Purple Haze (Blue Dream Book 2) Read online

  Hot waves of aggression, frustration, and relief overflow her tight pussy while she cries out desperately in satisfaction.

  It was a hail mary pass we ended up running into each other, but every minute she stays, every minute she fights for us despite the fucked up, inadequate piece of shit I am, is a goddamn miracle I will not take for granted. I'll keep working at this. I fucking have to.

  Once our panting subsides I ask, “Will you come to dinner at Noah's next week with me?”

  Presley gently runs her hand down my cheek. “Of course I will.”

  “I have to go over once a week every week. It's part of the agreement we made.”

  We shift so I'm on my back, head nestled in the crook of her neck. “What kind of agreement?”

  “Noah came to see me while I was in rehab. When I got out, we went to lunch and he gave me his outlined proposal for helping me get back on my feet. I could stay with him and his family until we found an apartment for me. He agreed to help in all aspects of restarting my life as long as I agreed to a piss test every month at random and after I moved out to have dinner with them at least once a week.”

  She folds our fingers together. “It seems like Noah really wanted to help.”

  Shutting my eyes I say, “He did. He does. He bought me new clothes. New shoes. He bought my car and lets me lease it from him. He shelled out rent and groceries before I could. He's financially very supportive. Well, when I let him be.”

  “Do you think you'll let me be?”

  The innocence of the question makes me smile. “One thing at a time, baby.”

  “What about the rest of your family? You haven't mentioned them.”

  “Sister is married and lives up north, according to Noah. No kids of her own yet. My mother is currently dating a man two years younger than me with a lucrative online business. Again, according to Noah. Neither of them have tried to make contact with me.”

  “And your dad?”

  She questions the well-being of the man who deserves even less forgiveness than I do. He's the reason we were robbed of ten years. The fundamental reason I ever steered off the path to the heaven found in the essence of the woman I love. He shouldn't even be entitled to being mentioned. “Is alive.”

  Instead of tugging at the shredded thread, Presley whispers, “I'm starving...”

  An instinct reaction to lash out thrums through brain. “I told you. I'm broke. I...I had to borrow money for lunch today. I don't get paid 'til Friday.”

  My girlfriend slides her body on top of mine and sits up in a straddling position. “First off, before I leave in the morning, I'm giving you cash so you can eat lunch.”

  “Pres-”

  “No,” she firmly denies. “I don't want the man I love starving between pay checks. Pay the guy back and use the rest of the money to eat. Merrick mentioned the poisonous pie-”

  “Casserole.”

  “-that Jovi made, so I'll probably just write you a check that way you can stock the house with groceries too. I skipped work tonight and will probably be making it up tomorrow night. You're gonna need dinner.” Preparation to refuse is cut off. “This isn't a discussion. It's what's happening.”

  Arousal and aggravation intertwine inside. “I'll pay you back every cent.”

  “You won't.” She adjusts herself. “That's not how real relationships work, Ryder. It's a give and take.”

  “It seems like all I do is take.”

  Playfully she wiggles her hips. “You give plenty...”

  I lightly laugh.

  “Second of all...”

  “You weren't done?”

  “Second of all,” she repeats louder. “I'm starving. All I've had was a banana for breakfast-”

  “Sliced with peanut butter?”

  My recalling of her favorite breakfast from the first time we dated is rewarded with a beaming smile. “Yes.”

  “I'll make sure to pick up both of things at the store. More orange juice and the blue dental floss. Not the green.” After a short pause I question, “Why didn't you each lunch?”

  “Ran out of time.”

  “Stop,” I firmly scold. “The last thing I want is a phone call my girlfriend is in the hospital from exhaustion, dehydration or starvation. Don't get me wrong. I love taking care of you, but you have to take care of you too.”

  She nods and whispers, “Deal.”

  “Do you want me to grab some stuff for stir fry and you can take the leftovers for lunch?”

  “You don't have to.”

  “I want to.” Presley smiles sweetly. “Let me do the little that I can for you...”

  “Fine. Broccoli. No peas.”

  “I remember.”

  “Now...can we go grab something?”

  Desire controls my roaming hands. As they run up her thighs I grumble, “One more round first.”

  Presley's laughter is short lived by my lips planting themselves on hers. The take control woman I'm falling in love with surrenders to me with no resistance. I deepen the kiss and do my best to accept the constant cascading changes. Law was right. This is war. The battle for my sanity is as brutal as they come. I'm just glad this time I have Pres for an ally instead of an enemy.

  Presley

  “These mushrooms are amazing,” I gush to Shelly from across the table. “You're an amazing cook.”

  “And that's what a woman should hear more often,” she playfully scolds Noah who is seated beside her.

  “I always mention what a great cook you are,” he argues between bites. “Usually falls before great mother and after how beautiful you are.”

  My giggle is echoed by Shelby. Peering around Ryder, I stare for a minute at the two of them playfully exchanging bites. She squishes up her veggies then offers my boyfriend a bite. He pretends to munch away, which sends her into a fit of laughs. The way he looks so natural in these moments answers questions I hadn't given much thought to since Xander tried to make the choice for me.

  “I love cooking. It's one of my favorite things. What about you?” Shelly questions lifting her wine glass. “Do you like to cook?”

  “Like to?” I ask in an unsure tone on another chuckle. “I don't know. It's one of those things I can do, but don't very often. Actually Ryder does most of the cooking.”

  Noah lifts an eyebrow at his brother. “You can cook?”

  Ryder stops playing with his niece to face his brother with an annoyed expression. “Yeah. That hard to believe?”

  “A bit.”

  “Why?”

  “I watched you burn pop tarts and popcorn growing up. Both of those have automatic timers.”

  His shoulders relax when it settles in Noah's teasing is in a loving way. Seeing the two of them in the same room after all these years was like taking a step into the past. When they were younger and we would sit at dinners like this with his parents it was obvious who the favorite was. Who mattered. Who existed to them. Ryder's demeanor would drift downward until each breath he took looked painful. The animosity wasn't initiated by Noah but there were always times instead of defusing the situation he simply let it grow. Could you blame him? When you're the favorite child why give up your throne? Over the course of the time we dated, I recall Noah making attempts to be a better big brother, to be protective, to dish out fatherly advice when he saw fit. That hasn't changed. From what Ryder's mentioned, Noah's the backbone of his progress. He reached out to him. He came to visit. He came to lay down the roadwork for a better future as a family. Noah's the only person Ryder considers family outside of me. Whether or not Ryder wants to admit it, he needs Noah. He's always needed Noah. And in a way, I think part of Noah has always needed him too.

  “He's actually a really good cook,” I speak up as I slide my hand onto his thigh. “He makes this garlic chicken with these Parmesan twice baked potatoes. Oh....they're to die for.”

  Ryder sinks back into his seat and gives me a warm expression. “I'll make sure to put them on the menu for next week.”

  “
I wanna try them,” Shelly energetically calls from across the table. “Potatoes are my Kryptonite. They're like my little secret thrill. They go straight to my thighs, so I try to avoid them but...sounds like I might need to make room for a cheat day.”

  With a snicker I offer, “Why don't we plan a dinner at my townhouse and we can make dinner for the three of you?”

  “Or we can do the two of us and book extra time with the babysitter!” Shelly exclaims and turns to Noah who doesn't look as convinced as she does. “Come on, Noah! Just think how nice it would be to go out, just us, more than once a month.”

  He hesitates and his brother pours gas on the situation. “Yeah, Noah. Think how nice it would be to get away from work more than once a month.”

  His eyes lower to a glare. “Stop it.”

  Uncertain what they're really talking about I insert myself back into the conversation, “We would love to have you over. I think it would be fun.”

  “I do too,” Shelly sighs. “Oh and Ryder you're more than welcome to bring Presley over with you to dinner any time.”

  Before either of us can reply, Shelby fusses louder wanting more attention. Her grumbles and gurgles are accompanied with wiggles and a desperate attempt to get out of her high chair.

  “Noah would you get Shelby, please?” Shelly asks with a defeated sigh. “I need to get the coffee started.”

  “I'll take her,” Ryder volunteers and tosses his cloth napkin beside his plate. Instantly he stands and reaches for the mess covered baby. “Pres, you wanna help me clean her up? It's easier as a two man job.”

  I toss my napkin on the table too. “She hates having her face wiped.”

  “Is that like a written baby rule somewhere?” He questions at the same time she smears her dirty fingers on his cheek. “Ah. Really bumble bee? Right on Uncle Ry's face?”

  “They do that.” Standing, I offer to take her and she immediately lunges for me. “Anyway, I've seen Lizzie struggle to clean her face after lunch, so I know what we're up against.”

  “We'll bring in dessert to the living room,” Shelly insists. “Thank you both...”

  I assure, “No problem.”

  Ryder leads me out of the dining area and around to the open living space, which is decorated in deep browns. The entire area is filled with complimentary colors, earthy photos and artwork. There are built into the wall shelves overflowing with family photos. My boyfriend grabs a box full of Shelby's things from the end table. The two of us sit on the edge of the plush couch before he begins the battle of cleaning her hands. With my arms wrapped around her tummy tightly, I sing a nursery rhyme that keeps her distracted during the process. By the time I've finished the third loop of the song, she's spotless and none the wiser to how she got that way.

  He tosses the dirty wipes into the trashcan. “It's never been that easy before.”

  “The trick is to distract her, so she doesn't realize it's happening. Like an ambush.” Dropping my lips onto her full cheek, I give it a kiss. In a sweet voice I coo, “Isn't that right Shelby? All clean now. You happy?”

  She giggles and wiggles in my clutches, which makes my grin grow. Playfully, I tickle her and get lost in finding ways to make her smile until I look up to see Ryder beaming at me with such admiration in his eyes it's breathtaking.

  In a whisper I question, “What?”

  “I want this.”

  Shelby reaches for a toy she spots on the coffee table. After handing it to her I ask, “Want what?”

  “A family.”

  His declaration is short lived as Noah and Shelly enter the room. “Sorry that took so long. Noah had a phone call he had to answer.”

  “Liz wanted to know how dad was doing,” Noah casually states placing coffee cups on coasters. Once he's settled in the leather seat to the right of his brother he questions, “Do you want to know?”

  “No.” Ryder turns his attention back to his niece. “Come here bumble bee. Come to Uncle Ry.”

  We transfer the sweet baby from one lap to the other.

  Noah sighs, “Ryder-”

  “I said, no, Noah.”

  “Is something wrong with him?” I innocently ask.

  My attempt to bridge the gap backfires.

  Shelly gasps, “You didn't tell her.”

  A familiar aggravated feeling floods me. Sharply I turn my head. “Tell me what?”

  His blue eyes harden the way they always do when a subject is dead to him. The topic of his father is always closed. “It's not important.”

  “He's dying, Ryder,” Noah snaps. “How can you be so fucking callous?”

  “Language!” Shelly snips.

  “Dying?” My jaw is floored. “Dying from what?”

  “Cancer,” Noah informs me, diverting my attention his direction. “It started in his testicles-”

  “Poetic justice,” Ryder mutters as he tugs the toy lovingly with his niece.

  “-and it spread to his liver. They're worried it's going to continue to spread. He's not responding to the medications or chemo.”

  Slowly I turn back to face Ryder. “Why didn't you tell me?”

  Sensing the tense tone he calmly replies, “Because it wasn't important to me. Because it isn't important to me. Building a relationship with Noah, Shelly, and Shelby matters, not the cold blooded bastard who couldn't give enough shit about me to do more than pay for an outlandish rehab bill to stay out of his face.”

  Unrecognized hatred bores through his body shifting more than his body language just as Shelby begins to fuss.

  Her mother softly sighs, “It's actually bed time for her. I should go put her down.”

  “Can we do it?” Ryder quietly counters.

  The desire to smile at his craving for a family begins to sway the anger I was gripping onto about another secret he's keeping from me. How many more are there? How many other things does he not consider a big deal that are? How many surprises am I going to have to bounce back from pretending it doesn't hurt because he won't let me in?

  “You sure? It's a long process.”

  “I remember.” He stands as Shelby rubs her teary eyes. “Come on, Pres.”

  Without an argument, I stand and follow him out of the living room. In silence the two of us make our way to the other end of the house where the bedrooms are located. He takes a left down a hall and another left into what is a nursery fit for a future queen. Inside the oversized room is Shelby's crib, a vanity, a book shelf filled with books and enough toys to start a small toy store. On the wall farthest from the door is a king sized bed and a door to what I can assume is a connected bathroom.

  The two of us locate to the area beside her crib where there's a changing table. Like he's done this a million times before, Ryder lies her down, and begins to remove the day's dirty clothes.

  “Her pajamas are in the top drawer on the right side.” Doing as I'm instructed, I make my way over. In a quiet voice he declares, “I hate him, Presley.”

  “I understand-”

  “You don't,” Ryder grouses louder while I reach for a pair of pink jammies. “You have no idea how that man ruined my life.”

  I refrain from assuring him I have a clue and encourage him to continue the moment I'm back at his side. “Tell me. Don't keep secrets from me, Ryder. We agreed to talk about things. You know how guilty I feel for hating the fact Gabe got married and settled down before me. I trusted you not to judge too harshly for the pettiness. Your turn. Trust me.”

  His mouth twitches, but Shelby's fussy ways worsen. Swiftly Ryder changes her, swoops her back into his arms, and begins to bounce her close to his chest. “We have to do this for a bit.”

  “Bounce her?”

  He nods.

  “Then what?”

  “Then we start the play list, hit the night light, and rub her back until she begins to drift off.”

  “Shelly wasn't exaggerating when she said it was a long process.”

  “Nope. Shelby may be adorable, but she's a bit spoiled.” He gives
his niece a kiss on the forehead. “Not even sure I blame them. I have a feeling I'd be much worse if it was our kid.”

  Hearing him say our in the reference of children churns those forgotten wants once more. The more time I spend around Ryder like this, the more I know that's exactly what I want. But I'm not sure we'll ever get there if I don't start to feel like we're making actual progress on being more open.