by Trisha Wolfe
In about one minute.
I cross the lobby and hit the elevator button for my floor, bouncing on my toes. Like a total kid. I’m that excited. This, along with the news we’d gotten from Amber about Tyler’s case, is the perfect ending to the worst year of our lives. Everything now is in direct contrast to the beginning of this year.
But it’s far from over.
My brother’s murderer was found guilty and convicted last month. The legal system is painfully slow, and moving here with Sam was the best thing I could’ve done—since I didn’t want to go to prison for murdering him. James was out on probation when new evidence put him away until his court date.
The redhead, Sadie, surprisingly provided that evidence. Apparently James’ Civic needed a new headlight, and instead of taking it to a shop to have it replaced, he’d ordered one from an online dealership. He never got rid of the old one, though. And Sadie turned it into the police.
They found trace amounts of my brother’s blood in the cracked headlight. It had been cleaned, but they were able to get enough to match it to Tyler’s DNA. And with the journal pages, the lawyer was able to prove it was no accident. James had deliberately met with Tyler that night for one outcome. It was premeditated, and the judge sentenced him to life without parole.
I know how these things work, though. I know that in just a few short years, James could be up for parole on good behavior and all that bullshit. But we’ll face anything else that comes our way.
Shaking my heavy thoughts from my head, I push in the apartment key and open the door.
And my heart thumps my chest hard, a dumbass smile sliding across my face.
Sam’s on her tiptoes, paintbrush extended above her head, working on her painting of the last stop of our road trip. She’s in her paint-covered smock . . . and nothing else. My eyes drift over her bare shoulders to the tightly cinched belt, and then down to the too-short bottom that reveals her sexy thighs and a hint of her sexy ass.
Her head whips around, her high ponytail following. The tip of it is covered in paint, and it leaves a slash of green across her collarbone and tatted stars. “You’re home early.”
I love it. I still love hearing her say home. As in our home. “Yeah, I had some things to handle, and I took the rest of the day off.”
Stepping out of my boots, I kick them near the door, then toss my coat over the couch along the wall. Above, a collage of framed paintings showcase black wiry trees. Sam and my paintings from high school.
I coast across the hardwood floor, drawn to her like a magnet.
She drops the paintbrush to the tarp and holds up her hands. “Wait. I’m covered in paint. You’ll get all—”
I strip off my jeans and yank my shirt over my head by the back of the collar. In under five seconds, I’m in my boxers—which I could give a damn about—and I’m pulling her against me. The chilly paint on her skin and smock touches my skin, and it only heightens my need to feel her.
She laughs, linking her arms around my neck. “I could get used to you coming home early.” Her eyes sparkle as they meet my gaze.
I sigh, mock heaviness in my tone. “And I’m really going to miss coming home to you in nothing but a smock.” I press my lips together. Since she’s nearly destroyed all her clothes with paint, she’s taken up painting in the nude. Which you will never hear a complaint from me about. Ever.
Her eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”
Bringing my hand between us, I open it, the key resting in my palm. “It’s early,” I say, my nerves strung tight. “But I couldn’t wait. Here’s your present, Sam.”
“Holy shit,” she says, and I chuckle. I couldn’t have asked for a better reaction from her, until she jumps into my arms and wraps her legs around me. “Are you serious? How?”
I shrug. “It’s not much . . . yet. It needs a lot of work. But I figure that just means we can turn it into our own studio.” Her eyes brighten with every word. She doesn’t hear work, or any other word, just studio. That’s my girl. “And it’s all yours. Leased for one year.”
“Ours,” she stresses. “It’s all ours. And now, as I’m officially your boss, I demand for you to take at least two days off from the shop and put time in with your real work.” She narrows her eyes, trying like hell to intimidate me.
I feel a smile curve my lips. “And if I don’t?”
She bites her bottom lip. On fucking purpose. I groan and trap her lip between my teeth, and then inhale her sweet scent as I cover her mouth with mine. She pulls away and shakes her head. “No. You don’t get to do that or anything else until you promise you’ll at least spend two days there working on your art.” Now she’s serious.
I’d already planned to take time off and work there with her, but I just like seeing her fired up. “I promise,” I say. “And you have to promise to wear this”—I drop my gaze, taking in her cleavage popping over the top of the smock—“at least . . . hell. Fuck that agreement. I want you in nothing at all every day. And right now”—I lower us to the floor—“I want to peel this smock off your hot ass.”
I guide her back to the tarp and run my hand over the material, finding the belt tie, and pull.
SAM
“Wait.” I trap Holden’s hand over my smock belt. “I have to tell you something.”
His face pulls together and he pins me with his blue eyes. “Nope. I’ve been dying to get you out of this—”
“For all of five minutes?” I laugh. “You can wait five more.”
He groans and falls beside me on the tarp, resting his hand on my stomach. “You have no idea how painful those five minutes were.”
I roll my eyes and turn on my side to face him. Then, with a determined breath, “Dr. Hartman cleared me to come off my meds.”
His face doesn’t change. Holding its playful expression for a moment longer until my words sink in. Then his facial muscles reveal the hesitance creeping over him. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “Yes. You know how hard it is for me to focus on my art and school at the same time while taking them. They just make me so tired.” His brow furrows. He’s seen me battling the side effects for months. “And I haven’t relapsed, Holden. I’ve been cleared. She said she thinks it’s time.”
This gets a smile from him, and I know he’s relieved. I hate being on the pills. I never felt I needed the antidepressants, but I stuck with the antipsychotics. Even though I accepted my condition, and through therapy was able to understand why it happened, sometimes I’d still see glimpses of Tyler out of the corner of my vision. Just a quick flicker. Him there, and then gone. I’d hear someone laugh, and it would sound just like Tyler’s laugh. I’d see a movie we watched before, and it’d trigger a memory. I’d feel his presence, if only for a moment.
Dr. Hartman continued to work with me via Skype, and said that it was expected. That the mind takes time to heal, and the heart takes even longer. Beneath all that stuff I’d thought of as psychobabble, she’s actually a romantic. And she said when my mind and heart were ready, they’d release me from the psychosis. The meds helped, but I want to have my life back now. I want to be able to do everything I want with the energy I need.
“How long has it been?” Holden asks. His hand roams over my hip, comforting.
“Three months.” I eye him seriously. “I haven’t had any episodes in over three months. So I should be able to come off the meds safely now.”
He pulls me to him, anchoring his strong arm around me. My chest presses against his, to the dark ink of the dead tree tattoo covering his warm skin. “Then yes,” he says. “It’s time. You know what you need.”
I drive my fingers through his hair. It’s longer now, and I love the way it falls against his pale eyes. “I do. Come here.” He doesn’t hesitate, crushing his lips to mine.
He moves on top of me, his hand working to unrobe me from the smock in hurried, impatient movements. “Did you double knot this thing?” He grunts and yanks the tie loose. Pushing it off my shoulders,
his eyes flick over me, hungrily taking me in.
Linking my arms around his neck, I bring his face to mine and kiss him deeply. Then I say against his lips, “Thank you for getting the studio. It’s the best present ever, Holden.”
He palms my cheek, and his thumb sweeps my skin, his intense gaze holding mine. Warmth pools in my stomach. “Just say you’ll be with me always, and we’ll call it even.”
I feel a smile tugging at my lips. Done. Always it is.
He buries his lips in my neck, and I lock my legs around him, pulling him as close as I can get him.
We still have a ways to go before we’re both completely mended. But we’re working at it, every day. And with Holden and me both in sessions twice a month, he’s finally getting the help he needs, too.
Now that his father has married Amber, I try to keep close to her through email. Just letting her know that we’re here, even if Mr. Marks has forbidden her to talk to me now that I’m with his disowned son. She’s an adult, and it’s her choice who she’s with, and who her friends are. But Holden and I hope that if she ever suffers any of the abuse he and Tyler went through, that their mother went through, then she will either ask for our help, or seek it herself.
All we can do is be there for her, and continue to try and work through our own issues.
As Holden’s hand caresses my thigh, I lose all train of thought. I want to revel in the amazing moments we create together. Life is so short, and you never know when something will come along to change everything. Spinning your world into a downward spiral. Trapping you in the darkest part of a mental hell.
But Holden and me, we’ve been to the dark. We’ve faced it. And we now have the tools to pull each other out. Together.
The darkest part is where I found Holden. And he found me.
All the other colors of the rainbow are only a path to our future.
Our always.
–The End–
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to everyone who had a hand in the making of this book. I couldn’t have done it without you.
My phenomenal, talented critique partners: Rachel Harris, Shannon Duffy, and Patrice Michelle. Thank you for your tireless patience, your spot-on critiques, and for being a girl’s go to best friends.
To my wonderful team of beta readers, early readers, and cheerleaders! In no particular order, thank you to Nereyda Gonzalez, Katrina Tinnon, Naomi Hop, Cameron Yeager, Jennifer Stasi, Amber Troyer, Nikki Gibbs, Jaime Arnold, Jessica Estep, Kayleigh-Marie Gore, Lindsay Mead, Pavan Hansra, Julie Brazeal, Valerie Fink, Damaris Cardinali, and Kelsey Ketch.
To the Tuff Girl Legion Street Team! Girl power FTW. You are the best. You’re unstoppable. And you rock. Thank you for your support and your praise, and for just being the best street team ever.
To my mother and best friend. Thank you for your love and faith, and for your constant nagging to amp up the romance. Without you, my books wouldn’t be half as steamy. Dad, you’re always there for me no matter what. Thank you for your faith and encouragement. Without your support, none of this would be possible. I love you both so much.
To all the super amazing book bloggers! Without you, a lot of authors wouldn’t have a voice in the market. Thank you for rocking it so hard. I can’t praise you enough.
To the very talented ladies of YA Bound. No one swoons like we do! Thank you for your support. Tara Fuller, Rachel Harris, Nereyda Gonzalez, Kelly Hashway, Kelsey Ketch, and Jessica Baker.
A special thank you to Helene Stoller, Psy. D. for accepting my (odd) request to diagnose my fictional character. I know that it’s not every day an author walks into your office with a request like this, and I was overjoyed to talk with you about Sam’s conditioned. I learned so much, and couldn’t have written her story without your insight. Truly, thank you.
Thank you to my husband, Daniel, for tolerating my ceaseless editing, writing, canceling of vacations, and talking to myself. My son, Blue, thank you for always being there when I need some input on the male POV. I love you both more than you know.
Arijana Karčić of CoverIt! Designs, thank you for so much. Not just for creating a stunning and striking cover, but for also all your encouragement and belief in this story. I had a blast working with you, and was in awe of your talent. Truly, I couldn’t love this cover more.
Thank you to Jaye Manus for formatting the beautiful interior. You never cease to amaze me with your talent, and I’m always blown away by your ideas and the finished product. This interior is perfect and gorgeous.
To my readers. There are no words powerful enough to express how grateful I am to have such a loyal fanbase. Because of you, I get to live my dream of being an author. Thank you for your praise and encouragement, and for rocking so hard it isn’t even funny. The biggest hugs to you all!
I owe everything to God. Thank you for everything.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
From an early age, Trisha Wolfe dreamed up fantasy worlds and characters and was accused of talking to herself. Today, she lives in South Carolina with her family and writes full time, using her fantasy worlds as an excuse to continue talking to herself.
Get updates on future releases and special bonus material at www.TrishaWolfe.com
MORE BOOKS BY
AUTHOR TRISHA WOLFE
THE GODDESS WARS SERIES:
Of Silver and Beasts
Of Darkness and Crowns:
slated for release the end of 2013
THE KYTHAN GUARDIANS SERIES:
Astarte’s Wrath
Destiny’s Fire
THE FIREBLOOD SERIES:
Unveiled
Fireblood:
slated for release November 2013
THE LIVING HEARTWOOD NOVELS:
The Darkest Part
Untitled: Coming 2014
Information about all available books can be found on author’s website at www.TrishaWolfe.com