Last Time We Kissed_A Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  The roar around us drowns me out. Jace's unholy screams fill the night.

  17

  Before Night Closes In (Amy Kay)

  I think the last thing I'll always remember before I blacked out is the smell.

  Not the demon screams. Not the panicked weight of Trent's awesome arms around me. Not him dragging both of us to safety, then rushing back through the rain, toward the sputtering flames, ripping his shirt off and trying so, so hard to beat the flames lashing my brother's body.

  Not even the rapid-fire chaos that came later: the flashing sirens, the platoons of firefighters, medics, and police. Not dad's contorted face at the hospital, the same place the ambulance leads us, where my mother is supposed to be recovering in a room upstairs. Not the way his knees crunch when he hits the floor, followed by his fist, followed by his curses.

  Not the flurry of nurses and doctors battering us with questions through a long, sleepless night. Or Trent's gentle giant weight against me, comforting as the morning sun that's still MIA behind the clouds come rainy morning, the entire reason I'm somehow still sane. Or sane enough.

  I think I'll remember the smell because the stink of gasoline has a mysterious way of drowning everything else out, even the horrible stench of burning flesh, wood and plants and glass on fire.

  But there's another smell I'll remember, too, behind the hideous odors erupting from a home I'll never look at the same way again: Trent's scent.

  I breathed the fear steaming from his pores. I also breathed his strength. I breathed his hurt, his hope, his prayers. And he prayed hard – harder than anybody ever has – for me.

  For us.

  Even for my fucked up brother.

  That rich, deep, earthy masculine scent drifting off him in waves grounded me. Kept me from screaming my throat completely raw.

  If I just pressed my face to him and breathed his love – and I did more times than I could count – I knew it'd be all right. Somehow, this wouldn't be the end.

  The night would never close in.

  Not while I had this man holding my world together, preventing it from scattering to the wind like blackened leaves.

  “It's funny, Presh. First time I got over the gate and felt the rain, I thought it'd be my biggest problem tracking him down, making any headway. Can't believe it's the one thing that kept all this from being more fucked up.”

  I can't believe it either.

  I push my head into his shoulder while his arm wraps tighter. We sit together, under a soft pink umbrella, parked on a bench in the hospital's brilliant green courtyard. It's still raining, sometimes in waves. Nothing like the deluge that came only seconds after Jace lit himself on fire.

  “Yeah. It saved his life. The house, too. Those firefighters wouldn't have been able to do much if they'd shown up a few minutes later with everything in flames. God, Trent. We're lucky.” It hurts to even say it.

  It should sound absurd.

  On the surface, there's nothing remotely lucky or pleasant or thankful about this. Mom lays in a bed broken and bruised, barely upgraded to stable.

  Dad's beyond shattered. It'll take six figures easy to repair the damage to the house, more for the beating the boathouse took.

  As for Jace...he's lucky to be alive. Relatively undamaged, considering the flames that torched his clothes to blackened scraps.

  If it hadn't been for an act of God, the sky opening up when it did, and Trent's relentless efforts to beat out the fire...

  No. I won't let myself think about it.

  I close my eyes, a lump in my throat, struggling to understand why I still care.

  It's my brother's fault. Everything.

  If anyone should suffer, it's him. But when I think of him in the burn ward, under police escort, certain to face arson charges, I just lose it. And Trent gets to bask in the millionth tears I've shed the past twenty-four hours.

  “You know, Precious, Lady Luck shafted me more times in life than I care to count, but damn, I think I could kiss her for coming through for us when it counted.” He's wearing his trademark smirk when I look up, scorn in my eyes. He pats my cheek. “Don't worry. She's a homely looking broad. Nothing for you to ever worry over.”

  “Jerk,” I grunt, shaking my head. It's impossible to hide the wry smile pulling at my lips. “You know, you don't have to stay. I know you're a busy man, running a billion dollar empire, and you've got work. Ugh, I have work. Don't think I'll profit much this year paying out the bonuses I will to the ladies keeping the inns afloat during...all this.”

  All this. I don't know what else to call it.

  The end of life as I knew it. And the rough beginning of something new.

  “Quiet, Presh, because now you're talking crazy.” He runs his fingers lower down my arm, holding me close. I swear I hear his heart beating softly behind the steady rain. “Business will take care of itself for a few more days. Weeks, maybe, however long you need. I'm not planning to go home to Portland by myself. Not ever again.”

  “Huh?” I look up, my eyes big with wonder. “You sure I'm the one talking crazy?”

  His blue eyes land on mine, intense and all conquering. I try not to shudder. “Certain. It's my fault I couldn't stop this from getting more fucked up. I'd be a royal bastard to walk away now. If only I'd punched him out, called you first, or paid Jason more to make sure you never left the car...”

  I tilt my face. I'm still a little salty over being taken hostage and having to pay a king's ransom to his driver just to stumble into a freaking mess.

  Of course, Jason was good about it, seeing what happened next. His panicked calls to 9-11 are probably what got the emergency crew out to the house faster. He also settled for a year of his son's tuition, but I insisted on two.

  “Next time, nobody else gets caught in the middle of our business. And no more special arrangements with drivers,” I say, scratching at his chest.

  “Fuck next time. It's over, Presh. I swear to you, with this pink umbrella as our witness,” he motions, a silly, sly joke that makes me laugh, “I'll never let this happen to you again. Once Jace is out of the burn ward, he'll get the help he needs. I'll see to it if your parents can't. I've got the connections.”

  My smile fades. My stomach slowly folds in on itself, souring, thinking about how Jace won't be the only one who'll need serious mental help. Sooner or later, once she's recovered, mom will find out. It's bound to pulverize what's still left of her shattered heart.

  “What now?” Trent whispers softly, squeezing my hand.

  “Nothing. Getting too far ahead of myself, that's all. There's a lot to sort out. But we'll do it, I guess, little by little. What choice do we have?”

  “You will,” he growls. Such feral confidence it almost makes me believe it's that easy. “Wish to hell you didn't have so much stacked up on your plate, Precious. If I'd been a little quicker, if I hadn't let Jace ever leave this place...I'm here for you and your folks. Even your damn worm of a brother. Just rips me up inside knowing I wasn't able to stop this from becoming the worst night of your life.”

  He doesn't continue. He knows better. Especially with the conflicted look I'm giving him.

  I shake my head, truly amazed. He's so wrong about one crucial part.

  This wonderful man still doesn't get it.

  “Trent, stop. It wasn't the worst.”

  He blinks, cocks his head, a quiet look on his face like I've lost my mind. “You're serious?”

  “Because you saved me and you're not allowed to beat yourself up. Because without you, I don't know where we'd be. Mom, Dad, Jace, the house, me...this whole ordeal was far from the worst night of my life. Just give it a few years. After the pain goes, and we're not raging pissed at Jace – if he ever gets his crap together – I just might look back on this as one of the best. Best, I said, as twisted as that sounds. You saved us. You saved me. You saved us all.”

  He turns, stares into the rain for several seconds, rolling over my words in his mind. When he looks at me ag
ain, there's a heartwarming smile on his face. I can't resist lacing my fingers through his a little harder.

  “Hold the umbrella for a second, darling,” he says, pushing it into my other hand.

  “Why?” I bat my eyes, wondering what he's doing stepping off the bench, into the rain, which has thankfully softened just enough not to leave him drenched.

  “This is the most fucked up time in the world to do this. At least, that's what I thought until you told me different. Presh, I talked to your dad this morning. You were in there with your ma, and he was in the waiting room alone. I didn't press him, he struck up the conversation. Thanked me for doing what I did. Then I filled him in on everything that happened. Everything six years ago that got us into this mess.”

  My jaw drops. Something starts to wet my cheek, far too warm to be rain. “How...how'd he take it?”

  Trent smiles, takes my hand, clasps it between his huge palms. “Not happily, of course, but Maxwell's no fool. The holes in Jace's story bothered him for years. He did the same thing anyone would do staring into a hurricane: left it the hell alone.”

  Shock shoots through me. So does a little bit of rage. Dad doubted, and he'd never said anything?

  “Don't pin too much on him,” Trent says, reading my mind. “He tried to get on with his life. Tried like hell to move the whole family forward. He even figured I'd be back someday, one way or another, and then maybe he'd get the truth.”

  I slowly release the sigh I'm holding in. Whatever. Fine.

  There's too much hurt in my heart to hold more grudges.

  Trent pauses, his blue eyes heavy, almost sparkling in the dull grey morning light hiding behind the clouds. “I gave him that truth. Finally. Then I apologized up and down for taking so long to figure this shit out and do the right thing, just like I did with you.”

  I can't believe what I'm hearing.

  I think I start shaking just a little, but I force my nerves calm again, because everything he's telling me suggests it's not just talk. This ugliness might actually be over.

  “Trent...”

  “Hold up. I'm not done yet, Precious. I also asked your old man something else.” He pauses, reaching into his pocket. A second later, I'm face-to-face with a cube wrapped in burgundy. “Had this with me since we were in Lincoln City, darling. I was about to do it the night everything went to hell, but you got that call. Nothing else mattered except getting our asses back here. Getting it fixed. Now that it's said and done, I'm fixing us.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Now, I'm definitely shaking. I'm delirious as his thumb flicks the box open, revealing a ring cast in white gold, studded with more diamonds than I think there are stars in the sky. I've grown up around enough wealthy women to know it cost him a pretty penny, even with his enormous resources, but that's not what shocks new tears from my eyes.

  It's the cost to him in hearts. The price we both paid.

  The horror, the nightmare, the tragedy, the wait.

  All so we could finally have this moment.

  “I asked Maxwell for his approval to marry you. Just between you and me, he almost fell over, at first. But the more he chewed on it, the faster he came around. He knew. Just like I did, and just like you reminded me of the one thing I've ever been good at, darling.” He stumbles over the last word, then pauses, drawing in a massive breath.

  Holy crap. Is Trent freaking Usher actually nervous?

  For the tenth time today, my heart bleeds wonder. Wonder, awe, and love.

  “I know this is crazy, Presh. Pure insanity. It's crazy all I've ever been good at is putting the light in your life when we've had so much darkness. Crazy I've never been prouder of anything I've done more than loving you. Not my billions. Not my brains. Not my biz, or my charity, or all the lives I've changed. And yeah, it's also crazy I'm asking this with everything gone to pieces, so much unknown, so many ugly things still ahead...but fuck, I'd be a fool to wait a second longer. I'd be truly crazy putting this off. Not claiming you now. Not vowing I'll protect you and your family till my last dying breath. Not asking you to be my wife.” His eyes are huge and twinkling as he brushes the ring box against my hand. “Marry me, Amy Kay. Give me forever.”

  It's my turn to stare into the rain.

  Brain on fire. Cheeks warm and wet.

  Approximately thirty seconds from totally falling to pieces.

  I don't wait for him to utter another word before I answer.

  I throw myself on the ground, next to him. Throwing my arms around this gorgeous, brilliant, mystical man, I hold on for dear life before I look him in the eye, open my lips, and answer with all my might.

  “Yes! Of course, Trent. It couldn't be more perfect.” Oh, but it could, a thousand different ways.

  Then again, did morning ever look like anything without the sun devouring the night?

  “Let's get married, darling,” he growls, a big grin stretching across his face. His forehead presses into mine and we share a kiss that seems to last forever.

  “Married,” I echo the word, still trying to believe it, squeezing his fingers in mine. “I love you. So much it hurts sometimes.”

  He grabs my hand, pushes on the ring, and it's a magnificent fit.

  I don't have time to look down and admire the new mark he's left on my hand before I hear his voice, half-whisper and half-growl. “Darling woman, you have no idea. Love you so much it's made me fucking crazy. Made me hurt. Made me bleed. And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

  Three Months Later

  It's high summer. The rainy season long behind us.

  We spent our last night engaged on the Space Needle, a private viewing Trent arranged just for us and must've spent a fortune on, watching America celebrate her independence with fireworks exploding across the Puget Sound in messy circles.

  The colors glowed so beautifully on the waters. Even prettier reflected off the urban granite, steel, and glass. I'm thankful the Fourth was on a Friday this year, one day before the biggest day of my life.

  Now, it's here.

  The dress makes me look like royalty. Layers of lily white lace with cream-gold flourishes, sparkling Keds with ribbons for shoelaces, and no freaking veil.

  That's intentional. I want to see every beautiful nano-second of our wedding.

  I also want Trent to see my face. No matter how much I'm bawling like a baby.

  His blue eyes burn the second they're on me, stepping out as the music swells. I walk down the aisle, taking in the scene, dad leading me gently by the arm. He can't stop looking over, and every time I do there's a teary smile nipping at my cheeks. I know he's overwhelmed to see me this happy, and mom, too.

  She follows our every step from her perch near the front. It's the biggest I've seen her smiling in months, dressed to stun with her dark green dress and silver cane. She's next to my soon-to-be-father-in-law, Dale, who looks rather dapper in his checkerboard jacket. There's a woman's hairpin tucked in his lapel – Martha's – a piece of Trent's mother here with us today. I've caught my love looking at it a couple times, as soon as I watched his father arrive out the window this morning.

  Right now, though, his eyes are on me. Glued to me.

  “Almost there, peanut,” dad says in a low whisper, guiding us forward, closer to the altar and through the throngs on both sides. It's a mixed crowd, a little of his side and mine, since his family isn't nearly as large.

  There's even a dour looking Lindsey, who's been friendly to me lately. She came out of respect for my parents, and for me, I suppose. So far, no sign of my brother, but for better or worse, that's what I expect.

  I look ahead, focused on the moment, ever closer to the sharp dressed God at the altar ready to take us to Elysium. Trent looks damn good on any normal day.

  But today, for our wedding? If looks could kill, this would be a funeral.

  Mine.

  His suit is navy, a shade darker than his eyes. There's a burgundy tie, flat and delicate against his chest, a stark contrast to the har
d valleys and rolling hills swathed in dark ink underneath.

  A wicked heat burns between my thighs, imagining all the things running through his head as he sees me in this dress. Imagining later, once we're alone, and he peels it off...

  It's been two weeks since we've had sex – a record.

  I made him wait, just to make the honeymoon sweeter, but he made it crystal clear fourteen days was the upper limit. I'm still a little dizzy when dad releases me with one last kiss on the cheek, then takes his seat next to mom.

  “Dearly beloved,” our officiant begins, speaking into the mic, a lovely woman with gold hair. “We're gathered here today to celebrate the joining of two hearts denied for too long. Trent Usher and Amy Kay Chenocott...”

  I hear his words, but I don't.

  I'm too busy trying to keep my balance once his hands take mine, releasing a swarm of butterflies.

  I'm too busy trying – and failing – not to lose myself in a sea of manly blue. His crisp suit contrasts wonderfully with my blue. And nothing will ever hold a candle to his eyes, sharp and bright and soul-piercing as ever.

  Oh, and I'm definitely too impatient. Waiting for my line, when I'm finally able to choke out a mushy “I do” between muffled sobs.

  I told myself a thousand times the past three months I wouldn't cry. But here I am.

  Here. We. Are.

  The place I thought we'd never be.

  It hits me then. I grip his hand tighter, so fierce it makes him tilt his head, questions in his eyes.

  Damn you, Trent Usher, you'd better stick to script. If you've got something up your sleeve besides the basic vows we decided we'd stick to...

  Of course he does. He wouldn't be the man I'm marrying without doing this his way.

  The officiant nods to him. He smiles, tightens his grip on my hand, and we both know in our gut what's coming.

  “I do, Amy Kay. I do because I didn't know it was possible for a man to love a woman this much and be denied for so long. Didn't know we'd ever have a second chance – a forever – and now that it's here I'm holding on for life. Didn't even know how happy we could be, how lucky, how certain it only gets better every day you're in my life. I do, Precious, and I always will. I'll be by your side in sickness, in health, in dust. I'll be there to catch you when you fall, and when you really need a midnight ice cream thanks to our baby growing in you...” He pauses, eyes drifting to my lower belly. I flush, tearing up again. “I'll be there for all of it, darling. Because after the years we've missed, I'd rather die than miss another second. Love you like the sun in this soggy ass city, and because we're too good at lighting up each other's worlds. I do. Today, tomorrow, forever.”