by Stacia Kane
Both bottles fell from her hands; dimly she heard them land, heard foam spread across the floor and felt it licking cold on her bare feet. She couldn’t have cared less. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, solid and warm and real. His hands fisted in her hair, pulling it back so he could stroke his fingers over her collarbone, sending little shivers through her.
He lifted his head to look at her. Giving her his eyes, giving her what was behind them. “You know I do, aye? Love you right, Chessiebomb.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do, shit, Terrible, I really love you—” She didn’t wait to finish the sentence, not when his face was so close to hers, when she could kiss him instead of talking.
Words were inadequate. No matter how good they sounded, or how good it felt to say them, there were other ways, better ways. It might take a while for him to trust her again. He might not ever forget about Lex; hell, she knew he wouldn’t, knew it would probably come back to bite her on the ass one day. Could feel it lurking there, another dirty secret to add to her store of them, another shame to stockpile in her soul.
But he wanted to try, wanted to be with her. And she had to try. Was desperate to try. If that meant she was barreling toward another painful episode in a life full of them, it was nothing new, right? Because there was still the chance, the off chance, that she wasn’t. That she could finally do something right. And if anyone could give her hope, it was him.
So she let him pick her up from the puddle of sticky beer they stood in and carry her to the bedroom. Suddenly the day ahead didn’t seem nearly long enough, not for all the things they had to say.
Acknowledgments
As always, huge thanks go to my husband, Stephen, and our two little girls for their unending support and patience; to my agent, Chris Lotts; to Liz Scheier; and to Shauna Summers. Working first with Liz and then with Shauna has been an amazing experience, and I’m incredibly lucky. Big warm thanks go also to Jessica Sebor and April Flores and everyone else at Del Rey for making me feel valued and very, very welcome every step of the way.
I want to send enormous piles of gratitude to Emma Coode and Natalie Costa Bir in England and Australia, respectively, for getting behind the series so strongly.
Of course, I’d be nowhere without the friends who have helped and supported me and calmed me down when I freaked out. Cori Knell, Caitlin Kittredge (from whom I borrowed the Poor Dead Bastards), Stacey Jay, Richelle Mead, Mark Henry, Jackie Kessler, Jaye Wells, Shannan Palma, Ann Aguirre, Yasmine Galenorn, Kaz Mahoney, Synde Korman, and the entire League of Reluctant Adults, thank you. Also big thanks to Mike Mignola, and, of course, to all my blog readers and Twitter pals.
And last but not least, thanks to Charlaine Harris and Karen Marie Moning for picking up a book by a random stranger and liking it enough to recommend it to their readers. I am overwhelmed.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 2ebe64c0-7338-4efa-8bfd-155243577ba7
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 27.9.2013
Created using: calibre 1.5.0, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
Stacia Kane
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