Adam
Adam looked down at his climbing clothes, freshly delivered by his instructor, who waited in the garage. The ex-Navy SEAL, Pike, had spent the morning setting anchors and ropes so they could begin climbing the 120-foot cliff below.
Pike had black hair cut so short it was a mere shadow on his head. He was brawny and walked with the knowledge that he could kill a man with his bare hands. He was also missing part of his jaw from a run-in with an IED. He’d looked Adam’s injury over closely, making Adam more uncomfortable than he’d been since facing the horde of reporters a few weeks ago. Then, he lifted his chin and said, “Your turn.”
“Excuse me?” Adam cringed at his bluntness. He quickly schooled his features. Moreaus didn’t cringe.
Pike gave him an easy smile, like having someone stare at your deformity was a normal occurrence. “Come on. Take a minute and get a good look. We’re going to be working closely, and if we satisfy our curiosity about these things, then we’ll stop seeing it all together and can get to work.”
Adam hadn’t moved. He had no desire to put Pike’s injury under a microscope to satisfy his own curiosity, because he didn’t want anyone doing that to him. Being seen as different wasn’t an experience he yearned for, nor was it one he appreciated.
Impatient, Pike grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close to his face, where Adam could smell the laundry soap on his olive-green tee shirt. “Look at it,” he insisted.
Without another choice, Adam did. He took in the shininess where skin had come together. He noted the way Pike’s face wasn’t symmetrical, and he stared for too long at the spot where bone should have been. It wasn’t until he relaxed that Pike let him go, and he realized that any misgivings or discomfort he’d felt had lifted.
“All right, get changed and I’ll meet you outside.”
Adam wondered if he’d ever have the courage to face the world the way Pike did. He was no coward. He could face the world; it was the mirror that was giving him trouble.
Though he was in a hurry and felt somewhat ridiculous in his tight, stretchy pants, he swung past the east study, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bella as she worked.
Their time on the beach had been more than he could have asked for—he’d gained a true friend that day. And, though he wished there could be more between them, he understood why she wouldn’t want him. For now, her friendship was perfect, and he looked for ways to nurture it each day. The trouble was, he didn’t have a lot of experience doing that. He second-guessed himself and chickened out each time a thought popped into his head.
Send her flowers. Cliché.
Take her to dinner. People would stare and they would both be uncomfortable.
Write her a note. What would he say that didn’t sound ridiculous?
He breezed past the door, trying to look preoccupied when he spotted Bella, her head on the desk, her eyes closed, and her back rising and falling in a relaxed, steady cadence. He approached slowly, entranced by seeing her so content. Her hair was down today and fell in soft waves over her back. She smelled of books and flowers, such an odd combination, yet he’d pay thousands to have it bottled and keep near his bedside.
His eyes fell on the study books laid out on the table, and his conscience pricked. She’d fallen asleep at her desk because she worked too hard—for him. On top of her daily tasks, she studied for the bar exam. Most people took studying for a full-time job—he had. So she was doing the work of two.
An idea came to his mind, and before he could talk himself out of it, he gently touched her elbow. “Bella,” he said softly.
“Hmm?” She lifted her head, her eyes having a difficult time opening. The effect was darling—and he never used the worddarling. This woman had him doing, saying, and thinking things he most definitely shouldn’t think about his law clerk.
“Come. There’s something I want to show you.”
A lazy smile spread across her face, and his heart leapt. She’d used those same words to take him down to the beach, and he thought he might understand some of her excitement that day. It wasn’t that she wanted to see the dump trucks full of sand; she’d wantedhimto see them—to see his face when the project he’d started months ago, the sand he’d ordered specially, arrived.
He took her arm as she stood and pulled her down the hall. Her body heat sent warmth through his hand, up his arm, and into his whole body. Her steps were slow and groggy at first, but they picked up as they made their way to the west wing and he flung open the doors to his personal library. The fact that she trusted him enough to enter his private chambers melted a section of his heart. When she looked at him, she didn’t see the Beast. For the first time, he wondered what she really saw: the scars or the man inside of him who was growing and learning and falling in love.
Bella gasped. “I didn’t know this was here.”
He placed his hands on his hips and noted with satisfaction the appreciation and excitement on her face. “This is my personal law library.”
She turned to the side, running her hands over the matching spines of decades of case law.
He hurried to give her the tour, wanting her to see all of it. “This section is specific to Washington State, but the rest is everything from the Constitution onward.”
“Where did they all come from?” She continued to walk the perimeter of the room. It was large, and yet they talked easily thanks to the honeycomb ceiling that passed a whisper around like it was candy.
“My great-great-grandfather started the collection. I’ve added to it.” He felt a sense of pride in this room, in what he’d done with his life. The law touched every citizen of the country, and he’d helped shape some of them. That was no small feat. Bella deserved her chance to do the same thing. “You’ll find everything you need to study for the bar on that shelf.” He pointed to the window seat and the two rows of books.
She bent to study them and moaned. “There’s so much, and the test is coming fast.”
He had a climbing lesson now, but what after that? Review his bank statements once again? What a boring afternoon. “I suppose making a few phone calls won’t kill me. If it would give you more study time.”
