Faded Perfection (Beautifully Flawed Book 2) (5 page)

I curled deeper into the lounge chair, pulling the blanket tighter around myself before my eyes shot open. There it was, the smell of bacon and coffee brewing. My stomach growled as my eyes focused on the now empty couch. I yawned and wandered to the kitchen. I stopped at the island and stared at Adam’s back as he poured pancake batter onto the bacon greased pan.

“Adam?” I asked as I stared at the anomaly across the island from me.

He turned to face me and my breath caught in my throat. He hadn’t had a hair cut in some time, but he styled his hair this morning in a way that enhanced everything about him, especially that lip ring. The bad-boy-crooked-grin was on his face as he looked back at me.

“Hey, love,” he said.

Dreaming. I have to be dreaming.

My fingers curled into my palms, and my nails bit into my flesh. I wasn’t dreaming. I blinked at him a few times before running into his arms and wrapping my legs around him.

“I totally just got batter on your ass,” Adam said, his voiced muffled as his face buried into my hair.

I stared down at him in a black band tee stretched in all the right places, and my heart fluttered out of control. There he was. Adam was staring back at me. His eyes were warm, and tender; staring at me like I was his world.

“You’ll just have to do something about that, won’t you?” I said, biting my lip to contain my smile.

My
Adam held me against him, and his hands moved, so my body slowly slid through his arms and against him. Heat flushed through me as my shirt rose against his body, and his spatula-less hand slid up my spine, his warm fingers brushing across my bare skin. One eyebrow raised as he looked down at me through my bangs.

“I love it when your hair is all messed up like this,” he whispered, and his breath washed over me.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent. Clean– spearmint and sexiness—none of the nasty liquor I was accustom to.

My eyes fluttered open as his hand moved to cup my chin, thumb resting against my lower lip. His brown eyes rushed over my face, taking in the flow of my hair, down my cheeks and finally to the lips he so softly embraced. He lowered his mouth to mine and his lips brushed against me with an excruciating and delicate passion that set all of my nerves on fire and my heart into palpitations. It was too gentle when all I felt was the desperate need for every piece of him to be a part of me. I pushed back, pulling him tighter to me and the spatula fell to the ground as his other hand came up to cradle my face. I lost my breath then, caught in the way his hands held my face so gently when our lips were so desperate for each other. His tongue pushed into my mouth, dancing on mine until the smell of burned pancakes filled the room and choked the air we were barely breathing. My feet found the ground again, and Adam turned to the stove, shoving the pan to the cold side as he swore. I stood back, my hands going over my swollen lips as I giggled at his red face. He turned slowly back to me, running his tongue across his teeth before raising any eyebrow and pulling me back into his arms.

“What. About. My. Breakfast?” I asked between kisses as he lifted my legs back around his waist and carried me towards the bedroom.

“I think. We. Need. Dessert. First,” Adam replied as he navigated the furniture.

He placed me on the bed as his kisses trailed up to my neck and down my bare shoulder.

“Isn’t it a little early for dessert?” I gasped as my hands buried in his hair.

His hands slid down my body as his eyes met mine from my shoulder.

“Is it?” he asked, fingers tangled in the string of my underwear as he gently tugged at it.

The air caught in my throat as his fingers skimmed over my inner thigh. I couldn’t make any sound other than a gasp as I shook my head. I watched as he moved down my body, kissing the tattoo on my hip before slipping the tank top over my head.

~~~

“Do we have to go to work today?” Adam asked as he rolled over and wrapped me in his warmth.

I smiled and closed my eyes again. “Maybe go in a little late? After you finish making those pancakes?

 My phone began ringing, and I felt Adam’s weight shift over me as he reached for the phone, and then his chest heaved as he looked down at it. “It’s the hospital.”

I lurched forward, grabbing the phone from his hand and touching the screen just before it stopped vibrating. “Hello?”

My eyes searched the room for a clock that would tell me what time it was. How long had we been?

“River Ahlers?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Yes?” I answered, and a cold sweat began to build on my brow.

“We have some good news. The doctors decided to pull Tara out of the coma today. She’s fully awake, and she’s asking for you.”

The room spun. Tara was up. This phone call wasn’t bad news.

“Seriously?” I choked as the tears began to stream down my face.

“Yes, visiting hours are until six today, but she’s adamant that she wants to see you as soon as possible.”

“Has anyone told her about—”

“The gentleman driving the car?” My rapid breathing must have signaled the woman to keep going. “Yes, her parents did about two hours ago, but short term memory can be a bit slower to recover depending on the situation. Since this was drug induced, her recovery should be faster. Just be prepared that you may have to explain it to her again.”

 I blinked hard as I absorbed the information. Tara had been awake for hours. She was told Bobby was dead, but she might have to be reminded? I felt my body numbing at the thought of having to relive telling her over and over again.
Please don’t be that bad.

My brain kicked back into gear and happened on the first reasonable question. “She’s been awake for hours?”

“Yes, should I tell her you’ll be coming?”

I looked around the room again and then gave in. “What time is it?”

“7:30,” the women answered, and I put my head on my knees.

“I’ll be there in forty minutes,” I said.

I hung up the phone and looked at Adam. His fists formed balled at his sides, and I realized he wasn’t going to be coming with me.

“I can’t go, River,” he said, his eyes racing over mine. “I don’t ever want to go to that hospital again. After seeing Tara in there after the funeral…I just can’t.”

Alone
. I would be alone as usual.

“I don’t want to go either, but this is for Tara– and I need you,” I said, but my voice faded as I watched him go to the window and place his head against the pane of glass.

A part of me understood how hard this was for him, but another part of me raged with anger. For the first time in over three weeks, he was sober, and he still couldn’t stand by and support me. Maybe the alcohol had less to do with our drifting than I thought. I shook the thought from my mind as I looked down at my hands. Adam lost a part of him in that hospital, and I needed to understand what that meant to him. If Tara weren’t at the same hospital, he would be by my side. I knew it.

“It’s fine,” I replied, glad he wasn’t facing me to see my expression. “I get it.”

“I’ll go when they move her to rehab. I promise,” he said, his voice muffled by his arm.

“Sure,” I replied as I stared at him. The photographer inside of me begged me to grab my camera and capture the moment. His face was framed by the light streaming in the window, but the dividers in the panes sent shadows over just the right places making him look as sad as he was. I unfolded my legs from under me and walked up to kiss his bare shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He put his chin on his shoulder, and I leaned up to quickly kiss him goodbye, but instead his hand cupped my chin, and his lips raced over mine, leaving me breathless.

“That’s not fair,” I said when I managed to pull away.

“Can’t be mad at me anymore, then?” he asked, and his eyes danced over my face. The sadness still there.

I reached up and ran my fingers over his stubbled chin. “Who said I was mad at you?”

His brows rose into his forehead in disbelief. “I know you pretty well, and I know your voice—I’ve memorized every tone you’ve ever used with me. That tone you just used was your I’m-pissed-but-I-don’t-want-to-tell-you tone.”

“No, that was the I’m-pissed-but-I-totally-get-where-you’re-coming-from tone,” I replied.

He turned to face me, holding my arms as he lowered his forehead to mine. “I got the important part right. The ‘I’m pissed’ part.”

I laughed, biting my lip. “So you know I’m not anymore then?”

Adam leaned down and kissed me once more. I kept my eyes closed as he pulled away and his lips hovered over mine, his breath warming my cheeks.

“I hope not,” he replied.

I shook my head and opened my lids slowly. “You’re really good; you know that?”

His gaze fell before coming back up to me. “Just remember that the next time you’re pissed at me.”

“Fine,” I replied, but instead of moving like I knew I should I remained there.

“You don’t want to go?” Adam asked, moving my bangs away from my eyes.

“I’ve been going every day…I just kept it from you,” I said as I put my hands on his shoulders. “I think I’m just in shock. I didn’t think she was going to wake up…”

“I know you went,” Adam said, and my head shot up.

“How?”

“Tara’s parents have been calling me…trying to convince me to come in. They thought because I was so close to Bobby, being his brother, that it would be good for her. Maybe they thought she would mistake me for him—too bad they don’t know I don’t look like Bobby at all,” he said, his forehead wrinkling as he continued; “Not that she could see me.”

“Maybe they just thought she could use another friend,” I replied with the squeeze of his hand before I  went to get dressed. When I looked back at Adam, he was sitting in the chair by the window leaning forward on his knees with his fists clenched. I closed my eyes as I turned towards the exit.

I wondered if when I got back, he’d be sober.

When I reached the hospital, I found myself frozen as I listened to the engine idle. I slammed the car into park and placed my head on my hands as my body heated up. It was mid-February, yet I felt like I was sitting in Hell. I gazed over the steering wheel up at the brick building. It was just a building, so why did I feel the urgent need to vomit?

I sat back in my seat as my mind reeled with memories. The Swarovski-encrusted dress wrinkling against my skin as Adam crumbled in my arms—the god awful screeching sound of Vicky’s sobs against the incessant buzzing of medical equipment. I had somehow buried them in the back of my mind, and in an instant I understood how Adam would be driven to drink, especially if he couldn’t forget as quickly as I did. I couldn’t fathom why I was being affected like this now when I visited Tara countless times. I let my breath out slowly as I tried to rationalize the situation. I didn’t know how Tara was going to be, and handling her recovery, Adam’s descent into possible alcoholism and my grief along with everyday life seemed daunting.
She’ll be okay.

I took one deep breath and got out of my car, slamming the door behind me and concentrating on my feet as I walked in the building. I kept my eyes down as I walked up the stairs I knew all too well and with each step the hollow hole that formed inside me grew. Bobby could have been the one in the coma; the one waking up—but he wasn’t. At least Tara was, though. I gave my name at the guest check in and took a seat as I waited for admittance. Tara’s mom, Becky, came down the hallway and wrapped me in a hug that squeezed my tiny rib cage smaller than I  thought possible.

She held me at arm’s length with a huge smile on her face. “She’s doing well, but let’s talk before you go in.”

I nodded, and we took a seat back in the chairs. “How did she handle…”

Becky looked up at the ceiling as her shoulders lifted. “I’m sure they warned you her short term memory could take some time to recover. Her whole recovery could take anywhere from six to twelve weeks, but the good thing is the medical coma kept her injuries from escalating. She shouldn’t have any long-term side effects.”

I swallowed. “Will she ask me about Bobby?”

Becky placed her hands over mine. “It’s possible. She seemed aware of it when she woke up–I’m not sure how, but she did.”

“Okay,” I replied, taking a deep breath before standing. I went to her room and poked my head into it. Tara was looking through a cosmetic bag with a frown on her face.

“Hey.” I broke the silence as I let myself in the room.

She smiled up at me and her face the first time I saw her after the crash flashed in my mind. I blinked it away and smiled back down at her, mostly healed.

“Aren’t you going to hug me or something?” she asked with a cock of her head.

I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed once before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“So,” Tara began, putting her hand over mine; “how have you been?”

I blinked at her, my mouth only forming odd gargling sounds as I tried to fathom her attitude.

“You’re oddly calm,” I managed to say.

“I’m awake, and I’m grateful for that.”

I shook my head as I wondered if she already forgot Bobby wasn’t going to wake up. The tears started tumbling down my face without control and Tara pulled me into her arms, now far thinner than before. She hiccuped, and I knew she was crying too. We sat like that for more minutes than I liked to remember before our combined sobs softened and we pulled away laughing.

“He’d be so pissed; you know that?” Tara asked as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, and why is that?”

“He’d hate to see his girls so sad,” she replied, and I had to take a deep breath to keep from falling back into tears again. S
he still knew.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said as I squeezed her hands in mine.

“So, how’s Adam?”

The hollow in my heart returned, and I looked down at our hands. “It’s been rough. He’s been drinking a lot, but yesterday he was sober–so hopefully that’s a good sign.”

Tara bit the inside of her cheek, and her eyes flickered as she struggled with some thought. She shook her head, and it seemed to pass. She smirked as she replied, “Bobby’s going to kick his ass if he doesn’t stop.”

My body tensed as I looked at her. Maybe she thought he was in another hospital bed. I fought back a wave of nausea. I couldn’t tell her, not without breaking down completely again.

“He should be more concerned about me kicking his ass,” I replied instead, giving her a weak smile.

Tara ran her fingers running over the sheets pooled around her lower body, staring at the red bag that had been pushed aside when we hugged. “Speaking of kicking asses– I’m going to kick my own if I can’t figure out how to put mascara on
–or
which one of these is mascara
.”

I laughed, taking the cosmetic bag and opening it up. I held the black tube and a tiny mirror up.

“Together?” I asked.

“Together,” she replied, and the corner of her eyes wrinkled with determination.