by Mary Stone
He paused, checking to see if she was even able to hear him through her sobs. When she looked up at him with those blue eyes rimmed in red, it nearly broke his heart.
“What do I do?”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You refuse to give him power over you, and you give yourself some time to adjust to this new normal. Be kind to yourself. It’s all right to be a mess.”
She barked out a laugh that was mostly a sob. “I’ve got that one down.”
Vulnerable like this, he didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful. He had to look away.
“We’ve all got to figure out the reason we do what we do, darlin’, and sometimes, it just sucks. I’ve been there, sweetheart. When I got back to the States after being in the military so long, I didn’t know what the hell to do.”
“But,” she sniffed, “you figured it out.”
“Yeah,” he replied, brushing his fingers through the soft strands of her hair. “And so will you.”
She tightened her grasp on the front of his shirt. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Leave?” He made a snorting sound. “Who said I’m leaving?”
In a split-second of panic, he wondered if she was privy to a piece of information he hadn’t yet heard. Was he about to be transferred? With his luck, he’d wind up in Florida, someplace where even the landscape was hostile.
“What if you find someone?” she managed around a swallow.
“Oh,” he said, relaxing a little, “that kind of leave. Trust me, darlin’, that ain’t about to happen any time soon, either. I can’t even remember the last time I went on a real date, and right now, I’m not even remotely interested in tying myself down.”
“Isn’t that usually when you find someone,” she murmured in response, “when you aren’t searching?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
Her sniffle sounded a little like a laugh, and he took the moment of reprieve to pull away from the despondent embrace. As he tipped up her chin to meet her bloodshot eyes, his grasp was gentle, almost reverent.
“I’m not going anywhere. You’ll get through this, and I’ll still be here while you work on it.”
The seconds ticked away as she held his gaze, and even though he thought an eternity might have passed, he didn’t break his eyes away until a fat raindrop landed on the bridge of his nose. On cue, a clap of thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Come on,” he said, circling an arm around her shoulders as he turned to face their parked vehicles. “It’s supposed to pour today. Seems like a good time to catch up on some TV. We can go to my place and order some pizza. My couch is way better than yours.”
With a half-laugh, half-snort, she nodded. “You’re not wrong.”
As much as he was sure he had stumbled upon an opportunity to turn their friendship into something more, Noah had vowed months ago not to make the first move. The ball was in Winter’s court now, and he had sworn he wouldn’t renege on his conviction. But when she fell asleep with her face tucked into the crook of his neck and an arm around his waist, he wondered how wise the decision was in the first place.
She had just as much a reason to be scared of a change in their relationship as he. Neither of them wanted to jeopardize their friendship, but at what point did they take the risk?
Now?
Never?
The whirlwind of thoughts had finally died down enough for him to drift toward the start of sleep. In his mind, he walked along a sidewalk. The concrete was smooth and unbroken, but as soon as he glanced up, his foot smacked into an unseen barrier, and he started to fall.
Before he could finish his graceless descent to the imaginary sidewalk, he took in a sharp breath and snapped open his eyes. Winter issued a tired groan and shifted in place, but before he could close his eyes, he heard the buzz of his phone atop the coffee table.
He knew the device was his—Winter had set hers on the carpet.
“Dammit,” he breathed after the second buzz. It was a phone call, and at one in the morning, he could only assume it was important.
With as little movement as he could manage, he reached out to scoop up the device. He didn’t recognize the number, nor did he recognize the area code.
If this is a wrong number, I swear to god…
“This is Agent Dalton,” he answered, keeping his voice low.
“Noah?” a man’s panicked voice asked.
Though he hadn’t heard the man speak in years, he knew that voice. That voice belonged to Eric Dalton, his biological father.
“Eric…” he said sharply. After all this time, this man didn’t deserve the label of dad. Because he had no idea what else to say, he went with the inane. “Do you know what time it is? What the—”
Winter stirred, and Noah closed his eyes, willing his temper to recede.
“Noah, I-I need your help.”
He sat up straighter, frowned when Winter murmured in her sleep.
“You what?”
Winter snapped awake, even though he hadn’t raised his voice. At least he thought he hadn’t, anyway. She rested her hand on his arm, giving him a worried look. He shook his head and mouthed, my father.
Her eyes widened, and she shifted positions as he went to stand up, needing to pace off the manic energy that now seemed to clog his every pore. From the corner of his eye, he watched her pick up her own phone, praying to all that was holy that she wasn’t about to leave. He needed her, he realized. Needed her here.
“I messed up, Noah,” Eric said.
Noah snorted. “I’m shocked.” Sarcasm was his most powerful tool in this moment.
“Son…”
Noah gritted his teeth, opened his mouth to tell the sperm donor he was talking to that he wasn’t his son. To never call him that again. To…
“I messed up bad,” Eric went on, his voice cracking now. The man was truly scared.
Noah turned in his pacing and looked at Winter. She was staring at her own phone. She was pale. She looked stricken, almost like she’d seen a ghost.
But he could do nothing because his own ghost from his past was saying, “Noah, if you don’t help me, they’re going to kill me for it.”
It had been a nice dream.
A nice, normal dream of a nice, normal run through a field of sunflowers, the warmth of the day shining on her face. Noah had been behind her, running too, a picnic basket in his hands.
That was what normal couples did. At least she thought so.
They went on dates. Went on picnics. Held hands. Kissed. Made love.
But Winter was awake now, and there was nothing normal going on inside Noah’s apartment.
He looked like he’d seen a ghost when he mouthed, my father.
In the time they’d known each other, she was ashamed that it had taken her more than a few moments to call up a name. Eric Dalton.
The man who had abandoned his son was now calling in the middle of the night. For what? Winter couldn’t tell.
What time was it anyway?
Reaching for her phone, she noted the time and something else. A missed text message from her friend in the IT department.
As Noah paced, Winter slid her thumb across the screen. Seconds later, the text appeared. She felt herself pale as she read the words.
Email location confirmed. Origination: Harrisonburg, Virginia
Her hometown.
Her heart knocked in her chest, and her breathing went shallow.
The email she’d received from someone saying he was her brother—Hey, sis. Heard you’ve been looking for me—had come from her hometown.
The place where her parents had been slaughtered, and her baby brother went missing.
The End
To be continued…
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Winter Black Series by Mary Stone
Winter’s Mourn (Winter Black Series: Book One)
Winter’s Curse (Winter Black Series: Book Two)
Winter’s Redemption (Winter Black Series: Book Three)
Winter’s Rise (Winter Black Series: Book Four)
Winter’s Secret Book Six is coming soon in September!
Acknowledgments
How does one properly thank everyone involved in taking a dream and making it a reality? Let me try.
In addition to my family, whose unending support provided the foundation for me to find the time and energy to put these thoughts on paper, I want to thank the editors who polished my words and made them shine.
Many thanks to my publisher for risking taking on a newbie and giving me the confidence to become a bona fide author.
More than anyone, I want to thank you, my reader, for clicking on a nobody and sharing your most important asset, your time, with this book. I hope with all my heart I made it worthwhile.
Much love,
Mary
About the Author
Mary Stone lives among the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains of East Tennessee with her two dogs, four cats, a couple of energetic boys, and a very patient husband.
As a young girl, she would go to bed every night, wondering what type of creature might be lurking underneath. It wasn’t until she was older that she learned that the creatures she needed to most fear were human.
Today, she creates vivid stories with courageous, strong heroines and dastardly villains. She invites you to enter her world of serial killers, FBI agents but never damsels in distress. Her female characters can handle themselves, going toe-to-toe with any male character, protagonist or antagonist.
Discover more about Mary Stone on her website.
www.authormarystone.com