Sound of Silence(35)

"Okay." I tilt my head back in time to catch his smile spreading. He's crazy cute, perfect straight teeth surrounded by full lips wet from our kiss. Our kiss. I'm glued to his body. Every part of me tingles. He makes me feel things. My heart flutters, as does my clit.

"Okay, as in you'll-move-in kind of okay?" His arms tighten around me as he presses a kiss to my forehead and down my cheek.

I hold my fingers over his mouth before he finds mine. "Yes, with rules."

He smiles and licks my palm until I pull away. "Lay them on me. I'm listening."

"I get my own room."

His grin gets devious. "Agreed. For now," he adds, and I roll my eyes.

"No fucking. I'm not ready for that yet."

He nods. "Yet. Okay, next."

"Take me on a date. Get to know me outside of the house."

"Done. What else?" His hands snake down to my ass, and he squeezes both cheeks.

"You'll talk to me, tell me what's going on. No more surprises."

Trepidation, or maybe excitement, rolls around my stomach as his eyes darken to that of a storming sea, wicked and powerful. Stretching to his full height, he bends over, arching my back as he moves his lips to my ear. A hot puff of breath prefaces his plea. "Life is a surprise, sweetheart. Every minute is new and unknown. Let's solve the mystery together. You and me. What do you say?"

I curl around him, my hands nesting in his hair and tugging him closer as relief shoots through me. It's not surrender or submission to his mastery-this is the release of grief and acceptance to live, to seek happiness.

"Yes." And with one whispered word, the rollercoaster begins.





Dear Justin.



How will I know when it's okay to remember but to let go, too? Can I still love us and have a connection with someone else? Because I feel something good, but it's putting pieces of me together in a different way. But I think you knew this would happen.



I think you knew it would.



x Piper





CHAPTER NINE


Under the Stars





Caden



IT'S NOT EVERY day you taste the rest of your life in a kiss. The next sixty years stretch on in the matter of a minute, and I see my future tied to Piper. On a scale of one to ten on the possession meter, I'm running at twenty-five.



       
         
       
        

Engulfed by the waning afternoon sunlight, I hold her. Knowing I've pushed and we've crossed the line beyond friendship and into something more, a place with Justin hanging on in the periphery, we mold together. It feels right.

After a minute, I take her hand and gather JT, Gus following at our feet. There's work to be done.

At the cottage, we spend the night planning the move. Early the next morning, my phone rings and Dax bypasses a hello. "I found something on Asil Marik. You should come here."

With a racing pulse, I hang up and kiss Piper on the cheek, promising to come home soon.

Ease into it, Lawless. Justin. I can't help the restlessness settling in my chest as my dead friend and Dax's words haunt my mind. I found something. For two months I've focused on Piper, JT and the house. Asil Marik and Dad took a backseat to getting my life on track in Lilyfalls. Dax's phone call wound me up and sends me straight back to Afghanistan.

Two streets before the edge of town I pull up behind Garret Johnson's souped up '88 Camaro. It sputters and dies when the traffic light turns green. His tail lights flash red and the car roars to life with a blast, backfiring exhaust in a plume of smoke that jolts me to the ridge.

Sulfur, diesel fuel, a plume of smoke. A second explosion.

Goddamn it. I grab my hair and tug my way back to Birchfield Street. Clouds hang low, dusting over the tops of trees and threatening to explode with the same force as my thudding heart. I grip the wheel tighter, hanging on to it and Gus, who sidles up next to my thigh. Dread pools in my stomach. I'm not stupid. I know what this is-flashbacks and memories as real as reliving them, missing time, and voices in my head. PTSD is a son-of-a-bitch I don't have time to deal with. But the battle rages on, and I'm caught in the crossfire. Fucking weak.

I curse my fragility as I pull into Dax and Cara's drive, slipping in the back door and down the hall with barely a sound. Dax sits at his desk. Aglow from three huge computer screens, he leans back in his chair, fingers raking through his hair before he catches sight of me out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey." He sighs.

"What do you have?"

His brow tugs down, and he points to the middle monitor. "Mohammad Asil Marik-Sayb Karza."

Bending over, I prop my balled fists on his desk, staring at a picture of a small village in northern Afghanistan, according to the blurb beneath it.