by Piper Lawson
I found more than I bargained for.
The necklace she’s worn for five years was in a pile on the bottom, the promise ring glinting dully.
The clasp was mangled, the pendant with the purple rose cracked.
Did she break it out of anger after our argument?
The possibility has my hands clenching and my breath going shallow. The feeling rising up isn’t disbelief but something like panic.
Annie’s always worn her heart on her sleeve. If she’s doing shit like that where I can’t see it, I’ve hurt her worse than I thought.
I check the clock on my phone. “There’s an hour until the rehearsal. We need to wrap this up. I need to get back to Annie.”
Jax rubs his chin. “Haley’s not thrilled with me either.”
The lawyer smirks. “Women don’t understand. Am I right?”
Anger rises in me, but Jax leans in toward the tablet before I can open my mouth. “You’ve never met my wife, have you?”
His tone is mild. Soft.
Terrifying.
The man on the other end of the call frowns as if trying to remember, then he shakes his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Jax leans an elbow on the back of his chair, looking entirely at ease, but his amber eyes smolder. “What about my daughter?”
“Only briefly.”
“You think you’re hot shit with your Rolexes and your Lambos. I bet you congratulate yourself every night for having ‘made it,’ for being top in your Ivy League class or whatever gets you off. But you have no idea what it takes to run an empire that wears your face—one that demands and gives in ways you could never expect. Those ‘women’? They get it. They live it, and they’re the reason we do any of this. Which means they’re the reason you get paid. So, you can stop pretending you know the first thing about women and stick to what we’re paying you for.”
Shock, tinged with a little fear, is plain on his face even through the video call. “Understood.”
Jax exhales heavily before glancing at me.
I turn back to the screen, blood thrumming in my veins with renewed purpose. “Let’s make this happen.”
20
“What’s with the mascot?” Beck asks as he makes his way across the beach to where the group of us is gathered.
“He’s a friend,” I say, nodding to Hugo in his cage, whom the staff let us borrow. He twitters in response.
Beck goes to join the others, but I turn toward the sea. For the rehearsal, it’s supposed to be our close friends, plus Haley and Dad and the kids. The officiant doing our service will walk us through. It’s going to be short—half an hour—but the importance of it feels much bigger.
I’ve always loved the sunrise more than the sunset. It’s the promise of something new.
But the sunset tonight was supposed to be something to savor—a symbol of the last day of my life alone and a chance for us to watch the stars.
On the beach, the sun glowing like orange and pink embers on the horizon, my simple white linen dress blows in the breeze…
But there’s no Tyler in sight.
He’ll be here.
The officiant arrives, holding a book under her arm. She smiles. “How are you all today?”
“A couple of bodies short,” Elle notes, scanning the row of villas for some sign of movement.
Uncertainty ripples through my stomach. It’s almost time to start.
Haley appears around the corner, and the nerves dissipate.
“Are Dad and Tyler on their way?” I ask, my brows tugging together. “They were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.”
My stepmom stops in front of me, Mason in the stroller. Sophie spots Hugo and makes a beeline for his cage.
“You haven’t heard from them?” Haley guesses.
“No.” I swallow hard. “We’re going to lose the sunset.”
The emotions in my stomach are reflected in her eyes. Disappointment, disbelief, anger, grief.
Over my shoulder, the sun seems to sink another inch closer to the calm sea, and my hope descends with it. He was supposed to be here.
Haley squeezes my shoulders, and my throat fills. I knew going in that I was marrying someone whose public star would shine brighter than mine. I even told myself I was okay with it… and I am okay with him being known, recognized, appreciated.
Because he always knows, recognizes, and appreciates me.
“I’ve been thinking all week about what you said. I’ve been trying to be mature, to let him take on this responsibility,” I murmur to my stepmom, emotion filling my voice.
I don’t care about money.
I don’t care about the legacy we leave behind.
I need him.
“This isn’t about maturity anymore, Annie. Excuse me one minute.”
Leaving Mason in the stroller, Haley stomps across the sand toward the villas. Her hair billows in the breeze behind her.
Elle looks dismayed. Pen is pissed. Harrison—standing next to Rae—seems to have a hard time dragging his attention from her while her hands are clutched in fists at her chest, dark expression unreadable.
“I’m going to watch,” Beck decides, but Elle grabs the back of his shirt.
“This is a family moment.”
“The beatdown of Jax Jamieson? I want to witness, or no one will believe it.”
Squawking has me looking over toward Hugo’s cage. Sophie’s talking to him, and I go over to her.
“He doesn’t like it,” she informs me, peering up.
“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do. It’s for the best.”
I turn my back as Rae comes up behind me.
“Tell me you didn’t know,” she says, her voice strangely flat.
I blink. “What are you talking about?”
But her hurt expression has my throat drying even before she says, “Harrison King is the CEO of the company that owns Echo Entertainment.”
Breath burns my lungs. “I was planning to tell you.”
“When? After the wedding so I didn’t make a scene?” Her eyes flash with pain.
“That’s not why I didn’t…” I trail off. Maybe in part that was why I didn’t tell her. “Rae, I’m sorry.”
My friend shakes her head. “I know this week hasn’t been easy for you, but I thought you had my back.”
“What’s going on?” Pen demands, crossing to me as Rae turns and heads away from us and from Harrison.
I curse through my unsteady breathing, hands clenching into fists at my sides. “I wanted this to be perfect. All our family and friends came together from all over the world.” Tears slip down my face. “We all hustle our asses off, but I wanted to put it all aside and just be about love. To celebrate how we’ve all gone through shit but we love each other and we’re here. Is that too much to ask?”
A squawking sound at my back has me whirling to see the door to Hugo’s cage is open.
The cage is empty.
I gasp. “Sophie, what did you do?”
“He didn’t like it in there.” Her pout is defensive.
Scanning the sky, I search for any sign of movement against the fading colors. “There he is!”
Hugo’s a dozen feet in the air, struggling to fly.
“Probably flying back to the cove,” the attendant weighs in. “Where his mate is.”
“So, that’s good?”
The attendant can’t keep the sadness out of her voice. “He’s not healed yet. He probably won’t survive.”
My chest aches as I watch him. I’ve spent a lot of my life feeling out of control, but I can’t come to grips with it right now.
Standing on a beach in a beautiful dress with words in my heart… and no one to say them to.
I watch Hugo flap, lurching and eventually disappearing around the trees and rocks.
No. I’m not letting this happen.
I scan the beach, my gaze landing on a jet ski.
21
The win
dowless room was supposed to be for privacy, a way to get this deal done and stave off exhaustion. I didn’t expect it to be this hard. I was naive maybe—Jax has been in this industry for two decades, and he makes it look easy. I’m used to being able to make things happen myself. Army of one.
“That’s it. Wicked’s ownership hasn’t come back by now, they’re not going to.” I shove out of my chair.
“If they do and you’re not here to sign, this will be over,” the lawyer weighs in. “Exclusivity will lapse, and everything we’ve worked on will be for nothing.”
He doesn’t say all the money you’ve spent will be wasted, but it’s implied.
A knock comes at the door.
“Yeah,” I bark out.
It opens a few inches, and a man appears with a silver cart covered with bottles.
“Apologies, Mr. Adams, we customarily bring a bar for our VIP guests before dinner.”
I jerk upright. Dinner?
“What time is it?”
He tells me, and the blood drains from my face.
I lean against the wall, flexing my hand. The scars have faded over the past three years since that night in New York changed everything. Now, my eyes crossing from fatigue, the white lines blur.
The image etched in the broken skin—delicate black lines, twisting and weaving—remains clear and steadfast.
The rose, its petals swooping over the back of my hand, its leaves stretching toward my fingers, its vines curling around my wrist.
Annie. She’s what matters. When things are going well, but especially when they’re not.
Fuck. I’m worried about doing right by artists I don’t even know, but I’m not doing right by the most important person in my life.
The truth of that rings through me.
“I need to be with Annie.” I roll down my sleeves and start for the door. While the bar attendant hurries to get out of the way, Jax grabs my arm.
He’s as frustrated as I am. “Don’t make this decision lightly. I know this is the last place you want to be right now. But sometimes the world is bigger than what we want, Tyler.”
I suck in a breath, my heart hammering as I step out into the hall for privacy. He follows.
“I get it,” I state when I turn back to face him. “You want this deal. You want Wicked because of what they did to you, and you want to shape the industry. But I’ve been working on something for years too.” My throat is raw. “And she’s standing out there waiting for me.”
Understanding dawns on his face, but I continue. “What would you do if it was Haley out there? Tell me you wouldn’t say, ‘Fuck the deal.’ She’s worth a million deals.”
He opens his mouth to argue but shakes his head. “You’re right. If it was Hales out there, I would give up anything for her.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder, then dash down the hallway. As I sprint out the door of the villa, I hit her contact on my phone.
It rings once. Twice.
I hang up as I see Haley stalking up the path.
Her mouth opens, but before she can speak, I hold up a hand. “I’m coming.”
I take off down the path, running in the dress shoes I put on during a break between calls.
The sun’s setting, and each second feels as if it takes hours.
I’m reckless, urgently needing to be there. Because the stakes are so much higher than a deal.
As I veer off the path and into the sand, my leather soles slipping with each stride, the memory of Annie telling me how badly she wanted to do this at sunset echoes in my head.
I round the last outbuilding, and my chest eases a little when I see everyone there, torches lighting the way.
Something’s wrong. There’s Harry and Beck and Elle and Pen and Rae, standing with Sophie. Mason’s baby stroller…
“Where’s Annie?” I pull up, panting.
They’re all looking at me.
“She left.” Beck’s the one to answer, and the heaviness in his tone has cold fear spiking through me.
“Left,” I echo. I look toward the horizon, my first awful thought that she’s gone from the island even though it’s impossible. From the way I grew up, my mind still works in absolutes when I’m panicked—all or nothing. Things and people are gone forever.
“Sophie let Hugo out of his cage,” Rae explains. “Annie didn’t want him to get hurt, so she’s going to the cove.” She nods toward the ocean.
“Wait. She went after a bird?”
Annie has a soft heart. It’s one thing I love about her, but even though I can’t understand this, I need to fix it.
“It’s getting dark,” says our attendant. “It’s dangerous to be out there alone. I’ve radioed a boat.”
“How long will that take?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“She’s out there,” I insist. “Get me a jet ski. A raft. Something.” Impatience and panic claw at my throat. “How did you get there before?”
Beck nods down the beach and inland a bit—toward the stable. A string of horses is still tethered outside.
Jesus.
22
The water licks at my shins, soaking my pants as the horse picks its way toward the shore. It’s dark except for the flashlight attached to the horse’s saddle.
This is the last fucking place I thought I’d find myself, but I shove down my discomfort because there’s something vitally important I need to do.
Find my fiancée.
I don’t curse her out for going after a stupid bird. It’s my fault. All of it.
If something happened to her…
No. I won’t think about that.
The cove’s treeline looms ahead, a dark landmark I fix on as my stomach lurches. I guide the horse toward shore and slip off as we make it up onto the beach. The sand is packed under my feet, firm and steady.
“Annie!” I call, grabbing the light from the horse and shining it ahead of me. “Six!”
No answer.
Her jet ski is tethered to the dock.
Reins in one hand, I stagger up the beach, waving the light ahead.
I’ve spent a lot of time with this woman in the dark. Searching for her, being with her, wanting her.
Before her, the dark was loneliness, solitude, emptiness.
I won’t leave her in that now.
So, I force myself up the beach, searching for what feels like hours. My phone doesn’t have reception, and I curse. She must be out here, but knowing she’s out of touch and I can’t reach her is impossible.
Every inch of beach feels hostile. Every step is darker than the last. I refuse to give up. If I have to search every inch of this island myself, I will find her.
“Fuck, Annie, where are you?” I murmur, fighting the panic.
The horse sidesteps as a gust of breeze comes up suddenly, darting toward the trees. Motion catches my attention, and my breath sticks in my chest.
“Annie?” I call, darting forward.
No answer, at least nothing audible. But I feel her. Sense her.
I head that way, renewed purpose in my steps. The first part of the brush catches at my clothes, the horse on my heels.
I shout her name again.
“Tyler?”
It’s small, but the sound of her voice has me inhaling a huge breath.
“Annie!”
The horse grudgingly lets me tug it inland, making low whinnying sounds as if it thinks this is a terrible idea too.
I tie the horse to a tree, my hands purposeful, though they slip on the wet reins. Then I stumble through the low brush, shining the light ahead.
The beam trips over a shape that doesn’t look like the forest floor—a glimmer of white. Followed by her face, her hands clutched to her chest.
“Six.” I drop to my knees next to her.
She squints up into the light. “Tyler.”
I pull her against me. Her body is wet, fabric clinging to her everywhere. Even her hair is damp. I press my lips to her forehead, not caring about anyth
ing except that she’s here.
“You’re so late,” she murmurs against my chest.
I attach the light to my belt loop and pull back to search her face, my eyes adjusting to the dark as I cup her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how fucking sorry I am.”
She exhales, her breath trembling as she straightens.
A tiny sound between us has me startled.
“What are you holding?” I demand.
“Hugo. I caught him when he landed, but I forgot to bring his cage and couldn’t find my way back in the dark. Especially because I tripped into a rock and hurt my ankle.”
“Come on.” I lift her in my arms and, treading carefully, carry her back out to the beach. “There’s a boat coming soon.”
I steer us around trees, ensuring I don’t bump her into any.
The dark shape looms ahead, craning its neck into the dark.
“You came here on a horse?” Annie says, disbelieving.
“When I found out you’d left, I didn’t want to wait.”
We get out of the trees, and I set her carefully on the dry sand, the bird still clutched in her hands.
“Wow. Tyler Adams braved a horse for me.”
Her half-teasing, half-awestruck tone has my lips twitching despite the dark emotion that hasn’t released its grip on my stomach.
“I’d brave anything for you.”
I drop to the sand in front of her, reaching for her ankle. She lets me take it in my hand as I prod it with my fingers.
“You probably think I’m stupid for chasing down a bird at sunset.” She winces when I hit a tender spot. “But his mate is waiting for him. I couldn’t have him dying before he found her.”
The bones feel as if they’re in the right places, but she hisses when I hit another spot.
My hands wrap around her ankle, unwilling or unable to let her go. “If something had happened to you over a damn bird…”
Annie sneaks a look out of the corner of her eye. “I’m kind of a romantic. But you knew that when you signed on for this shitshow.”
“You’re perfect. There’s not a single thing about you I would change. But it’s good you’re holding that bird because otherwise I might kill him myself.”