Rebound (Boomerang #2)(57)

What she told me also gives me plenty to consider where Graham is concerned. I’ve always been wary of him. But, added to what Ethan told me and to Rhett and Cookie’s feelings about him, it’s painting a pretty dark portrait of the guy. I can work with *s, but a person who has major character flaws—who can manipulate his own daughter so cruelly—that’s something I need to think about. Not now, though. Later.

Now, warmth. A fire to warm Ali.

Once I get that burning, I stand. Ali has tucked herself into the corner of the huge leather chair, all folded up. Her ski jacket is off, and she’s in a white cashmere sweater. Her boots are off too, and her socks are purple with pink polka dots. Her blue eyes are just a little swollen from crying, but she’s smiling. She’s moving forward. She looks cute and sexy and beautiful the way she is—everything. I wish I could take a picture of her, but that’s the last thing she needs right now.

“Stay put,” I say. “I’ll be right back with our coffees.”

“Okay. But don’t think for a minute you’re escaping this, Adam.”

“Didn’t forget. Just wanted to take care of you first.”

I hesitate before I go. Even though I can hear Paolo and Sadie laughing in the great room just outside, it feels like Ali and I are the only people in the world, and I don’t want to let go of that feeling. Then something changes inside me, and fear starts scratching at my chest. Fear that if I walk away she won’t be here when I come back, because life can change like that. In a matter of seconds. I know it can.

Alison tilts her head questioningly, responding to my mood.

“I don’t like leaving you,” I hear myself say.

“The sooner you go,” she replies, softly, “the sooner you’ll be back.”

It’s just the motivation I need.

In the kitchen, Mia stands at the espresso machine. She pours steaming milk from a can into a mug. “Hey, Adam. What’s your poison?”

“Double espresso, if you’re taking orders. And Ali likes—”

“Latte with cinnamon on top. I made one for her yesterday.”

Jazz, who’s waiting for Mia on a barstool, beams. “This is such a marvel to witness. I truly don’t know of any other organization whose employees are so in tune with one another.”

“Well, he’s not an employee,” Mia says. “He’s the boss.”

“But look at you two lovelies. You’re simply beautiful together.”

I lean against the counter and cross my arms. Mia and I share a look. We’re definitely not beautiful together. But there’s something between us that’s unique, for sure. We’re connected in a strange way, through Ethan and Alison. Through a tumultuous, twisting past that seems to be straightening out and settling.

My eyes pull to the windows. It’s snowing again. And even though it’s only three in the afternoon, the mountain looks shadowed and dark through the windows, making it feel much later.

“Hey, Galliano. Do me a favor and get an update on Jackson airport? I want to make sure you’re back in Ethan’s arms for Turkey Day.”

“You got it, lovely.”

In the library, I hand Ali her coffee. Then I pull the other chair right in front of hers and take a seat.

“You ready, partner?” she asks me. She seems relaxed. Happy again.

“Born ready.”

“Here we go,” she says, tying the blindfold over my eyes. There are no blue cones to navigate for me. We’re going right to the heart of things—to the Trust Layovers, as Jazz called them.

For a few seconds, I check in with the way my other senses sharpen. The crackle of the fire sounds louder. The smooth taste of the espresso on my tongue more pronounced. The scent of Ali’s perfume has a lush spiciness I hadn’t noticed before. And the sound of her voice when she speaks is even clearer and more musical.

“This is a little disappointing, I have to admit,” she says.

“Yeah? How so?”

“I was looking forward to leading you around. I wanted to have control of . . . well. Of you.”

“You do, Alison. More than you know.”

She’s quiet. Without being able to see her, I have no idea how she’s reacting to my comment. It’s a crazy feeling. Not safe like I expected to feel without having to look into her eyes. I realize I haven’t been worrying about that lately. Not nearly as much.

Since we got to Jackson, have I at all?

“This is weird,” Ali tells me. “I’m nervous even though I’m asking the questions.”

I know exactly what she means. This is intense. I can’t see, but I feel very seen.

After another moment, she asks, “Your tattoo. What does it mean to you?”

“Someone I loved drew it. She died a few years ago.” I’m being vague to protect myself. I’ve been doing it for four years, with everyone except Grey, who knows the truth. But this exercise is about trust, and Ali just bared her soul to me. I make myself say it because I can trust her and because I want to. I want someone to know. Maybe even to understand what I’ve been carrying around all these years. “She was my wife.”

I pause. I don’t realize I’m making fists until I feel Ali’s hands settle on them.

“Adam, we don’t have to—”