For fans of Lauren Asher, Penelope Douglas, and Ana Huang, the continuation of Tiktok phenom Kate Stewart’s internationally bestselling Ravenhood trilogy, a deliciously steamy, irresistibly edgy and suspenseful Robin Hood retelling that offers a thoroughly unique modern-day spin on the original brotherhood of morally gray bad boys.
Can you live a lie?
It’s a ghost town, this place that haunts me, the one that made me. It’s clear to me that I’ll never outgrow Triple Falls or outlive the time I spent here.
I can still feel them all, my boys of summer.
Even when I’d sensed the danger, I gave in. I didn’t heed a single warning. I let my sickness, my love, both rule and ruin me. I played my part, eyes wide open, tempting fate until it delivered. There was never going to be an escape.
All of us are to blame for what happened. All of us serving our own sentences. We were careless and reckless, thinking our youth made us indestructible, exempt from our sins, and it cost us all.
I’m done pretending I didn’t leave the largest part of me between these hills and valleys, between the sea of trees that hold my secrets.
It’s the reason I’m back. To make peace with my fate. And if I can’t grieve enough to cure myself in my time here, I’ll remain sick. That will be my curse.
But it’s time to confess, to myself more so than any other, that I’d hindered my chances because of the way I was built, and because of the men who built me.
At this point, I just want to make peace with who I am, no matter what ending I get. Because I can no longer live a lie.
Release date:
June 25, 2024
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
544
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He replies with a faint dip of his chin, his hostile gaze blistering my skin with contempt. “You mind turning down that fucking calling card?” Each of his words curled by the thick foreign lilt, confirming I knew that much about him.
Dominic rarely, if ever, spoke French, which raised my suspicions about the nickname. But the man standing before me, and the air about him, suits.
A drop of sweat slides down his temple as I soak him in. Compliments to the tailor who cloaked him in a suit fit for a king. It clings to him, defining pure masculinity. Though his expression is hostile, it’s his face that has me scrambling for words while my tongue dries up. This man is, without a doubt, the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Stunned, I can’t help but drink in the thick, inky color of his hair, which is styled back in inches-long waves, not one out of place. The sharp outline of his jaw encases his flawless bronzed face. Below his thick, winged brows lies a natural black outline of thick lashes, which enhances the mix of orange-yellow flames dancing their way down my profile. His dominant nose wide, long, and swollen by the flare of his nostrils. His mouth more evidence his creator took his time, his lush lips symmetrical perfection. But it’s the anger that seeps from his pores that has me battling the wits his unexpected appearance is stealing.
He’s the devil you are never supposed to meet, dressed in Armani.
And a clear threat to me.
Snatching the remote from the table beside me, I furiously tap the volume button, sputtering, while searching for my bikini top.
“I didn’t . . . k-know it was you. I d-didn’t know there was a you.”
“You weren’t supposed to.” His tone is acid, spilling from his lips into the back of my throat, making it hard to breathe.
Some fucking siren you are, Cecelia.
I dart my eyes around the deck, searching fruitlessly for my top before I cross my arms over my chest, humiliation burning my face. “Then why bother to make your existence known to me now?”
“Because, apparently, I can’t do anything without those two imbeciles fumbling dick over head for—” his lips peel back from his teeth. Tack-sharp canines appear due to his . . . snarling?
“The enemy?” I shake my head. “I’m not your enemy.”
His jaw ticks, his gaze littered with judgment. “No, you just benefit from Daddy’s filthy money.”
“Oh, good, that’s a look of disgust in your eyes. I was worried it was something else.”
“I don’t fuck little girls,” he drawls, his accent aiding in his condemnation. “And I’m fully aware you’re fucking your way through my crew.”
It stings, but I don’t flinch. “Only two of them, and from where I’m standing, it looks like you could benefit from a little side-action yourself. You’re awfully tense.”
Irrefutably annoyed, he shoves his hands in his slacks. “What the fuck do you want?”
“I want answers. I want to know my father is safe.”
“I can’t guarantee that.”
“But you won’t be the one to hurt him?”
His hesitation has my hackles rising.
“Physically, no. In every other way that matters, yes.”
“And me?”
“You’re not a part of this.”
“I am now.”
“No, you’re not. I made sure of it.” His smug reply sends a bolt of realization through me.
“You’re the reason . . . you’re the one who made them get rid of me.”
Dom’s words from just days ago have my gears turning.
“We were trying to make a point, and we fucking failed miserably.”
Someone from the Meetup got the message to him that I was here. Because this man in front of me is the someone they both answer to.
Silence lingers between us before the hostile stranger speaks up. “You were never supposed to be here.”
“You knew about me. You all knew about me.” Of course, they did. Rule number one is to know your enemy and their weakness. But to them, I was an estranged daughter and posed no danger to their plans—another one of the reasons why Sean was hesitant about bringing me in.
“Who are you exactly?”
Silence.
“So why show up here, now, and talk to me?”
He remains mute as I mull it over.
“Someone couldn’t keep a secret.”
Someone from one of the chapters had reported back to him, and that’s why Sean and Dominic did what they did. They were trying to make a point to those in attendance at the garage the night they ostracized me—while relaying the message to the man glaring at me. To protect me.
Click. Click. Click.
“That’s why I was the secret,” I whisper. “You didn’t know I was coming. You knew Roman and I didn’t have a relationship.” His eyes flare as a smug smile buds on my lips.
It’s clear now why he’s so angry. “You never expected me to show up here because it was a last-minute decision to come. I slipped through the cracks, and they hid me from you.” A little thrill runs through me. “You don’t know everything. How does it feel?”
He takes a menacing step forward. “You’re out of your depth in ways you’ll never understand, and you need to drop the tough girl act and really talk to me because I’m only giving you two minutes.”
And I do. I drop all pretenses because I’m fighting for a lot more than my pride. “I’m not the disgusting person you’re making me out to be.”
“My opinion of you doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does. I think it does a lot. You’re keeping me from my—”
“You can find someone else to fuck you, Cecelia.” My name sounds abhorrent coming from his thick lips. He considers me a menace—a thorn in his beastly side, and most definitely a wrench in his well-oiled machine. But I slipped through the cracks, thanks to my eight-year hiatus, and they hid me from him.
And I can’t help the thrill that runs through me at the thought.
“You may hate my father, but right now you’re acting just like him, like a machine. A control-freak void of humanity with a God complex.”
His nostrils flare. “Watch yourself.”
“Or what?”
He towers over me, eyes flickering in warning. “You do not want to piss me off.”
“This isn’t pissed off? And who the hell are you to tell me what I should watch? You may have most of the cards, but you’re missing mine. It would be in your best interest to play nice if you want my cooperation—my silence.”
He doesn’t respond, but the resolute shift in his demeanor is enough.
Those were the exact words that shouldn’t have left my mouth. I can’t be trusted at all now that I’ve said them. I betrayed Sean and Dominic by playing into this asshole’s agenda. He’s trying to poke holes in everything, flip it to prove to them they made a mistake in trusting me. Dominic would be so disappointed.
Dominic’s words to Sean the day I left the house in a rage break to the surface.
“She’s not strong enough.”
“Give her time.”
All of it, the trials they put me through. The infuriating back-and-forth between Dominic and me. All the time Sean spent teaching me what he believed, what the hood believed, while Dominic taunted me, twisted my words. From the time they decided to let me in, they’ve been readying me for a confrontation just like this. And it had everything to do with the man standing in front of me. While we were falling, they were preparing me for the shitstorm that is The Frenchman. His return was inevitable.
“I can keep a secret. I just want to know the plan.”
“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean you get a part to play. They made a bad decision and they know it, and fucking them doesn’t give you a say. And I know you won’t tell anyone,” he says with conviction, “but for the wrong reason.”
“How is it wrong?”
“Because it’s your loyalty to them,” he jerks his chin toward the woods, “and your inability to separate your personal feelings, instead of embracing the idea that Roman has done some unforgivable things and deserves to suffer for it. So just let it go, like they are, and . . . live your life.”
“Is that an order?”
“No, it’s good advice,” he snaps, “you should take it.” I’m getting under his skin, which I would consider a good thing if I weren’t at his mercy.
“I just want to see them.”
“Not happening.”
“I’m not a daddy’s girl who’s pissed she lost her playmates. Talk to them. They’ll tell you about me. They’ll vouch for my character.”
His eyes rake me in revulsion. “I know enough.”
I drop my arms, baring myself to spite him. I won’t let him shame me for something he knows nothing about, or make me feel uncomfortable in the skin I’ve spent a summer growing into. My effort goes unnoticed when his eyes remain bolted to mine. We stare off on opposite sides of the line he’s drawn between us.
“You’re really going to do this?”
“We live in different realities, and you were born into your side of things. I might not hold it against you if you drop it. Ignorance is truly bliss in your case, Cecelia. It would do you good to remember that.”
“Even if we’re estranged, which we are, I don’t want him hurt. If you can promise my father’s safety, I can help you.”
“I’m not promising anything. He’s got plenty of enemies who have nothing to do with us. It’s business.”
“Not for me.”
“That’s your problem.”
“So what the hell am I supposed to do?”
He turns in the direction of the woods, dismissing me. “Go get your nails done.”
Outraged, I reach for anything I can, finding purchase on my lotion bottle, and hurl it toward him. It nails him in the center of his back. He whirls on me and I yelp, backing up toward my chair until I’m forced on my ass. He jerks me up by the arm. What happens between us isn’t chemistry; it’s a white-hot fire filled with hate and resentment and a grudge that has nothing to do with me. This man isn’t hinting around to anything. He loathes my existence.
“The next time you fuck with me, I’m going to fuck with you.” His amber gaze licks fire down my chest before he tightens his grip. I keep my whimper on my tongue.
“You’re making a mistake. You’ve waged war for people just like me. Like my mother. Sean and Dominic are my friends over everything else, and I want to help them. They’ve been loyal to you. I don’t even know your name! You may hate Roman, but I’m innocent in this. I knew nothing. I still don’t.”
“You were innocent in this, but you won’t be if you keep pressing. You’re too easy of a target.” His insult strikes deep as he sprinkles salt on my new wounds. “You’re too young and too naïve. You believed every word they told you, and at this point, you need to accept that they got what they needed from you.”
Access. I was a means to gain access. My stomach drops as I remember the day Sean came back after our fight with a ready apology. Dominic went inside my house shortly after while Sean distracted me. I may be a fool, but . . .
“I’m not a whore.”
“That’s your conscience you’re fighting with, not mine.”
But after that day, everything changed. Maybe before I was a target, but after I was a decision. They let me into their world because they wanted me there. I’m certain of it. Sean confessed as much. He took a huge risk by bringing me in. Sleeping with me was sleeping with the enemy; letting me in on secrets kept me tied to them, and staying with me meant risking their credibility and position in the brotherhood.
If I ever needed proof of their feelings, I have it now.
“I care about them. Deeply. Just let me do my part.”
“If that’s true, stop being so fucking selfish. They’re content with letting you go, and you need to woman up and do the same.”
“You can’t keep me away from them!”
“You know I can. Every door you knock on will not open. No one will go near you. As of this moment, right now . . . you no longer exist. And you never did.”
Rage like I’ve never known courses through me as I spew my venom.
“Fuck you, you backwoods fake-ass fucking Robin-Hood-wannabe son of a bitch!” I jerk my arm away and he lets me. “Get the hell out!”
He steps back, sliding his mammoth hands into his slacks, eyes blazing, voice arctic. “This is exactly why I don’t want you anywhere near us.”
I lift a hand. “Please, you’re using the fact that I get a period as an excuse to eradicate me from the tribe? You and your group of vigilantes are supposed to be the do-gooders, right? We’re supposed to be thankful to your sordid dick circle?” I huff. “Well, allow me to thank you on behalf of all of us pussy-wielding predators”—I exaggerate a bow—“thank you so much, but again, I’m not your enemy.”
I lift my chin.
“They trusted me because they knew I was capable of handling it, and they made sure of it. They trusted me because I love them, and they knew I’d have their backs because of that love. Dismiss it all you want, but it’s a driving force that will ensure my loyalty, not negate it, and help me to do whatever it takes to protect them as much as they are me. And you.”
Some sort of recognition flits over his features with my confession. Just as quickly, it evaporates. “You were never supposed to be involved.”
“But I am now, so let me do my part.”
“That’s two minutes.” He turns to walk in the direction of the woods, and I speak up because I know no amount of scheming will give me back his audience.
“I do love them. Maybe they screwed up, but what got me involved is their allegiance to you and your cause, everything all of you collectively stand for. They didn’t expect to love me back, they expected to use me, but the fact that they weren’t capable of deceiving me on that level is why I’m standing here fighting to be there for them. I’m still angry, but I understand. They made me understand. And maybe this had nothing to do with me, but it now has everything to do with me. Please. Let. Me. Help.”
I wipe the weakness from my eyes and stare after him. He’s magnificent and cruel, and far beyond anything I expected to face today. I was expecting my golden sun or my cool, dark cloud, and the thought of never seeing them again is too much to bear. I’m begging, and I shouldn’t be. I should pack up and leave and kiss this whole town goodbye. Fuck my father and the bed he made. We have no relationship, and I could try to find another way, a safer way, to take care of my mother. But as the thought occurs, images of Sean and Dominic and the fear of the unknown cripples me. I can’t bring myself to walk away. Not yet.
“I believe in this, in everything you’re doing, in everything you stand for. I want in.” It’s the absolute truth, but I fear I’ve spoken up too late.
Back turned, he pulls my top from his pocket and frees it at his side before it falls to the deck. “I’ll think about it.”
The first sign of autumn chill confirms his decision. And silence is my answer. It was always going to be no.
It’s only been weeks since my confrontation with the hostile stranger, but it’s the crisp air that plagues me with finality. No more summer nights beneath the stars with Dom; no more lengthy hikes with Sean. My love, affection, loyalty, and devotion mean nothing.
The end of the season marks the end of everything I’ve come to care about during my time here. It was just a little over three months, but I feel the change in myself, the change in my makeup. I’m so far from the curious girl I was when I arrived.
My reality is changing as rapidly as the foliage surrounding me in varying shades of brown, crimson red, and marigold. And in my state, I can’t appreciate the beauty, only the message.
Summer isn’t endless.
It’s all over.
I started community college this week and threw myself into my studies. My shifts at the plant are more grueling now that Sean has quit—and he’d done so the minute after he left me in that office.
Just once I’ve given in to my curiosity and walked through the expanse of grass of Roman’s back yard and into the wooded clearing—only to be met by utter silence. The picnic benches are gone, and the landscape’s starting to rapidly grow over. It’s as if it never happened. Aside from the new vegetation and the rustling of the trees, the space is void of life.
My tan has faded, and I know I’ve lost weight, my figure becoming gaunt as my heart shrivels, surviving only on memories from the months prior—months where granting smiles didn’t feel like a chore.
It’s my dreams that can sometimes bring relief. Dreams of long walks in a hazy cloud, of heated looks, of thunderstorms, and captive kisses. It’s waking from them that leaves me raw, aching, grieving.
Melinda’s been a surprising support, spending endless shifts updating me on all things Triple Falls, carefully avoiding conversation about those who I long to hear from the most.
Not that she would know.
Sean said he would make things right, but the pretense was one day.
One day.
A term so vague, so loose for interpretation that each day feels like a sentence.
The more days that pass, the more I realize it wasn’t a promise or a guarantee, but more of a hope.
All of this heartbreak is because of two ghosts doing their job in haunting me. I’ve honored Sean’s request. I never drive by the garage, never try to text either of them. It’s pointless. They’ve made their decision and declared their loyalty. Our time together wasn’t significant enough. I wasn’t significant enough to cause a ripple in their agenda.
At least that’s how their silence makes me feel.
My best friend Christy keeps me sane with long FaceTime talks of the future. Of our plans and the idea that, in a year, we’ll resume them. It brings some comfort. This was only supposed to be a stopping point. As it turned out, it proved to be a leaping point, but right now, I have nowhere safe to land.
The longer they remain silent, the more my heart breaks.
I drift in and out of my days doing what I can, but every step, every tick of the clock weighs me down like a boulder in tidal waters. Every morning I shake off my dreams, determined to guard my heart, as if they haven’t already ripped it apart. But the more leaves that fall, the more the pieces gather collectively, rattling in my chest.
I’d been a fool to think I knew heartbreak before, and maybe I have, but never have I felt I lost a piece of myself to it, until now.
I’m a drifter in my own life, living only for memories, for my dreams, reveling in the endless hurt, the ache of missing them, teetering on the edge of forgetting myself all over again. I came back determined to kick bad habits but hadn’t expected to forgive them. I hadn’t expected time to play the factor, to be the reason to let them go.
One day.
Today, I forced myself out of bed and mindlessly dressed, determined to try and spend a few hours outside of my head. Arriving downtown, I’m barely able to secure a parking spot before joining hordes of Triple Falls locals and tourists as they exit their cars with anticipatory smiles. Melinda has been talking about the apple festival nonstop, and when I round the corner and scour the square, I almost laugh.
It’s a poor man’s street fair at best. A small-town shindig made up of street vendors passing out tastes of local eateries and artists set up in tents with their works on display. It’s a far cry from any large-scale city gathering, but upon entering, I decide it has its own charm. And of course, there are apples, locally grown and harvested. A quick glance at the logo on a tableside banner of the orchard Sean and I rendezvoused at for our midnight picnic levels me. The further I venture in, the more I regret coming, the walk back to the car becoming more tempting by the second. Memories of being worshiped between rows of angry trees surface, suffocating me, reminding me that I’m not the same girl I was when I arrived, and maybe I never will be. Instead of a quick retreat, I amble on the sidewalk along the rows of shops adjacent to the festival tents. I’m stopped short when a door opens as a group of guys walk out of a tattoo parlor. It’s when I hear, “I know you,” that I look up and into the eyes of a familiar face.
It takes me a few seconds to recall where I’ve seen it.
“RB, right?” He’s taller than me by half a foot and towers over me with amused, warm, honey-colored eyes.
“Right,” he says. “And you’re Dom’s girl.”
“I . . .” I fumble, trying to think of an answer when my gaze zeroes in on the unbandaged ink sneaking up past his neckline—feather tips.
My eyes bulge as RB’s smile goes wide, his eyes cooling considerably as his lips twist in condescension. He pulls at the soft white bandage, revealing fresh black wings gracing his arm, “Guess it’s a good thing we don’t all think like you.”
Stunned, I try to come up with appropriate words, my demeanor brimming with mortification. He saw my fear that night, my hesitance, but mostly he saw me draw assumptions.
“Chin up, girl; don’t cry about it.”
I could give him a ton of excuses. I could mention that my fear stemmed from being in unfamiliar territory, from the unexpected appearance of a gun in Dom’s lap, from their clipped exchange and the insinuation in their conversation, but none of it is good enough. I assumed the worst about both Dominic and RB. And I couldn’t have been more wrong. “I’m sorry.”
A grin is his reply as he flexes his bird with pride. “I guess it makes a difference when you know I’m standing beside you. Respect to your boy, he saw it in me when we were kids.”
Speechless, I try not to hang my head, and instead give him my eyes, hoping he can see the truth, that I am ashamed, that he’s right. Once again, I’ve been schooled in a way that makes me uncomfortable, but I’ve learned it’s the only way to grow. Sean taught me a lot over the last few months, but mostly he showed me the beauty of humility, and that’s all I feel as I look up at RB.
One of his friends speaks up behind him, his arm covered in the same bandaging. “RB, we need to hit it, got shit to do.”
Two new ravens.
And I envy them, because where they’re going, I’m not allowed to follow.
I step up to the man addressing RB and hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Cecelia.”
He glances at my hand, amused before he takes it. “Terrance.”
“Nice to meet you. Congrats.”
He smirks, but there’s no mistaking the pride in his eyes. “Thanks. You’re Dom’s girl?”
“Yes. Well, I was. I’m not sure anymore.”
I look over to RB, my eyes imploring his, knowing wherever he is headed, he’s going to lay eyes on the two men I’m desperate to see.
“I’m in no position to ask a favor, b-but when you . . . see them, when you see . . . Dominic—” I shake my head, knowing the message will never be delivered as I intend it. I haven’t spoken to him since I discovered the truth about the death of his parents and my father’s role in covering it up. “Never mind.”
RB tilts his head, brows drawn, his light-brown eyes scanning me. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“All right then, see you around?” he prompts, his question filled with insinuation before we share a small, conspiratorial smile.
“Hope so. One day,” I say, hoping with all my heart that one day comes. That I can once again roam amongst the brotherhood freely, a privilege I’d taken for granted.
They walk away as I swallow the lump of remorse in my throat. And once again, the point hits home. As much as I think I know, I know nothing. Chest aching, mind reeling, I sidestep a stroller only to have cider spilled on me. A man two toddlers deep with no mother in sight apologizes while I brush the droplets off my arm.
“No worries,” I assure, stepping off the curb onto Main Street. Herds of townspeople glide along the endless rows of vendor tents. Most all of them are wearing smiles, blissfully unaware that there is a war going on. That beyond some of their trees and state parks, there is a group of men fighting on their behalf so that the local economy can thrive, so the poachers don’t get the best of them.
The longer I dwell on the last few months, the more my eyes open to what’s been done and what’s being done about it. A part of me wishes I could close them, erase what I now know, but doing that will erase my ghosts, and I’m still very much in love with them, now more than ever.
Even while my resentment grows for their absence and silence.
For everything they do, there is a reason. I can hate them for my unanswered questions, for making me doubt them, or I can trust what they revealed to me, what they begged me to believe, their admissions, and in them, before they vanished.
On sun-filled days I long for Sean, for his smile, his arms, his cock, and the laughter we shared. His warm, salty, nicotine-tinged kisses. The flick of his tongue on my skin. The slow winks he gave me acknowledging he knew what I was thinking. On stormy days, I long for my cloud to cover me, for the kisses that left me wanton, the hard thrashing of a tongue so wicked and smooth, for a half-smile that lights me up inside. For runny eggs and black coffee.
These men took me under their wing, taught by example, stirred my sexuality awake, and made themselves unforgettable. How am I supposed to move on from this?
For the life of me now, I can’t go back to sleep.
Tears slip from my eyes as I start to unravel on the bustling streets while I force myself to try and adapt to the reality I’ve been tossed back into. Sniffling like an idiot, I navigate through the growing crowd in front of the town hall, where a band plays on an elevated stage blocking the entrance. A dozen or so couples, who look like they’ve been practicing all year, showcase their footwork, moving in sync as they dance in the street. I study the couple closest to me as they dance in tandem and smile at the other as if they’re sharing a secret. And as I observe their wordless connection, all I feel is envy because I had that with both of them.
I had that.
And my secrets I’m forever obligated to keep. I’ll never be able to share them. But I’ll keep them because no one could truly understand their gravity or grasp their truth fully. The story itself would sound like some unrealistic, twisty, sexually provocative fairy tale with a bad ending, or worse, no ending at all.
When I got here, I wanted to suspend my strict morals and loosen my chastity, to thrive amongst some chaos.
I got my wish.
I should be grateful.
But I’m not, so I mourn.
And I can’t do it here.
One foot in front of the other, I push through the crowd to get away, away from all of the smiles, and the laughing and the content people who have no idea about the battle I’m fighting not to scream at them to wake the fuck up.
Which would make me just another quack. The irony not lost on me. But if they only knew how much these men are risking daily, maybe they’d listen. Perhaps they’d band with them, join their cause.
Or maybe they’re the intelligent ones, aware of the tyranny but purposefully choosing to ignore it. It wasn’t long ago I was blissfully unaware.
The battle of good and evil isn’t news. In fact, it’s broadcast in plain sight every day. But at this point, even the news is unreliable, often projected in a way that requires deciphering fact from agenda-related fiction. But we choose to acknowledge what we want, and these people seem to have chosen wisely. Maybe my answer isn’t to get away, but become one of them, to blend in and play ignorant to all that’s wrong in this fucked-up world so I can breathe a little easier, so one day, I can mindlessly smile again. But as time passes, it’s becoming more and more apparent that that’s wishful thinking, because I can’t go back.
The men in my life pried my eyes open, made me aware of the war they’ve declared. And I know now if I were faced with the choice, I would scream my decision—all in. Forever in.
On the edge of the crowd near an alley between buildings, my attention gets diverted to the band whose lead singer greets us, some ear-piercing feedback coming out of the mic before he apologizes.
“And now that we have your attention”—he chuckles as the sound clears before he cues the drummer—“let’s start this off right.”
As the music starts to play and the ring of guitar and bass kicks in, I blot my face and nose into the arm of my thin sweater.
I’m an emotional mess in the fucking street at the apple festival.
I can’t do this. Not yet.
The lead starts to belt out some upbeat lyrics and I absorb them out of habit as he sings of being lost, falling on hard times, and encourages us to keep on smiling. I can’t help my ironic laugh as another warm tear slides down my face, and I wipe it away with my sleeve.
Yeah, I’m out.
One day.
Turning in the direction I parked, I’m captured by a hand on my hip. I dart my gaze behind me just as the scent of cedar and nicotine surrounds me. A shocked exhale bursts out of me, and I use it to my advantage and take a huge inhale, melting into his chest just as warm breath hits my ear. “Good one.”
His hand slides down to grip the wrist dangling at my side, and in the next second, I’m turned around and standing chest-to-chest with Sean.
“Hey, Pup.”
Fresh tears fill my eyes as I gape at him, his sparkling eyes dimming when he reads my expression.
“What are you—”
Before I can get my question out, he snakes his arm around my waist and clasps his
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