Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)

by Andrea Randall

  Monica laughs. “We’re going to Josh’s parents for the week, gotta practice.”

  We all laugh at the double life they’ll have to lead before the wedding. They’ve agreed to keep separate apartments until the big day, but the rest of their private life is top secret around Josh’s conservative parents. They nearly keeled over when he decided to move to the Cape and manage a bar. His business sense is sharp, though, and he single-handedly saved Finnegan’s from going under.

  “So,” Josh interjects, running his hand through his sandy-brown hair, “does this mean you and Bo will stop being so shitty to each other?” The question takes me by surprise, and I furrow my brow at him.

  “Oh come on, Ember ...” Monica rolls her eyes.

  “I’m not with Adrian to hurt Bo, guys.”

  “Well, it hurts him. And after Regan told you Bo and Ainsley don’t really seem to be together ...” Monica leads.

  “What? Is he using her to hurt me?”

  Josh senses an argument and raises his hands. “Ladies...we all know Bo wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt Ember. I’ve seen him talk about her; it’s just not possible. But, guys don’t think straight—”

  “Ever,” I cut in.

  “No, smart ass, guys don’t think straight when they’re heartbroken. You women chop off and dye your hair, curling up on your best friend’s lap to cry for days.” Monica and I stare at each other, on the brink of hysteria regarding his accuracy. “Guys,” he continues, “we just want the hurt to go away. I’ll reference my drunken showdown with you, Ember, as an example of not thinking straight.”

  I mull over Josh’s words and think about Regan not having seen Ainsley and Bo together. I begin to wonder if Bo thinks I’m with Adrian to hurt him.

  “Take the blackmail out of the equation completely.” Monica leans forward and touches my knee. “Would you have ever second-guessed your relationship with Bo for another go ‘round with Adrian Turner? I mean, Turner’s fine as hell—”

  “Nice, Monica,” Josh chuckles.

  “Seriously, is he anything more than walking sex?” Her eyebrows shoot up.

  “Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Mon.” I stand and bring my coffee mug to the kitchen.

  “I already did,” she shouts, reminding me she thinks I’ve royally screwed myself.

  I pause at the sink, sick with the realization that a sane person doesn’t take care of a drunken ex-boyfriend while their current boyfriend wanders up and down the beach.

  “I’ve gotta get to Boston.” I sigh and walk to the door.

  “By the way, Asshole,” Monica walks over to me and smacks my arm, “I googled your parents after the night of the Coldplay concert. You and I are going to have a serious discussion.”

  “Way to hold out on us, Ember.” Josh fakes annoyance as I leave.

  * * *

  After the longest drive to Boston in my life, I’m standing at the private entrance of The W, filled with dread. Adrian’s going to want answers and I don’t know if I have them. Why did I carry Bo out of a bar when he was doing a perfectly fine job of drowning his sorrows? Why did I insist my ex-boyfriend stay at my house when Regan offered his? Why, for the love of God, why did I walk away from Adrian last night when he headed down the beach? I have the answers...there’s only one answer.

  My body has been rejecting my actions with Adrian for weeks. I’ve lost weight, I can’t sleep, and I walk around with a solid knot in my gut most days. I’ve lied to my friends, my family, and myself. And for what? Because I was pissed off a few weeks ago? My spirit has become a complete disaster, a junkie tapping its veins for the release Adrian Turner provides.

  “Ms. Harris.” The doorman nods and I force a tight smile, mouth closed so I don’t throw up all over his nice suit.

  “Thank you,” I whisper through my clenched teeth.

  With trembling knees, I knock on Adrian’s door. It swings open freely. Adrian doesn’t look at me as he motions me in.

  “Hi.” I jump with the slam of the door behind me.

  “You came.” With a dead tone, he leans against the door, crossing his arms and ankles.

  “You’re kidding,” I punch up the sarcasm. “You don’t answer my calls all night, then tell me your brother drove all the way from Boston to pick you up. Then,” I stand toe-to-toe with him at the door, “you barge into my apartment and demand that I choose between the two of you? What does that even mean?” I can’t let Adrian know how I’m feeling until I get some answers about last night. His face doesn’t change.

  “I saw you watching him play. You were in your own world. Damn, Ember, you jumped three feet in a crowded bar when I came up behind you.” He slides past me and paces thoughtfully toward the expansive window.

  “It’s music, Adrian, I’m always lost in it.” I shoulder next to him with a whisper as we watch the busy city below.

  “You should have seen your face when he started playing that song. It was like someone punched you right in the gut.”

  “It hurt my feelings.”

  Adrian takes my hand. “He shouldn’t affect your feelings at all, Ember.” Hurt saturates his eyes and seeps down his face.

  As I lock into Adrian’s eyes, I know Bo will always affect me. I’m miserable and it’s not Adrian’s fault.

  “No,” Adrian startles me from my thoughts, cupping my face in his hands, “You’re mine, Ember, and I’m yours.” His vocal cords strum panic as he scans my eyes.

  “Adrian ...” My voice has never been so shaky. He tightens his grip on my face as I try to pull away.

  “You’re not bailing on us, Blue. We just got started.” His voice is approaching a yell.

  Grabbing Adrian’s wrists, I pull his hands away from my face. “It’s not about bailing, Adrian.”

  He walks over to the bar, pouring himself a shot, while I sit on the couch. I don’t mention that it’s barely past noon on a Sunday.

  “So what’s it about, then? I sat by and watched you date another guy who was lying to you. You bailed on him and came to me when shit hit the fan. What is it now, if this isn’t bailing? What’s it about?” The shot glass glides between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Me,” I state flatly.

  “Goddammit, Ember, it’s always fucking about you!” Adrian hurls the shot glass through the air, and it shatters against the window. Reflexively, I stand and walk into the kitchen. My heart races as he strides toward me and starts yelling. “In college you wouldn’t even let me speak when you broke up with me. It was about your fears, and it crushed me, November. It fucking crushed me!”

  His nostrils flair with each ragged breath he takes. Anger clashes with the hurt in his eyes, and I start doing the most unattractive thing possible—yelling and crying at the same time. The feral yell that comes from my throat startles both of us as tears pour down my face. I’m exhausted, angry, and confused.

  “So what the hell is your problem then, huh?” I sniff back the tears that are pouring through my nose. “Why the hell would you want to be with me again if I hurt you so bad?”

  In a flash, Adrian’s lips are on mine, his tongue thrashes desperately through my mouth. I try to pull my head back but his fingers thread tightly through my hair. I want to give in to it; to submit to the physical intoxication that is Adrian, but I can’t. I have to respect myself, and this certainly isn’t the way to do it. Adrian pulls away from me and, with swollen lips, starts to speak.

  “Because I’m addicted to you, Blue. Five years of withdrawal was torture without you in my life. I need you.” He unwinds his hands from my hair and glides them down my shoulders before stepping back and leaning against the counter with clenched fists.

  We’re addicts. Co-dependent on lust. We’re sick with it, and sick without it. At least without it we have the option to heal. My tears have stopped, and my breathing has returned to normal. I stare at the broken glass across the apartment before returning to Adrian’s glare.

  “That’s not healthy, Adrian. It’s not healthy that y
ou’re addicted to me, and it’s not healthy that I feel the same about you. Too much will never be enough for us. You tell me you love me when you’re scared, and I ignore who I am to escape with you.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever been to you? A fucking escape?” Adrian slams his fist down on the island, and I wonder if granite can crack.

  “I never meant to hurt you in college, Adrian. God, we were barely twenty-one! A lot has happened between then and now, but the fact remains that we’re too much for each other.”

  His ragged breathing returns as he takes one step forward. I take one back.

  “Have you been with him?” His tone drops an octave to the one called “calculating.”

  “No. I’ve told you that. Twice now.”

  “What do you mean ignore who you are?” His jaw ripples beneath the surface of his frown.

  “This isn’t me, Adrian. This penthouse, the doorman, the valet. It’s just not me. I’m beer, beaches, and guitars. That’s who I’ve always been.”

  Adrian slowly lifts his chin and studies me from head to toe. He turns around mechanically and walks down the hallway, as I stand frozen in silence. He returns with his Princeton hoodie, the one I always wear, the one I always wore back then. He tosses it in my direction but I let it fall at my feet while I wait for him to speak.

  “Adrian ...” I start, but he cuts me off without looking at me. He’s staring at Princeton on the floor. Faded orange sleeves and tattered blue lettering.

  “I never had you, did I? I never stood a chance.” He turns his back before continuing. “Get out of my apartment. I don’t ever want to see you again.” The finality in his voice sends chills through my body. “Go!”

  Startled, I jump with my hand on the doorknob. Adrian laces his fingers together behind his neck, takes a deep breath, and looks up a the ceiling. I look between the sweatshirt and his back. With a quiet deep breath I leave the sweatshirt—and everything it represents—alone in the apartment with Adrian. I hold it together down the private elevator, through the private corridor, and past the well-dressed doorman. I manage a polite “thank you” to the valet when he hands me my keys, before pulling into the parking garage and sobbing until I have nothing left.

  I’m hopelessly, helplessly in love with Bo Cavanaugh. My fears, my indecisions, and my insecurities have swirled a bitter cocktail of regret in my soul. When the tears are gone and the raw pain of my decisions sears through my nerves, I drive back to Barnstable.

  I have to get my shit together.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Work has provided the perfect focal point over the last week. I’ve had a few business calls with Rae, but everything with the community center is going smoothly. There’s not much that needs to be done on my end right now. I miss it. I miss DROP’s halls and Rae’s smiling face everyday. I miss him.The constant anxiety I felt for half of every week for the last several weeks hasn’t been replaced. It’s just...gone. I miss him.

  Monica was shocked to find me back at my apartment last Sunday after Adrian and I broke up. I couldn’t run to Bo without making sure I was a whole person first. I’ve been questioning what it was, exactly, that made me bail in Concord. It was fear, many different kinds of fear. I was scared of Bill and Tristan, and confused at Bo’s involvement. I was scared, wondering if there were other secrets. Mostly, I was scared of our pace. We fell in love in an instant; a split second blink and my entire world shifted. I was scared that it wasn’t real...or that it was. That still scares me.

  With Josh and Monica on vacation at his parents’ house, I’ve been able to go home from work, write, play my guitar, and sleep. There have been tears. Lots of tears. But, I let them come this time. I’m looking forward to playing at Finnegan’s tonight. With Josh out of town, Regan’s taking over guitar and vocals. Rae smiles at Regan from the crowd as we warm up.

  “She’s great, isn’t she?” I whisper to Regan between vocal checks.

  “She’s amazing.” His grin is infectious. “How are you holding up, Kid?”

  “You know, Regan, I actually feel great. Seems my body knew that what I was doing with Adrian was wrong before my mind did. I can’t believe how much better I feel.” I settle onto the stool as C.J. taps our starting tempo between his sticks.

  After a long, sweet look, Regan strums C.J.’s tempo and we get lost in our set. Regan and C.J. have played together for years, even as kids, so it’s up to me to keep up with their silent understanding of our playlist. We have a page or two worth of “accepted” songs, but “The Cave” by Mumford and Sons isn’t one of them. I roll my eyes and flip C.J. off behind my back as he and Regan start it as our closing number. Regan switches to the guitar for the number and sings with me. Thankfully, it’s one of my favorites and I’m able to give it my best shot. Assholes.

  “You pulled it off, Rapunzel. You pulled it off,” C.J. teases through the applause.

  “You’re both dickheads.” I give them a smug smile.

  Regan wraps his arm around my shoulders and leans down, speaking in my ear, “You’re worlds better without that Adrian guy in your head, November. That was the best I’ve heard you sing since I’ve known you.” My cheeks burn at his interpretation of my performance. “You were right when you said you sing for you, that’s for sure.” He pulls away as Rae hugs his waist from behind. After they kiss, and C.J. rolls his eyes and heads to the bar, Rae turns to me.

  “Thanks for taking care of Bo last week, Ember.” I shoot Regan an accusatory stare. “No,” she continues, “Bo told me ...”

  “Oh. OK. It wasn’t a problem. He doesn’t drink much, huh?” I try to chuckle at his sloppy performance after the engagement party.

  “He didn’t use to.” Before the awkward silence suffocates us, she perks up. “Hey, do you want to come riding with Regan and I next weekend?”

  “Like horseback riding?”

  “Yeah. There are some great trails a few miles outside of town. Family friends own a stable that we can use whenever we want. I thought it might be fun, me, you, Bo—”

  “Rae ...” I’m not in the mood to be set up on a date. Not with Bo—we’re a bit past that even if we’re not together.

  “Oh come on, Ember, it’ll be fun!”

  “You make a convincing argument,” I tease, “but I just don’t want to be under a microscope right now. I know you wouldn’t intentionally make it feel that way, but...I mean your brother and I haven’t even had a sober conversation since the community center opened.” I shake my head and shoulder up to C.J. at the bar. He slides me his just-poured beer before ordering another one. “Thanks,” I mumble, taking a sip.

  “Ember, listen.” Rae stands next to me and speaks in a near whisper, “I’m not supposed to say anything but Bo has something he’s planning, and it was my job to get you to Concord next weekend.” She knots her fingers and looks at me through her mile-long lashes. “I’m failing here. You’ve got to cut me some slack. If you don’t want to come riding, that’s fine...just meet us at Tarryn’s around seven on Saturday, OK?”

  “Tarryn’s?” I sigh.

  “Yeah, it’s the restaurant where we first had dinner...when Ainsley was there, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah, the time I realized I couldn’t live without you!” I laugh, remembering her obvious detest of Ainsley that evening.

  “That’s the one. Will you remember how to get there?” Her eyes widen in excitement.

  “If I decide to go I’ll see you there, OK?”

  “Trust me, Ember, you’re not going to want to miss this. I love you!” She squeezes my neck with all the force her 110-pound frame can muster and leaves a wet kiss on my cheek.

  She and Regan disappear in hand-holding bliss, and I’m left with C.J. at the bar. I study the beer he gave me.

  “Thanks again for the beer, that was oddly nice of you.” I don’t know how to speak to C.J. with anything but sarcasm.

  “No problem, Rap-”

  “Seriously, dude, what’s with Rapunzel?” I cut him off. “
Is it the hair? It’s not that long.”

  C.J. stares at me with his chocolate brown eyes and sucks in a deep breath before answering me.

  “You honestly don’t know?” I shake my head in response to his condescending tone. “Fine. Look, it’s like...you’re the hottest girl in here on any night of the year. It’s a fact. I mean, seriously, Ember, look around you.” C.J. gestures around the bar with his beer bottle, eyes widened. “No one comes close. You’re untouchable ...” He looks down and picks at the beer label with his thumb.

  “C.J...what?” Candor is not something I’ve come to expect from him, and I think he’s joking with me.

  “And the best part is you have no idea, which makes you a hundred times more gorgeous. So, Rapunzel, you’re in a stair-less tower. No one can get to you...except for that Bo guy. Why are you locking the door on that?”

  “I’m not.” I shake my head in confusion.

  “Then meet the poor bastard in Concord next weekend and see what he has planned, would you?” C.J. yawns while he laughs.

  “Tired Ceej?” I ask.

  “No, just seeing if that girl over there was staring at me. If you yawn, and someone’s looking at you, they’ll yawn, too. Look, she’s yawning, time to make my move.” With a pat on my back, he slides off his stool.

  “You’re a gem,” I chuckle, “poor girl doesn’t know what’s about to hit her.”

  “Just go to Concord next weekend, Gorgeous. You deserve it.” C.J. cocks his eyebrow and stalks toward the yawner across the bar.

  I finish my beer quickly when I realize that Saturday nights are open-mic night at Tarryn’s. Butterflies that my stomach thought were extinct burst to life and encircle my insides. Suddenly, I’m struck with a decision that’s truly been months in the making. Bravery drives me home and holds my hand as I chase the sunrise with my notebook and guitar.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I have no idea what to expect from Bo as I drive to Concord on this hot late July day. Well, I have some idea, given that it’s at an open-mic night, but I’m trying to focus on my own surprise. I reassured Rae nearly every day this week that I’d be coming, but I’ve kept mum regarding my plan. Regan knows, since he helped me with a bit of the guitar work, but I’ve gotten really good in a short amount of time. Regan and Josh say it’s in my blood— especially now that they know about my parents.