by Stacey Grice
“Why? How hard is it to look at someone’s face when they’re talking to you? You’re asking some pretty personal things of me here, and you have yet to look at me.”
A few seconds, ones that seemed more like minutes, passed with an awkward silence filling the space.
“It’s hard for me,” he admitted quietly. “I have a condition called Asperger’s. Personal connections with people have always been a challenge for me.”
I was caught off guard but not surprised. “Asperger’s? Like autism?”
“A form of it, yes. Are you familiar?” He glanced over again, his expression almost hopeful and excited.
“A little. That would explain the spouting of statistical facts without batting an eye.”
Johns chuckled a little. “Yeah, I’ve always been good at memorizing numbers and facts. Especially sports statistics.” He started chewing his fingers again but his lips now smiled around the teeth going to town on his cuticles.
“Well, I guess you have to make the best of what you’re given, right? I’d say that you’ve played your hand quite well.” I laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood.
“Thanks, I guess. I don’t seem to make a lot of friends doing what I do.”
I reached over and turned the tape recorder off, eliciting a confused look from Johns. I didn’t want my next statement to be on tape.
“That’s because everyone thinks you’re an asshole,” I said honestly. “They probably don’t know how to take you and are intimidated by your approach.” I didn’t know this guy from Adam, but he seemed like a good enough person, just really misunderstood.
“That makes sense.” With great effort, he was looking at me now. He looked like a regular, nice guy. I turned the corners of my mouth up into a grin and he returned the expression.
I switched the tape recorder back on and the remainder of the interview was no sweat. We just sat there and had a normal conversation with each other. My heart rate slowed down. He relaxed, slightly, and it was much more informal. He asked me more about the details surrounding my parents’ deaths, but it was as if I was having a discussion with a friend, not a cutthroat reporter.
When I left, Vince Johns took my hand when I offered it for a shake and thanked me for doing the interview. I thanked him for not being an asshole and invited him to come down to Florida anytime he wanted to see the gym. He seemed surprised and said that he would love to.
I hope he does.
Chapter Forty-Two
BREE
“I seriously might be melting. This is miserable,” Sue whined. “I’m getting in the water.”
“I’ll go with you, hold on,” I said, hurrying to secure my e-reader in my beach bag. I didn’t want to stop reading in the middle of the chapter I was engrossed in. The book that I was reading was almost unputdownable. An extremely drunk and bitter Bo, the main male character, was on stage performing Pearl Jam’s “Better Man” to Ember, the main female character, who was at the bar with her ex-boyfriend, Adrian. Shit was about to go down, but I was sweating and needed to cool off in the ocean.
I followed after Sue and caught up to her bitching to herself about the dreadful August heat and all of the tourists crowding up her beach. On the short walk from our lounge chairs to the edge of the water, I spotted two shark teeth and picked them both up.
“You really are freakishly good at finding shark teeth.”
“Yeah, I guess it is kind of weird. I don’t even try. It’s like they jump out at me.” As we advanced into the water, quickly up to our knees in the waves, I walked forward, welcoming the cool water on my thighs. “God, this feels good.” It had to be pushing one hundred degrees outside and the humidity (as usual) was through the roof.
“I was trying not to get my hair wet, but fuck it.” Sue dove into the next wave, swimming underneath it and resurfacing a few feet away. “I can’t handle how hot it is today.”
“Why didn’t you want to get your hair wet?” I thought to myself that it was kind of stupid to come to the beach in August and not intend on getting wet.
“I don’t know. I was just having a good hair day. That’s the one and only plus of this ridiculous humidity. My curly hair thrives.”
I eyed her suspiciously, noting that she was looking away from me and her demeanor was peculiar.
“You’re always having a good hair day. What’s the real reason?” Something was up with her. I knew her better than she even did sometimes.
“Okay, nosey. If you must know, I have a date tonight,” she replied bashfully. Sue was never bashful or nervous. Never.
“Oh, do you now? With whom?”
“You don’t know him,” she quickly dismissed.
“So who is he? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”
“He’s just some guy I met at school. He helped me find something in the library the other day and we’ve talked a few times since then.” She was standing in the water, fidgeting with her wet hair and adjusting her bathing suit over and over again.
“Why are you being so weird about him?” I had never seen her act this way before.
“I’m not. He’s just…well, he’s different.”
“Different how?” What the hell?
“He’s just different from what I would normally be attracted to. He’s kind of nerdy. And shy. But there’s something about him that intrigues me.”
“Interesting. What’s his name?”
“His name is Keith. He’s a philosophy major. Very smart, like way smarter than me, but he doesn’t make me feel stupid. He’s just sweet. So, we’re going out tonight. And I don’t have a whole lot of time to get ready because he’s taking me to a concert in Jacksonville Beach. Some local band called Speaking Cursive, which is the coolest band name I’ve heard in a long time. I just hope we have things to talk about. I hope he’s not too nerdy for me. If so, I’ll have to nip it in the butt and end the date.”
“It’s bud,” I told her resulting in a confused look from her. “Nip it in the bud, not butt. Your mother owns a flower shop, for crying out loud.”
“Whatever. You knew what I meant.”
“I know,” I chuckled. “Well, that’s exciting. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.” Hearing about her impending date made me think of Drew.
It had been about six weeks since we came home from Atlanta with Liam, healthy and without any restrictions, other than the doctor’s heavy encouragement that he no longer fight, which wasn’t up for discussion anymore as far as Liam was concerned. We made it back just before the fourth of July, which pleased me because fireworks were one of my absolute favorite things in life. It was a perfect holiday with my family and friends, barbecuing all day and watching the beautiful blasts of color in the sky from Drew’s oceanfront deck with his arms around me. The sensation of his kisses on my neck as he stood behind me and hearing him whisper “I love you” into my ear were some of the best feelings I’d ever experienced.
The weeks that followed were hectic and busy but what happened in Atlanta ended up bringing us closer together and I was head over heels in love with him. There was no other way to describe it. I had never felt so happy and content with every single thing in my life before. I adored him and was addicted to how he made me feel, hooked on all things Drew Dougherty. I was devoted to making him happy and indulgent in receiving his love and affection. I couldn’t get enough. It would never be enough.
He had another fight coming up already and the intensity involved in his training leading up to his second fight in the UFC was extreme but necessary. Once the interview that he had with Vince Johns was published, the calls rolled in non-stop. The unthinkable happened yet again and Vince Johns, the ruthless and vicious sports journalist who was rumored to have made the toughest athletes cry like babies, wrote the warmest, most flattering piece on Drew. The sports world was surprised beyond belief. I was shocked as well and wondered what the hell exactly had gone down in that interview, but Drew would never talk about it. He simply said that Vince Johns was misunderstood and that
he’d found a way to relate to him and almost bond.
The article did expose the facts of his past, but told the story in a way that made you empathize with someone who survived, somebody who grew out of the ashes of abuse and tragedy to turn out okay. To excel, in fact. The story pulled on the heartstrings of both men and women and humanized Drew in such a way that his fan base grew, turning him into somewhat of a phenomenon overnight. My man was famous. It was weird and sometimes difficult to soak in, but part of me liked it.
Pleased with the way Chris Gibson and his team handled things in Atlanta, Drew hired him as his full time agent. His representation and all of the connections that came with it garnered another fight and at least four companies vying to sponsor Drew. Chris declared that endorsement offers would soon follow and sure enough, the calls were already rolling in. Drew was excited and eager to get something put into place, but Chris encouraged him to wait, insisting that his hesitation was deliberated and calculated. He had been in this business long enough to know how to play the game.
Thinking of his quick rise to success made me smile and miss him, despite him being right down the road at the gym.
“What are you smiling about?” Sue barked, startling me out of my reverie.
“Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking about something.” I was embarrassed to be caught in my mushy thoughts.
“Thinking of Drew, huh?” There was a bite to her question, suggesting that she was perhaps a little resentful.
“Sorry. I can’t help it.” I didn’t want to apologize anymore. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
“It’s okay. It’s nice to see you so happy.” She smiled at me with sincerity. “I want you to be happy. You deserve it. I just miss you.”
“Aww, bestie! Thanks. I miss you too. But I’m not going anywhere.” We embraced one another in a one-armed side hug around each other’s shoulders and walked out of the water and back up to our chairs.
Chapter Forty-Three
DREW
“Patience!” Pat yelled from outside the octagon. “You’ve got to be patient!”
That was easier said than done. When you felt like the tendons in your shoulder were being pulled from your bones, separating from the muscles fiber by fiber because your opponent had you in an arm bar, it was immensely difficult to be patient. But I reminded myself that this was practice. I had to relax, focus on my breathing, feel my opponent’s energy and movements, and anticipate the next move. Recalling my experience in combination with forecasting my challenger’s next assault, I wiggled slightly for leverage and swiftly got myself released from the hold.
“Perfection!” Pat praised. “All right, boys. I want everyone to do a few minutes on the treadmill to cool down and make sure you stretch well. Tomorrow is our rest day, and we all need it.”
I couldn’t have been happier that I actually had a day off. Ever since Atlanta, I felt like my life was going ninety miles an hour. It kind of was. I wanted nothing more than to relax at home with Bree in my arms, preferably naked.
I breezed through my cool down, stretched a little too quickly, and raced home. I would rather shower there anyway. Stopping at the flower shop that Sue’s family owned on the way home, I earned a few looks from other patrons, probably from me smelling like a sweaty locker room, but I didn’t care. I got a few bouquets and a box of rose petals quickly and was in and out.
After showering, I tried to give it my very best effort in romanticizing the house. Rose petals were scattered, leading a path from the front door into the bedroom. The blinds were drawn and candles were lit, creating a soft glow throughout the rooms, and I turned on some soft piano music in the background. Her favorite wine had been chilling all day and knowing that she would be arriving any minute, I poured her a healthy serving and set it next to a plate of chocolate covered strawberries on my kitchen counter. The whole scene screamed Valentine’s Day cliché, but I knew she would swoon. I wanted her to feel special.
A faint knock on the door made me almost instantly nervous. She didn’t wait for me to answer to walk in. I don’t even know why she ever knocked. She had been given a key weeks ago, but always (out of courtesy, she maintained) knocked to announce her entrance. It was stupid but kind of cute. Standing around the corner in the hallway, I heard her gasp when she became aware of her surroundings. I walked toward her slowly and waited for her eyes to meet mine. I cherished the look on her face when she lit up. The moment I received that look was worth all of the effort and then some. She sauntered over to me and immediately jumped into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and kissing me with reason and purpose. The degree of my desire for her in that second was unlike any time before. I wondered if she felt as lost in me as I felt in her. Could she feel how swollen my heart was with love for her? Could she hear how loudly my pulse was thrumming through my body, racing from her touch? Did she need this sense of flying and free falling as much as I did?
Her assault of my lips, those hungry kisses, suggested that she was feeling all of those things and more. We were always on the same page. Always in perfect sync with each other. But I had wanted this time to be different. I wanted to show her how deeply I loved her.
I gently set her down in front of me and brought both of my hands down, linking my fingers with hers. “So you missed me too?” I asked playfully. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
Smiling in affirmation, she answered, “I would love one.” She turned to see more of the display I had arranged and walked over to the kitchen counter to retrieve her wine. “This is an impressive little set up.” She took a sip of her glass after swirling it around, closing her eyes when the liquid hit her tongue. “One would think you were trying to get into my pants with all of this.” She gestured her hand like a Price Is Right girl showing a showcase prize.
Looking down at her beautiful body draped in a short sundress, I joked in return, “You’re not wearing any pants.”
“Touché,” she quipped as she sauntered over to the kitchen bar.
I met her at the counter and accepted the strawberry that she offered up to my mouth. She had also eaten one and was starting to say something, but I interrupted her mid-sentence to kiss the dab of chocolate that still lingered on the corner of her lip. I teased her with my tongue, enticing her to open her mouth for me. We kissed slowly, savoring each other. Our kitchen kiss turned into a living room kiss, which migrated into a traveling down the hallway kiss, getting hungrier and more urgent with each step closer to the bedroom.
“I love you,” I whispered, stepping back a couple feet. I looked into her piercing blue eyes and didn’t break contact while I carefully reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it slowly up and over every curve of her body. When she stood before me wearing a strapless bra and lace panties, a smug and challenging expression on her face, I nearly lost it. But I wanted to take this slower. I refused to rush this night.
She reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and releasing her raspberry pink nipples, already taunt from her arousal. Although my palms itched with the need to touch her, I didn’t. I only watched, waiting patiently. Still holding each other’s gaze, she covered her breasts in a way that wasn’t to hide them, but to touch herself, as if she couldn’t wait another second for contact. Her hands slid down to her panties and she removed them slowly, wiggling her hips back and forth in a side to side motion as she worked the fabric down low enough to step out of them.
“I love you, too.” She brought her hands to my chest, spreading her fingers out over my pecs. She gracefully pulled my shirt up and over my head, my skin tingling in every spot her fingers came into contact with. She stood on her tiptoes to reach my collarbones, sprinkling her soft kisses onto my neck, chest, and ribs, lower and lower until she kissed each ripple of my abs, working her way down. When she dropped to her knees and began unzipping my shorts, I drew in a deep breath and couldn’t resist looking down. Meeting my eyes through her long lashes as she licked the underside of my crown, she smiled, knowing exactly how c
razy she was driving me. She pleasured me with her talented mouth until I couldn’t take another second of not being inside of her. I felt a stupid sense of pride in knowing that mouth hadn’t been around anyone but me.
I composed myself enough to make love to her slowly and languidly, honoring every inch of her body with my hands, tongue, and lips. My cock, too, I guess. The connection we felt ran so deep and so strong that it was almost too much. Better than any drug, better than any win, better than any other feeling you could ever imagine. We came together, looking each other in the eyes, and I knew in that moment that she was it for me. Nothing else in this world would ever matter as much as she mattered to me.
Catching our breath, still entwined with each other, she spoke first.
“Drew?”
“Yes?”
“I’m so happy.”
“Me too, baby. Me too. You make me the happiest that I’ve ever been in my life.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You do. I don’t ever want this feeling to end. I never want to get off this train. I don’t ever want to spend another night without you next to me. You are my beginning and my end. Every decision I make in my life from here on out, I want to make with us in mind, with you. You make me want to be a better man. All this time I felt broken and confused, but this, to touch you, to feel something real, it has healed me. I want to be your rock. I want to be your first and your last.”
As she listened to me profess my love for her, a tear slipped from her eyes and slid down her cheek. I reached up and caught it with my finger, kissing her cheek in that very spot. I kept my face close to hers and really looked into her soul.
“The moment that I kissed you, Brianne Murphy, I fell. And I don’t ever want to stop falling.”
Chapter Forty-Four
BREE
It had been a couple of hours since we had finished making love and while I felt relaxed, I just couldn’t seem to calm my mind. My racing thoughts had always plagued me and kept me from falling asleep quickly and smoothly, but this was different. I wasn’t anxious or stressed about my day. I wasn’t thinking of all of the things I had to get done or what I needed to make sure not to forget on my long list of errands. I was just so happy. Almost giddy even. I knew love would feel good and warm and fuzzy, but never could I ever have imagined a man more perfect a fit for me than him.