by Nicole Snow
But I can’t pass out, or it’ll be proving this lovable asshole right.
He clasps my hand in both of his, the ring growing even warmer in the body heat between us, and looks up at me with his eyes dark and earnest. “Maybe this isn’t the best place to do this,” he says, “but it’s something I should’ve done years ago. Long before I let my pride and stupidity get in the way. I’ve given you too many reasons to doubt me, Reb, and I won’t do it anymore. So, I’m asking you, right now, for a promise. I’m making a promise to you. If only you’ll say yes.” He swallows hard, his eyes a different Neptune storm I've never seen. “If you’ll just be my wife.”
Holy hell.
I don’t know how he even needs to ask.
How he hasn’t known my answer our entire lives.
How that rough, joyful, long-time-coming yes has been waiting between us since the day he ruffled my hair and told me I was a rebel, and I’d have boys lined up across the coast waiting for me, when the only one I ever needed was always right here.
But I want to say it. I want to make it real. And I feel like my smile will crack my face as I gasp out “Yes,” before nearly ripping my IV needle out to tumble into his arms.
He sweeps me up close, laughing and kissing me wildly.
We’re a mess, clinging and clutching and trading kisses and nips and laughs until it’s hard to breathe and I don’t think I’m the only one crying.
It’s perfect. It’s wonderful. It’s so typically Landon, to finally decide what he wants and to be so impatient that he’ll claim it with a hospital gift shop engagement ring if he has to.
I’m just happy that what he wants is me.
It’s giddy – so giddy to know he loves me as much as I love him. And I whisper those words again and again as I seal my mouth to his more firmly, kissing him, tasting all the beauty and wildness and darkness that makes Landon so special.
I could love him through anything, I think. Past any pain. Past any shadows. Past hell itself.
I'll love him through everything, no matter what changes may come.
His mouth blazes on mine, his kiss so deep – before abruptly breaking back as he lets out a pained hiss, jerking and looking over his shoulder peevishly. “Ow, jackass.”
My brother stands there after smacking the back of Landon’s head lightly, Melanie at his side, his hair wild and disheveled and his face drawn with worry, but the most enormous grin on his lips.
“You deserved it,” he tells a glowering Landon, before his gaze softens. “I get it now. Finally,” he says, looking between us. “It’s all over the news. Your father, Dallas, everything. If you were going to break that story, maybe don’t do it at a concert where there must've been a million reporters around.”
Landon winces guiltily and gathers me closer, as if he’d protect me from prying eyes. “Yeah.”
“I get what you couldn’t tell me,” Steve says, and I realize now he knows. What Landon lived with all these years, the hatred and purpose driving him.
His gaze transfers to me, looking intently with that brotherly warmth and love I’ve missed. It’s clear that he knows what secrets I kept, too. And why.
“Both of you,” he murmurs. “I get it now. You were trying to protect each other.”
“And you,” Landon says. “You didn’t need to get pulled into this, Steve. It was bad enough Kenna knew.”
“Hey.” I swat his chest lightly. “If I hadn’t known, Dallas might've killed you.”
“And I owe you my life,” Landon replies softly, those dark blue, heated eyes burning into me. “I owe you my everything, Kenna. I love you.”
My heart is going to burst. It’s breaking. Repeatedly. In all the best ways.
But before I can say anything, Steve grins and slings his arm over Landon’s shoulder.
“Welcome back to the family, Landon.”
“Back?” Landon asks, looking almost lost.
“Back.” Steve echoes with a firm nod. “You’ve always been one of us.”
“And he always will be,” I say, lacing my fingers with my fiancé’s, my beloved’s, my beast’s.
My Landon.
The man I’ve always believed in.
The fire I never extinguished.
The only hero I'll ever need.
20
Something Blue (Landon)
Six Months Later
I never thought this day would come.
I also never thought my easygoing, sweetly playful Reb would turn out to be the ultimate Bridezilla, but I gotta say at least she keeps me on my toes.
She really hasn’t been that bad.
Mostly just neurotic, wanting to make sure every last detail of our wedding is perfect. I don’t know how to make her understand: we could get married in burlap sacks in a back alley, and it'd be perfect as long as she’s there.
She’s all I need. She's perfection itself. She’s everything.
Marrying this woman is several dreams come true. Pure euphoria. Bliss.
And she’s the reason why I feel so light, standing here on the sand, looking down at her with flowers tucked in her hair. The salty sea air tosses those chestnut tresses swept against her bare shoulders, drawing my eyes to places I can't let distract me.
Not fucking now.
For all her planning with the invites and scheduling, our wedding is a simple thing. Informal, fresh cut flowers scattered across the beach. Everyone we love present – and a few people we tolerate, like Milah Holly herself – perched in folding chairs. Reb's wedding dress is in the same style, a simple white sundress that suits her better than any layer cake of frills ever could.
I told her I didn't want to see a stranger caked in makeup and suffocated in Victorian layers on our big day. I want to see her, beautiful as ever without any gloss. My sweet, natural, sexy as hell Kenna, with her magic ability to ignite my blood with nothing more than a green-eyed glance.
This is us. The future. This is how it should be, and will be.
Me and my wife, doing things our own way. Finding out what works for us, just like we always have.
Sometimes, it's chaotic. Sometimes, it's peace.
But it always, always makes me happy. Because she’s changed my life several times over. She’s changed me.
And I know I wouldn’t be here without her. Hell, I'd barely be human.
I'm so deep in my own head I'm hardly listening to the priest. All the “dearly beloveds” and “we are gathered here todays” are nothing against the roar and crash of the foamy sea at our backs. Like Mother Nature herself is standing witness, saluting us – and this lovely little kitten of a woman looks up at me with a shy, dorky smile that makes me think of that girl I used to know.
That girl who brought me back. That girl who never left me, even when I left her.
That girl who's been my greatest right and wrong, and my biggest, brightest promise.
God as my witness, I’ll never, ever leave her again.
Come hell, come fire, come storm, come the world heaving itself apart...
I’ll never leave her side.
The stars are just coming out against a sky of violet and indigo twilight, looking down on us with their glittering eyes when the priest asks for our vows.
My gut knots. I’ve been holding off on figuring mine out for so long, unsure of the right thing to say.
But as I look into her eyes, I know. It's spontaneous, it's harsh, it's right.
The words just come, as if I’ve spilled them out in heart’s blood.
“Kenna,” I murmur, then grin. “Reb.” There’s a laugh from the peanut gallery, and I recognize Steve’s voice but don’t care. “I learned who I was years ago when I watched the stars with you, then lost myself when I forgot where they were. You brought the sky back to me again, and taught me how to be the kind of man I want to be. The kind of man I believed my father could be.” His ring is heavy in the pocket of my shirt, reinstated along with his reputation. “The kind of man who can cherish you. Love you.
Protect you. Fight like hell for you till the day I die. And I want the stars that always drew us together knowing I'll love you. Always. Love you till their light burns out, the earth falls apart, and beyond.”
Her eyes are glistening, glittering bright as distant green starlight themselves. She lets out a shaky laugh, her cheeks flushed. “I thought I was the writer,” she whispers.
“You're the muse today,” I tell her, drilling my gaze into hers. “You draw it out of me. My best, Reb.”
She laughs, ducking her head, but clasps my hands tight in hers. “Careful. You’re going to make me forget my lines, Landon!”
I wink. “Hurry. We're waiting.”
Ass, she says with a smiling glance.
Then she trails into a sigh, those captivating green eyes so warm, so open, brimming with the emotion I’m so lucky she’s willing to trust me with.
“Landon...you were always beautiful to me,” she says, her voice thick. “Even when you thought you were at your ugliest, your worst, past the point of no return, I saw the same man. The one I fell in love with one day after school when he told me I could be myself, and take the world by the horns. Whether your heart smolders with darkness or burns with light, you were gorgeous. You were strong. You were beautiful. And you still are. So flipping beautiful I can’t help but love you, Landon, and all the wild, chaotic whirlwinds of emotion that's become us. You have a beautiful heart...and I’m so, so glad to finally call it mine.”
Fuck.
Fuck, this woman might destroy me, baring herself like this. But maybe I'm not afraid because we've already done that once. Exactly what I needed.
Destroyed and rebuilt into something and someone better, the rubble of that hateful, broken thing I was left behind.
“That's it, babe,” I whisper, leaning in where no one else can hear, grinning like a fool. “Because if you make me go all bleary-eyed in front of all these people, you're in so much trouble tonight.”
She grins back. “Looking forward to it,” she teases, only for the priest to clear his throat and pull us back from our absorption in each other, back into formalities.
The rest is a sugary sweet blur.
There’s a do you, Kenna? A do you, Landon? A with this ring, I thee wed. The rings, transferred from my pocket to our hands, slid reverently onto mutually shaking fingers. I do. I do.
I do, I do, I do.
Then an I now pronounce you.
Husband. Wife. Till Death do you part.
And then she’s in my arms, and our families are cheering and crying and laughing and shouting, and I’m kissing my wife for the first time.
Hot fuck. The first little flick of her tongue against mine does terrible things to the animal inside me. I have to restrain myself, remember not to grab her ass in public. I stop at the small of her back and just pull her in, attacking her mouth, the mouth I've claimed forever, pulling her into me.
She's mine, mine, gloriously mine.
Every day for the rest of our lives, I’ll remember.
I'll cherish.
I'll believe.
I'll love like madness.
How she falls into my arms with such absolute trust, absolute love, and kisses me with a joy and passion and promise that says no matter what rocky roads we may face, no matter how we may clash and push apart and pull back together...
She loves me.
And she knows I love her.
And I show her again and again and again, with every fiery pulse of lips to lips and dancing, swirling souls.
I want her to myself. Right the fuck now.
Unfortunately, the biggest problem with a wedding party is the wedding party.
High on dizzy joy and clinging to each other nonstop, we hold court. Bide our time. And I force my throbbing dick to behave for a few more hours.
Mothers suddenly become mothers-in-law, hugs and tears all around. Another smack upside the head from Steve, who introduces me to their Gam-Gam, a ninety year old woman who pinches my cheek like Goliath. She tells me and Kenna we've given her the best late birthday present she could ever ask for – unless we're planning on giving her a grandbaby next year?
Fuck.
Pouting from Milah, who tries her damnedest not to show that she’s red-eyed from crying and forcing down the biggest grin. She’s pretending to be her usual sourpuss screw-the-world self, but the fact that she's here at all tells us there's more under her perfectly tanned skin.
When she hugs us both, it’s fierce and genuine. None of the smarmy act she puts on, and everything of a girl who’s slowly finding her way in the world, one mistake at a time. Incredibly, she doesn't even touch a drink the whole time I glance her direction.
She sniffs at us with mock hauteur. “You guys are so predictable, having a cheap wedding. It was quaint, I suppose. Charming.”
Kenna grins and tucks herself into my side. “Do I need to remind you I will end you?”
“Landon wouldn’t let you,” Milah fires back, though there’s no flirtatiousness behind it. She hesitates, then gives me an uncertain look. “I...fuck, I don’t know how to say this.”
“Say what?”
She looks away, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. “Just...thank you. Thank you both. For realsies.”
I grip her shoulder gently. I get what she’s not saying. What could have happened to her, how frightening it must have been, coming face-to-face with the Reaper without a split second of warning.
“Hey. I was just doing my job,” I tell her.
“Yeah, well, you’re kind of okay at it.” She pulls back with a toss of her hair. I let her.
It’s bravado, clinging to her dignity, and it’s not nearly as grating as it used to be. “Since you had to have such a cheap wedding, I insist you splurge on your honeymoon.”
Kenna laughs, rubbing her cheek on my arm. “We already did. A week in Mexico!”
I love how her voice lights up. Hell, I'm feeling it, too, my mind instantly going to spicy micheladas and long nights on the vacant, warm beaches with Reb. Completely naked.
Milah smiles. “Mexico's perfect! I have like, six houses there. Or is it seven? You simply have to stay at one of my properties. You’ll be pampered better than any hotel.”
Kenna parts her lips to protest. I elbow her gently, and we exchange a glance.
Somehow, we’ve developed our secret language of silences we used to have when we were kids, and could read each other with just a look – and what I’m telling her with my look right now is to let Milah have this one.
Kenna sighs indulgently, eyeing me with a wry smile, then turns that beaming look on Milah.
“We’d be honored,” she says. “Thank you.”
“It’s settled. Awesome. Right now, though...” Milah looks at a cell phone she doesn't bother to pull out of her purse. “I have a plane to catch. My new career's taking off thanks to a certain knight in shining armor, and I'm due on a flight to Paris tonight.” She giggles, tosses us both a flirty wink and a blown kiss, and turns to flounce off. “Ta for now.”
Kenna and I stand on the sand, looking after her bemusedly. Kenna tilts her head. “Jesus. That girl...”
I laugh. “I know, Reb. But she kind of grows on you.”
She mock-punches my arm. “As long as growing is all she’s doing on you.”
“Not my type, and you know it.”
“Oh?” She angles her face up sweetly for a kiss.
“My type's right here. Only type I'll ever need.” With a growl, I lean down to capture her lips. Just a quick taste, like sugar on my tongue, but I’m already sparking hot and needing to be away from this ruckus.
With one nibble of her luscious lower lip, I break away. “We had our fun gabbing yet? Think we can sneak away early?”
She’s breathless, flushed, her eyes dilated, but she laughs. “Not unless we want to hear about it from our mothers for the next thirty years.”
“Heaven forbid.” I grin, desire curling dark in the pit of my stomach. “But after dinner, you�
�re mine.”
And I can’t stand the wait.
But I endure it, and even enjoy dinner. Even if I’m eager to have her...there’s a part of me that wants to slow down and enjoy this, too.
I feel like ever since my father died, I’ve been hurtling at breakneck speeds toward a crash. Now, though, I’ve come to a screeching halt just before hitting a brick wall head on.
Disaster averted, thankfully. Now, everything’s coming up Landon.
Dallas is in jail, rotting away in a cell probably not too far from his old man’s. The trial will be wrapping up soon, but he’s already not my problem anymore.
Kenna and I already testified as witnesses for the FBI. They’re done with us as long as they can reach us if they need to.
Reg in jail for tax evasion and underworld human trafficking atrocities. Dallas in jail for murder, and more.
Frankly, I’d rather leave them suffer than see them dead.
It only makes the happiness I feel as I toast my new bride before our friends and family at our reception dinner that much sweeter.
Everything's damn perfect.
Correction: damn near perfect, I remember, when we stop by the table with my main Enguard crew. I see Skylar nursing a coffee drink, her eyes anywhere but our wedding.
“What'd I tell you about tonight?” I say, breaking away from Kenna to pull up the empty seat next to her.
She looks at me and blinks. “I know, I know. Enjoy myself. I'm trying, Landon. Had the bartender throw some Kahlua in this thing.”
“After this craziness dies down, I'll help you find her. I promise.” I watch her till she nods, sheepishly gnawing her lip, hating to accept anything. “You can't do it all yourself, Skylar. I know you want to keep it in the family, going after Joannie, and I'm not here to cross any line I shouldn't. But, shit, you tell me what you need. Resources? Time? Manpower? It's yours. You're at my wedding because you're practically family, same as these other two party-crashers.”
I knock my fist against the table gently, catching smiles from both James and Riker. They're both busy chatting up a few of Kenna's old friends, and they know better than to start any shit that'll only cause trouble when they see the flash in my eyes.
