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“Nope, neither of us have ever wanted my dad’s company. Thankfully he seems okay with it. He’s never pressured either of us to come work with him.”
“Are you and your dad close?”
I shrug, clearing my throat. There is so much I don’t want her to know about my dad. There is too much pain there, and enough embarrassment to last a lifetime. If Sierra knew about my dad’s addiction, she’d see me differently. I don’t want that dark cloud hanging over us.
I take another sip of my wine, stalling. Then I answer her question as simply as I can. “We’re not. It’s been a long time since I’ve had much of a relationship with him,” I say. “When I was 15, my dad had an accident at his garage. Hurt his leg pretty bad. Needed a whole bunch of surgeries. He was bitter for a long time.”
Before the accident, my dad was a great father. He coached my baseball team, taught my sister and I how to fish and camp and downhill bike. He would tell us every day how much he loved us.
Then it all fell apart. Thank God we had Mom.
Sierra lifts her glass but sets it back down on the table before it touches her lips. “But he’s okay now?”
I swallow hard. “He’s… better.”
“I’m sorry, Grayson. That must have been so hard for you and your family.”
I exhale a breath, “It was a long time ago, but he still struggles.” This is the part of my life that Sierra never needs to see. If she knew about the addiction my father has struggled with, the erratic behaviour, the anger, she’d probably think twice about wanting a relationship of any kind with me, even a friendship. I come with baggage—a shit load of it. I wouldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to take it on.
Especially Sierra who deserves someone who will always be there for her, not someone who might have to drop everything to check his dad into rehab for the 20th time, or work weekends at his dad’s garage just to keep the place from shutting down.
I look at her and find understanding in her eyes. Sierra is the type of girl who can make you see your life in a whole new way. She makes you want to be better. But that’s not in the cards for us, and it never will be. I need to accept it.
She swallows hard. “How is your mom with it all?”
“Honestly, she’s a saint. She’s never left his side.”
“She loves him,” she says quietly, her eyes holding mine. “I bet she’s an amazing woman. She raised a good guy.”
Her words hit me straight in the chest. I know she didn’t mean a whole lot by it, but coming from Sierra, the compliment feels different. I watch as she takes her hair out of the messy ponytail, running a hand through the golden blonde strands. As her hair begins to fall all around her face, I realize I’m curling my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching over to brush it behind her shoulder. This is when I should thank her for having me and go home. Immediately. But I can’t bring myself to move.
I’ve had such a good night with her. We’ve talked. We’ve laughed. Best of all— we’ve been flirty. And there’s been this sense of ease that I’m not used to feeling with a woman. I’ve always been in a hurry to leave. But tonight, I want to stick around.
Which is how I feel whenever I’m around Sierra.
“I have an idea,” I say, sitting up in my chair. “Let’s go paddling. We both have boards. Plus, I like looking at you in a swimsuit.”
She raises her eyebrows, but I can see the beginning of a smile on her lips.
“Right now?”
“Well, I wasn’t thinking right now, but sure. I was thinking another day, in the daylight, so I can see you again… in a bathing suit.”
She bites her lip, trying really fucking hard not to crack a smile.
“No point trying to hide that smile. I see it.” I am aware that I’m flirting with her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “Just admit it, Sierra… you can’t resist my charm.”
She blushes. “Fine. Maybe I can’t resist.”
Ah, shit. She actually just admitted it.
“Better watch out… you might fall for me if you’re not careful. And when I saymight, I really meanwill.”
She fights a laugh, stretching her leg out and nudging my shin with her bare foot. But she isn’t fast enough, because I snatch her foot in my hand and hold it between my legs, gently massaging her skin.
Sierra stiffens for a second before flexing her foot as my hands work the arch. Her eyes close, a soft sound escaping her lips. The sound goes straight to my groin and I’m suddenly picturing Sierra without clothes on, sprawled out across my bed.
Ican’tthink about Sierra naked. What kind of friend would I be?
