Last: A Copperslane Romance Novel

by Garnet Christie

  “You’ve been through a lot.” He tilts his head. “Bianca, maybe I was too harsh—”

  “No. You’re right. About it all.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure if it was a dream or what, but I saw something.”

  His brows lift as if he’s saying it’s the understatement of the year. “Judging from how much you tossed in your bed, I think you had a lot of dreams.”

  My brain spins while I try to determine if what I had was one dream or several. Unable to discern, I finally sigh, and stroke my hand up and down his corded forearm. “Well, whatever happened, I think a message came through that I need to deal with my past.”

  Each admittance of how weak I’ve let myself become, of how I’ve allowed the wrong things to feast off everything I am, makes my throat tighten till I think my windpipe will collapse. Soon, I’m nearly sputtering on my confession, but I don’t let myself stop. “I need help, Brett.” My grasp goes harder, and tug on him, urging him close, thinking he’ll vanish when I say the next word. “I need to let go. Please, please stay with me.”

  I can’t track Brett’s movements. All I know is that I’m tasting fresh mint and a pair of warm soft lips meld to mine in a flash. He barely applies pressure, but I feel him deeper than ever before—working into the nooks of my soul that I’d forgotten about long ago, and for the first time in years, my pulse jumpstarts to life with a renewed purpose. When he tries to stand, ending our kiss, my fingers wring through his hair, and I lift my head off the pillow. I’m sinking and drowning in the depth of how much I adore this man when he runs his hand over my head. It doesn’t run through my hair. The heat of Brett’s open palm connects with my head and I realize I’m bald.

  I shriek, ending our moment, slapping my hand over my mouth. Brett’s vision widens while pulling back. Patting at my head, I can feel that there’s nothing and an embarrassed heat hits my cheeks. “I’m bald?” My loud question echoes off the walls.

  A soft smile lifts his mouth. “You are.” He says it calm and easy, even lifting my hand to his lips to plant a kiss on my knuckles. “They had to shave it for the surgery.”

  Groaning, I cover my face. “God.” My stomach flips. “I’m sure I look awful.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” The lightness in his tone has me daring to look at him again, and I’m not disappointed. The sinful smirk pulling up his mouth is a sight for sore eyes. “I’ve never gone out with a girl who shaves her head.” He winks and my heart flutters. “Pretty fucking hot if you ask me.”

  A long hard giggle shakes out of me, the lightest, sweetest one I’ve ever had in my life. It unlocks a warmness in me, one that has my heart floating high and my tongue going loose. Looking deep into Brett’s eyes, I get lost in a gaze that’s mostly brown today and smile. “God, Brett, I love you.” Shit. I didn’t just say that. But I know I did, and even though I’m a little scared at how easily it rolled off my lips, I don’t regret the words. Not one bit.

  “Fuck.” His eyes glaze over, becoming wet and glossy while holding my hand against his racing heart. “It’s good to hear you say that. I love you too.”

  We stare at each other for a beat until he breaks up the moment by pulling up to his feet.

  “Move over if you can,” he orders, and I’m already sliding against the bed railing. “I want to hold you. I’ve missed it so much.”

  With my shoulders pressing into the gray plastic siding, my brows furrow. “How long have I been out?”

  “Only a few days.” He hitches one leg over and sits his butt down on the sheets. “But it’s been enough to drive me insane. Now, let me hold you and fall asleep with me.”

  Nestling up to him as he lies next to me, I relish in his natural body heat and scent. Obeying his command has never felt easier as my eyes droop closed. A few moments of being awake and I’m already spent, fatigue pulling at my eyes.

  The room swirls around me in a way that makes me feel like I’m in the safest cocoon of comfort while Brett drapes his arm over me, and with everything slipping away to a sweet and peaceful black and my hearing tunneling to the sounds of Brett’s inhales and exhales, I’m aware of his lips whispering a gentle kiss to my forehead. The last words I hear paint a smile across my face as I go back to sleep.

  “We’re going to last, Bianca. We’re going to last until we leave this world together, exactly like this.”

  And I know he’s right. I slip into a deep sleep. It’s easy to say that it’s the best one I’ve had in years.

  3 Months Later

  “Holy fuck, Bianca, squeeze me hard like that again.” Brett’s towering over me, my legs dangling off the side of the bed while I lay on my back, enjoying the lovemaking that’s been denied us since I’ve gotten out of the hospital. I giggle. He’s just ordered me to do his favorite thing, and you’d think from his tone that we’re having the hardest session of our lives, but we’ve hardly broken a sweat.

  He’s been so gentle with me that a few times I’ve frowned. I’m more than ready for slow, long nights where we make love to our heart’s content, but this is a little too soft. I bust out a friendly reminder for the second time since we started.

  “Brett, you can pump a little faster.”

  His eyes flood open and I see the frustration swirling in them. “Hell no, I can’t. We’re lucky to be doing this at all.” He sweeps his hand down the valley of my breasts. “You’re not fully recovered yet, Bianca. We can’t push it.”

  Biting down on my bottom lip, I grin. “Oh, but you can. Your pushes feel real good.”

  His head tilts back, and he laughs. “Glad I have a fan.” Winking, he pulls out of me, ignoring my grumbling protest. “Shut it, we have to go to physical therapy.”

  “But you didn’t even get off.”

  “Tonight I will.” He pokes his tongue out, resting it in the corner of his mouth while a coyness flicks in his gaze. “You can watch me. Seeing you squirm would be nice.”

  I chunk a pillow at him. “You’re awful.”

  “You like it.” He pulls up his briefs, collecting himself in a snap. “Ready?”

  Extending his hand to me, I don’t take it. Rather, I sink my frame into the bed. “I don’t want to go.”

  “Too bad, kitten.” He captures my wrists in his sure hand, gluing our connection as he grips me finger by finger. “You fell yesterday, remember? You need the therapy.”

  “It’s frustrating.” My spine obeys his tug off the bed.

  “Simply because you’re having to relearn something. Don’t worry.” He runs his fingers through my reappearing hair. My locks are short, but at least I have something. “Pretty soon you’ll be walking like normal. The therapist said a full recovery was certain.”

  A sigh slips out of me and I want to protest more, but as he helps me off the bed, I’m realizing once again, he’s right. Only a couple steps in, and if Brett wasn’t here, I think I’d fall. The sensation is weird, like my legs want to go on autopilot but have forgotten the sequence that allows me to move forward. Crap. I bear more weight on Brett, using him as the anchor I need when my feet threaten to trip up once more.

  Reaching the sink, he makes sure I’m standing before going to his side of my bathroom and arranging his hair while I work on fixing my makeup. The necklace I no longer wear catches my eye. It’s hanging on a nail next to my mirror. I stopped wearing it shortly after I was discharged. I’ll always miss Mom, and I’ll always despise the way her story ended, but I’ve learned I don’t need to brew in sadness any more or use it as a token. There are bigger things to live for now. Light glints off the shiny K and I smile. I’m fixing smudged eyeliner when Brett captures my attention.

  “How’s the new book coming along?”

  A warm smile creeps across my face and my head is bouncing up and down with an enthused nod. “Good. Fantastic.” Which is an understatement, really. So far, this book is flowing better than any of my others.

  He smirks. “And your agent likes the sound of a bad boy who meets a jaded and spurned romance author?”r />
  “So far.” My voice is bright.

  “Good,” He flicks back a piece of hair trying to curl forward. “Excellent choice by the way, giving your guy some tattoos.”

  A flush tingles in my cheeks and I smile so big the apples of my cheeks round. “Inspiration helps.”

  “Hmm.” He lifts his head once, a sparkle in his eyes, and slides his gaze along the counter in the mirror. “Can you pass me my jeans?”

  He’s left them on my side of the counter and they rub against my elbow. Wrapping my fingers around them, I lift them up, but as I swing them around, something falls out, clattering to the floor.

  My line-of-sight jerks to the tile. I gasp.

  A navy-blue, velvet ring box rests at my feet, and of course I already know what it is, but my body can’t move.

  “Wow.” Brett says it in the most peaceful way I’ve ever heard. “Looks like you need to pick that up.”

  My body obeys the words, and I’m bending down, my descent slowing as Brett reaches out and steadies me with one strong hand.

  Brushing my fingertips against the box is a jolt of reality, and it unlocks a tremor in my hands that trails up my arm, working to my lips. My chest lurches, desperate for oxygen, yet hardly any reaches my lungs. “Oh, Brett.” A fresh onslaught of tears blur the article as I lift it up and pull it open. One sob of uncontrollable happiness spills out when a gorgeous oval solitaire glows in my vision. “I . . . I . . .” Gurgling over my own words becomes my only option.

  Next thing I know, I’m sobbing while being scooped into Brett’s arms—my heart so full it presses against my ribs.

  Brett’s hand cups the back of my cheek, his deep voice rumbling against my ear, making my pulse skip a few beats. “Do you like it?”

  “Like it?” I can’t even believe he’d ask something so ridiculous. Tossing my head back, I pepper a few kisses along his jaw, which makes him sigh. “Darling, I love it.” Glancing down at it again, some of the joy ebbs away while thinking about all the progress I still need to make in life.

  There are still bad days. Days where I’m angry at Dad, losing Mom, and I struggle. Struggle to be fueled as a writer by understanding my purpose and realizing I create stories because the love for writing resides in my heart. Simply put, I’m making progress, but the road ahead of me to fully healing is going to be a long one. Damn, I feel unworthy of the second chance I have.

  Nestling harder into Brett, I frown. “Brett, this is so beautiful, but I—”

  “Don’t even tell me you don’t think you deserve it.” He plants a gentle kiss to my temple and tightens his arms around me. “You’re the only woman who does.”

  Lightly tracing over the diamond, more wetness sprouts from my eyes while I attempt to accept how he feels for me. “But I have so many shortcomings. Why do you want me?”

  He chuckles softly. “We all have them, baby. We all have scars. We’re all mangled in some way, shape, or form. The hard part in life is finding someone who we don’t mind showing those issues to, and that’s us. We’re meant to be and heal together.”

  Damn. I’m weightless. My stomach flutters high, taking my arms with it as I fling them around his neck. “Oh darling, thank you. How can I ever show you how thankful I am for believing in me?” Dampness from my cheeks absorbs into his shirt. “Tell me.”

  Capturing my chin, he tilts my head up and smiles deep into my eyes. “You can marry me and never think about kicking me out of your life again.”

  Cupping his face in my hands, I give him one long kiss, then pull back and return his smile. “I can’t think of anything that sounds better.”

  Chapter 31

  One and a half years later

  “Bestselling novel.” Brett raises his glass to me from across the table and beams wide. “Annnd. And . . .”

  A laugh slips out of me as he draws the word out. Rubbing my finger along the stem of my drinkware, I bite down on my lip, waiting for him to continue.

  “In the talks to be bought out for a movie.”

  Another one of my girly squeals comes out. My latest novel has blown up and swept almost every bestseller spot available. The cherry on top? I received the news this afternoon that Fox Studios is interested in buying my manuscript. Of course I’m going to say yes. They could make my main character a green octopus with laser eyes, and I’d still say yes.

  “I’m proud of you.” Pushing his seat back from the table, he pats his knee, asking for me to sit on his lap. “Get over here, baby.”

  I’m on my feet, settling down on his leg in not even a second.

  “Are you happy?” He nuzzles his nose in the valley of my neck, causing goosebumps to prick at my skin.

  “Thrilled,” I moan, reaching my hand down. Finding the plain gold wedding band around his fingers, a smile splits open my mouth as I run my fingers over it.

  We got married five months ago, when I could finally walk by myself again and could trust my legs. Recovery was a long hard road, but Brett stuck with me day in and day out, and without his strength or his light, I don’t think I would have been walking at all. I would have given up.

  He breaks me from my thoughts, and my head falls back as he slips a hand under my shirt, skimming his thumb across my bare stomach. Nipping at my skin, I’m near a tipping point, but somehow I stall him long enough to talk about a trip we thought of this afternoon.

  “Shouldn’t we be calling Lizzie and Cora to tell them we want to go to Vegas in a few months to celebrate all of this?”

  “We will. Eventually.” He sucks gently on my neck for a moment. “For tonight, however, I want to focus on us. I want to celebrate you, Bianca.”

  “Mmm.” My hands clasp around the back of his neck as his other hand secures me around my back. “Any ideas?”

  He stops kissing me and looks up into my eyes. “Several.” Nodding toward the room, he smirks. “To the bedroom, kitten.”

  Hopping off his lap, I grab his hand, threading our fingers together to make sure we depart as one. Somehow, even with one hand tangled up, he finds a way to spank my ass, which makes me jump, then squeal, then laugh.

  Moments later, he’s stripping me down to nothing, removing my bra straps with his teeth and making me call his name more times than I can count. As our night goes on, and we make love in the slowest way possible, and I relish knowing most of my demons have been banished away.

  There is no more anger taking up all the room in my heart, crowding out the one person who was supposed to live in it all along.

  And the words Dad used to say were nothing but lies. Horrid projections of his own evil ways that twisted my mindset and poisoned my heart.

  I’ve learned over this time with Brett that Dad was wrong.

  Things do last . . . and I found what that is in my life.

  It’s love.

  It’s Brett.

  This version is unedited and subject to change.

  Saber

  13 years old

  Eliza Morgan.

  The most beautiful girl in our school. One I can single out in a crowd. Some call her Lizzie. Her friend Jake, calls her Liz. Both are awful and don’t match how gorgeous she is. Pouty pink lips, pale skin, cornflower eyes… she’s perfect.

  Been so since kindergarten.

  A warmness floods my chest while stealing a glance at her across the cafeteria.

  She sits in her everyday spot. Last table in the far right corner, pizza and chocolate milk since it’s Thursday. It’s what she eats everyday unless it’s Friday. Then it’s eggrolls, salad, and a burger. So much food for such a small thing. Maybe she needs all the calories, because whatever spell she has me under has to be draining.

  I try not to make it obvious how much she demands my attention. It would make me look weak, but whenever she’s in the same room, I feel her pulse… almost like it’s locked under my skin.

  I sense her.

  I see her.

  But I never look at her.

  Whenever I punish someone or beat up a
stronzo for getting in the way, she’s there. Staring at my target with horror in her gorgeous eyes.

  It kills me everytime, and I wish I could explain.

  I don’t like being like this.

  Control here is all I have. Everyone at this school thinks I’m hot shit. That I own it all.

  Truth is?

  I’m nothing. Home is hell, Dad is a monster, and there’s no escaping him.

  Catching one more glance at Eliza, I frown. Does she know? But I know the answer to that. She can’t know. No one does.

  No one knows that in those moments of pain while I’m at home, Eliza’s there.

  It’s her I see.

  When I’m under dad’s belt, covered in welts and bruises, being cussed at and kicked–– it’s her eyes I think about. Sometimes I see her gaze sad, like they are sharing the whipping of the leather with me. Other times they come to me happy, showing off that twinkle that happens when she’s talking to Jake Goode and laughing.

  Either way, it’s her. Always her. Getting me through the pain. Making it possible to hold back the whimpers and tears. Her light is my guidance when I’m shoved in the dark, allowing me to believe that everything will end soon. And on those nights I can’t sleep on my back and can only lay on my stomach, I stare at the moon lit skies out my window and drift to sleep imaging her.

  Always her.

  Always there.

  Eliza. My beautiful, Eliza.

  Lizzie and Saber’s story will be coming to you in the fall of 2021.

  Preorder Stay today

  Acknowledgements

  Holy moly, where do I even start with something like this? There are so many people who’ve helped me get to this point that I’m not sure where to start, but I’m going to try.

  First off, to my love, R.