by KC Decker
Whenever I think about how close I came to pushing him away, my throat tightens reflexively. Looking back, it’s absurd to me that I almost missed it. At the time, the voice inside my head that may have whispered, give him a shot—you might be surprised, was overwhelmed by something else. Something self-sabotaging. Something that filled in all the blanks for me, instead of letting fate do it naturally.
Gavin takes a break from our kiss, and lays his cheek against his bicep. I turn to face him, my own cheek against the pillow. Our faces are inches apart, but our arms and legs are still woven together. Our bodies feel symbolic of this moment, because this is the moment when I feel our souls intertwine.
We were meant to be together. I know that now with crystal clarity. My friends knew it all along. Me? I just had to learn to trust the process, and believe in the path I was on.
Epilogue
Friday evening happy hour, one year later…
Ivy is already showing, and at just over four months along, she is becoming more and more uncomfortable at our twice-monthly happy hours. Not that she is physically uncomfortable, because that chick is nothing but poised, and would be graceful with two broken legs—but she tends to get some funny looks as she sips her virgin cocktails.
Christian is ecstatic about being a father, and could not get a ring on her finger fast enough. The two of them were perfectly designed for one another—Just ask Miles or Arden, or better yet, ask me—I was the one that pushed for Christian when Miles and Arden were torn between two possibilities.
Arden and Brady have itchy feet, so they spend as much time as possible traveling the world. They decided a long time ago to get all the traveling out of their system before they get married. Their reasoning is because, for some reason, they believe marriage equates to insta-babies.
Though they were not cherry-picked for each other by meddling friends, they are a good example of fate intervening to bring two people together. I mean, come on—a cop and a speeding ticket? Isn’t there a whole genre of porn based on that very thing?
Miles is, of course, here too. Now, he is a different breed altogether because he never, ever wanted to settle down with one person like the rest of us. However, I will say that he has started bringing Everett around more and more, and I recognize a certain glint in Miles’ eye when it comes to him.
He may fight it every step of the way, but he is falling in love. Soon enough, that crazy emotion will grab on like a Kraken and pull him under, so he can drown in the sappiness like the rest of us.
Phillip and Sunrise are in town for a few days too. They certainly infuse a little spice into the group, and it does my heart good to see them together. They are not just together, together—They went into business with each other as well.
As far as Gavin and I, we will spend weeks at a time at my place or his, it makes no difference to either of us as long as we are together. Both of us are in the same headspace about work too. We are at the top of our game career-wise, but that intense drive that used to push us to be the best is starting to falter more and more. Simply put, our jobs have taken up residence in the back seat.
Things between us are still smoking hot. Though, at times his artistic requests will terrify me a little. Not that they are scary in the literal sense. More like, scary in the sense that one day our kids or grandkids may come across some of his drawings. He is an artist, and I am most definitely his muse.
One such artistic session happened after Ivy and Christian’s Roarin’ 20’s engagement party. Ivy, Arden, and I all had professionals do our hair and makeup, so we looked like we just stepped onto a Hollywood set for a scene from The Great Gatsby. I wore a sexy, beaded chiffon dress, a glamorous vintage 20’s headband, and layers upon layers of pearls. Hands down, best night of my life.
Well, when we got back to Gavin’s, he wasn’t satisfied with the hundreds of photos we must have taken throughout the night—So, he stripped me naked, except for the pearls and vintage headpiece, and then posed me in the most provocative manner he possibly could. After that, he captured the whole thing on a four foot by six-foot, giant canvas.
“Alabama, what’s that dopy smile all about? Are you high?” Miles asks from across the table. Because our group is so big, almost everyone is engaged in smaller conversations, so only Everett, Gavin and myself hear him.
“I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic, that’s all,” I smile wistfully. I think it unnerves Miles that I don’t shoot something snarky back, but this exact bar at this designated happy hour is where it all started.
“Well, knock it off,” he says as he leans back to where Everett has his arm draped over the back of Miles’ chair.
“Don’t worry about him, he’s just chapped that he lost a bet,” Everett explains as he tightens his arm around Miles’ shoulder. Then he flashes a huge smile that Miles can’t help but return. Yep, there it is. The look.
“What was the bet?” Gavin asks before raising his beer bottle to his lips and taking a sip. His other arm is casually over the back of my chair as well.
“Miles here didn’t think we would last a month. He said I wasn’t his type.”
***
Gavin left his phone at work, so on the way back to his place, we had to make a small detour. Every time we come to the shop after hours, I feel like someone is going to see us moving around inside and call the police. The reception area at the front remains lit, but everything else has been closed up and shut down. So, even though we have every right to be here, I always feel a little like I’m breaking the law and am about to have a gun drawn on me.
I follow him into his tattoo room, where he flicks on the light and walks straight across the room for his phone. I freeze in the doorway because prominently hung on the wall is a huge drawing of me. It’s done in the same style as the Buddha in the piercing room, so it looks like I’m alive and about to step down from the wall and go about my business.
It’s also the one Gavin did after Ivy and Christian’s party, but different. I look completely glamorous, and shockingly sexy draped only in pearls. Thankfully, he left out the part where my legs are open.
Anyone else could look at it, and the first thing they would see is all that red hair, or maybe my eyes, possibly even the side-boob with pearls covering my nipple—but me? I see something else right away.
I see the one glaring difference in the piece—I see the little detail that differs from the night Gavin sketched it. In the drawing, my left hand is still posed sensually against my face, but now Gavin has drawn a ring on my wedding finger. Suddenly, all I can hear is the woosh woosh woosh of blood circulating between my ears.
“Gavin,” I whisper. I must look like I’ve been lit up like an angel because that’s how I feel. “What is that?” I ask. I know it’s me, there is no question it’s me. What I’m asking about is the ring.
“Oh, that?” he points over his shoulder with his thumb, as if it’s no big deal—just another perfectly rendered portrait hanging in his shop.
“That’s my future wife.
Thank you for reading Gradation! I hope you enjoyed Gavin and Alabama’s story! If you have a moment, please consider leaving a review.
KC Decker
Also by KC Decker:
The Jessie Hayes 4 Book Series
(Must be Read in Order)
1462 South Broadway (Book 1)
Winner of the National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award)
It’s said that a bird never has to doubt the stability of her branch because her trust is in her own wings.
I myself, am trying to grow some wings of my own, but I’m kind of mired in place right now.
My roommate fondly calls my situation a rut and seems to think he knows how I can climb out of it.
The problem with his solution is that he’s stone-cold crazy.
There is no way in hell I’m going to a sex club.
720 Linden Street (Book 2)
My kinky introduction to BDSM has been less about dipping my toe, and more about b
eing tossed into the deep end…bound.
That simple fact has required me to make some pretty hefty leaps outside of my comfort zone.
Turns out, there is a whole lot more to the BDSM scene than I initially thought.
There’s a staggering array of possibilities, all wide open for me to see and experience.
You see, my boyfriend owns a sex club.
And I have a lot to learn.
Trigger Warning: 720 Linden Street contains content that some readers may find distressing.
1700 Grant Street (Book 3)
Have you ever been at a crossroads in your journey?
In the buffet of life, your entire future depends on tiny little decisions here and there.
Do you resist the temptation at the dessert table and stick with your current bounty?
Or will you always wonder how life could have been if you had only just tasted of it?
When you get to this branching of your life’s path, it’s not enough to merely choose one direction.
No, you must annihilate the rejected road.
Lay waste to your other option.
Because to dance between the two will slowly unravel you.
And it will start with your fickle heart.
945 Cedar Avenue (Book 4, Salinger’s Story)
A wedding engagement is a joyous occasion, right?
Well, I suppose that depends on your perspective.
If you happen to be on the side of the path that branches to the left, when the love of your life chooses to go right, you may have a different opinion.
So, what do you do when someone else’s choice annihilates the future you had counted on?
The answer to that may depend on your membership status at a certain sex club.
Namely 1462 South Broadway.
Standalone Books by KC Decker
Little Dove
My name is Etta Freeman.
There is something special about me.
Not special in a good way though, more like special in a way that will get me killed one day.
It’s not something I talk about with anyone, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to snare my neighbor in my devious web.
He is angsty and brooding and completely sexy in a scrappy, bloody knuckle kind of way.
I should also mention that he’s a scheming, felonious drug dealer and I’m drawn to him like flies on shit.
The problem is, he doesn’t yet know his role in my narrative, but he will fall in line.
They always do.
Trigger Warning: This book contains content that some readers may find distressing.
Of Ash and Angels
Justin:
I have never had a therapist I didn’t want to murder where they sat. As a collective group they all say there is no way around grief, only through it, but for me, grief has become who I am. The idea of shedding it is as ludicrous as stepping outside of my own skin.
The fact is, some things can break you. I mean, shatter your soul and cast it into the wind in a billion tiny pieces. To think you might one day be able to find all those infinite pieces of yourself, patch everything back together, and move on with life—well, I don’t even need to dignify that with a response.
Norah:
A few months ago, I shaved off a hundred and eighty-five-pound parasite. Then, once I was rid of him, I wondered why I didn’t just stick it out because the dating world is treacherous these days. Turns out, so is unemployment.
I suppose, to offset all the swiping left and Netflix binging in my life, I should take this job. There is a massive problem with the position though.
The problem’s name is, Justin Abernathy.
***
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Acknowledgments:
So, here’s the thing, although writing is an individual task and requires a certain amount of autonomy, it would be nearly impossible to write a book without the help, guidance, and expertise of others. To that end, I have many people to thank. For my arc team and all the kickass bloggers and bookstagrammers out there—you are incredible, and my gratitude is seriously endless. For my Ride or Die fans—I could never do this writing gig without your support, and I can’t possibly thank you enough. I’d also like to thank my team of proofreaders—Oggie & Aly. As well as SueBee from Goodreads & Shh, Candi Kane PR, Craig from HG, Jim from EBS, Alyson from Nautilus Graphic Design, Arron Dunworth Photography, and Kaz van der Waard. Each one of you have had an impact on the success of this book, and for that, I wish you all happiness beyond measure.
