by Sonya Clark
Nate sat next to her, one arm around her shoulders. Holding out the envelope, he said, “This was delivered to me by courier this morning. It’s addressed to you.”
Calla took it with reluctance. The paper was heavy weight and high quality, the handwriting precise. Only two guesses who it was from. She opened it, taking out the letter and reading it over twice before speaking. “Jason wants to meet.”
“What about?” Nate rubbed the back of her neck, right where the tension was the worst.
“‘I want to know my sister,’ it says.” She hefted the paper, then set it aside. “At least he addressed it to Calla and not to Grace. I guess that’s a start.”
“If you want it to be. Do you?”
She’d thought about it for weeks. As a practical matter there could be no place for her in the Beckwith family. She twined her fingers with Nate’s and thought, what the hell did practical have to do with anything? It wasn’t just about practicality, though. Did she want to know these people? Jason couldn’t help choices that had been made before he was born, but what about Isabelle? Calla didn’t want to see the face of the woman who’d given birth to her only to give her away. Only to have her taken away. She didn’t want to see how much they resembled each other. Knowing Isabelle and Jason now wouldn’t make up for the lost years, the lost dreams. The time spent living as an orphan and treated by the world like a freak and a monster. Ultimately, it wouldn’t make up for anything.
Looking at Nate, Calla wasn’t sure any of that even mattered anymore. Not compared to what was right in front of her. And hell, it might at least be worth trying. She would never know unless she took that first step. “I think maybe—yeah, I do.”
Nate drew her closer and guided her to face him, kissing her with so much tenderness she felt tears begin to form. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too.”
Getting emotional was not part of her plan for the night. There had been far too much of that lately. Jumping up, she raced to the kitchen and picked up the basket she’d borrowed from Zinnia. “I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve been cooking and I thought a picnic might be nice.”
“There’s a park in the zone?”
“Ha, no. Unless you count a couple of abandoned buildings where kids like to play. But I have a roof.”
“A picnic on a roof?” He quirked an eyebrow, managing to look both dubious and absurd.
She stifled a laugh. “Just go with it. It’ll be nice, I promise.”
Once on the roof, she spread a blanket and unpacked the basket. Nate settled behind her, bracketing her with his knees. The wind rifled her hair, giving his lips better access to the back of her neck. Shivering at his touch, she said, “Dinner first, then dessert.”
His voice husky, he said, “You know how much I like the sweet stuff. I hate waiting.”
Nudging him with an elbow, she scooted forward and picked up a plate. “Food first. I’m starving.”
Nate opened a beer bottle and took a quick drink. “I’ve been thinking about the whole carrying an overnight bag back and forth. How would you feel about it if I left some clothes and stuff here? And you did the same at my place.”
Calla shook her head in wonder. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”
Smiling, he took her hand and kissed the knuckles. “Hell yeah.”
“All those times I said this was pointless. All I can think now is what you said, that love is the point.” She choked on the last word, tears threatening again. So much for keeping things light.
He touched their foreheads together, eyes half closed. Moving her body closer, she entered the circle of his arms and legs, the shelter of his love that was like no home she’d ever known or dreamed of. Food forgotten, they sat entwined on the rooftop, holding each other and watching the sun sink into the horizon. The mellow streetlights and colorful witchlights of FreakTown began to shine as the kaleidoscope of the city burned in the distance.
* * * * *
About the Author
Sonya Clark grew up a military brat and now lives in Tennessee with her husband and daughter. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance with a heavy helping of magic and lots of music for inspiration. Learn more at www.sonyaclark.net.
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ISBN-13: 9781426896569
TRANCEHACK
Copyright © 2013 by Sonya Clark
Edited by Jeff Seymour
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