Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (21 page)

“Sara, tell me about those sweet little angels. How are Lily and Gage doing?” I ask, loving the big smile on Sara’s face the minute I mention Adam’s children.

I’m so happy Sara and Adam worked out their differences. It’s obvious how much they love each other. Things have been going so well between them, I expect two houses to become one any day now.

“The goofy smile on your face says it all, girl,” I say with a laugh. “And I know Lily and Gage feel the same way. They are so in love.”

“They’ve started calling me Rah Rah,” Sara admits with glassy eyes. “I can’t even explain it. Every time I think it’s impossible to love them more, they do something that takes my breath away.”

“And it doesn’t hurt their daddy is lickable man candy who knows how to lay the pipe,” Marlo chimes in, like only she can.

I ball up my napkin and pelt Marlo in the head with a laugh. “Way to ruin a sentimental moment, Marlo! It’s not always about the pipe.”

She narrows her eyes at me and cocks her head to the side. “Don’t even joke, girl. Ninety percent of the time, it’s about the pipe.”

“Don’t even waste your breath, Alex. Our girl Marlo approaches men with a singular purpose. Some things will never change,” Sara says with a laugh.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, sweet, little Alex. I gave you ample time to confess on your own, but the jig is up, girl. I’m not above coercion,” Marlo says with a smirk. “Spill it. Who’s the hottie from this morning? West, is it?”

“Hmmm?” I sip my drink and eye Marlo innocently.

“Sara, you should have seen this guy. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, let me tell you. If he didn’t so obviously belong to our girl, Alex, I’d climb him like a tree. Damn!” Marlo shouts with a hand slap to the table, earning her scowls from our neighboring tables.

I sigh loudly and sit back in my chair, looking at two sets of eyes focused intently on me. How do you sum up years worth of information in just a few sentences?

“Y’all, this isn’t a conversation to be had over a quick pizza. To say West and I go way back would be a huge understatement.”

“We have all afternoon and nowhere to be. Am I right?” Sara asks Marlo, and they both nod in unison.

It doesn’t look like I’m getting out of this, so I put my pizza down and start talking. And talking. And talking.

When I’m done, they both sit in complete silence, eyes focused on me. Bits of crust litter the table, the only remnants left of the pizza. Melted ice fills the glasses. Used napkins litter the table. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but it feels like I’ve carried on for an eternity. I’ve spilled my guts to them, only leaving out our late night tryst. I’m going to leave that little confession between Celia and me for now.
Darling, the best kept secret is the one you never tell.
So true, Momma.

All at once, the silence is broken, and my friends fire questions at me in rapid succession.

“You were attacked and never told us?”

“You kicked his prosthetic leg?”

“I fucking knew that boy could lay the pipe! Seriously, if he was that good at eighteen, what do you think he’s like now? God’s gift, I’m telling you!”

I’m sure you can guess who asked the third question. We burst out laughing at Marlo’s antics, and I’m thankful to her for lightening the mood.

“Just sayin’,” she says with a laugh, her hands raised to ward off the napkin attack.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, y’all. I just … I don’t know. I felt stupid for not being able to get over it. I mean, it’s been six years, and I still can’t let it go. It’s embarrassing,” I admit as I direct all of my attention to tying my straw into a knot instead of facing my friends head on. I don’t want to see the pity in their eyes.

“Are you really going to let him check out every guy who asks you out?” Sara asks.

“In theory, yes. I don’t plan on accepting any dates for the time being, so it shouldn’t be an issue. But if giving him that control makes him feel secure, I can do that for now.”

It’s a small sacrifice to make in the grand scheme of things.

“So what happens now, Alex?” Marlo asks with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face.

And here comes the fun part.

“I fight.”

“Yeah, she does!” Marlo hollers with an animated fist pump, high-fiving Sara and me.

I’m glad they’re on my side for this one, because I have a sneaking suspicion I’m gonna need them.

The smell of fresh cut grass and the sound of golf shoes clicking on asphalt will always remind me of home. Friday afternoons are always a busy time at any golf course, but I made sure to secure our tee time earlier in the week.

No way is West getting out of this.

I see his truck enter the parking lot, and I wait in front of the clubhouse as he grabs his clubs and walks toward me. He sits on the bench and changes shoes, and I take the opportunity to retrieve my clubs from my car. As I approach, he stands up, slings his clubs over his shoulder, and gives me a stiff nod.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mutters as he passes me on the way inside.

Ouch. I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. He can throw insults at me all day long, but I’m not giving up. It’ll take a lot more than that to push me away.

Do your worst, West Adler. I’m ready for it.

I feel a tinge deep in my chest seeing him dressed this way. West wearing khaki slacks, a polo shirt, golf shoes, and a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes brings me back in time. His hair still curls over the edge of his hat. His ass still looks good enough to bite. Yes, I said it. It’s the damn truth.

Even the differences intrigue me. His build is completely filled out, muscles protruding where there used to be bone. His beard, dark and concealing, begging for me to touch. And, of course, his leg. I want to tell him I love him, I accept him, I want him.
Just as he is.

I want to tell him, but I won’t. Not now. He’s not ready to hear it. I’ll let him push me away for now, but I’ll shove back when the time is right. He’s too important for me to let him go without a fight.

He walks out of the clubhouse carrying the game card and the keys to the golf cart. He walks past me without a second glance.

“Let’s go,” he calls over his shoulder.

Game on, West.

“How are your mom and Lucy?” I ask as we drive up to the tee box for the sixth hole.

West expels a loud sigh and shakes his head. “They’re fine, Alex.”

“That’s three,” I say cheerfully with a quick handclap.

“Huh?”

“Three words. That’s the first time you’ve answered with more than one word since we started playing.”

“Shouldn’t that tell you something?” he mutters with a scowl.

“That’s five.” I bump his shoulder and smile, which earns me a headshake and a look to the sky for patience. “And, yes, it does tell me something. I need to practice asking more open-ended questions.”

“Maybe you should practice hushing the hell up and playing some golf. I’m two strokes ahead of you, ya know.” He angles out of the cart and grabs his driver out of his bag.

After we both take our shots, I get back to business.

“Where are they living now?”

“Jesus. Fuck. You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“I’ll quit when you answer me.” I plaster an unwavering smile on my face.

I sit down in the golf cart and wait for his reply. He pulls off his hat and runs a hand through his hair before pulling the hat back firmly in place. He remains standing, but leans toward me with an irritated scowl.

“A few months after I left for the Army, my mom fell in love with one of Lucy’s ER physicians, and they got married within the year. Needless to say, healthcare costs were no longer a problem. He fell in love with Lucy and adopted her a few years later. They are all living happily ever after in Shreveport, and Lucy graduates high school next year. She plans to attend LSU and major in veterinary science. Happy now?”

“For now.” I smile, satisfied with his answer.

He folds into the seat and pushes his foot to the brake pedal. He turns to me and sighs loudly.

“This is not what I signed up for, Alex. I said I’d give you nine holes once a week. Cut the fucking commentary, or the deal’s off,” he growls.

He smashes down the gas pedal, causing the golf cart to lurch forward. I quickly grab onto the side pole to stop myself from being thrown from the cart. West doesn’t spare me a second glance.

This may be more difficult than I initially thought.

We sit on opposite edges of the bench changing our shoes, not speaking a word. After West shared about his mom and Lucy, his one-word answers disintegrated further into grunts and huffs. The tension level rose exponentially the further we went through the course.

“I’m meeting a few friends at The Courtyard tonight. Adam, my friend Sara’s boyfriend, always plays at their open mic night. You should come. We always have a good time.” My tone sounds tentative, even to my own ears.

I know he won’t come. I’m not stupid. But I have to start wearing him down little by little.

“I’ll pass.” He continues tying his shoe, not even sparing a glance in my direction.

He removes his left golf shoe, and I watch with curiosity as he replaces it with his tennis shoe. I watch carefully as he pushes the shoe on and tightens the strings. His fingers stop moving before he ties the laces, and I look up to see him staring me down. He raises his eyebrows in question, and I lower my head in embarrassment.

I stand quickly and face him head on. “Well, the leg definitely hasn’t affected your game. I didn’t expect to lose today.”

“I’ve worked my fucking ass off in rehab, Alex. I didn’t throw on a prosthetic leg and become a superstar the next day, if that’s what you think.”

“That’s not what I meant, West. It was supposed to be a compliment.” Jesus, I can’t freaking win. I swipe the keys off the bench and move toward the door. “I’ll go return the cart keys.”

I blink back the tears as I walk to the counter, keys in hand.

“Adler, returning golf cart keys.” The young boy behind the counter smiles and takes them from me.

He digs through the file box, retrieves West’s license, and hands it to me.

“Have a nice day, ma’am.”

“Yeah, you too,” I whisper softly.

I stand by the door for a minute to collect myself before walking outside. I know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Every harsh word chips away at me, and my heart is at its limit for the day.

I push open the door and walk outside with West’s license in hand. He’s no longer sitting on the bench, and I scan the cart path and driving range for him.

No luck.

I survey the parking lot, thinking he may have gone to his truck to turn the AC on. A black truck gets sweltering hot when sitting in the Louisiana sun. I remember exactly where he parked—and the space is empty.

This time, knowing he’s not here to see me crumble, I allow the tears pooling in my eyes to fall down my cheeks.