Atonement: An Interracial Romance (Possession Duet Book 2)

by T. K. Leigh

  And right now, I truly believe that. Truly believe this is for the rest of our lives. Truly believe we’ll navigate the obstacles in our way and come out stronger on the other side.

  Heavy breathing fills the room as we indulge in each other in a way we never have. From the beginning, Wes has always had a unique ability to make me feel loved and respected, yet still desired and craved. The way our bodies seem to be in tune with each other is something I didn’t think possible. But even without the fast motions, without the hunger-filled words, I’m on the brink of falling over the edge, the love flowing out of his heart and into my soul propelling me higher than I’ve been before.

  “Let go, baby,” Wes says through his labored breaths. “Fall with me.”

  That’s all I need to let go, my body trembling as I come undone. I seal my mouth over his, tongues tangling and hearts racing. He breathes into me as he jerks through his own release, kissing me with desperation. His grip over my heart tightens until he reaches the point of oblivion, every muscle in his body giving out.

  He collapses onto the mattress, his heart hammering against my hand. He gradually eases himself out of me, shifting our bodies so we’re both on our sides, facing each other. And still, through all this, we keep our hands over each other’s chests, our hearts beating as one.

  “You’re my love story, Lo,” he murmurs as he feathers a delicate kiss against my lips. “My beacon. I was lost at sea until I found you. You helped guide me home. The second we met, I knew the journey I’d been on had ended. And the real one had begun.” He presses his lips firmly against mine. “With you.”

  I melt into his kiss, basking in his love, his determination, his strength. I thought running away from love was the only option.

  Now, I pray our love is strong enough to help us through the storm threatening offshore.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Londyn

  I stare at the clock on the wall over my sofa, my stomach in knots. I shouldn’t be this nervous. I’ve chosen this path for a reason.

  That still doesn’t make this any easier, though.

  A warmth approaches from behind, two strong, loving arms wrapping around me.

  “I’m here,” Wes croons into my ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I close my eyes, indulging in his reassurance before turning in his embrace. “Thanks for being here.” I drape my arms on his shoulders, smiling up at him as I toy with a few tendrils of hair hanging over the collar of his crisp, button-down shirt.

  He leans down, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me by your side when you tell him?”

  “I need to do this on my own. Need to show him he doesn’t dictate my life anymore.”

  “Okay. But if anything happens, I’ll be right upstairs.”

  A determined knocking echoes through our moment of serenity. We simultaneously fling our gazes toward the door, my pulse immediately kicking up. I tell myself it’ll all be over soon. That I just need to get through this. Then I’ll finally be free.

  “I suppose that’s my cue to disappear,” Wes states.

  “I suppose it is,” I say with a sigh.

  Pinching my chin, he draws my lips toward his. “Thank you for choosing me,” he murmurs before sealing his declaration with a kiss.

  I sigh into him, momentarily forgetting that Sawyer’s currently standing on the other side of the door. Momentarily forgetting about the nerves working their way through me over how he’ll react to my decision. Momentarily forgetting about the uncertainty of what my future holds. Nothing matters right now. Except the love pouring from Wes’ simple kiss.

  “It was never a choice with you.”

  “And it was never a choice with you,” he replies, leaving me with one more kiss.

  When Sawyer knocks again, this time more urgently, I step away from Wes, giving him a reassuring smile. He reaches for my hand, brushes a delicate kiss on my knuckles, then retreats up the stairs. Once he’s disappears, I take a calming breath, holding my head high as I make my way toward the front door and pull it open.

  The second I do, Sawyer pushes past me and into my condo, an air of superiority about him.

  I meet my father’s eyes and we share a moment, his expression searching for an answer as to my decision. When I wink, his shoulders fall out of relief. He links his pinky with mine, the contact surprisingly comforting, considering less than twenty-four hours ago, I never wanted to see this man again. But after last night, I can’t help but appreciate him for finally apologizing. We have a long way to go to repair the damage his past actions have caused. But I have to believe this is a step in the right direction.

  My father holds my gaze for a heartbeat, then releases my pinky, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him into my living room.

  “I assume you’ve signed,” Sawyer declares, as if the idea of me not signing is preposterous. To most, it would be, considering the price I’d pay by not agreeing to his proposition.

  But if I did agree, the price would be much higher.

  I turn toward the kitchen table and grab the file folder. “I have.” I hand it to him.

  “I knew you would. You may put up a fight, may claim to have changed, but you still lack any conviction.” With a cocky smirk, he opens the folder. The arrogance vanishes from his face, dark eyes flinging toward mine. “What’s this?” he demands in a growl.

  I square my shoulders, reminding myself that I’m not the same girl he used to boss around. Who he used to issue ultimatums to. Who he used to control.

  “Divorce papers.”

  “Divorce?” he repeats, the word seeming foreign on his tongue.

  “Yes. My lawyer will be filing those tomorrow, but as a courtesy, I thought I’d show you what you’ll have no choice but to agree to.”

  He scoffs. “You forget who holds the upper hand here. I’m not the one with the possibility of prison time hanging over him.”

  “And that’s precisely why I’m not agreeing. It’s simply a possibility. I know the truth. And deep down, you do, too. I did what any woman in my position should be able to do against some pompous man who thinks he can do whatever he wants and get away with it. So I’m choosing to fight. Not just for myself, but for the thousands of women who are too scared to speak up. Who have spent all their lives being intimidated into silence. Like you did to me for years. I’m done being silent. Done living according to everyone’s expectations.

  “You came here in the hopes of finding the same girl who agreed, without protest, to marry a man she didn’t love. That girl died. I’ve had to face several hard truths about myself. Some good. Some not so good. But I’ve learned one thing…”

  I glance to my father before returning my heated stare to Sawyer.

  “I’m a fighter. Just like my mother. And I’d rather fight for my freedom than trade it away for a lifetime with you. Hell, for even just a day with you. Because that is a sentence worse than prison.” I edge closer to him, lip curling up in the corner, lowering my voice to barely louder than a whisper. “You are a sentence worse than prison. One I have no interest in serving. So get the fuck out of my house.”

  His jaw clenches, his grip on the proposed divorce settlement agreement tightening, causing the papers to crinkle. I don’t know how much time passes as I glare at him, neither one of us backing down. It’s probably only seconds, but it feels so much longer, the only sound in the room that of the clock ticking.

  “You want to go to prison?” Sawyer finally says. “Fine. Be my guest. But mark my words.” He glowers, malevolent eyes piercing me. “You chose wrong today.”

  “No, Sawyer. I didn’t. I chose wrong when I agreed to play the part of your wife. Today, I finally chose right.”

  Five years ago, his disdainful stare would have probably caused me to back down. Apologize. Grovel for forgiveness. Not anymore. That version of Londyn is gone. No more will I do what’s expected of me because of some misguided belief it’s the way to repay the universe for sparing me i
n the shooting that took my mother’s life. She would have wanted me to live, to fight. That’s what I’m finally doing.

  “You’ll regret this. Trust me on that.” He spins from me, storming toward my front door.

  “The only thing I regret is marrying you,” I call out after him. He doesn’t respond, continuing out of my condo and slamming the door, causing my heart to skyrocket for a beat.

  Once he’s gone, I close my eyes, exhaling a long breath, everything peaceful. And not just in my house. My mind and soul are finally at peace.

  “I’m proud of you, Lo,” Dad says.

  I open my eyes, offering him a smile. Reaching for his hand, I squeeze. “I’m proud of me, too.”

  “You okay, honeybee?” Wes asks, rushing down the stairs, coming to a stop when he sees my father is still here. He raises a single brow, giving me a questioning look.

  In all the excitement of reconnecting yesterday, I forgot to mention the role my father played in helping me realize what’s important.

  “Better than ever.”

  “Good.”

  “Well…” My father clears his throat, dropping his hold on me. “I still need to get to the church to deliver a sermon.”

  “Do you mind if I don’t go, Dad? Religion and me, well… We’re not exactly on good terms these days.”

  “I’m probably partly to blame for that. But I understand.” He smiles weakly. “If you’re willing, perhaps we can get together for dinner tonight? Or sometime this week? I’d like to get to know you again.” He shifts his hopeful gaze to Wes. “And get to know the man who seems to have captured your heart.”

  I look to Wes, who nods subtly.

  This must be what trust looks like. I don’t have to utter a single syllable about the breakthrough I had with my father last night. Wes trusts my decision, no matter what it is. It’s refreshing, especially after a marriage to a man who never allowed me to make a single decision of my own.

  “Tonight is fine. I’m sure you need to get back home.”

  He hesitates, rocking on his heels. “Actually…” He runs a hand over his short, graying hair. “I think I might stick around here for a while. If that’s okay with you. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I want to rectify that. Or at least try to.”

  I have every reason to hate this man. To shut him out and never speak to him again. But through all the trials in my life, I’ve learned the power of forgiveness. Life is too short to hold grudges. People change. And there’s no question in my mind that my father has changed. That he’s no longer clinging to the ghost of my mother, refusing to move forward.

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good.” He squeezes my arm, then steps back and looks at Wes. “You take good care of my girl.”

  “Londyn does a good job of taking care of herself,” Wes responds, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him. “But I’m more than happy to fill in the gaps.”

  “That’s all any of us can do.” He smiles sadly as he looks back at me, his expression a mixture of relief and regret. Then he turns, making his way out the door.

  Once we’re alone, I face Wes. I don’t say anything right away. Just look at him, a strange feeling enveloping me.

  “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” he asks.

  “No way.” I curve into him. “But this feels…different.”

  He arches a brow. “Different?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s a good different. A great different. I never really had a chance to stand up for myself to Sawyer before. Instead, I just kind of…disappeared. That’s part of why I never went through the trouble of filing for divorce. I didn’t exactly have the money and knew Sawyer would make it as impossible for me as he could. But mostly, I was scared of seeing him again. Of confronting him. Of him making me feel so small and powerless.”

  “You’re not small. He is. Any man who treats a woman the way that asshole treated you isn’t worthy of so much as an ounce of your worry. He may never have left bruises on your skin, but what he did was just as bad.”

  I draw in a shaky breath. “I see that now, especially when I have such an incredible man.”

  He leans down, his lips caressing mine. “I’ll do anything for you.”

  “Good. Because right now, I need something.” I waggle my brows, the atmosphere becoming playful.

  “And what would that be, Ms. Bennett?”

  I lift onto my toes, dragging my tongue along his neck, nibbling on that spot just underneath his earlobe that I know drives him crazy. “You. Naked. In my bed.” I return my eyes to his, watching as his gaze darkens, a wicked smile curling his lips.

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Weston

  “Uncle Wes!” an excited squeal echoes the instant I step into Julia’s bakery Monday afternoon, the familiar aroma like coming home after a long absence.

  Before I can react, a pair of tiny arms fling around my waist, squeezing tightly. I look down at little Imogene, my heart expanding. It’s amazing what somebody who doesn’t even weigh forty pounds can do to you.

  Smiling, I tousle her curls, then lower myself to peer into her eyes. “Hey, peanut. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” Her smile falters. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “And I miss my bedroom at your house. Can’t I come and live with you instead of Grandma and Pappy?”

  My chest squeezes. What I wouldn’t give to have both Imogene and Julia under my roof. That way, I could be confident nothing would ever happen to them. But things are complicated. How do you explain that to a six-year-old, though? How do you tell a little girl the man who reads her bedtime stories and plays tea party with her hurts people?

  That he may have hurt her mother?

  “You need to be with your mama right now. She needs you, pipsqueak.”

  “I’m not a pipsqueak anymore,” she pouts. “The doctor said I grew four whole inches this year.”

  “Four inches?” I reply in faux wonder. “Better slow down. Or soon you might be taller than your mama.”

  “She certainly doesn’t have far to go there.”

  I look away from Imogene, watching as my sister takes several timid steps toward me, wiping her flour-covered hands on the white apron strung around her waist.

  “Hey, Jules.” I straighten, smiling.

  “Hey, Wes.” She lifts herself onto her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck. I pull her toward me, hugging her as I always do. But today, she remains in my embrace a bit longer than normal. She squeezes me a bit harder than normal. She seems a lot sadder than normal.

  I wasn’t sure how she’d react to seeing me today, especially after my repeated attempts to get in touch with her this weekend, all of which she ignored. I half expected her to kick me out of the bakery. Hell, I didn’t even know if she’d be here, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

  “How are you?” I ask when she pulls back.

  “Okay. You?”

  I run my fingers through my hair. “Okay.”

  We both stare at each other for a while. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this uncomfortable around her, not even when Mom first brought her home and told me she was my new sister. But now, I don’t know what to say.

  “Can we—”

  “Do you want—” she says at the same time.

  We both stop, laughing nervously.

  “You first,” I tell her.

  “Do you want to sit and talk?”

  I nod. “I’d like that.”

  She smiles, then crouches down to Imogene’s level. “I need to talk to Uncle Wes about something important. It’s grown-up stuff.”

  “Are you going to swear a lot? Is that why you don’t want me to hear?”

  Julia chuckles, life returning to her green eyes. “I’m going to try not to. I’m running short on dollar bills for your swear jar.”

  “That’s because you’ve been swearing a lo
t lately, Mama.”

  Julia glances at me for a beat, worry flickering in her expression before looking back at Imogene. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”

  “I don’t mind. It means more money for me.”

  “Do you think you can sit at your table and practice some of your math problems?”

  “Can I have a peanut butter and jelly cookie if I do?”

  “Of course, sweetie.” Julia beams, the affection she has for her daughter oozing from every inch of her. “Now go on. I’ll come check on you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay!” She spins, her curls bouncing with her movements, returning to the table in the corner, coloring books, crayons, as well as a few workbooks and pencils littering the surface.

  “Did she start school?” I ask, watching as she flips open a workbook.

  “Today was her first day.”

  “How’s she handling everything? The change of schools and all that?”

  She exhales deeply. “Kids are resilient. More so than adults.”

  “We’ve been around a lot longer. Old habits die hard.”

  “They sure do,” she retorts, a contemplative look pulling on her brows for a moment. Then she snaps her gaze back to mine. “Want a coffee or something?”

  “Coffee sounds great.”

  “I’ll be right back. Grab us a table, will ya?”

  “You got it.”

  I make my way through the bakery, a few dozen people lined up to grab some lunch and a sugary concoction. As I do, I steal a glimpse behind the counter and into the kitchen. My steps slow, my skin heating over the idea that, just a little more than a week ago, this was the scene of Nick’s assault on Londyn. I try to not get worked up over it, but it’s hard.

  “Here you go,” Julia sings, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Strong with a hint of cream. Just the way you like it.”

  I take the mug from her. “Thanks.”

  “You bet.”

  I lead her toward an empty table. It’s secluded enough that we can talk candidly without curious ears eavesdropping, but still allows us to keep Imogene in our sights.