Page 55 of Addiction

“You sure can.”

But just as I’m preparing myself to go out there, the door to my office swings open and the sight of Wade looking as fucking spectacular as ever has my heart racing and my nerves shot to pieces all over again for a completely different reason.

Yet I can’t help but bark out my disapproval in his absence. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? It’s fucking open day. You wouldn’t have to be sorry if you’d have been here.”

Grayson taps me on the shoulders and turns, heading toward the door, whispering something to Wade before closing it behind him.

If there were ever a man to make white, skinny, ripped jeans and a fitted sweater look good then he’s standing right across from me. These past couple of weeks with getting the gym sorted have both been a blessing and a distraction. I’ve had my personal feelings about Wade joining our team, and it’s starting to take its toll. He’s everywhere I look, and no matter how hard I try to stop myself from wanting to be around him, I’m finding it really fucking difficult. Just being within touching distance has my mind on overdrive. I need to gain some form of control when it comes to him because I feel like I’m losing it. And I’m not prepared to go down that road.

“Where have you been?”

“There was an accident. I was stuck in traffic. I called you and left a voicemail.”

I close my eyes, remembering when I heard my cell phone signal a message after Mark called but failed to look at it because I was busy.

“You know I would have been here sooner if I could have. But I’m here now.”

I shake my head and turn away from him, completely perplexed with where my head is right now. How is it that just the sound of someone’s voice can take down the level of anxiety you are feeling by several knots? How is it that just knowing he is within reach has my body responding in ways I can’t even comprehend? How is it that Wade fucking Johnson is like some goddamn miracle worker and has managed to entwine his way into the mind of a man so troubled and wounded?

How?

“What are you thinking?”

“That I could do with a drink right now,” I admit, turning to face him. Not because I want to get shit-faced, I just want something to calm the overwhelming apprehension and thoughts that are running through me.

His eyes hold mine with a look of uncertainty.

“Sorry. A figure of speech and all that. I don’t want a drink. I just…” I release a deep exhale from my lungs trying to reduce the tightness.

We remain silent for a beat, and I appreciate that he’s not throwing words of disappointment or disapproval my way. He just lets me get my head straight and find myself, calming the growing storm inside.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Asher. Talk to me.”

About what? About the way he’s making me feel? About the way I’ve tried to deny who I am all these years. About how when I look at him, I see a future that is impossible to have and more importantly that I’m scared of even exploring it.

Like I always do, I divert my feelings and play a different card.

“I’m just stressed out. I can’t go down there and do the intros and the speeches. I can’t explain to them why I’ve decided to open a gym and make a huge part of this place in memory of Pop. I’m a wreck, Wade, and it’s fucking ridiculous.”

In two strides he’s across the room, grabbing hold of my face with both hands, making me look him dead in the eye. It’s both intimate and innocent, and my damn heart skips a beat from his touch.

“You’ve got this, Asher. Everything you’ve been working for is about to pay off. There are so many people down there that have come to support you. Don’t let your anxiety overrule it. It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”

I do as he says, trying to control one feeling when another ripples through my veins with the warmth of his skin on mine. My own hands hover at his waist, wanting so desperately to touch him but fearful of what will happen if I do.

“You’ve been hanging around my sister too much.”

A grin spreads across his lips. “Then hear us both when we say you have got this.”

“There are news reporters here. What if they ask questions about my past? What if they’re not here for the gym at all and just want a story?”

“Let Mark deal with them. No one says it has to be you.”

“Twilight’s not even here.”