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It wouldn’t be easy. Not for someone who made their living taking on other people’s lives instead of examining their own.
I put my worries aside for the moment and soaked him in.
His hair was longer now, and he’d let his beard grow out. It suited.
“You didn’t have to come and drive me home.”
That was my Tate. Never a ‘hi, how are you’. Get right into the meat of the script.
“Yes, I did.”
I met him halfway and reached up to pull him in for a hug.
Despite his initial stiffness, he notched his face into my neck, his rough beard rubbing against my skin. I did my best not to react, but it wasn’t easy.
God, he even smelled the same. Leather and amber. That damn cologne of his was my addiction.
Why did no man ever smell as good as Tate?
“You ready to go?” I asked, my voice hoarse as I finally pulled away.
“As I’ll ever be. I just wonder what’s waiting out there for me. No one will probably remember my name.”
Tate had entered a local rehab the day after he fired Vic. But only for two months.
When he got out, he relapsed.
Six months ago, I’d finally convinced him to try this place, about two hours north of LA. A few actor friends had gone through their program and said it changed their life.
But typical Tate, his main concern was his career.
That hadn’t changed.
I rolled my eyes. “Sure, that’s why Henn has been fielding calls about your return.”
“Really? Who from?”
“She’s not going to tell me, that’s your business.”
Tate nodded. “And the house is okay?”
I’d been keeping an eye on his place. And I’d added a few touches to make it more welcoming for his return. The modern space was crying out for warmth. I had it re-painted (in Tate approved colors), added plants, and artwork. I was going to get him a cat for company but that was stepping over the friend line, even for me.
“The house looks amazing if I do say so myself. It finally feels?—”
I stopped myself.
It felt like home. Because it was Tate’s.
“Feels like what?” he elbowed me as we made our way through the front doors.
“Feels less clinical.”
Tate barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, nesting was never my thing. I always had one foot out the door. In fact, I hated being there alone.”
“Too much house?”
Tate shook his head. “Too much time spent with myself.”
