’re enjoying drinks—wine for her, water for me—in the hot tub on the back patio.

“You did?”

“I did. And your first game. I cried when you made your first catch.”

“Jesus, Laney. There’s no crying in football.”

She laughs, pushing back my hair with her hand. “I was so proud of you, even though I hated you.”

“I think we’ve established that you hated me, babe.”

“I hate that I hated you for so long.”

“Let it go, Laney. Please,” I say, pulling her lips to mine. “I have—because being like this with you is so much better.”

“I actually have your jersey too,” she adds.

I lean back, narrowing my eyes at her. “You do not…”

“No one knows, not even Dilynne. It needs to stay that way too, got it?” she threatens, twisting my nipple in between her fingers.

I yelp. “Jesus! Why can’t anyone know?”

“Can you imagine if Glenn found out? Dear God, I’d never live it down.”

“Oh, Glenn. He seems harmless.”

“He really is, but he’s also the one who’s contributed to the Lucifer jar more than any other person in the salon.”

“Speaking of which, can I stop being Lucifer now?”

She purses her lips playfully. “I don’t know…”

“When did that start, by the way?”

Sighing, she moves her hands through the water in front of her, avoiding my gaze.

“After your first season with the Thunder. People around town were talking about you like crazy. Everywhere I went, I heard your name. You weren’t even here, and I couldn’t escape you.

So, I made it a rule that no one was allowed to say your name in my salon, that way I had one place where I could block you from my mind. ”

“Did it work?”

“No,” she admits. “You were always there.”

“You’ve always been on mine too, angel. Especially when I came back to town and you wouldn’t come around.”

She brushes my hair back again. “I was trying to move on, Fletcher.”

Testing the waters metaphorically, I say, “Did you ever wonder why my picture was in the month of April for the calendar?”

“Because that’s when my birthday is,” she replies.

“Bingo. I tried to move on too, Laney. There were times I had to force myself to block you out just so I could focus on my job. But I’ve kept tabs on you—following the salon on social media and through your brother, seeing pictures of you at car shows with Dilynne, staring at pictures of you and Ellis that your brother has posted over the years. ”

“I haven’t googled you in two years,” she admits. “I was pretty proud of that one, considering that I used to do it every night.”

“Damn. Why are you so obsessed with me?” I tease her, tickling her ribs.

“Um, I think you’re talking about yourself, mister break-into-my-phone-to-access-my glucose-monitor.”

I pull her mouth to mine. “And I’d do it again. I like knowing that you’re okay.”

“I’m not used to people worrying about me,” she admits on a whisper against my lips.

“Well, you’d better start getting used to it, because that’s something I want to be my responsibility now.”

She leans back, assessing me, her brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”

“Fuck, I was gonna wait until later to say this, but…” Lifting her hair from her neck, I bury my head there, pressing my lips to her skin until I make my way up to her ear. And then I pull her onto my lap and whisper, “I want this, Laney.”

“Want what?”

I lean back and look right into her eyes. “You. Me. Us. I—I want to make this work.”

Her whole face transforms—pure shock written all over it. “Oh my God, Fletcher—”

Pressing a finger to her lips, I silence her.

“Don’t say anything right now, but just know that I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

Last night, it all became so clear to me—because not being able to hold you and let everyone know that you’re mine was killing me.

This possessiveness that you bring out in me had nowhere to go.

I know we have so much to talk about and things to figure out.

I’m sure you have questions, and I sure as fuck know that I don’t have many answers right now.

But what I do know is that I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen.

And now that we’ve finally uncovered the truth of what happened between us in the past, I want to try to make this work. ”

Her eyes are full of tears. “I—I can’t…”

“Like I said, you don’t have to say anything right now.” Pulling her hand from under the water and placing it over the center of my chest, I hold it there. “Just know that this is how I feel and what I want. The final decision is up to you.”

The lump in my throat feels like the size of a softball, but at least now she knows how I feel, what I want, and that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.

“Kiss me, Fletcher,” she says, pulling me back to the moment.

So I do what I’m told, taking her request as a sign that at least she’s not saying no.