A long time ago when time fucking stopped. Like any amount of days or years could erase it. Change what I’d done.
Zee laughed, totally unaware to the insinuations Baz and Lyrik were dropping. “Seriously…I’m used to waking up every morning to this asshole sending a different girl stumbling out the door. Damned near trips me up when Willow comes slinking in the kitchen for a cup of coffee at the ass crack of dawn every morning, all mussed up and red-faced and shy. Think it’s time to fess it up, brother, because she’s not even close to bein’ your flavor, and it seems to me you can’t get enough. I mean, not that I can blame you. If I had a girl like that, I’d want to keep her, too.”
Keep her.
That unseen place inside me tugged.
I forced out an uneasy chuckle. “Whatever, assholes. Nothing like that.”
Except it felt everything like that. I liked her being there. Staying. Falling asleep in my arms and waking up in them in the morning.
Guilt spun. Hard and fast. Shouldn’t even be entertaining those thoughts. Refused to shoulder that kind of burden. To take on that weight. The joy of someone else.
“Still doesn’t solve anything.” Lyrik stood in the middle of the room with his fingers threaded at the back of his head. Trying to hold it together. “We need to either push the cops on this or take care of it ourselves. You know where I land, but it’s not that simple anymore. There’s a ton more for all of us riding on the line. Families. Kids.”
Baz grunted his agreement.
“Wouldn’t ask that of any of you.”
Austin sat forward. “But that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be there, either. Because that’s right where you’ve always been. Taking up our backs. Next time, I promise you I’ll be there to take up yours.”
Baz exhaled heavily. “Just…lie low, okay? Don’t be heading out on the town or putting yourself on the line the way you like to do. We’ll figure this shit out. Chances are it’ll just blow over.”
“Problem is, I’m not sure I want it to.”
“We get that, man. We get that. You’ve just got to decide if going after them will be worth it in the end. You decide yes? You know where we’ll stand.”
Baz glanced around at everyone, seeking agreement.
Each of them nodded their allegiance.
The way it always was.
All in.
All of us.
Every time.
Edie had pulled me out into the privacy of the hall, the rest of the party a rowdy rumble from the other side of Baz’s house.
She watched up at me. “We wanted you to be the first to know before we made the announcement.”
“No way,” I muttered as a bit of shock rippled through my senses. Didn’t quite know how to process this kind of news.
God’s honest truth, I couldn’t be more grateful that my baby sister had found love and happiness. Knowing all the while her announcement was at the root of her sorrow.
Another fucking tragedy I’d been responsible for.
Austin had his arms crossed over his chest and was watching her with an adoring expression written all over his face.
“Are you happy?” I asked her.
“So happy.”
I pulled her into my arms, hugged her tight, whispered a thousand more silent apologies for that night I’d do anything to take back, while I murmured the here and now against her head. “You’re going to be the best mom in the world, Edie. Know you will.”
She nodded and pulled back. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“There’s absolutely no thanks to me.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Austin, and he slowly approached.
I looked between them. “I’m truly happy for you both. That you both took the chance and found something better. Something good in each other. Don’t ever let that go.”
Edie stepped back. She let her fingers flutter down my chest, her voice a mere whisper, “We won’t.”
She blew me a kiss as she and Austin stepped back into the fray that was her birthday party.
I followed them, but kept a dozen steps behind.
Willow was at the island, laughing free at something Tamar had to say, the sound coming from her mouth like the breeze through the trees. Rustling through. Touching me to my bones.
Her eyes found mine when I walked in. Like she felt me there looking at her. That crazy familiarity lit me up. That recognition growing stronger every day.
Edie clinked a fork against a wine glass. “All right, everyone…bring it in…we have an announcement to make.”
I eased up behind Willow, wrapped her body in my arms, and hooked my chin on her shoulder. I threaded our fingers together, clasping her in the front, somehow knowing I needed to be there to hold her tight when my sister uttered her joy into the world.
Everyone clapped and cheered.
Willow stilled, for the flash of a second her entire body going rigid.
I knew she didn’t want to. This bright, brilliant girl was the furthest from unkind. But when someone else was favored with what you wanted most? News like that would always just hurt.
An hour later, I was sitting in Baz’s recliner nursing at a beer when she walked in. As natural as breathing, I opened my arms, and Willow climbed onto my lap, weaving her soft fingers through my hair.
My chest fisted and my blood took off at the simple touch.
“You okay?” I asked.
She peered back into the main room where the rest of my family was hanging out, laughing and talking and loving on their kids. Tamar was snapping what had to be about a gazillion pictures as she aimed her camera at all the smiling faces scattered about the room.
“Yeah,” Willow murmured quietly.
She turned back to me, her voice low and reverent. “Sometimes the best thing we can do is find joy in other people’s happiness. And I’m so happy for her.” She brushed her fingers through my hair, expression sincere and soft. “Happy for you.”
God.
This girl was so damned sweet.
“C’mere.” I tugged her against me, and she curled up on my lap, resting her head on my shoulder. She fit there perfectly.
My life always moved at the speed of light.
Blips of faces and endless nights.
I was always hungry for the excess to fill me up.
For those few erratic moments to give me some semblance of being whole.
Right then, my chaotic world felt set to pause. This girl a reprieve.
I kissed her on the top of the head and brushed my fingers through her hair.
She sighed.
Had anything ever felt so good?
I glanced up, almost startled when I saw Tamar in the archway, camera poised.
Click.
twenty-three
Willow
The sun was bright and high. Spikes of glittering light streaked in like arrows and struck across the floor where I sat in Ash’s room. I was sitting on a burlap tarp, which was spread out to protect the worn, wooden planks as I worked on a battered, neglected dresser that rested on top.
Stretching my legs around it, I leaned in and ran the sandpaper brick over the coarse, gritted wood. Slowly… Carefully… Gingerly revealing the beauty that waited underneath.
I knew it would be there.
The second I’d seen it, I knew this shoddy piece of forgotten furniture had been made for Ash’s room. Masculine and robust. Colossal. Substantial. I knew as I poured my love into it, it’d turn around and give another hundred years of love in return.
I drifted through the quiet solitude, immersed in my work and elevated to a type of peace I only ever attained when my focus was tuned solely into my art.
A shock tremored through the tranquility.
I fumbled for a deep breath and held it in my lungs. Energy stirred through the dust-laden air, and I looked up from my work.
He stood in the doorway, watching me.
No longer was I entranced. I was intoxicated.
Both his a
rms were stretched out, hands pressed to each side of the jamb. He wore nothing but a faded pair of jeans that rode low on his slim waist, the grooves and divots and defined cut of his flat stomach making me shake. Chest stretched with that intimidating strength.
His presence potent.
A drug.
Slowly, he walked into the room. He dragged that intensity in with him like a destructive storm that built in the distance. Clouds and thunder. Fire and ice.
He looked at me from over the top of the dresser as he ran his index finger along the top of the smoothed wood. A small smile worked his face as he came the rest of the way around and settled himself on the floor behind me. He stretched out his legs wide and slid up to envelop me in his warmth.
I shivered.
His breath blew through the tiny strands at my nape that had escaped my ponytail. “What are you working on?”
“A dresser.”
“Mmm…I think I like it,” he mused. The antique was a long, short piece, three drawers high and three drawers wide. Unlike anything you would walk in a regular store and find today.
Perfect for this indescribable, unconventional man.
“What color are you staining it?” Even his most mundane words sounded like seduction.
“Dark gray, almost black.”
That would be the motif—dark, dark floors and dark, dark furniture. White and black and gray. Bold pieces on the walls. The monotones broken by a splash of red.
“Sex and comfort,” he muttered what had become the room’s mantra against my neck.
That spot quivered between my thighs. “Sex and comfort.”
It was becoming harder and harder not to seek the sex part from him. I could feel the boundaries between us becoming flimsy and frail.
He kissed a greedy path up my neck. An avalanche of sensation tumbled through me. I gulped for a breath and tried to focus, to keep grating against the wood. “Stop,” I almost giggled like some kind of giddy girl. “Can’t you see I’m trying to work? I’m never going to get this project done if you keep interrupting me every five seconds.”
He mumbled the words in the crook of my shoulder, “What if I don’t want you to finish?”
Hope.
It sparked to life right along with the desire that rode in with a simple brush of his hand.
“Then I’d say this is a really expensive job to just leave incomplete.”
“Sex and comfort.” He said it like a deliberation. “Sounds to me like a work in progress.”
I huffed a laugh. “I guess you could call it that.”
I kept grinding at the wood. The sound wound between us. The steady build that promised a crescendo. He set his hand over mine and began to grind the wood with me, his other arm wrapped just below my breasts.
A quiver pitched through my body.
He pressed his cheek to mine. His voice floated out around me, touching me like a caress. “So, tell me when it is we’re setting up that photo shoot. I’m most definitely looking forward to that.”
My eyes flicked his direction. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You wouldn’t love me any other way.”
And I wanted to gasp around it. To hold it. To both rejoice in it and deny it.
Instead, I froze, then completely gave when he shifted us. He slowly lowered me to my back. He climbed over me, caging me against the hard floor, his hands planted on either side of my head where he held himself up above.
The sun shone down around him. A fiery halo for a dangerous man.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice was rough, as if he weren’t immune to all the things I was feeling. “And your work…it’s just as beautiful. Incredible. You know that, don’t you?”
“Sometimes it feels like the only thing I have.”
“Magic,” he said.
I touched his face. My fingertips ran through the rough coarseness of his beard, gliding across his full, full lips.
He nipped at my fingers, before he pressed his nose to the sensitive skin of my neck.
Desire keened on a tightly strung bow.
A fever.
Fire.
I moaned a tiny moan.
“Magic,” I whispered up at him, returning his praise.
He groaned in the back of his throat. The sound vibrated down my throat, picking up a path and trembling through my veins. Sweet arrogance surged to his smirk. “I make magic, baby. And you’ve barely even felt me.”
Emotion pummeled me from all sides. Roiling, unsettled waves. Lust and longing and a disintegrating sense of fear. I was overcome by the wonder of what it might feel like. How it would feel to have this man pushing into me.
Taking me whole.
Filling me full in every way. Body, spirit, and soul.
He was fast stealing it all. Taking me piece by piece. He’d touched me places I’d never been touched. Showed me it was okay to demand what I wanted when I’d never had the first clue I’d needed it.
Fingers illicit. Tongue criminal.
Taking me prisoner.
Soon there would be nothing left of me.
He dipped down, stealing some more, controlling me with the power of his kiss. Demanding and hard and deep.
My phone rang from my pocket.
He stilled with a frustrated groan.
“Don’t stop,” I pled, because when it came to him, I was getting needy.
A beggar who had no claim.
It rang again.
“You better get that, darlin’.” He edged back. Those Caribbean blues sparkled, danced with his light and mirth. “Now that we’ve got a slew of people talking about you taking on this house, seeing the talent you’ve got displayed in your store, that thing never stops ringing. Not to mention the tabloids are eating up the fact the prettiest girl in all of Savannah swooped in and conquered the infamous Ash Evans. Now you’re gonna be in high demand. We’re going to have to hire you a bodyguard to keep people from knocking down your door.”
I fumbled a grin. My teeth bit down against my lip, the action a poor attempt to stop the constant redness from flushing to my cheeks. Maybe contain some of the belief this boy had pouring out from within me.
I dug my phone out while he was still braced above me.
I glanced at the number illuminated on the screen.
Panic slammed into my spirit, and I pushed on Ash’s chest so I could sit up. I rushed to answer the call. “Hello?”
“Willow? It’s Sheila.”
“What happened? Is she okay?”
My heart was hammering in an entirely different way.
Fear. Grief. Sorrow.
Ash settled back on his heels, worry thick over his expression. He gentled his fingers through my hair in silent encouragement.
“It’s just been a bad day,” Sheila explained. “She’s been crying. Calling for both of you. Think it might be best if you come over and put her at ease. You know how seeing you settles her down.”
Agony twisted through my racing heart.
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
I ended the call, attention cast low as I fiddled with an errant strand of my hair. Dragging myself from the clouds and down into reality.
“Hey. What was that? Are you okay?” His words were pure concern. Soft affection.
This hard, intimidating man with the most merciful heart.
“My mama…she needs me. I need to go. I’m sorry. I’ll finish this up tomorrow.”
Ash climbed to stand and held out his hand. “Well, we’d better get going then.”
twenty-four
Ash
Willow rushed into the room ahead of me. Warily, I hung back in the doorway. I roughed a hand down my face, wondering what the fuck I was thinking coming here. But that was the problem when I was with Willow. I stopped thinking.
Dread curled my stomach as I slowly made my way into the room. Hushed voices echoed against the walls as Willow received an update from a woman named Sheila.
But I couldn’t focus on them.
My attention was chained to the frail woman lying on a hospital bed, her arms tweaked at an odd angle, fists clenched tight, her mouth drooping open as she groaned incoherently.
Fuck.
I only had the information Willow had given me. I wasn’t prepared for this.
“Thank you,” Willow told Shiela, and the woman gave her a nod before she slanted a parting glance at me as she passed by and silently clicked the door shut behind her.
Sorrow wound through the room.
Willow’s grief.
My sympathy.
Her mother’s torment.
Willow edged around to the side of the bed and pulled a chair up close to her mother. “Hey, Mama, it’s me. I’m right here.”
“Summer,” her mother whimpered low, hardly decipherable, but there.
Willow winced, leaned closer, brushed her fingers through her mother’s hair. “Shh…I know, Mama, I know. It’s okay.”
Her mother cried it again. Willow wrapped her hand around her mother’s tightened fist.
“You want me to tell you a story, Mama? Tell you about Summer?” Willow was so damned tender when she brushed back the white hair from her forehead, struggling not to cry when she looked at her.
That right there was why I was here. Why I couldn’t just up and let her go when I’d seen the anguish fill up her soulful eyes.
I’d wanted to…
Fuck. I’d just wanted to be there for her.
Support her in the ways I knew I shouldn’t.
Show her she wasn’t alone.
Willow’s voice dropped to close to a whisper, something so intensely sad and adoring fueling her words that it made me want to fucking weep. “Do you remember, Mama? Do you remember it was your birthday…it was beautiful out. The sun was warm but not hot. You, me, and Summer, we packed up a lunch and headed out to your favorite spot.” Her eyes pinched together. “That meadow off of Staley? Hidden by the trees? Do you remember all the dandelions? We danced in them all afternoon. Casting our dreams in the air.”
One side of her mother’s mouth tweaked. A semblance of a smile. A memory. Recognition.
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