I loved the way he made me laugh, the vulnerability of his heart, and how he made me feel loved.
I loved how he looked at me like I was the only person he could ever trust, the way he bitched when I made him work out with me, and the way he looked in the morning when he woke up in my arms, his hair a sexy mess.
I’d even grown to tolerate the messy side of him, and how he attempted to cook dinner for us, including the vegetables I knew he didn’t like.
And I loved how he allowed me to help mend his broken heart and trusted me to protect it.
Adam pulled back and looked into my eyes. He curled his fingers into my shirt as if he couldn’t let go of me. “What are we gonna do when I go on tour? We won’t see each other very much.”
I raised my hand to cup his five o’clock shadow. “We’ll be just fine, darlin’. Not being able to see each other every day won’t change how I feel about you. It’ll just make the times we are together even better. The first leg is the West Coast, so I can hop a flight to see you as often as I can.”
He released a pent-up sigh and nodded his acceptance. “Okay. I wish you were going as security.”
I gave him a small smile. “I know, me too. But you guys need Daredevil.”
“I just need you,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss me.
Somehow, he found a way to make me fall a little more in love with him.
CHAPTER23
ADAM
The following week,we laid my mother to rest next to her parents in Seattle. I never knew my grandparents, but even after everything she’d done to me and herself, it made me feel a little better to know she wasn’t alone. I should have hated her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Aidan suggested I speak to the District Attorney’s office about what I knew about Vincent. When the prosecutor handling the case showed me pictures of my mother’s body, I could see the scars from cigarette burns that matched the ones he’d given me all those years ago.
I felt a fresh wave of fury wash over me as I sat in the prosecutor’s office, staring down at the photos of her lifeless body. Michael placed his hands on my shoulders, providing comfort, and reminding me I didn’t have to go through this alone. His steady presence was a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone in all of this. His support gave me the strength I needed to stand up and reveal the scars my cheetah tattoo hid underneath its spots.
The prosecutor gazed at me with fire in her eyes. “How did you get those burn scars, Mr. Spencer?”
I sat down and leaned forward, propping my elbows on my knees. “From the same asshole who did that to her. I was seven years old when Vincent Harper started using me as a punching bag and ashtray to settle her drug debt. I hope the fucker rots in prison.”
She stiffened her spine. “He will when I get done with him. Prisoners don’t like child abusers, Adam. The rest of his life will not be pleasant.”
I nodded as she called for someone to take my statement. With that, I wouldn’t have to appear in court. Part of me wanted to face the asshole, while a bigger part of me wanted to put it behind me and start my life over. With Michael.
“Mr. Spencer, I urge you to seek counseling for the help you need to process the traumatic experiences you have lived through. No child deserves to live the way you had to. You won’t be able to push it down forever.”
I looked at the floor, then back up at her. “I know. And I will.”
The following Monday, she went back into court with my signed statement and the scumbag’s public defender to officially add more charges against Vincent that related to his treatment of me as a minor. We’d be on tour when the case would be heard, and I was happy about that. I wanted it all behind me. I was done with this chapter of my life forever.
* * *
“How long arewe going to be gone?” I asked Michael as he watched me pack my bag. Christmas was three days away, and we were flying to San Diego to spend the holidays with his family.
“Well, that depends,” he said, reclining against the padded headboard of the king-sized bed that was sans sheets after we’d messed them up an hour ago.
I smirked as I tossed in my hair products. “On what?”
“On how long you want to visit with your family? If you’d like to take your uncle up on his offer to spend Christmas with them, I understand. But my mama is going to be fit to be tied if she doesn’t get to personally meet the ‘hot rocker’ as she calls you. She’s Gen X and thinks you’re my generation’s Jon Bon Jovi.”
I grinned. “God, I hope she’s right. Maybe she’d want to be the President of my fan club. I should have asked her when we talked onFaceTimethe other night.”
Michael smirked right back. “Maybe.”
I finished retrieving the new clothes I’d purchased for the trip from my walk-in closet and placed them in the suitcase that sat next to Michael. I looked down at him as he started taking out the clothes I’d already packed.
