Page 101 of Addiction

“Well, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for that amongst other things.”

He squeezes my fingers, and I lift my head up, meeting his gaze.

“I like the sound of that,” I whisper, right before his head dips and his lips make contact with mine. When his tongue entwines with mine, that delicious feeling in my stomach heightens, and I reach up to run my fingers through his hair. If I hadn’t thought he was magnificent enough before, his extraordinary kisses alone would have changed my mind. He kisses like a God.

When he pulls away, the grin on his face makes me smile. I adore the fact that right now, Asher Nelson is in a happy place. With me. I want to say it’s because of me, but he has to take full credit for this one.

Coming out is never easy, but when you’ve been hiding for years—along with suffering other demons—it’s far harder to voice the truth. And regardless of his sobriety setback, I’m incredibly proud of him.

“Tell me something that you’ve never told me before.”

“About what?”

I shrug. “Anything. Be it big, small, or ridiculous. I just want to get to know you a little better.”

“Okay,” he says. “Erm… I had a fear of Jell-O when I was little.”

“A fear in what way?”

“The wobble scared me.”

I burst out laughing. “Seriously? That’s brilliant.”

“I didn’t think so at the time. I was horrified.” He chuckles. “Your turn.”

“There used to be an American Robin sit outside my window when I lived in Minnesota. I named him Nigel, and whenever my parents were out, I used to let him in my room and feed him. I must have been six or seven and was convinced he was my only friend in the world. One day, I found him in the yard on the ground. He’d died, and I thought my life was over because the pain I felt for that bird was so real.” I smile. “He was the closest thing to a pet I’d ever had, and I’ve never been able to have a pet since.”

The space between us is filled with silence, and I can only imagine what Asher is thinking. When I look up at him, the expression on his face confirms it all before we both burst out laughing at my hideous but very true story.

“Nigel?” He chuckles. “I don’t know what I’m more horrified by: the fact you had a feathered friend, or the fact it was called Nigel.”

“Don’t joke. I was traumatized for weeks. Still am!”

“How did you decide on the name?”

“It was the name of my nanny’s husband. She always used to talk about him, so it was kind of an obvious choice.”

“You had a nanny when you were a kid?”

The light-heartedness stops instantly. I’ve said too much. Why did I have to tell him that? Of everything that has happened in my life, why did I have to tell him a stupid story that has the potential to open up a massive, complex issue?

“I did.” It’s all I can say before I turn my head away from him and look out of the window.

I know he can sense the change in me, and I hate that I’ve not only shifted the mood between us but put myself in a vulnerable position—a vulnerability that requires clarification when he draws his finger down the tattoo behind my ear.

My breath catches and a cold shiver cascades down my spine, but I remain controlled. But when he does it again, I know I’ve fallen into the one trap I never wanted to be caught in.

“Six-twenty-four. Of all your tattoos, this is the only one you’ve never spoken of. Why?”

I close my eyes, hating the dead weight in my stomach. I don’t want to do this now. Any other time but now. Because right now, this feeling that I’d had lying in his arms is disappearing rapidly as dread kicks in. I don’t want this moment to fade with a conversation I’ve managed to keep at bay all this time.

“There’s nothing much to say.”

“I think there is.”

“Asher, please. Not now.”

“What’s your secret, Wade?”