Pure Hearts

by Jeannine Allison

  Rushing over, I placed a hand on her back and asked, “Are you okay, sweetie?” She didn’t respond. “You don’t have to walk out there if you don’t want to.” My youngest daughter—by nine minutes—was terrified of people, and I didn’t want her to do this if it made her uncomfortable.

  Caterina’s head snapped up. Her father’s warm brown eyes stared back at me. “I-I still w-wanna be in the f-family, Mama.”

  Liliana was quick to help. She flung herself off the couch and skipped over to her sister. I stepped back and watched Liliana wrap her arm around a sniffling Caterina.

  “Cat, you can walk with me and share my basket.”

  Caterina rubbed her eyes and gave a small smile. “Thanks, Lil.” Then she turned toward me. “Can I find Nana?”

  “Sure. I’ll take you both out there.” The three of us walked down the hallway, and when we reached the end, Liliana immediately ran off, while Caterina easily found her target and shuffled over. I looked out at the rest of my family and friends.

  There were four tables, two on each side, to make the shortest aisle in history. Aster was sitting at one of the farthest-away tables. His arm was wrapped around his wife of eight years, Briana, the girl he met after Becky left him. Their six-year-old son, Ricky, named after our dad, sat on the other side of him. When they found out Briana was pregnant, Aster moved his family back here to be closer to us.

  Calla and Kent were at the table next to them, sitting with their eight-year-old son, Jackson, whom they adopted four years ago, and our parents.

  Catherine and Trevor were sitting at the table across from them, the one closest to us, and Caterina sat in her lap. Even before she learned of her namesake, Caterina always had a special bond with Nick’s mom. It was never a surprise when my daughter sought comfort from her.

  At the last table sat Lindsay and Kevin with their four sons and Florence. That table was the most chaotic. My eldest daughter was slowly becoming a tomboy, constantly trying to outdo whatever the boys were doing.

  I’d always wanted a boy, but I’d heard enough horror stories from Lindsay to know I’d never want four of them.

  Smiling, I placed my hand on my stomach.

  “You ready to be my best woman?”

  Turning toward the bar, I saw Nick talking to our niece a few feet away. Mirielle was nodding vigorously. When she found out Nick got to pick someone to stand up with him, she was adamant it should be her. At twelve years old, she was most definitely a ballbuster. She refused to accept societal norms, and while her parents loved her unique, take-no-bull personality, they were probably at high risk for ulcers.

  When we were debating how far we wanted to go in renewing our vows, we decided to include the children as much as we could considering only Mirielle was here last time, and she was too young to remember.

  With a grin, I turned around and walked back toward Nick’s office. I picked up my flowers and lovingly rubbed my slightly swollen belly. Nick and I had found out I was pregnant a couple months ago—today I was nearly five months along. We decided to do the gender reveal today—only I knew so far, and it had determined the color of my bouquet. Nick and I combined the two events because we knew how hard it was for everyone to gather like this.

  I gazed down at the flowers, all white except for three perfectly placed ones that revealed the baby’s gender. Nick would see them first since we were walking down the aisle together this time. When he told me that was what he wanted, I asked him why. I still got butterflies thinking about his answer.

  He’d grabbed my hands and said, “Ten years ago you walked down that aisle toward me, alone, and I promised myself that would be the last time you did anything without me.”

  I’d sassed him back of course, saying, “Well, technically, I wasn’t alone. I had my dad—”

  Nick had grinned, expecting the response, I guessed, and placed a finger over my lips. “Hush. I’m trying to be romantic and sentimental and you’re ruining it.”

  I stifled a chuckle now. Who would have thought the surly man I met nearly twelve years ago would turn into a giant softy who let his daughters paint his toenails and treated his wife like a queen?

  “Hey.” I whipped around at the sound of his voice, keeping the flowers hidden behind my back. He was grinning as he shut the door.

  “Wow,” he breathed. “You’re gorgeous.”

  I smiled, loving how he phrased it that way. It was never “you look,” always “you are.” It didn’t matter what I was wearing or if my hair was in an elegant updo (like today) or a messy bun with Fruit Loops buried in it (like yesterday morning).

  Nick walked forward, stopping a foot away from me, and anxiously looked down at the empty space where my hands should be.

  “Are you gonna keep me waiting?” He was practically bouncing on his feet. I slowly unwound my hands from behind my back until they were resting in front of me, gripping the flowers tightly when he teared up.

  “Stop that,” I chided. “You know I can’t watch you cry without crying myself. And my makeup is perfect.”

  He ignored my words as he dropped to his knees in front me and rested each palm against the sides of my distended stomach.

  “We’re having a boy?” he asked reverently.

  Placing one of my hands over his, I nodded. His eyes lifted to mine as he smiled, so wide and bright he could challenge the sun. Nick stood up and gently cradled my head before wrapping me in a hug. My hands landed on his back, taking care not to jostle the bouquet too much.

  We never explicitly said so, but I think we might have kept going because we wanted a boy. Nick loved his girls with all his heart, but I honestly wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle another one. He was already fretting over them wearing makeup and dating. He wanted a son. He never said so, for fear of hurting the girls, but I knew.

  “Do you have any idea how happy you make me?”

  I chuckled and pulled away. “I’m pretty sure you were a part of it too. Or do you not remember?” I quirked an eyebrow.

  “Oh, I remember,” Nick said on a laugh. It quickly faded as he became serious. “I remember everything.”

  My breath caught. He was looking at me like he did ten years ago. Like I was the best thing to ever happen to him.

  “I remember how you saved me, how you welcomed me into your life when I gave you no reason to. I still don’t know why you chose me, but I thank God every day that you did.”

  I placed my hand over his heart and drummed my fingers. “I picked you because of this. Because of your pure heart. You’ve always had one, Nick.” I could tell he struggled to believe it, so I added, “It was dark in there for a little bit. But it was always pure.”

  “The darkness didn’t scare you off?”

  “No. Darkness is only the absence of light. It can never win against it.”

  Nick grinned, dimples and all. “So you’re saying I never stood a chance?”

  “Nope.” We both chuckled.

  “Good.” He held out his arm. “Are you ready, Mrs. Blake?”

  I placed my hand in the crook of his elbow and let him lead me out the door.

  Toward our future.

  Shining brighter than ever.

  “Prove You Wrong”—He Is We

  “Give Your Heart a Break”—Demi Lovato

  “The Only Exception”—Paramore

  “Shake It”—Metro Station

  “Gold”—Owl City

  “You and Me”—Lifehouse

  “Somewhere Only We Know”—Keane

  “Chasing Cars”—Snow Patrol

  “Say You Won’t Let Go”—James Arthur

  “Come to Me”—Goo Goo Dolls

  This was the fastest turnaround time I’ve had for a book. It was nerve-racking and I definitely wouldn’t have been able to do it without the support of my friends and family. I’ve been a hermit these past few months, even more than usual, so thank you guys so much for putting up with it! I know it’s not easy, but you have been awesome and are partt of
the reason this book exists <3

  To my beta readers: Briana Pacheco, Jenny Baker Reimer, Kristen Humphry Johnson, and Kingston Westmoreland, the feedback was amazing! Thank you for being so detailed and not getting annoyed by all my follow-up questions and emails :)

  Thank you, Taylor Henderson for answering all my medical questions and ensuring I was accurate in my portrayal.

  Thank you to my editor, Stephanie Parent! I’m still amazed by how quick you are ;)

  To Hang Le, thank you for this gorgeous cover and the amazing teasers!

  Thank you to my formatter, Stacey Blake at Champagne Formats, for putting up with my latest <3

  As always, thank you, the readers. This wouldn’t exist without you.

  xoxo

  Jeannine Allison is an author of contemporary and New Adult romance. After waffling between many degrees in college, she finally graduated with a BA in English Literature from Arizona State University. She loves writing and reading—obviously :)—but when she’s not, she enjoys playing with her two dogs, watching her favorite YouTube beauty bloggers, drinking coffee, googling new tattoos, and pretty much anything else that allows her to wear yoga pants and a sweatshirt.

  Stalk Her!

  Facebook

  Instagram

  Goodreads

  Website

  Pinterest

  The Unveiling Series

  Unveiling the Sky

  Unveiling Chaos

  Unveiling Ghosts

  Unveiling Fate (Coming Fall 2017)

  GLASS RAINED DOWN AROUND ME, blood dripping from my hand to the tile below. I tried to take a deep breath, but the air wasn’t there. My breaths grew louder, and with another cry, I slammed my bloody hand into the mirror. After that fourth hit the pain barely registered anymore, and I collapsed against the opposite wall. I watched myself disappear from the mirror as I slid down the wall until my butt hit the floor.

  The knocks on my front door were getting louder, and my phone continued its insistent ringing. The only time it stopped was during the three-second intervals between calls when Naomi hung up and dialed again. I watched it vibrate across the counter until it teetered at the edge, precariously balancing, one shake away from crashing to the floor. Exhausted, I finally reached forward to answer it.

  “Alara?” Naomi’s frantic voice shouted. “Open the door.”

  “I-I’m tired,” I choked out on a sob.

  “I know, honey. I know. Just… I need you to open the door.” The normal cheer was gone from her voice, replaced by undisguised panic and sorrow. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as more tears ran down my face.

  Ending the call without responding, I slowly got up, checking to make sure the towel was secured around me. I glanced down to see my long blonde hair was still dripping wet, the water trickling to mix with the blood. As I made my way to the front door, I glanced at the contents of my closet scattered about on my bedroom floor and wondered if this was my life now. Despair. Destruction. Pain. Exhaustion. The thunderous knocks from Naomi’s tiny hands ended as soon as I unlocked the door and stepped back. Not even a second later, she burst in, and her wide brown eyes took in my appearance.

  “Oh God. What happened?”

  “I’m just so, so tired, Naomi.” My shoulders sagged and my head dropped as I started crying harder. She was at my side in an instant, rubbing small circles on my back and telling me it was going to be okay.

  “Alara…” she began softly. “I need you to tell me where the blood is coming from.” I looked down, taking note of the red streaks on my feet and legs. I wordlessly held up my left hand, which she quickly turned over and began examining. She was shifting her focus back and forth between my eyes and hand. “Shit. I think this needs stitches.”

  I withdrew my hand and shook my head. “N-no. I don’t want to g-go anywhere,” I hiccupped as I cradled my hand to my chest.

  “I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to. Sher’s already on her way over. She should be here any—”

  “Fuck. What the hell happened? Is she okay?” Sherry’s voice sounded as she raced through the front door and slammed it behind her. Her burgundy hair was wild and curly around her flushed face, and her chest heaved under her Arizona Cardinals T-shirt, giving the impression she ran here.

  Their voices became muddled as they moved me to the couch. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing and stop my tears. I thought back to my childhood when I got in trouble for talking too much and laughing too loud, and I couldn’t help but wonder how it all changed. How could the happy child I was turn into this? I tried to think of the exact moment when I felt the change, the exact moment when simply waking up seemed like a chore, but I couldn’t. I opened my eyes to the white plaster above, only vaguely aware of Sherry and Naomi sitting on either side of me. As I continued to stare at the ceiling, I started counting and realized this had been going on for three years. I’d felt this despair, destruction, pain, and exhaustion for three freaking years, yet I’d done nothing about it. I constantly wrote it off, telling myself I’d be okay. I had time. It hadn’t broken me… until tonight.

  “Alara.” Naomi’s voice became clearer, and I realized my tears had slowed and my breathing was more manageable. She came around and knelt directly in front of me before giving me a slight shake. “Alara,” she repeated.

  I brought my head up and looked at her. She let out a relieved breath and sat next to me again before grabbing my uninjured hand and giving it a squeeze.

  “Sher knows how to stitch you up. She left for the drugstore. She should be back in ten minutes.”

  I nodded while my sorrow continued to subside and I slowly slipped into numbness. I turned my head into the back of the couch, feeling the rough texture against my forehead as the last of my cries disappeared. Naomi hugged me from the side and rested her head on my shoulder, all the while whispering, chanting, that everything would be okay. But for the first time in three years, I didn’t believe it, because when I closed my eyes, all I saw were more days just like this.

  Eight months later…

  THE MOANS AND GRUNTS WERE getting louder. I pulled my pillow over my head and burrowed between it and the mattress, but it proved useless. Naomi and Caleb had been having sex all night and my roommate was an unabashed screamer. It was on her fourth or fifth plea to God that I finally threw the covers off, quickly slipping a bra on under my shirt and changing into running shorts. I had just reached the door and shoved my feet in my shoes when I heard the distinct sound of an ass slap.

  Grimacing, I slammed the door as hard as I could before taking off toward our apartment complex’s tiny gym. Thankfully no one was there, and when I glanced at the clock I realized why. 5:30 a.m. On a Sunday. On the second to last weekend before school started. I was going to kill Naomi.

  Caleb had been gone all summer, and I thought about how disgruntled she’d been up until ten hours ago when he showed up at our door. I was comparing the pros and cons of a sex-deprived Naomi and a sex-crazed Naomi as I climbed on the treadmill closest to the window. Both sucked, one figuratively, and sadly, I knew the other was quite literally. Caleb was an atheist, but whenever Naomi’s mouth was on him, he conveniently forgot that fact. Loudly. At least he had the decency to blush in the morning.

  I only had enough energy to work out for forty-five minutes. That’s what only four hours of sleep gets you. Climbing off the elliptical, I stretched my sore legs and wiped the sweat from my brow before making my way back toward our (hopefully silent) apartment. I sent up a quick prayer as my hand closed around the doorknob, and I pushed it open. Smiling, I took in the silence and made my way into the kitchen to fill up my water bottle.

  “God, I missed sex.”

  I jumped and whirled around at the sound of her voice. Naomi stood in her neon-green sports bra and black boxers as a grin spread across her face.

  “Yeah, I figured that out.”

  “Were we loud?” She wore an expression of mock innocence and barely contained her laughter
as she reached forward to swipe my now filled bottle.

  “No, you were loud.”

  She shrugged and jumped on the counter, swinging her legs. “So what are you up to today? Caleb and I were thinking of catching a movie.”

  I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You know you can’t have sex there, right?”

  She frowned and took a sip before tossing my bottle back to me. “Hmm… well, we can at least do some hand stuff.” I chuckled and shook my head at her serious tone before walking by her and toward my room. “So that’s a no?” she hollered as I crossed the threshold.

  “That’s a hell no,” I yelled back before closing the door on her laughter. I smiled as I walked into my adjoining bathroom and started the shower. After quickly throwing off my sweat-soaked clothes, I stepped under the cool stream and let out a content sigh.

  My arms were tender as I lifted them above my head and washed my hair, slowly moving the suds in circles. I made quick work of conditioning my ends before grabbing my favorite coconut lime body scrub and rubbing it down my legs and arms. When I reached my left wrist, I paused before reverently tracing the slightly raised scar that ran from the center of my palm to the heel of my hand. The night I’d gotten that was the worst of my life, but it could have been so much worse if it weren’t for Naomi.

  Even though we’d been friends since the second grade, we’d never thought about living together in college. We had heard the horror stories about rooming with friends, and we didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. Unfortunately, the boat was rocked anyway.

  My depression had never been worse than it was at the end of last year. I was living by myself, and the numbness crept in so slowly I didn’t even notice it until Naomi barged in one afternoon, yelling at me for blowing her off again. She told me she felt like I didn’t care about our friendship anymore. She cried. I hadn’t seen her cry in years. But there she was, crying in my living room while I lay on the couch I’d barely moved from in three days.