Somewhere Bound (Foundlings Book 3)

by Fiona Keane

  “You need to put on some clothes, my dear.”

  “You need to not tell me what to do.”

  He laughed. “Well…fine. Stay in there, cold and wet. I’ll miss you in the warm, snuggly bed.”

  His right hand stroked my bare shoulder, sending a pleasant chill through my core. I failed my mission and lifted my head to gaze into his eyes. They were so beautiful, so commanding and…sassy. However, the longer I looked at them, the more I began to recognize the lost boy inside. Something happened.

  “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  “What?” He lifted from the side, his hands pressing against his thighs. “Nothing is wrong.”

  “Where’d you go, Jameson?”

  I watched from the tub as he stood up, spinning away from me to collect a towel from the shelf between the tub and sink. He had moved to stand at the side of the tub, the towel opened and spread in the span of his strong arms.

  “Get out,” he commanded, a soft smile along his face.

  I let out a sigh. I had to get out. I was starting to freeze. He looked away, watching himself in the mirror as I stepped into the towel, letting his arms envelop me before he pulled me even closer against him and pressed a kiss to my forehead. It had just been hours, but I had missed that feeling. I had felt so vulnerable without him.

  “Soph,” he whispered above my head, “we need to talk.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Jameson

  She is going to be so pissed at me. How do I even tell her about my errands? I should start with the good part. The fact that I found her father. Or maybe I should give her the small package burning a hole against the table in the foyer where I had left it. Do I even go there yet? Do we talk about Oregon and then this?

  “Jameson,” she whispered, her hands lifting to my face. “You’re going away again. Come back.”

  “Oh.” I blushed. “Soph, I don’t know how to start.”

  “Let me get changed.” She wiggled from my hold and sauntered toward the bedroom. She didn’t even know she did it, but she actually, literally, sauntered away from me and my heart dropped to the floor…with my jaw.

  My fingers seared through my hair as I rubbed away the feelings with which my body responded to Soph. I groaned, peeling my feet from the bathroom floor and walking into the bedroom, grabbing the small package from the table on my way to Soph. She was already changed, standing at the window while she rubbed a towel through her hair.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” She shrugged, hearing me enter the space. “Your shirts are more snuggly to wear at night.” God dammit.

  “Not at all.” It took everything inside of me to sit in one of the chairs and wait for Soph to finish drying her hair. I pulled the package onto my lap, my fingers nervously tapping against it.

  “What’s that?” Soph plopped against the arm of my chair, pulling her bare legs over mine while her feet rested on my right leg.

  I snaked my left arm around her waist and yanked her down to my lap before replying. My nose touched hers, watching her eyelashes slowly blink at me.

  “You might be mad…” I bit my lip. “But I have something for you. When we were in Oregon and you gave me those pictures from another life, I should have just given you this. But I was just a wreck.”

  “I’m sorry…that wasn’t my intention. I hope you know that, Jameson.”

  “I do.” My fingers held her shaking face, tugging on her chin. “…This is from Florida.”

  Her brows met, studying me with suspicion as I handed her the package. It was only wrapped in a plastic bag, a pathetic attempt at disclosing it. She peeled the layers off, watching me while she worked.

  “Oh…” Soph held the framed photograph before her, a trembling hand lifting to her open mouth. “Jameson…”

  “Is that okay? I went to your room…I mean…I told you I was there…but…I didn’t tell you about this. I wanted it to be special. I wanted you to always have a piece of your mom. And the funny part is, you had done the same thing for me and neither of us knew.”

  It wasn’t funny. It was amazing. The fact we were both so connected, so predictably similar, it was beautifully ironic. My voice cracked, nervously communicating my emotions while I watched her process. God. The way she looks while thinking, as her beautiful mind reviews and considers things. It’s beautiful.

  “I don’t know what to say to this.” Her eyes raised to mine, watching me like a frightened animal. I lifted my hands to her cheeks, stroking the soft skin along her jaw and under her damp eyes.

  “I was terrified you wouldn’t like it.”

  “It’s my mom and me, Jameson.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, watching the tears dribble from her eyes. Soph’s lips were quick to meet mine, her hands tangling in my hair. I almost lost my breath, unable to take in a gasp before she sucked the angst and fear from me with one kiss.

  “I can handle just about anything with you around. You know that?” she spoke against my mouth, sending my heart into a wild tizzy.

  I wished Soph could see herself. I wished she could hear herself and truly consider those thoughts. She was absolutely amazing, this powerful force, a storm of emotion, capable of anything. Yet, she often lacked that confidence in herself. I wished she could see the woman I love just as I see her.

  “I’m sad you left me though,” she whispered, pulling from my hold and examining the photograph I had taken from her bedroom in Florida.

  My eyes flickered toward her wrists, knotting my stomach with flashing memories of Soph tied to the stove, her body going under, us almost losing each other.

  “About that…” I adjusted my posture beneath her, holding on tightly to her hips in anticipation of her running from me. Not this time.

  “You’re scaring me.” Her words were somewhere between a nervous laugh and a whisper. My eyes closed, willing my words to be more than a tumbling mess of nonsense that caused more harm than needed.

  “I had two things to do before we moved on from here. One was to get that photo in a frame and give it to you.”

  “Yes? And the second thing was…? Just say it, Jameson. I don’t think there’s anything that could scare me now.”

  “Please just remember that everything I do, Sophia, is to make you happy. I do everything to solve your puzzle, to make sure you have whatever you need to feel complete and safe.”

  “Sophia? This must be serious.” She smiled at me, placing the frame on the ottoman across from my knees, almost unable to move within my hold.

  “It is.” My smile faded, quickly studying the concerned glow in her eyes while they caught mine. “I found your mom’s friend. Lucas. He’s here. I met him while you were asleep.”

  Her face fell. It was eerily quiet while she processed my words. Water had started soaking into my shirt and dripping along my shoulder from her wet hair. I tightened my hold, adhering her to me, but she was growing limp. She had no intention of running this time. I’d frightened her too much.

  “Soph,” I whispered, pulling her expression back to me. “You need to meet with him.”

  “No. I-I can’t.”

  “Trust me,” I encouraged her, holding her cheeks in my hands. “You need to talk with him.”

  “Let go of me, Jameson. Please.”

  “No.”

  She began to wiggle, her hips only tightening my hold against her like a finger trap. Each move brought her closer to me, even if she didn’t want it. She needed it. My right hand wove into her hair, pressing her sobbing face into my shoulder, where she broke down into a muted mess.

  “It’s okay, Soph,” I cooed, stroking her hair. Her left hand clung to the collar of my shirt, reminding me I had done the right thing for her and held her together, collecting the pieces as she fell apart.

  “Wh-Wh-What do you mean I need to talk to him?” she muttered into my shirt, still clinging with her life.

  “He has some things you two need to discuss. It’s personal.”

  �
��You’re my personal person.”

  I smiled, kissing the top of her head, “I know, babe. You’re my personal person too. But trust me on this…and I’ll be there, if you want me to be.”

  “When do I go talk to him?” Her face lifted from mine, watching and waiting for my response. Her wet eyes were eager, anticipating answers. Her eyes always searched mine for something—hope, promise, love. I had to deliver. I had to find a way to be exactly who she saw while looking into my eyes, just as I was determined to make her see what I saw in her.

  “Whenever you want. We should figure out the other stuff too.”

  “Right. Oregon. Real life Bonnie and Clyde over here,” she snickered, blushing while she covered her mouth.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. When things were tense, if she wasn’t caught in a panic, Soph broke through it with her blushing laughter, something that burst my heart and buried my walls. That sound, the sweetness that cut through anything, was my undoing. I would kill to hear it…I did kill to hear it.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Sophia

  I woke to the howling whistle of a train in the distance, the wind guiding its sound into our open window. My eyes struggled to open, sealed with heavy sleep and…peace. I glanced around the room, my head locked against my pillow while Jameson’s left arm held me prisoner against him.

  Remnants of our room service dinner were scattered throughout the room. Cloth napkins, plates, silverware, and all the contents that contained our three-course meal were spewed about in a mess. The digital clock taunted me with its early display. I was pulled more tightly, if possible, against Jameson’s chest while his breath slowly exhaled behind me. I couldn’t sleep anymore.

  It took my mind more time than my heart to realize the depth of my reality. Looking around the room, my eyes tracing down along my body to study the strapping arm snaking around me like a protectively possessive vine, my soul and mind connected. My heart, my everything; it was all his. My memories, my future, my pain; it was all part of him now. All of this belonged to Jameson and me, together. His trauma was mine, his memories were now mine, and the life we were creating together belonged to us.

  I didn’t even want to think about Oregon anymore. I refused to let the thoughts pass into my mind, a barrier lifting to avoid it altogether. But I knew if we didn’t address it, if we didn’t process it, both of us would suffer. I didn’t know if it was fear, guilt, rage, or sadness, but we would go through it all and losing any piece of Jameson was not something I could risk. Ever.

  I rolled toward my left, onto my back, and his arm followed, his hand now placed along my stomach. Jameson’s sleeping fingers were tickling the soft fabric of his t-shirt that I had changed into for bed. His slow, delicate touch against me while he slept triggered a feeling that I had not known for the longest time, even with Jameson. It was peace. A calm reassurance that I belonged, that I was home. Jameson gave that to me, refusing, even in his sleep, to let me go, to let me stray from where I belonged. He had given me stability and, for that alone, I was forever in his debt. I needed to spend the rest of my life showing him how my heart longed for his happiness, how my world would solely revolve around us. I wanted to be with him forever. I needed to be with him.

  I know I overthought things, spent too much time thinking instead of doing, putting the present at risk, limiting the future. I couldn’t change that about myself. I would always be internal, introspective, secluded in a world within myself. Jameson wanted to be there. He wanted to be a part of that world. He knew how it worked, how I functioned, and I knew he loved every little piece of it. My fingers crawled to his hand, lifting it from my stomach and securing it between my palms.

  “Hmm…” His sleeping moan stirred him awake, followed by a small cough as he came to, “Soph?”

  “I couldn’t sleep any longer.”

  His hand pulled from mine, Jameson’s body lifting to sit at my side, his face hovering over me with concern. “What is it? Are you okay?”

  Glowing hazel eyes scanned my face while his left hand softly brushed hair from my forehead. His skin tickled against mine, sending a rush of his calm energy through me. My lips lifted into a smile, reassuring him without a conscious attempt to do so.

  “I want to meet Lucas.”

  “Okay.” Jameson’s eyes widened, the glow deepening like a swelling flame. “I’ll take you there this morning. What time is it?”

  “Jameson.” I wiggled to press my weight into my elbows while lying almost beneath him. “I need to give you something first. Before I go down that road, before closure of the past. I need you to have something.”

  I rose to sit in front of him, reaching for his hands. My thumbs stroked along the skin of his fingers, gliding over his chewed fingernails and cuticles, the soft skin of his fingertips. I could feel my own hands beginning to tremble, filling with their robotic response to my emotions, but the instant Jameson’s lips met my forehead, the trembling stopped. His nose nuzzled against mine, calming me. He knows exactly what I need. He knows how to read me; body and mind. I love him. I love Jameson Burke, Jeremy Black…whoever he is.

  “What is it, Sophia?” The smoothness of his voice, the velvet of its sound, purred into the air around me, a sweet seduction of my heart. Don’t overthink. Don’t panic. Just do this. Just tell him. Breathe.

  “Soph…” The back of his hand tickled along my cheek, slowly moving down my jaw before his fist stopped beneath my chin, lifting my face as it hung with apprehension, “Babe. Soph. What is going on?”

  “I need you to know something.” I blinked, my heart expanding, filling with his reflection.

  His messy hair, waves of brown, was matted with sleep. His face was healing, his skin finally releasing its memory of Oregon. We were both healing, moving forward, running away. My eyes focused on his, something I could never do before as I was always too nervous, too insecure, but my periphery was blushing my cheeks from the glorious view of his bare arms and chest while Jameson sat before me.

  “Come here.” I wiggled from his side, my legs sliding off the mattress as I took his hands in mine. “Please?”

  “Of course, Soph.” He followed me, releasing one of his hands to pull up the waistband of his sweatpants while I pulled him to the window.

  The glass monuments of wealth that lined the downtown Vancouver skyline reflected the slowly rising sun, the dying moon, and the climbing mountains beyond the horizon. It would have bothered me in another life, and it did bother me in another life. All of that wealth, excess, and expectations would have made me uncomfortable. It did, to an extent, but accepting things as they were, as they would be, and knowing I couldn’t change that, had to happen. It was Vancouver. We weren’t Reid and Burke. Simon was dead. I wanted to marry Jameson. I wanted to be happy. Done. Simple.

  All things that were how they were. There was no going back; there was nothing other than fact and future. The opposite of my introversion. Things were simple, statements of existence, that couldn’t be overthought. Life is too short.

  My head pressed into Jameson’s chest, his arms quick to consume my presence and hold me against him. I felt his hands tickle my back and comb through my hair while he patiently waited for my thoughts to expel. He was always so patient with me. He had been, since the first moment we spoke. That feels like an eternity ago. The memory of our first class together flickered in my mind, causing me to giggle in reflection.

  “What?” he asked, still holding me against him, his touch unmoving. I tried to shake my head, laughing even more at my inability to move.

  “I was just remembering the first time you talked to me,” I sighed. “And how amazing you are.”

  “I’m not amazing.” I could hear his smile. “I’m simply in love. I’ve always been completely infatuated by you, Soph. It’s out of control.”

  “I know.” I laughed, able to pull my head away long enough to see the smirk on his face. “I want to marry you, Jameson. I want to be with you.”
r />   CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Jameson

  Watching the way Soph’s hair tickled against her face in the soft summer breeze was a pleasant distraction from reality. I had opened the balcony door, guiding both of us outside once the words I had waited to hear fell from her perfect lips.

  “I hope that’s the case,” I teased her, lifting my palms to her shoulders, gliding along her throat. “Because you’re it for me, Soph.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve been running for so long that I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know I could stop, until I found you.” I watched her smile twist along her lips. “You’re it. This is what I want. You’re my Sophia.”

  “Just to be clear,” she bit her top lip in thought, her eyes glinting with a grin, “I’m yours, entirely so, but you don’t own me.”

  “I know.” I smiled, my expression softening even further. Soph could be such a pistol, such a burning ember against my scaffolding; threatening to subdue and destroy every ill around me with one glance, one expression of her sweet wit.

  “Nobody could own you if they tried, Soph.” I chuckled. “You’re too strong, too independent. You don’t need anyone.”

  “I need you.”

  My head shook as I stared at her, “No, you don’t. You only need one person and that’s you. I’m just the lucky bastard who gets to need you like I need you. I get to want you.”

  “Then I want you.”

  “Fine.” I grinned, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

  Soph’s weight shifted and she pulled away from me with a radiance that mirrored the rising sun—glowing, promising, perfect.

  “So…” she continued her commands, “I’ll meet Lucas. I’ll marry you.”