“I’m cold.”
Her brilliant blue eyes are staring at me. The tube is gone. All that exists is her. “I’ll keep you warm.”
She rewards me with a breathtaking smile. The urge to kiss her is overwhelming. My arm snakes around her and I haul her to my chest. Our lips meet in an unrushed kiss. She tastes divine and I don’t ever want to disconnect from her.
I thread my fingers through her hair and hold her in place while I taste every inch of her mouth. So perfect. So goddamned perfect.
“I love you,” I murmur and then suck on her bottom lip. My cock lurches with excitement against her thigh.
“I love you too, War,” she whispers and lets out a tiny moan that’s my undoing. “Now make love to me.”
Pushing her to her back, I spread her thighs apart and push into her hot center.
The pleasure is overwhelming and the world goes black.
I fuck her into the nothingness of my mind, where she belongs. Where she can save me in a way only she knows how.
“Stay with me here,” I beg as the blackness blinds me.
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you.”
Black and black and black.
And Baylee.
I’M NUMB.
I’ve stared at her tombstone for a solid hour, trying to understand how this all happened. How I lost my mother when I thought I was helping her this whole time. If she died that first week, why was my father taking the money War was sending? What was Dad doing with it when he should have been looking for me and why the hell is he in San Francisco?
Brandon clears his throat from beside me, jerking me from the thoughts that are on a continuous reel in my head. “You want to grab a bite to eat? It’ll be dark soon.”
My stomach grumbles but I ignore it. Instead, I stare at the grey granite.
Lynn Marie Winston.
Beloved Wife and Mother
The angel wings engraved into the rock are gorgeous. I wonder if Dad paid for it with War’s money. Money I negotiated my body and my companionship for. Of course, once I got to know War and fell in love with him, it hardly seemed like a negotiation or prison sentence.
It was my home.
He was my home.
But still. How could Dad accept War’s money so easily but not tell me my mother had died? The realization that he never once mentioned what happened to her kills me. I want to find him so I can demand answers to all the questions inside my head.
The wind picks up and chills my flesh. My hoodie does nothing to warm the cold, emptiness in my bones. In my aching heart. In my fractured soul.
I hug my purse to my side and think about the pregnancy test inside. I’ve been dying to learn the truth about whether or not I’m carrying War’s baby. I need to know one way or another for closure. I’d also like to get ahold of Land. I want my child to have a relationship with their father’s father.
Brandon snakes an arm around me and hugs me to his side. I hadn’t realized I was shivering but his body warms me. Well, on the surface at least. He’d relaxed on the way here and was back to being the friendly, all-around good guy I was used to. It’s going to break his heart when this all blows over and I explain to him that I don’t love him—not like I love War. That we’re better as friends.
The thought of telling him this—after all he’s done for me—nauseates me. But I won’t live a lie. My heart belongs to War, whether dead or alive. I can’t get past him. I will never get past him. And if this baby exists, I’ll pour all of my love for War into it. I’ll spend the rest of my life giving that baby everything it deserves.
“Babe,” Brandon says and kisses my temple. I shudder at his affection, but hopefully he attributes it to me being cold. “We can come back tomorrow. And the day after. And every day after that if it makes you feel better. But I need to get some food in you before you blow away with the wind.”
He tries to make light of the situation and it irritates me. I stiffen in his arms and clench my jaw so I don’t say anything hurtful. Truth is, I’m angry and upset and devastated. My mother is dead, War is dead, and my father is apparently missing. Meanwhile, Brandon is acting like he wants to slip back into old roles and play house.
His hand slips to my throat and he uses his fingers to turn my jaw to face him. The gesture is firm but still gentle. Our eyes meet and I wonder if he can sense the fury emanating from mine. “Hey,” he says softly, and I relax a little. “I didn’t mean to upset you. This is a big clusterfuck and I’m trying to navigate it without a rule book. I’m sorry.”
He lowers his lips to mine, and when I attempt to jerk away from him, his fingers bite just a little into my flesh, holding me still. The desperation in his eyes chases away the light, and for a moment, I gape at his sudden change. His lips are on mine a second later. Needy and overly eager. I wait just a fraction of a moment to see if the old spark returns.