by Sandra Owens
“Our song,” Court said, drawing her to him. “One last dance before we go.”
They were away from the lighted area, and she danced with her husband, their feet bare on the sand, to the sounds of the Bruno Mars song and the waves crashing onshore. When the song finished, Court kissed her, long and deep.
He broke away, cradled her face in his palms, and stared into her eyes. “I only want one thing, Gorgeous Girl. I want us.”
She put her hands over his. “It’s all I’ve wanted since the first time you said you loved me.”
“I promise you’ll never be sorry you married me, Lauren Gentry.”
“And I’ll make the same promise to you. I love you, Mr. Gentry.”
“Love you more.”
She laughed, swatted his chest, then took off running. “Do not.”
“Oh, you’re in trouble now, Mrs. Gentry.”
“I’m counting on it.”
He caught her, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to their room, where he kept his promise to keep her up all night.
EPILOGUE
Kinsey Landon unfolded the letter she’d found in her mother’s Bible. She’d read it a hundred times since her mother had died, and each read still knocked the ground out from under her feet. Wanda Landon had once been Wanda Gentry, something Kinsey had never known. Why had her mom kept her past a secret? Kinsey picked up the pages she’d dropped and read the letter again from the beginning.
My Darling Kinsey,
If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. Please don’t cry too much, sweetheart. I’ve been blessed to have you in my life, and having you has kept me sane.
You see, I had three sons who were taken from me, and my heart has cried each day from missing them. Without you in my life, I don’t know how I would have gone on.
I know I should have told you about your brothers, and I planned to, but I kept putting it off, unsure of how to explain walking away from my sons. You see, I left them for you.
The first time you asked about your father, I told you his name was John Landon and that he was dead. That was a lie, sweetheart. Maybe he’s dead by now, I don’t know, but your father’s name was Gordon Gentry. He was not a nice man, Kinsey, but I would have stayed with him for my sons.
When he learned I was pregnant with you, he refused to believe he was your father. He demanded I get rid of you, and when I refused, he tried to beat you out of my stomach. I knew then that to protect you, I had to leave.
It was the hardest decision of my life, leaving my boys with that man, but if I’d tried to take them, he would have hunted us down. My heart is still broken because I didn’t have the courage or means to defy him.
But there was a life inside me. You. I had no choice but to protect you, my sweet girl. Fortunately, a man your father sometimes hired to do odd jobs took pity on me and helped me escape by driving me to the bus station. I will always owe him for that act of kindness because he helped me save you.
I have to believe that I instilled in my sons a sense of honor and a love of learning so they could grow to be fine young men. I know in my heart they grew into men I would be proud of. If you are asking where they are today, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that their names are Alex, Court, and Nate Gentry, and that the last time I saw them, they were living in Ocala, Florida.
From the moment I knew you were in my belly, I have loved you, Kinsey. Please forgive me for not being honest with you before now.
You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, and I’m so very proud of you, daughter. If you should decide to find your brothers, please tell them why I left. Tell them that I never stopped loving them.
I only ask one thing of you, Kinsey. Be happy. I love you through eternity.
Mom.
Kinsey dropped the letter onto her desk. Had her mom ever tried to find her sons, learn what had become of them? Kinsey swiveled the chair, staring out the window. She would never know the answer . . . but she had brothers? It was almost impossible to wrap her mind around that.
When she’d discovered the letter, her first reaction had been to start looking for them, but then she’d hesitated. What if they didn’t want a sister? What if they’d grown up to be like their father . . . her father? From the little her mother had shared in the letter, he hadn’t been a good man.
She’d been in her last year of school when she’d found the letter and had elected to concentrate on her studies and get her degree before deciding what to do. She’d needed the time to let the news of her “family” sink in. After all, she’d gone twenty-two years without them in her life. What did one more matter?
Even now, a year later, she still wasn’t sure what to do. Some days, she missed her mother so much she did want to find them, believing that they would understand and share in her grief. It would give her comfort to know she wasn’t alone in mourning the best woman she’d ever known.
From her earliest memory, it had been just her and her mother. She’d never doubted she’d been wanted and loved, and it was hard being alone now, never again able to pick up the phone and hear her mother’s voice. She still couldn’t look at her mother’s picture without crying.
“I didn’t even get to say good-bye to you, Mom,” she whispered. The heart attack that had instantly killed her mother had taken that chance away.
She’d graduated two days ago, and now it was decision time. Did she want to find them, and if she did, how would it change her life? Did they hate their mother for leaving them, and would they resent Kinsey for being the reason? If so, she wasn’t sure she could bear it on top of the ache already living in her heart. She almost wished her mother had taken her secrets to the grave.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The book world is a fascinating place. My first book was published in 2013, and the biggest thing I’ve learned since then is how much I don’t know. What I do know, however, is that I’ve made so many amazing friends—some I’ve met and some I probably never will meet, but they are all just as dear to me. I now have friends in close to every state in the United States and in countries all over the world that I talk to almost daily on social media. I am truly blessed.
Thank you to the readers who write me, telling me how much you love my books, especially my heroes. Thank you for leaving reviews! You have no idea how much an author appreciates that. Thank you for the online chats we have about everything under the sun. I love those so much. Thank you all for just being awesome!
There is one special reader and now a long-distance friend I want to tell you about. Her name is Brandy Morrison. Brandy has Turner’s syndrome (look it up). It’s not easy for her to read my books, but she tells me she devours every one of them. Books make her happy, so I’m honored to be one of her favorite authors . . . well, after Kristan Higgins, Susan Mallery, and Jill Shalvis. But hey, those are some big names to follow, so thank you for such an honor, Brandy.
If an author is really, really lucky, she finds the perfect critique partner. I got super lucky in finding two. Jenny Holiday, from a tentative exchange of manuscripts before either of us were published, we’ve evolved into a partnership that I know we both believe is special. I am blessed to have you not only as a critique partner but also as a dear friend. (Y’all need to go read Jenny’s books. They’re so good.)
Miranda Liasson, my Golden Heart Lucky 13 sister, friend, and critique partner, you’re a treasure. I love our long phone calls. You’re just so easy to talk to about everything. Which reminds me, it’s my turn to call you. (Y’all go read Miranda’s books, too. You’ll be glad you did.)
Montlake Romance, how do I ever thank you for taking a chance on a relatively unknown author? With this one, we’re on our sixth book together, and it’s been more thrilling than riding the highest roller coaster in the world (and I do love those). Maria, Jessica, Melody, Elise, and everyone else at Montlake, I adore you!
To Jim, I couldn’t do this without you. Even though you never complain, I’ll try to stop burning dinner when I’m o
n deadline . . . But no promises, okay? I love you Mr. O. Always have, always will.
Then last (and definitely not least) there’s my agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan. Wow, Courtney. What an amazing journey we’re on. I couldn’t have done it without you . . . Seriously! So, to the best agent in the world, thank you for believing in me. Raising a glass of wine (and you know how much I love my wine) to you, and saying, “Cheers! Here’s to dozens and dozens of more fabulous years together.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Cat Ford-Coates
Bestselling, award-winning author Sandra Owens lives in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Her family and friends often question her sanity but have ceased being surprised by what she might get up to next. She’s jumped out of a plane, flown in an aerobatic plane while the pilot performed death-defying stunts, gotten into laser-gun fights in Air Combat, and ridden a Harley motorcycle for years. She regrets nothing.
Sandra is a Romance Writers of America Honor Roll member and a 2013 Golden Heart Finalist for her contemporary romance Crazy for Her. In addition to her contemporary romantic suspense novels, she writes Regency stories.
You can connect with Sandra on Facebook at Sandra Owens Author, on Twitter @SandyOwens1, or through her website, www.sandra-owens.com.
