by Devney Perry
“Marry me?”
“Yes.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She laughed as a tear dripped down her cheek.
I stood again and wiped it away before taking off the mitten on her left hand. With steady fingers, I slid the delicate band to the base of her knuckle. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off the ring. The center diamond sparkled in the sunlight. So did the halo of smaller white diamonds surrounding it.
The jewelry store would be receiving a monthly payment from me for a few years and I’d be delaying the purchase of a new truck, but it was worth it. Whatever I could give her, I would. Even kids.
Willa looked up from the ring. “I love you.”
“Love you too, babe.”
She smiled wide and a squeak escaped her lips. She giggled again, then launched herself into my arms.
I scooped her up, slamming my mouth down on hers. Then I kissed my fiancée long and deep. I explored her mouth with my tongue and nipped at her top lip. I sucked at the bottom. By the time we broke apart, we were panting, our breaths forming a frozen cloud around us.
“Do we need to take these ornaments down?” Willa asked, her eyes dark with heat. “Or can we celebrate?”
I grinned. “Fuck the tree. I’ll come back up tomorrow.”
“Okay, good. Let’s go.” She jumped out of my arms and started jogging down the trail.
I laughed, following close behind to catch her if she slipped.
The second we spotted the truck parked at the trailhead, Willa stripped off her coat. Her hat came next. She was bent over, untying her boots as I dug the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the doors.
She hopped into the backseat first and I followed, slamming the door to keep out the cold. Then we spent an hour fogging up the windows before we got dressed to drive back home.
As I pulled my truck onto the highway, Willa laughed out her passenger window.
“What?”
“I was just thinking.” She smiled at her ring, then looked over. “When I was seventeen, I wrote in my diary that I was going to marry you one day.”
My heart skipped. “You did?”
She nodded. “Seventeen-year-old Willa is doing a victory dance right now.”
“Do you still have your diary?”
“Yeah. They’re in a box at my parents’ place. Why?”
“Research.” I took her hand and kissed her knuckle, right above her ring. “Need to see what other dreams seventeen-year-old Willa had for her life.”
I’d start with those, ticking them off one at a time, until all her dreams had come true.
Two and a half years later . . .
“What is this?” I asked Jackson, standing in front of a painting on the mantel above our fireplace.
“A present from Thea. I asked her to make it for me and she dropped it off this morning.”
“But it’s my birthday.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Why are you getting presents?”
Jackson chuckled and wrapped his arms around me, pulling my back into his chest. “Don’t worry. You get presents too.”
“That better be plural,” I mumbled.
He kissed my neck. “When have you ever gotten the shaft on your birthday?”
I smiled and reached behind me, palming the growing bulge behind his zipper. “I get the shaft every year on my birthday.”
He laughed again, his voice booming in the living room. “This is true.”
“Speaking of . . .” I turned around and went right for his belt. But before I could get it undone, he grabbed my wrists.
“We don’t have time.”
“Come on,” I begged. “Real quick.”
He shook his head, grinning before he kissed me. “We’ve done ‘real quick’ three times already. If we go again, we’re going to be late.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. My hormones were out of control, but we had to get going. “Fine.”
I was five months pregnant and wanted sex all the time. And if I wasn’t having sex with Jackson, I was in search of food. My appetite was twice what it normally was. I could eat as much as Ryder, which was saying something.
At twelve, he’d had an appetite. At almost fifteen, it was nearly impossible to keep the fridge stocked. Jackson and I joked that the money I made from working as Logan’s assistant in the winters all went directly to groceries.
“Ryder is staying with Hazel tonight,” Jackson reminded me. “So as soon as we get home, I’m all yours. But we can’t be late to your own birthday party.”
“Okay.” I huffed. “Let’s go.”
“I need to grab your presents, plural, then we can go.”
I waved him off, then turned back to the painting.
It was beautiful, of course, because Thea was a gifted artist.
She’d painted me from behind, standing in front of the lake. My hair was down and a few pieces were blowing in the wind. You couldn’t see my face, which I was glad for.
It was weird enough seeing it from the back.
“Ready.” Jackson came from down the hall, carrying one gift bag and a wrapped box.
“Can I peek?”
“No way.” He shook his head as he walked through the living room.
I took one last look at the painting before following. “So why did you ask Thea to do that painting?”
“I wanted one. She was bitching about needing a new art project one night at the bar so I told her to paint me a picture of you.”
“Why?”
He looked over his shoulder and shot me a why do you think look.
“Does it have to be on the mantel?” It was a beautiful piece, but on the mantel, it was the focal point of the living room. I didn’t like to be so front and center.
“Yes.”
“How about the hallway? Or our bedroom?”
“No.”
“Jackson, be reasonable. It looks like you’ve built a shrine up there for me.”
He ignored me, walking to the front door and setting down the presents on the little table I’d dragged him through five antique stores to find.
We’d spent the last year remodeling our house. I moved out of my tiny apartment above my parents’ garage right after Jackson proposed. We saved up for a year and then hired a contractor to come in and remodel. There was a month where the place wasn’t livable, so Jackson and I had stayed over the garage, for old times’ sake, while Ryder camped out with Hazel.
But when the contractor finally finished the bedrooms and kitchen so we could all move back in, it was perfect.
Everything was updated and bright. We’d gotten new windows and floors. I’d even gotten a brand-new kitchen to make the guys breakfast every morning.
For the most part, Jackson and Ryder didn’t care at all about the things I’d done to decorate. Ryder had done his own room, but the rest of the house had been mine.
But slowly, I was losing control over the mantel.
The first thing Jackson insisted on putting up there was our wedding picture. Since it was an amazing picture from an amazing day, I didn’t argue.
The summer after Jackson proposed, we got married in the same church in Kalispell where my parents had gotten married. Then we drove back to Lark Cove and had a small reception at Hazel’s lakeside cottage.
The picture on the mantel was of me and Jackson dancing under the twinkle lights in the tent we’d rented. My dress had a simple silhouette, fitted from the bodice through my hips. It was white with a lace overlay that went up to my neck and ended in delicate cap sleeves. My hair was curled and hanging loose down my back.
I loved that picture, especially seeing Jackson all dressed up in a tux. I would have put it on the mantel had he asked for it or not.
But over the last year, I kept coming home to find new additions up there. One by one, he’d built this Willa shrine. One framed picture was of me on the boat last summer, fishing. One was of me at camp, standing under the
tall trees. The latest was one he’d taken of me barefoot in the kitchen, making french toast.
And now this painting.
It was too much.
“Please can we move it to the hallway?”
“No,” he declared and pulled on his boots.
“Why?” I asked, getting frustrated.
He sighed and stood tall, stepping close to rest his hands on my shoulders. “Did I ever tell you why I came to your apartment above the garage that first night? That night you were all pissed off at me and I didn’t know why?”
I thought back over the years, remembering that night. “No, I guess you didn’t.”
“I was at the bar that night, hanging with Thea. It was right before she went on that trip to New York, remember? Well, she was drawing in one of her sketchbooks that night. Guess who she was drawing?”
“Logan?”
He shook his head.
“Charlie?”
“You. She was drawing you.”
“Me? Why me?”
“She used to do that a lot. She still does actually. When she gets bored, she draws the people who come into the bar. I guess you’d been there that night.”
“Okay. So?”
“So . . . I saw that sketch and it opened my eyes. You’d been there, right in front of me all that time, and I’d been a blind fool. I left the bar and called Hazel, begging for your address. Then I showed up at your door and you yelled at me.”
“Yes, I did.” I smiled. “You deserved it.”
He grinned, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Yeah, I did.”
“So how does that lead to a painting above my fireplace?”
Jackson reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He thumbed through it and carefully pulled out a folded piece of paper. Slowly, he opened it up and handed it over for me to see.
It was the drawing he’d just described.
He’d kept it in his pocket all this time.
“Jackson,” I whispered.
“I like to keep that with me, but I can’t look at it every day, or it’ll get ruined. So instead, I have those.” He pointed over my head to the mantel. “Now tell me, what does this picture and all of those have in common?”
I turned and followed his pointed finger. Just like the sketch in my hand, all of those pictures and the painting were of me with my hair down.
“My hair.”
He twisted a couple of strands around his finger. “Your hair. Your hair looks the same in all of them. So if I can’t pull out this drawing every day, then I get those instead.”
“We could just get this sketch framed,” I offered.
He took the paper from my hands and carefully refolded it before returning it back to his wallet. “It stays with me.”
I stayed with him. That’s what he was really saying.
I stroked my baby bump. “If we have a little boy, I hope he’s as sweet as his daddy.”
Jackson pulled me into his arms. “If we have a little girl, I know she’ll be as beautiful as her mommy.”
I relaxed into his chest, enjoying this quiet minute together before we went to the chaos of my birthday party. It would be fun, but there wouldn’t be time for a peaceful hug with so many people around.
My parents would be there, along with some of my aunts, uncles and cousins from Kalispell. We’d invited Leighton and Brendon to come and introduce us to their new baby girl. June and Hannah were driving down too.
I didn’t see my high school girlfriends as much as I used to, but we’d settled into a different kind of friendship. One where we made it a point to attend birthday parties and baby showers.
Hazel was hosting my party. Ryder was already there to help her set up. Thea, Logan and their two kids would be there too. Thea was pregnant again—a couple months ahead of me—so at least I wouldn’t be the only one pigging out on birthday cake.
I had fully embraced the excuse of eating for two.
To my surprise, Jackson had been the one to bring up the topic of children. I’d been perfectly fine just enjoying our time as husband and wife, but on his birthday last fall, he’d asked me to go off my birth control.
When I’d asked him why, he’d told me it was because of his time spent coaching. He was co-coaching Charlie’s soccer team with Logan, and he was an assistant for Ryder’s football team. He didn’t want to be too old to coach his kids in sports.
That day, he’d given me another dream. It was one I hadn’t written about in my diaries, but it was one I’d always held in my heart.
“Do you love me?” I whispered.
He kissed my hair. “I love you so much, Willow.”
“Hey!” I pinched his side, making him chuckle.
“Still too soon, huh?”
I leaned back, trying not to smile at the smirk on my husband’s face. “Just for that, you owe me two orgasms tonight and you have to bring me ice cream in bed if I wake up hungry.”
“Orgasms and ice cream. I can do that.” He took my hand, scooped up the presents in his other and led me out the door.
Later that night, he gave me the two promised orgasms before I passed out, exhausted. And when I woke up hungry at three in the morning, he brought me a huge bowl of ice cream to eat in bed.
He catered to my every whim for the next four months, right up until our little boy, Roman Page, was born.
And he did the same when I was pregnant with our daughter, Zoe, two years later.
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Enjoy this preview from Tragic, book three in the Lark Cove series.
One or two.
“Kaine?” Mom’s voice echoed off the cement walls as she stepped outside. The glass door swished as it closed behind her.
I didn’t look at her as she stepped up to my side. My eyes were aimed blankly ahead as I wrestled with my decision.
One or two.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked. “We’ve been looking all over the hospital for you.”
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been standing out here. I’d told Mom that I was going to the bathroom and that I’d be back soon to talk with the doctors. But when I’d passed this exit door, hidden on the bottom floor in the back wing of the hospital, it had beckoned me through.
I’d needed a few moments away from the red-rimmed eyes and sniffling noses. I’d needed just a few seconds to pass without a single person asking me if I was okay.
I needed some quiet to decide.
One or two.
The parking lot ahead of me was shrouded in darkness. The night itself was pitch-black. There were no stars shining. There was no moon glowing. A thick fog had settled in, dulling the light of the streetlamps so their beams barely illuminated the few cars parked on the asphalt. The air should have been cold on my bare arms, but I couldn’t feel it.
I was numb.
I’d felt this way for hours, ever since they took her from my arms.
One or two.
It was an impossible choice, one I shouldn’t have to make. But because of him, it was inevitable.
“Kaine, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“I can’t decide.” My voice was rough as I spoke, the burn of rage and sorrow and pain making it nearly impossible to speak.
“Decide what?” she whispered. I didn’t need to look to know that Mom’s eyes were full of tears. Her dark hair had gotten a dozen new grays tonight. Her normally cheery and bright hazel eyes held their own fog of grief.
“One or two.”
“One or two what?”
I swallowed the fire in my throat. “Graves.”
One or two.
“Oh, Kaine.” Mom began to weep and her hand reached for my arm, but I shied away. “Please come inside, sweetheart. Please. We need to talk about this. He needs to talk to you. Give him a chance to explain.”
“I have nothing to say to him.” He’d done this. He was the reason I had to decide.<
br />
“Kaine, it was an accident. A tragic accident.” She hiccupped. “He—”
I walked away before she could finish. I walked right into the dark, wishing this blackness would swallow me whole.
Mom’s voice rang across the parking lot as she called out, but I simply walked, my boots carrying me into the black.
One or two.
An impossible choice.
As if the heavens sensed my despair, the clouds opened. Rain poured down, soaking my dark hair. It dripped over my eyes and coated my cheeks. The water soaked my jeans, making them cling to my legs.
But I couldn’t feel the water droplets as they streamed down the bridge of my nose. I couldn’t feel the locks of hair that were stuck to my forehead. I couldn’t feel the wet denim on my thighs as it rubbed my skin raw.
I was numb. There was nothing.
Nothing except the weight of four pounds, two ounces wrapped in a pink blanket resting in my arms as I said good-bye.
One or two.
What would Shannon want?
One. She’d choose one.
So I’d bury them together.
Then surrender to the black.
“You’re here!” Thea rushed across the runway.
“I’m here!” I stepped off the last stair of my boss’s private jet just as she threw her arms around me. The Kendrick family, Thea in particular, was arguably more excited about this adventure of mine than I was.
Montana, meet your newest resident: Piper Campbell.
I loved it here already.
The sky above me was blue with only a few wisps of feathered clouds. The sunshine was warm on my shoulders and the April air fresh in my nose. Any doubts I’d had about moving floated away in the mountain breeze.
Thea gave me one last squeeze for good measure, then stood back so her husband could take her place.
“Hey, boss.” I gave Logan a mock salute as I infused the word boss with as much sarcasm as possible.
Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he came in for an embrace. His hug wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as his wife’s, but it was a close second. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” I told him as he let me go. Then I gave him a diabolical smile. “It will be much easier to give you orders in person than over the phone.”
