by Kim Karr
When I reached him, I couldn’t wait until the end to kiss him, so I brought my lips to his and lingered in the joy I felt.
The Chaplin cleared his throat, and I reluctantly pulled away from Jaxson’s warm, velvety mouth.
“That comes later,” he informed me, and everyone laughed. Tradition had never been my thing, and it must have been obvious.
“I’m very sorry,” I told him, with the upmost sincerity in my tone.
He nodded. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes, please,” Jaxson told him, squeezing my hand.
As the Chaplin spoke, tears streamed down my face. Tears of joy, happiness, and a little bit of sorrow, too.
I wanted to say I didn’t deserve this. Deserve him.
That all the fear and angst and heartache I’d gone through wasn’t enough to punish me properly.
That what I’d done was bad. And the truth was, what I’d done was bad. Wrong. Immoral. Heartless.
But I was human, and I’d made a wrong choice.
This was the right one.
SADIE
IT WAS RAINING, AND I didn’t care.
The still-imposing façade of the concrete and glass buildings that surrounded the terminal lit up when the thunder boomed and a bolt of lightning struck. The brilliant, jagged flash caused me to practically jump out of my seat.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. I couldn’t believe eight days had passed.
Eight long days without him.
I missed him.
Forcing my eyes open, I glanced at the monitor sheepishly, praying the word, “DELAYED,” wouldn’t be blinking when I looked up. I did actually jump out of my seat when I saw the word, “LANDED,” instead.
The plane had already landed.
His plane had landed.
He was home.
I waited for him, breathless with anticipation.
Nervous.
My stomach was full of dancing butterflies.
I felt giddy.
I looked at my wrist, and right now, I felt like I was on the side of the rainbow with the pot of gold. No, I felt like maybe the pot of gold was at both ends and it didn’t matter which side I was on anymore. Happiness lived in my heart and soul.
In him.
With him.
I couldn’t wait to see my husband.
Husband. No matter how many times I said it, I still smiled. I hadn’t known what love was. Didn’t want it until I thought I’d never have it and then it practically slapped me across the face. At first, like a tease of something I would only be allowed a small taste of, but then it became real and bloomed into my reality.
I still couldn’t believe he was mine.
For eight days we’d talked, had phone sex, planned, and had more phone sex. We’d decided to make Harvey’s our home. It needed some work. It needed a lot of work, but the shack was on the beach, and that was a place we knew we could be happy.
Once my ban on physical activity had been lifted, Jules drove me out to Harvey’s. I had a diary to recover—she had decorating ideas to bestow. She was a planner all the way down to her kind heart.
Chloe met us there to get her car, and I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the Mercedes in the driveway. Elise had been the one to bring her. She stomped around the dusty old place in her Prada-clad flats and actually smiled. “This place has potential, Sadie,” she’d said. “Just like you.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but somewhere deep inside it was a compliment, and I took it.
When I fished the diary from the cubby under the stairs where it had wedged, I found a crawlspace door. Curious, I opened it. Inside sat a box. Not just any box. It was labeled, “Theodore Banks, 2 of 2.”
With shaky fingers I’d opened it, praying it didn’t hold any bones or any more secrets.
What I found inside was my life, my young life. A baby outfit and shoes. Pictures of my father, my mother, and me. Report cards and ballet ribbons. It was then I remembered that life before my mother died hadn’t been that bad. In fact, it had been pretty terrific. Normal, even.
That night I burned my father’s words, along with his secrets, at a bonfire Jake had built.
Jake and Jules were the perfect couple, and before I met Jaxson I might have found them annoyingly cute, but now all I could say was they belonged together just as Jaxson and I did.
Them on their farm.
Us in our beach house.
Moon Island was full of secrets, but it was also small, and quaint, and quiet, and the perfect place to raise a family.
Our family.
Someday, just not any day soon. We both had big plans for each other and our careers. He had mountains to climb and I had dragons to slay. In my case, not literally.
The airport was packed, and every single person who stepped off the tram wasn’t him. College students home for holiday break, businessmen in suits on their phones, women rushing to greet their parents.
I started to hold my breath in worry. Did something happen? Then I saw him and his name leapt from my lips. “Jaxson!” I shouted, waving my hand like the crazy woman I was.
I was looking at love.
I finally knew what love was, and I was never letting it go.
His gaze found mine and his eyes burned over me with a scorching heat. He was magnificent. All tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes so blue you could drown in them.
He was sin.
Power and seduction.
He was mine.
He wore jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket.
Damn, he looked hot.
James Dean hot.
And he was mine.
All mine.
I could stare at him for hours.
I wouldn’t though, not today. I ran toward him and his quick strides brought him toward me. When I jumped into his arms, he twirled me around and around and around. It was like one of those corny romantic movies I made fun of all the time.
He buried his face against my neck and nibbled with his teeth. I shivered under his touch. I’d missed him so much. He squeezed me tightly. So tight. And then he set me down and took a step back to look at me, his gaze searing me. I felt naked under his stare. I wanted to be naked under his stare. I wished I was.
“Fuck, I missed you, wife” he said, pulling a rose from his inside pocket and handing it to me.
Beaming from ear to ear, I took it and got up on my toes to kiss his hot lips. “Thank you, husband, I missed you, too.”
Fumbling around in his pocket again, he produced a tin of chocolates and handed it to me. “For you, my love,” he said with a bow.
I gave him a bit of a sideways look.
Flowers and candy?
Who was this man?
He gave orders, not gifts.
What was he up to?
But I knew exactly what he was up to when he reached in his pocket again and pulled out a small black box.
This time there were no nerves when he opened the box and showed me the most exquisite diamond perched on the softest of velvet. “Will you make it official and wear my ring?”
“Jaxson,” I cried. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
That cocky grin was almost too much and I swear my pulse was beating between my toes, that’s how excited I was.
I looked up at him. “I love it, but we said we’d wait.”
Ignoring my comment, he slipped it on my finger right above the gift shop rainbow ring, which I also loved and never wanted to take off. “I couldn’t wait. Now, you officially belong to me.”
“I belonged to you since I first laid eyes on you,” I informed him.
“Damn right,” he teased.
Cocky.
Arrogant.
And hot.
It was there in his eyes.
And then those lips of his crashed to mine, and they felt like magic. Sparks exploded, and neither of us cared that we were full on making out in the middle of the airport.
When I was b
reathless, I pulled back and gazed up at him. There was a hint of a satisfied smile on his lips, and I had to say it, “You’re so romantic.”
“Hey, I just had to do it my way,” he quirked.
“Sing it, Frank,” I laughed.
He swung his arm around me, and we started for the exit.
“By the way,” I said sternly. “I got a call today from Elise Petra notifying me that my articles on Antigua, Barbados, and Grenada were exactly what Hotlanta needed for her new travel column, and that my services were required from now on. And then she added that none other than the world-famous photographer, Sundance, would be supplying the photos.”
“Oh right,” he said, “that totally slipped my mind.”
“Liar.”
He shrugged. “I wanted you to hear it from her.”
“You sent her my articles without asking me first. You shouldn’t have done that,” I scolded.
“Sure, I should have. You weren’t going to, and your articles were begging to be read, just the way you beg me to come.”
A blush heated my neck, and I got on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
He veered to the right with a smug smile on his face. “Anytime . . . for either,” he winked.
I shook my head and tugged him the other way. “The Caddy is in short-term parking,” I told him.
“And the hotel is right over there.” His voice was husky, dark, and it held a hint of exploration in it.
“The hotel? I have everything set up at Harvey’s . . . our new place,” I corrected.
He waggled his brows and pulled me closer. “You don’t really think we’re going to spend our first official night together as husband and wife on an air mattress, do you, my little thief?”
Those butterflies he always gave me took full flight, and I shook my head, not even bothering to comment about his nickname for me.
I smiled up at him and saw the way his pupils flared. A raw hunger that ignited his features and made him primal.
“I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispered, his voice vibrating over my skin like a command and as always, my nipples puckered in anticipation.
He was my Tarzan, and I was his Jane.
Holding me to his side, he took long strides through the busy airport and I kept up every step of the way. There were so many people around, but it felt like just the two of us.
When we passed by the hotel bar, I glanced inside and remembered that first night.
Two lost souls.
Broken.
Damaged.
Incomplete.
The electric sparks. The dangerous chemistry. The lust that filled the air. The desire that made my body hum. It was all still here, greater, even more intense, if that was even possible.
He stopped for a moment and stared down at me as if remembering it, too. There was a lot of ugly that came after that night, but we’d vowed to put it all in the past and live each day for the good it offered.
I was doing my best to abide by that vow.
Joy flooded my heart as I stared up into those blue eyes, and I was so very glad I’d stepped off for a while . . . with him.
3 MONTHS LATER
JAXSON
A THICK GOLD BRACELET SPARKLED and the smaller disk-like medallions twinkled against the turquoise-blue water.
The perfect costume.
One arm was up, holding her messy hair in place, the other was covering her naked breasts just enough so as to not get censored.
A flawless body and an ideal pose.
A hot chick, for sure, and I was certain all the men would be gawking at this image every time they passed by a newsstand.
To me though, it was the Egyptian necklace that stole the show. The one Sadie had found and assured me it was going to light up the sky. She was right.
This was the perfect picture.
My best work.
I clutched my fingers tighter around the glossy paper as I pushed through the squeaky door to the beach bungalow we now called home.
We’d done a shit ton of work to it and it needed a shit ton of more work. All in good time.
It was a Saturday, and Sadie was up on a ladder with a paintbrush in her hand. My eyes glided up, piercing her, taking her in, demanding her attention. I cleared my throat.
“Jaxson,” she grinned. “Hi. I thought you weren’t coming home until later.”
I licked my lips, offering a lazy smile. “Plans changed.”
“Oh, good. Grab a brush.”
I frowned. Not what I had in mind, at all.
“What? You don’t like the color?” she asked, her voice raspy and paint covering her hot little body. She was sexy as hell in those overalls and my dick saluted the good work, and her.
I tucked the magazine in my back pocket and folded my arms over my chest, very aware of what this stance would do to her. “It looks great,” I answered, not really caring if the walls were Sunshine Yellow, Vibrant Yellow, or Martha Stewart Yellow. “And so do you.”
Blowing a piece of stray hair from her eyes, she glanced down at herself. “I’m a mess.”
Shaking my head, I quirked a finger, beckoning her to come a little closer. Telling her I wanted her naked. Letting her know she was mine—mess and all.
Her mouth opened in a perfect O and she set her paintbrush aside.
Jesus fucking Christ, I loved her.
In this moment, I was a lion poised to pounce. “On second thought,” I offered, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip, “stay put.”
I’d go to her.
Nice guys didn’t always finish last—in fact, sometimes they finished first, and sometimes they even won.
I climbed the ladder as she twisted and sat on the top. “What’s going on?” she asked, her breaths heavy with desire.
When we were eye-to-eye, I pulled the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition from my back pocket and presented it to her like a kid who’d just got an A on a paper.
She snatched it from my hand and stared in awe for the longest time. “Oh, my God. I love it. And you’re name, it’s so big.”
I grinned and looked down toward my raging erection. “Yeah, like me.”
She swatted my shoulder. “Seriously, this picture is beautiful.”
I caged her in, gripping the sides of the ladder and staring into her eyes. “Like you, Sadie Cassidy.”
“You’re prejudiced,” she smirked.
“Maybe.”
She kissed me softly.
“By the way,” I said. “How about you show me how perfect you are and hurry your sweet ass to get packed?”
She blinked. “For what?”
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “Travel and Leisure just called me and asked if I’d be interested in shooting an upcoming feature on Tikehau Island.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you even serious right now?”
“Pink sands, baby,” I taunted. “All the way.”
She looked around at the mess and bit her lip. We were knee-deep in remodeling, but it had been that way for months. Then she sighed, “I should probably stay here. We’re so close to being finished.”
“Did you hear me?” I asked in astonishment. “Travel and Leisure called.”
Working for Elise was working out great. Small jaunts a few weekends every month to locations close enough to drive. Low budget stuff that neither of us complained about.
Working remotely, Sadie was also writing a weekly feature for Elise that raised awareness to the needs of Atlanta. Schools. Playgrounds. Local shelters. Humanitarianism, that Sadie relished in. She called it penance for her bad choice. I called it giving back for her good work.
For me, I didn’t want to shoot for any one publication; I wanted to shoot for them all.
National Geographic.
Reader’s Digest.
Men’s Health.
In Style.
Even fucking Better Homes & Gardens.
“I heard you,” she said, almost unaffected, actually bored.
“And,” I replied, my brow furrowing in surprise. “I thought you’d be fucking thrilled to visit one of the most amazing beaches in the world.”
The laughter that burst from her lips took me by surprise, and then she screeched and threw her arms around me. “Oh, my God, I’m kidding. Of course I’ll go. I can’t believe they called you. You are huge, Jaxson Cassidy. Huge.”
I wanted to swat her on the ass, but instead, I grabbed her by the waist and took a single step down. “How about I show you just how huge I am, my little thief.”
She bit my lip hard in retaliation for my choice of word.
Thief.
She hated when I called her that.
Personally, I loved it.
I would always call her my little thief because she’d done more than steal my camera; she’d stolen my heart.
And I never wanted it back.
The end!
A symbol of hope.
A symbol of faith.
A symbol of love.
A yellow ribbon is a powerful symbol of the ties that bind us. These saw renewed popularity in the United States during the Gulf War when yellow ribbons appeared along with the slogan ‘support our troops’.
These ribbons presented themselves as bumper stickers, were tied around trees, and could be found in countless other contexts.
Yellow ribbons brought hope, faith, and love, and they helped unify our nation.
WHAT’S NEXT . . .
FLAWED—Part of the Connections Series featuring Caleb Holt.
Coming soon!
They each had a plan.
They knew what they were doing.
Until love got in their way.
&
BENT—Part of the Connections Series featuring River and Dahlia.
Coming this summer!
River and Dahlia have the love of a lifetime, but to say it’s been easy would be a lie.
One last time! The Connections series ends here with all the characters coming together when an unexpected tragedy strikes.
Just when you thought it was over . . .
What would you do if the love of your life was taken from you because of the past actions of another man?
Hunt him down or join forces to get her back?