“There was an explosion?” How much had I missed?
“Erol was supposed to go back and check it out the following day, but couldn’t because the local law enforcement was dispatched to the scene after the explosion was reported. Newspaper reports that it wasn’t a militia base after all. That it was the camp of a Botanist who’d taken an extended leave in order to poke around in the jungle and collect samples. They don’t know what to call it since his body was the only one on site.”
“He died?” I asked, swallowing against the thickness in my throat. The voice in the dark who warned me to be quiet. He’d died because of us. Because of Trent.
“Damn fool blew himself sky high. If he hadn’t done that, we might have been able to detain Trent and keep the Barbados authorities from poking their noses into the scene and confiscating and destroying everything,” Oliver answered with an edge to his voice.
“What about Ella?” Paige asked.
Oliver sighed before answering her. “That’s trickier.”
“Trickier? You lied to her. She had no idea he was alive. Why would you keep something like that from her? She deserved the truth!” Paige’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red that matched the rage sparked inside of her.
“It wasn’t my call. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear it, but there it is. Not everything is my decision. I have to follow orders just like everyone else,” Oliver answered.
Hearing how much the situation affected him, and seeing how he held himself so guarded, so in control, was confusing.
“You know what, Oliver? It doesn’t matter. None of it does, because as soon as Mark is fit to travel, we’re going back to New York, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”
I had to give her credit. The force behind her words confirmed the resistance she would give if anyone told her otherwise.
The problem was that I didn’t feel the same way she did. Going back to New York wouldn’t keep us safe. The only assurance of that would be to stay within the organization and learn everything we could. Let those around us make us stronger in mind and body so we’d never be weak again.
She was a smart woman. I knew she’d figure it out on her own once her anger boiled out and rational thinking stepped in.
Oliver kept his mouth shut, nodding at her before he turned his gaze on me. He said, “I’m sure you’ll do what’s best for the two of you.”
Paige rounded on me once the door closed behind Oliver, leaving just the two of us. “Can you believe him?”
Choosing not to answer her question, I sidestepped it neatly and said, “Paige, I’m tired. I hurt just about everywhere, and the last thing I want to do is fight with you. Now, why don’t you climb up here, put your head on my… I was going to say chest, but damn me if that doesn’t hurt like a bitch too, so come up here and put your head on my pillow. Curl that round little ass up… like this,” I said, using what little energy I had left to turn on my side. When her bottom nestled against the front of my thighs, we both sighed.
“Love you,” she said as I kissed her shoulder.
“Love you, too,” I answered as my eyes closed. The rest of the world could fall apart. I didn’t care. We were both safe. The danger over.
“Mark?” She whispered my name.
“Mmm?” I answered, fighting against the need to drift off.
“We’re not going home, are we?” she asked, making it sound like she already knew the answer.
“You know what makes me love you so damn much?” I asked, lifting my head and moving onto my elbow to look down at her.
She turned to meet my gaze and said, “I’m all ears.”
I gave her a knowing smile and said, “There’s a million reasons why, but the biggest reason is you know me, just as well as I know you. Sometimes, words aren’t even necessary.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. One slipped past her lashes. She dashed it away and said, “For better or worse.”
“These are the vows we make,” I answered, rolling to pull her on top of me. It hurt, but losing her would hurt worse. I needed her weight pressed against my heart.
Like the vows we’d made together, the rest of our lives would follow. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. We’d covered every single one of them in less than two weeks.
“Mr. Stevens… shut up and kiss me,” she said, leaning down. She leaned her weight on her arms so as not to hurt me.
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens,” I replied, cupping the back of her neck and sliding my hand into the length of her hair. “Anything my wife wants, she gets.”
She’d been ready to kiss me without abandon. I could see it in her eyes. That all changed in the briefest of moments. Her lips broke into a wide smile, eyes twinkling as she laughed. It was healing, the sound of it. It told me that, no matter what happened, we’d face it together.
The End
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♥ Sonya Loveday
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Sonya Loveday, first and foremost is a reader, an avid one. It is of that love that brought her to purchasing her first laptop in 2009, and publishing her first novel, Casted, in 2013.
In early 2014, Sonya expanded Casted and then went on to publish Spelled, the sequel to Casted in March, wrapping up the series, and her stint with Paranormal Romance. For now.
Not long after the completion to the Casted Series, Sonya tried her hand at New Adult/Coming of Age, a sub-genre of Contemporary Romance. Thusly, the Six were born with The Summer I Fell, which released at the end of July 2014. The demand from readers was instantaneously, which brought about End Note, the second book of the series in December 2014, and book three, If Ever I Fall, in June 2015.
To date, Sonya lives in Central Florida with her husband, and two kids, and is currently working on the fourth book of the Six Series. Be sure to keep an eye out for upcoming news on Sonya's website!
Books By Sonya Loveday
The Six Series:
The Summer I Fell (Book 1)
End Note (Book 2)
If Ever I Fall (Book 3)
Relevance (book 2.5)
The Casted Series:
Casted (Book 1)
Spelled (Book 2)
Stay tuned for a sneak peak of Love Always, book 1, and Runaway Heart, book 2, in the Game of Hearts Novels, by Sonya Loveday and Candace Knoebel.
STANDING IN FRONT OF THE bathroom mirror with my left eye pried wide open, I added the thin, brown covering, blinking to set it in place.
Just like every other day at the same time, I was showered and ready for whatever schedule had been set for me. Like clockwork. Exactly how my life had always been.
Washcloth at the ready, I wiped the automatic tears that happened every time I stuck my finger anywhere close to my eyes… the whole time wondering why it mattered so much to my mother that my eyes be perfectly brown. It was a thought that passed briefly through my mind every single time.
But, so long as she was happy, then I’d avoid another earful about the way society worked and how having anomalies wasn’t something to be proud of.
With the other contact settled neatly in place, I tidied up the bathroom, fixing the towel just that quarter inch to make it hang straight on the towel bar. Closed the shower curtain and then folded the washcloth, placing it neatly on the corner of the sink before leaving the bathroom.
Putting things in their natural order calmed me in a way. It was the one thing I could control in a world where I couldn’t control much.
Flipping my wallet open, I double-checked that the keycard to my room was snuggly where I’
d left it the previous day and then folded the pre-planned itinerary, putting it in my right front pocket.
The timeframes rattled off in my head like a ticking clock. A game of tennis at eleven, lunch with Mother at twelve-thirty, and after that, oddly enough, my schedule was clear until dinner at six.
Every so often, that would happen. Usually it was due to Mother or Father having a last-minute appointment. However, we were on vacation, so it was possible they’d intended to surprise me with a block of leisure time to roam the grounds of the resort.
The resort was brand new, having been built over the last four years by Lyle Kennedy—a good friend of my father’s, and a multi-billionaire. While Lyle had no family connections with the world-renowned Kennedys, he was just as known, business affluently, for his diamond mines and, as of late, his newest business adventure—Diamond Isle Resort.
After that, my father, a sound businessman himself, changed our yearly vacation from Martha’s Vineyard to the Diamond Isle Resort, located within the Hamptons, without blinking an eye or discussing it with the family.
On the other hand, I wasn’t as thrilled to make the change in landscape. I had been looking forward to seeing the handful of friends I’d made over the years one last time before I started out for college. Maybe even picking back up where I’d left off with Jessica Whitby the summer before when she had climbed on top of me and gave me the ride of my life. I’d spent a handful of days in a complete state of arousal just thinking about the farewell blow job she gave me with the promise of more to come next summer.
But, considering it was my last summer before college, I didn’t protest, out loud anyway. Not that I ever would. Not that it would even make a difference, for that matter. It just wasn’t to be, so it was best for me to put aside the remorse for a lost summer sexcapade, and try to look on the bright side.
Freedom was weeks away.
Moving over to the dresser mirror, I gave myself one more thorough inspection, smoothing the collar of my light, yellow polo shirt down before heading out to my eleven o’clock tennis match.
The resort sat on a beautiful piece of property at the end of Long Island, and catered to business moguls and celebrity lifestyles. In a nutshell, it was a prime area for upturned noses and high-dollar golf bags.
But… if you got far enough away from the scent of money… you could fill your lungs with the priceless tang of salty air and an open sense of freedom. Something I planned on doing with my window of free time later today.
Strolling down the brick, herringbone-patterned walkway, I passed a pergola nestled in what looked like a thriving flower garden. Newly planted pink and white rose blooms bursting from each plant in all their stemmed glory gave the ladies taking tea something to talk about. Nestled in the flowerbeds were butterfly bushes of bright yellow, along with other types of flora and fauna that I had no name for, but they were certainly elegant to look at.
Keeping to the path, I made my way past the tittering ladies with a slight wave and continued on past the country club entrance to the tennis courts. The fencing gleamed against the bright sunlight, making me wish I had thought to grab my sunglasses before heading out for my appointed game.
The dull throb of a ball connecting with a racquet sounded off as I drew closer and, as always, it did nothing to stir the excitement in me. There weren’t many out on the court. Most had come earlier to get their game in before the heat of the day made playing uncomfortable.
Unfortunately for me, Mother refused to schedule me in before ten AM until my game improved.
It didn’t matter that I’d asked her to stop scheduling tennis lessons altogether, using the argument I’d taken lessons for well over five years and, over all that time, my game had never really improved.
Time wouldn’t help it because, truth be told, tennis just wasn’t something I enjoyed.
Of course, admitting that to her had gone over like a lead balloon, and I was firmly put in my place as she told me that gentlemen were well-versed in things such as tennis. That, should I care to stay in her good graces and her will, I would continue taking the lessons and learn how to like it.
But I couldn’t care less about learning to like it, or her will.
What I did care about was her, despite all her misgivings. I strived to make her happy… make her proud, so I continued on with the lessons, suffering through each one until she realized no matter how much she wanted me excel at it, I would never be a tennis player. Professional or otherwise.
With a resigned sigh, I opened the latched door and made my way over to the activities director, who was holding his clipboard loosely at his side.
Seeing me, he smiled, asking. “Phillip?”
I nodded.
“I’m Travis, your instructor.”
Shaking his hand, I returned his smile. “Nice to meet you, Travis.”
Travis hung the clipboard up on a hook just beside the door and gestured for me to follow him as he carried on the conversation. “Eleven o’clock, huh? A little later than normal, but less crowded, I suppose.”
“Mother set this up,” I answered dully.
He gave me an odd look, and it was then that I heard, for the first time in my life, just how pathetic that sounded.
Here I was, eighteen years old, still taking orders from my mother. Still just as desperate to please her as I was as a child. But I wasn’t a child anymore, and no matter how many birthdays rolled around, she never once let go of the strings she used to keep me dancing to her carefully orchestrated plans.
I endured all of it, hoping that one day, she’d finally look at me and love what she saw, rather than seeing the flaws she felt she needed to fix.
“It’s easier to just go along with it since she’s so set on me learning the game,” I said, trying my best to shrug it off and make it sound like I was placating her.
He smirked in my direction, but he kept his thoughts about that to himself. “Tennis really isn’t your thing, is it?”
It was really a statement, not a question, but I answered him nonetheless. “No, it really isn’t.”
“Well, let’s just go have some fun then and save us both the headache,” Travis replied as he picked up a racquet and handed it to me.
“I’d appreciate that very much,” I answered, giving him a smile that spread across my face from ear to ear.
Usually, when I admitted how I really felt about tennis, I ended up with a list of reasons why men are better men when they knew how to play the game and play it well. I’d endured countless lessons that way with no better understanding of why it made men better.
It was a ball and racquet, not some sort of world takeover.
Travis bounced the tennis ball against the court as I spun my racquet in my hands, ready to get the hour over with.
“Take that end so the sun isn’t in your eyes and hit the ball when it gets to your side. Think you can handle that?” he asked as he stopped on his spot.
“Sounds easy enough,” I said over my shoulder as I crossed the court.
First serve, and I nailed the ball so hard it flew over the side of the chain link fence and bounced along the manicured lawn. From where I stood, I could see Travis turn and cup his hand over his eyes, watching the ball come to a rolling stop underneath a row of hedges planted along the walkway to the back of the country club.
“Damn! You should have taken up baseball instead of tennis.”
Embarrassment, a go-to emotion ingrained in me by Mother, flooded out of me on a deep sigh as the yellow ball flew past my head, almost clipping my ear.
“Heads up!” Travis yelled a little too late.
Jogging over, I picked up the ball and served it back with a little less power than before.
“Fun, Phillip… you’re supposed to be having fun!” Travis called out from his side of the court as he caught the ball in his hand. “You’re staying at one of the most prestigious resorts in the area… not a prison. And besides, I haven’t had a single student leave this court witho
ut a smile on their face. I’d hate to end that streak with you.”
With a slight shake of my head, I gripped the racquet a little tighter in my hand, hoping it wouldn’t slip out of my sweaty grip.
“I can see you’re still not having fun,” Travis cajoled as he bounced the ball against the court. “Would it kill you to let go… even just a little bit?”
“Let go?” I had no idea what he meant.
“Yeah, let go. You know, have fun? Just play without worrying what you look like. How you’re hitting the ball. If your follow through will get you a point?” Travis walked up to the net and set his racquet down, and then backed up to the center of the court.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he turned sideways and held the ball like a pitcher.
“What does it look like I’m doing? Get ready to hit this,” he said, letting the ball fly from his hand.
Before I could think too much about it, the ball came at me, and my racquet reflexively swung.
“Ladies and gentleman… this could… Go. All. The. Way!” he called out like a baseball announcer as we both watched the ball sail through the air, over the back of the fence, and then disappear behind the covered sitting area at the back of the tennis court.
Back and forth we went, until I lost track of time. Until the smile on my face felt natural instead of forced.
“Yep. Tennis lessons are over,” Travis said a little while later, both of us sweating in the midday heat “You’re a baseball player through and through,” Travis said with a chortled laugh as he picked up his racquet and gestured me to follow him to the covered area.
Baseball. Who knew? I thought to myself.
Thankfully, there hadn’t been anyone else out on the court to witness whatever that was. Because it definitely hadn’t been a tennis lesson. My first thought was that Mother would never let me hear the end of it if she knew what had transpired. My second was that I’d never, in my entire life, had that much fun on a tennis court.
The Vows We Make (The Six Series Book 4) Page 19