She nods. “Let’s go.”
Catherine fiddles with an earring, obviously torn on how to proceed. I understand. It’s difficult to always strive for perfection and then accept that sometimes perfection isn’t what we’d originally thought it was. Sometimes perfection is what we didn’t see. What we didn’t know. Sometimes perfection is the fallback.
Slowly, she nods. “Okay. Let’s go.” She leans forward and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Doughnuts,” she mutters. “I still get Christmas Day.”
“And I get Christmas Eve and Thanksgiving.”
She juts her chin forward. “Thanksgiving?” Shock coats her voice.
“It’ll be easier for Levi since he’ll be cooking.”
She pulls in a deep breath. “You look beautiful. I’m only conceding because if I stand here much longer, I might get teary, and then someone might think I’m actually kind and try asking for favors.” She straightens, running her perfectly polished nails down her sides. “But we discuss Thanksgiving when you get back from your honeymoon.” She moves to where an usher is waiting to take her to her seat.
“The more I’m around her, the more I understand your original reluctance to date Levi,” Felicity says.
My laughter twines with hers.
The music begins, setting my heart into a drumroll. I grip Felicity’s hand, my bouquet suddenly heavy at my side.
She squeezes my fingers. “I love you, Books.”
I squeeze hers even tighter. “I love you.”
Gemma and Theo appear. She has a small wicker basket around her wrist, and Theo is balancing a pillow with a fake ring after last night’s fiasco, which involved Jerry and Levi wading through a nearby pond when my wedding ring fell in after Theo chased the ducks.
Then Serena disappears, and then Felicity, leaving me to remind myself to breathe and remain calm.
The music plays slowly, the processional both entirely too slow and too fast.
The song changes to Canon in D Major by Johann Pachelbel, and Julia, the wedding planner at Glitter and Gold who has been leading my wedding plans, ushers me forward with a wave of her hand. She straightens my veil and smiles. “Your turn.”
I take a deep breath and step forward, walking out of the small building where the bridal party got ready. Everyone is standing, their heads turned toward me. Flashes go off among the sea of smiling faces, and some gasp; others cry. I spot my brother in the front beside Grammy and then see Dan holding baby Elijah, and Catherine, and others who have come to share this moment with us.
Then I stop working to recognize faces and move my attention to the front, where my entire world stands in a black tux, waiting for me.
Levi.
My heart settles, and my breaths even.
This is it.
This is my forever.
Don’t miss my next release, The Beautiful Side of Ugly, releasing spring 2019!
My expectations for the summer were low.
I hated my job where I had been tasked to train the new girl who was as strange as she was quiet.
My mom was starting to miss my often-absent father.
And my best friend had moved so that a state line and three-hundred and fifty point eight miles separated us.
June proved me correct.
July decided to challenge me.
August nearly destroyed me.
When you’re in love with your best friend, things get messy.
When your new friend has a haunting past, things get scary.
And when life reminds you it doesn’t have to be fair, everything will be questioned.
Add it to your TBR now, here.
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Available now on Amazon and in KindleUnlimited, also on audiobook: Becoming His.
Prologue:
I shove another box into my backseat, using more force than necessary as I hear Steven approaching, whistling some happy show tune. His dress shoes slap against the pavement of my parents’ driveway as he ascends toward the house. I don’t need to look up to confirm that it’s him. The whistling is a dead giveaway.
I’ve never put much thought into whether or not I care for the sound of whistling. However, I now know I loathe it. At least these days I do. Which causes me to briefly ponder if it has always grated on my nerves or if it’s just one more thing life is ruining for me.
Glancing over the hood of my car I catch sight of him, and my eyes turn icy, glaring at his short, stocky stature. He doesn’t ever seem to mind my moody attitude or death glares, and today is no different. He smiles and gives me a slight head nod, causing a brief break in his stupid song that he continues to whistle as he makes his way past me, infuriating me all the more. I’m sure he’s relieved to see me going, and the revelation almost makes me want to defiantly rip the same box I’ve just loaded back out and stick around—almost.
My jaw clenches as the sudden impulse to hit Steven courses through every cell of my body. I want him to feel just a small taste of the pain that I’m feeling, like life has shredded every single one of his nerve endings, exposing them to every callous element that life can offer, reminding him that the pain can indeed always get worse.
The need overwhelms me and I have to consciously fight to keep myself from going after him. I’ve never been prone to acts of violence. In fact, I’m opposed to them, finding them both barbaric and unnecessary, yet every muscle in my body strains with the desire for my fist to connect with the cocky smirk he wears like an old suit that doesn’t fit quite right. I want him to go away and leave my family alone. He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t one of us. Yet he struts around like he’s been here every day of the last twenty years of my life.
Surely Kendall and Abby understand this hatred I feel, maybe even Kyle does. They know me better than most. Or at least they used to.
No one seems to understand me these days though. They don’t understand I just need some space. I need to get out of here.
I don’t belong here.
Not anymore.
Chapter 1
Thump, thump. Thump, thump. My quiet strides are the only sounds this morning aside from the music pouring softly through my earbuds. Along with the exertion of my muscles, it makes me feel nearly euphoric. Some people meditate to find peace and tranquility, me—I run.
Rounding the corner, I take a deep breath of the already warm Southern California air and focus on a growing shadow. Slowing my pace, I look up and see a guy in his early twenties, standing around six feet, with sandy blond hair sticking out in an organized disarray. His black mesh shorts and bright green cut-off T-shirt reveal toned muscles. He’s looking at me and talking, but my music’s too loud to make out his words.
I’m careful to maintain a ten-foot gap between us before I pull an earbud free and roll it between my fingers. “Sorry?” I ask, noticing his raised brows over eyes which are the very definition of hazel with dark blue edges that lighten to green and darken to a soft amber.
His grin spreads into a smile. “I said you must be Ace.”
I look him over again. I was away all of last year for college, but returned home nearly every weekend.
Nothing about him is familiar.
“Must be?” I wish I’d brought my family’s Newfoundland, Zeus, with me—not that he’d do anything more than possibly lick this guy to death. Still, his one hundred and seventy-five pounds usually serves as a deterrent to most.
His smile grows wider, pronouncing a small, jagged scar running from the edge of his bottom lip and stopping midway to his chin.
He doesn’t exactly scream axe murderer, but I’m guessing most don’t.
He takes a step closer and I quickly look around the empty park.
“Sorry, my name’s Jameson. Jameson West…” he says, sensing my unease. “Sharon told me about you girls. You’re a Bosse, right? One of the five sisters?” Rounded hazel eyes await my confirmation.
I stare at him, waiting for what always com
es when it’s brought up that I’m one of five—the same trademark comments and questions. Had they been trying for a son? No. Do you girls fight all the time? Not really. Do you all look alike? We don’t, other than having our mother’s blonde hair and being built fairly similarly.
The questions don’t come. Instead, awkwardness taints the air between us as I wonder how he knows Sharon.
“She said you’re all blonde,” he adds, breaking the silence and lifting a hand to his own hair, as if translating the words for me. “That’s what gave you away.”
Sharon’s our next door neighbor and my mom’s best friend. She and her three sons have lived beside us for a decade. She also works at Saint Andrews Hospital with my father where they’re both thoracic surgeons. Sharon specializes with lungs, and my father, the heart. She and my dad have shared a close professional relationship for years, but my mom and Sharon didn’t become friends until the last few years when her youngest son, Max, moved away.
They started a book club and began playing Bunco with a group of women, which evolved into spending most of their free time together with a bottle of wine … or two, accompanied by lots of giggling and gossiping. The reality that we never really outgrow this behavior both relieves and concerns me greatly.
Raising my eyebrows, questions of what Sharon’s told him run through my mind. “At least half of Southern California is blonde.”
His smile turns playful. “Mr. Janes also mentioned you’d be down here when I passed his house on my way down. Told me I should watch out for you because it’s not safe to be running alone.” He turns his head, making a point of looking around the empty field.
Does he know all my neighbors?
“I’m Max’s friend.” Jameson takes another step, bridging what’s becoming a very small gap between us, and extends his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, noting how rough and callused his palm is. “Are you visiting Sharon alone?”
His eyes widen. “No,” he answers automatically. His ivory cheeks color with a faint blush as he shakes his head, keeping his smile in place. “No. I transferred down here with Max from the University of Alaska. We’re here for the summer until school starts.”
This surprises me. True, it’s my first full day back home after visiting my grandparents with my dad and sister, Kendall, in France for the past two weeks, but I’m shocked my mom didn’t mention Max returning. It isn’t like her at all.
“I met your mom yesterday. She mentioned you and your sister … Kylie?” His forehead creases, lacking confidence.
“Kendall.”
Jameson’s lips quirk in an apologetic grin as he nods. “Kendall. That’s right. She said you two would be able to show us around since so much has changed in the past couple of years.” The brightness of his eyes tells me he’s teasing, but I’m certain his words hold truth. My mother is a southern debutante, born and raised in the great state of Texas—a nationality in of itself in her book. Being hospitable and polite is ingrained so deeply in her, she isn’t always aware of boundaries.
“Yeah, absolutely. We’d be happy to help in any way we can.” It’s also ingrained in us girls.
Thanks, Mom.
He motions to the track with a nod. “Mind if I run with you?”
“Sure,” I reply on instinct, even though I do mind. Running is something I prefer to do alone or with Zeus.
My music remains off as we set off at a slow jog. After a few laps, our pace increases. Surprisingly, measuring my strides against his longer ones is invigorating and a welcomed challenge.
We run until we’re winded, then slow to a jog and make our way up to my neighborhood.
Stopping in front of my house brings the return of awkwardness as he stands beside me, his destination next door. “I’ll see you around,” I huff.
Jameson smiles gently, like he knows I’m uncomfortable. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Ace.”
Upstairs, the sun seeps through my shades, revealing Kendall sprawled across my bed, fast asleep. Even at twenty-one she has a strong aversion to being alone for any length of time. A side effect of growing up in a large family.
After showering and pulling on clean clothes, I climb in beside Kendall and quickly find sleep.
The familiar murmur of voices floating up the stairs wakes me. Kendall’s disappeared and the sun casts long shadows across my room, mocking me for sleeping most of the day away.
It’s Sunday, which means it’s family night at my parents’ house—a weekly tradition we rarely miss.
“Oh, you guys brought macarons home,” my sister, Savannah, sighs.
“Those are the chocolate hazelnut ones.” I point to the back corner of the box, indicating her favorites.
“Oh, Ace!” Savannah’s bright blue eyes shine with tears as she stands and wraps me in a tight hug. Pregnancy hormones have increased my second to oldest sister’s constant need for affection. “I’m so bummed I didn’t get to go with you guys! I want to hear all about it!” She pulls back and eyes that match our mother’s and sisters’ slowly scrutinize my face before lifting to my brown ones, concluding her brief assessment.
Smiling with assurance, I run a hand across her belly.
“Do you think much has changed since last summer?” Her husband, Caulder, asks, walking in step with my other brother-in-law Kyle from the den.
Kyle’s eyes widen as he nearly stumbles to break his stride and separate himself from Caulder, knowing his question won’t be well received.
Savannah focusses on Caulder with in an icy glare. “I still want to hear about it.”
Caulder’s brown eyes turn somber. “I’m sorry, babe. You’re right…” he places a hand on Savannah’s six-month bump, “and in a couple years when baby Alex is big enough, we’ll all go.”
“More like Alexandra,” I tease, selecting a pink macaron from the box.
Caulder shakes his head. “It’s a boy,” he insists. “He likes good music, riding in my truck, and he goes crazy when he hears motorcycles.”
“Uh oh. Alexandra’s already into bad boys. You better be prepared,” I sing, winning a smile from Savannah and a scowl from Caulder.
“Y’all really should just find out, I’m tired of buying yellow,” Mom adds from where she and my dad are preparing dinner.
“I think Ace is right. Baby is definitely a girl,” Savannah says, looking down at her growing stomach in adoration.
I grin, gazing up at Caulder with a gloating expression which he returns with an eye roll.
Caulder’s the newest member of our family. He and Savannah celebrated their second wedding anniversary just last month. He grew up with a sister, however, there are days it’s apparent that having a single sibling in no way prepared him for our large family.
Kendall initially had a difficult time understanding our older sister’s draw to Caulder. Savannah’s always been sweet and soft spoken, with a strong draw to children that led her to teaching kindergarten. Caulder’s very serious—to the point of being almost stiff and awkward at times. However, I’d known from the moment I met Caulder that he and Savannah would be perfect for one another. They’re like yin and yang: Where she sees possibility, he sees risk; where she leans toward new ventures, he gravitates toward familiarity. But neither stifles the other; they balance each other.
“Is Abby coming tonight?” Mom asks.
At the mention of my best friend I turn toward my mom. “Yeah, she leaves Tuesday. So she’s staying the night.”
“We’ve got to get her to call you Ace. I still look around to see who in the hell she’s talking to when I hear her call you Harper,” Kyle says, prodding through the macarons.
“It is my name.”
He looks up from the box with a hint of sadness rounding his eyes. “But you’re Ace.” Prior to college everyone called me by the nickname, but this past year at college when others heard my name listed off attendance sheets, I became Harper.
Kyle’s known me since I was six, long enough to warrant the confusion
. We met when my oldest sister, Mindi, had taken me to the park near our house with a couple of her friends as an excuse to watch the high school boys’ football practice. I had quickly grown bored of the mundane task of sitting still and not bothering them, and eventually left in search of something more entertaining. It didn’t take long before I couldn’t see Mindi or the direction from which I’d travelled. I was crying and wandering aimlessly when Kyle found me. He took my hand and we set off to find Mindi with a trail of his bad jokes in our wake.
When we found her, she was so worked up—fearing something had happened to me—she hadn’t even realized I was still gripping Kyle’s hand when she flung her arms around me. However, her stress seemed to dissipate faster than it should’ve once she noticed him. They began dating the following week, and he became a permanent fixture in our house and family albums, becoming like a brother to me and the rest of my sisters, and a son to my parents.
Kyle and I have always had a special bond, sharing a passion for running, soccer, and my family. Where Savannah is sweet, and probably too nice, Mindi has the tendency to be a bit dramatic, rivaling Kendall with being both bossy and loud. In addition, she was born a perfectionist, something I’m intimately familiar with since it’s one of the few traits that I, too, received from our mom.
“Where’s Mindi and the girls?” I ask, noticing Savannah looking precariously close to tears again.
“They’re at a birthday party. What four-year-old has their party at a nail salon?” he grumbles. “I mean, seriously.”
“Mom!” Kendall yells, making both Kyle and I sink back farther into the kitchen. Kendall’s well-known for needing her sleep, and her tone makes it apparent the jetlag is hitting her hard. “Have you seen my jean shorts with the lace pockets?”
“Kyle, the girls are here,” Mom announces, shoving a bag of pink, heart-shaped marshmallows in my hands. “She’s been cravin’ these, and she’s been in sort of a mood lately.” Her blue eyes widen, serving as a warning.
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