From Nowhere (Wildfire, #2)

by Jewel E. Ann

“You’re a beautiful mess.” What. The. Hell? Why did I say that? It just came out of nowhere.

“I needed you so fucking long before I ever met you,” he whispers. “You showed up out of nowhere, the way I bet your plane cuts through the smoke to deliver relief. I have felt so much relief since I met you.”

“It must be something heavy,” he says. “I’ve noticed that you ask me if you can ask me something before you delve into a heavy subject. But you can ask me anything. No permission or preamble needed.”

“But if he had lived and she still died, the hatred would have eaten me alive. His death, while tragic, was necessary. It was closure.”

“Do you want to hear my condom story?” “Absolutely,” he says. I free my arms so my fingers can play in his hair while he gives my breasts the attention they deserve. “I don’t remember how old I was, but I was too young to know anything about condoms. I found my dad’s stash in his closet when my grandma was babysitting me and my brother. So I showed her the box, and she told me to put them back. When I asked her what they were, she told me they were what my dad used on lucky days.” Ozzy rolls us so we’re facing each other on our sides, heads propped up on our arms, legs tangled in our partially removed clothes. “So the next day, I took one of his condoms to school with me because my teacher was choosing a new helper for that week. And guess what?” Ozzy beams. “What?” “She chose me. So I told her I knew it was my lucky day, and I pulled the lucky condom out of my pocket and showed it to her.”

Ozzy kisses me, sliding one hand to the back of my neck while his other grips my hip. This isn’t a Lola-appropriate kiss. This is how a man kisses a woman like she’s his oxygen—like I’m his oxygen.

“Maren,” he whispers, trailing light kisses from my lips to my ear, “there’s nothing more epic than falling in love with someone who loved my daughter first.”

I haven’t loved Maren for long. My brain knows that. It’s good at math and reason. But my heart doesn’t have filters. It doesn’t do equations. It doesn’t acknowledge the existence of time. The heart is unreasonable and completely illogical. Childlike. Innocent, like Lola.

Sometimes, life feels like nothing more than a repetition of would’ves, could’ves, and should’ves.

“It’s late, so you need to sleep in tomorrow morning, but Maren and I are going to get up early to do some deep cleaning around the house.” “Oh.” Lola yawns again. “I thought it was because you wanted to have sex without me there. Dakota’s mom sends him to his dad’s when she has a guy stay at their house.” Fucking Dakota’s mom.