A Light in the Dark

by Becky Doughty

  Pete had settled in nicely at the Tomlin home, having commandeered Ani’s bed as his own in her absence. Juno, who before had been content with a doggy pillow in the kitchen, had joined him, unwilling to be parted from her doggy boyfriend.

  A few days ago, we’d had a little memorial picnic for Foster out at the park, an impromptu gathering of people who had come together in a time of need. To mine and Ani and Sebastian’s surprise, our parents—including the Clarks who proudly stood in as Sebastian’s—surprised us with a commissioned concrete picnic table under the California oak tree on the hill, dedicated to Foster and Pete. It was the first time we’d brought Pete to the park since Foster’s death, and we weren’t sure how the dog would do, now that he was finally getting back a little of his spark. He approached the tree and the new table slowly, circled it with his nose to the ground, and then flopped down right where Foster had lain the day I found him. The ground had been torn up quite a bit in order to lay the foundation for the heavy table and benches, but Pete knew the exact spot anyway. He stayed there throughout our little picnic, not budging even for a bite of fried chicken. As soon as Pastor Clark cleared his throat and opened his Bible to begin the short service, however, Pete leapt up and ambled down the hill to play with the other dogs, Juno right beside him.

  “Well,” the gray-haired man laughed. “That might just be a first for me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone walk out before I even started speaking!” We all joined in, appreciating the opportunity to let loose a little over what could easily have become a morose situation.

  Sebastian and I had lingered after everyone else had gone, keeping Juno and Pete with us. We spoke quietly about Foster—sadly, Sebastian didn’t know any more about his past than I did—and about Ani and how much I missed her. And to my surprise, Sebastian brought up his father.

  “I’d like to think that in spite of all he’s done, all the lives he’s messed up, interfered with, and even destroyed, that there’s something in him worth saving.” He lay on his back, his head on my lap, and I toyed with his thick hair, careful not to bump any tender spots. “I look at your stars hanging from my ceiling at night, Tish, glowing in the dark over my head, and I wonder what would have happened to me if you hadn’t believed in me. If you hadn’t come looking for me.” He reached up and brushed the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, sending a tingle up my spine. “If you hadn’t thought I was worth saving. He could have killed me, but he didn’t. That’s a start, right?”

  I nodded, fairly certain he didn’t need me to answer, just to listen. He sat up slowly. He still suffered from some awful headaches, and if he moved too quickly or tipped his head too far back, severe dizziness, but the doctors had assured him those symptoms would fade over time, that the dizziness was due to vertigo caused by the hard knocks to the head messing with the inner ear. He stood and reached a hand down to help me up.

  “Are we going home already?” I asked, a little disappointed. The sky shimmered with the beginnings of a summer sunset and I wanted to watch it with him from the hillside. I wondered if Foster could see the same sunset from Heaven and the thought made me smile.

  “Not yet,” he said, leading me by the hand to the concrete table. He turned me around to face him, brought his hands to my waist, and gently lifted me up onto the edge of it. “I’ve been wanting to try out the height of this table all afternoon.”

  “It’s just about perfect, isn’t it?” I said, shifting slightly as I slid my arms around his waist and drew him closer.

  His hands glided slowly up my arms to my cheeks, his fingers threading through the hair at the back of my head, tipping my face up toward his. He seemed to glow a little, haloed by the apricot light of the end of the day. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his kiss. His lips touched mine lightly and then he pulled away.

  “Open your eyes, Tish.”

  My eyelids drifted open. “Hm?”

  “Thank you.” He brushed his thumb over the place on my cheekbone where the bruise had faded away completely. “For believing in me. For standing by me, even when I tried to push you away.”

  “Repeatedly,” I quipped quietly. He let out a humorous huff.

  “Repeatedly. For forgiving me.” He paused just a moment, his gaze flickering to my lips, then back to my eyes again. “For loving me.”

  I closed my eyes again, a little embarrassed now. I’d boldly declared my love for him in the hospital, but he’d never responded in kind. Obviously, I hadn’t scared him away with my forwardness, but I certainly didn’t want him to feel obligated toward me because of it. I thought about Tom’s declarations of his unrequited love for me and the internal battles I’d fought, wanting to give him the same love in return, but knowing I couldn’t. God forbid Sebastian was struggling over me in the same way.

  “Look at me, Tish.”

  “What?” I opened my eyes again but kept them glued on his chin.

  “I want to see your eyes when I tell you.”

  I swallowed my pride and met his gaze. What I saw there, even in the left eye with its mottled sclera, was anything but obligation. Sebastian looked… he looked, well, hungry. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips.

  “Titia Danielle Ransome, I love you.”

  The smile grew until it must have covered my whole face.

  “I love you,” he said again. And more softly, “I’m free to love you.”

  “And I love you,” I whispered back, my cheeks beginning to ache with happiness. “But you already knew that. You’re probably tired of hearing me say it already.”

  “You want to know a secret?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I want to know all your secrets.”

  “That’s another first,” he murmured.

  I pulled back a little so I could look in his eyes without going cross-eyed. “What’s a first?”

  “You’re the first person since my mother who has told me they loved me.” He grinned like a little boy. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say it, Tish Ransome.”

  I didn’t know whether to sigh at his sweetness, or cry over all he’d lived without. So I just said, “I love you, Sebastian.”

  His hands still cupped my face, his fingers softly massaging the back of my neck, his hypnotic touch turning my bones to butter. “I really want to kiss you on Foster and Pete’s table now. Properly.”

  “Okay.” I was game for that. “But what about your nose?” We’d been so careful not to bump it lest he damage it again. It hadn’t required setting, but the doctor still warned him it would take a good five or six weeks to heal.

  “You’ll just have to be gentle with me.”

  “Okay.” I was game for that, too.

  “But you’re going to have to stop smiling like that. Too much teeth.” He was grinning too, though, showing a lot of his own teeth.

  I laughed and pulled him even closer, my hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. “Why don’t you make me,” I demanded, closing my eyes and relaxing my head back into his hands to give him ready access to my smiling mouth.

  And he did.

  As the setting sun lit the sky on fire above us, his kisses seared his name on my heart. A half an hour later, while the first stars blinked into view in the darkness settling around us, we held hands and walked home together, Pete and Juno scampering along behind on their long leashes.

  Acknowledgements

  In our home, music is part of the chemical make-up of the air we breathe. Without it, we would die. Seriously. And so, I’m grateful to the musicians, both renown and unknown, who have filled my lungs with their songs, who have let me breathe in the magic of their music. My life is mile-stoned by memories of favorite bands, favorite songs, favorite artists, and I hope Tish’s story expresses my gratitude in some small way.

  About the Author

  Becky Doughty is the author of the best-selling Elderberry Croft series and the voice behind BraveHeart Audiobooks. She writes Women’s Fiction with strong elements of romance, as well as Young
Adult and New Adult Fiction. Becky’s favorite people are edge-dwellers, those who live on that fine line where hope and despair meet, where love is the only answer and grace becomes truly amazing.

  Becky is married to her champion of more than 25 years. They have three children, two of whom are grown and starting families of their own, and they all live within a few miles of each other in Southern California. They share their lives with too many animals, a large vegetable garden, and a strange underground concrete room they’re certain was built for dark and sinister purposes…

  Book 3 in The Fallout Series is set to release on May 23rd, 2016. Get your copy today!

  On the run, Savannah Clark lives her life as a modern-day bohemian, hiding her identity behind her beaded scarves and swirling skirts. Marek and the Gypsies, a troupe of dancers and musicians, follow the Renaissance and Medieval Faire circuits, never staying in one place for very long. Her disguise, however, doesn't fool those who know and love her best, nor does it completely hide the evidence of how difficult living in fear can be.

  But an unexpected encounter with Jordan Ransome, her first love, tears open old wounds, and tragic news from home brings Savannah face to face with her worst fears. Will she run again, tethered to the lies she's come to believe about herself and those she left behind, or can she trust her heart enough to embrace the girl she once was as the woman she has become?

  Available on all platforms

  Interested in a sweet paranormal romance? Check out Rising by Holly Kelly. The first book is currently free!

  In a war between the humans and the inhabitants of the sea-humans will lose. Xanthus Dimitriou-the most lethal Dagonian to rise from the ocean-is on a mission to save mankind from annihilation. But first there's one small thing he needs to do... kill a beautiful young woman in a wheelchair.

  Killing her doesn't start out as part of his plan. He entrenches himself deep in the human world. Aligning with his enemies, he prepares to send them to Triton to face their punishment. Then Sara Taylor rolls onto the scene. Xanthus knows at once she's a criminal. And her crime? Being born. She's a human/Dagonian half-breed, an abomination. Killing her should be an easy job. All he has to do is break into her apartment, slit her throat, and feed her body to the sharks. Simple, right? Wrong. If only she weren't so beautiful, so innocent, so sweet... Saving the world may have to wait. It appears Xanthus has a woman to save. But protecting her may cost him his own life.