Page 58 of Mariposa (Queens Command #1)

She thinks Kade is Graham .

“No, grandma, that’s not him,” I mumble faintly. My muscles turn into mush, struggling to stand upright.

The corner of Kade’s lips lift when our soft gazes meet.

I take a step back, tempted to grab a lamp and hurl it at him.

“I’m home, baby. I’m sorry it took me so long,” he says to me, closing the distance, towering over us both. His cologne drifts into my senses, and my heart does that stupid thing where it jumps every time he looks at me.

What the hell is going on ?!

Am I dead?

I’m dreaming. This is a cruel dream. It’s all an evil dream!

My grandma slowly turns to me as she leans on my shoulder weakly.

“Oh…he's not Graham? Are you sure?” She frowns weakly. I look into her dreary, grief-stricken expression. She’s pleading with me, and I don’t want to remind her that he’s dead again.

I know she’ll fall apart, and she doesn’t need that stress on her aging heart.

“Grandma, please get back into bed.”

Her lips fall downward and tremble. A frown that exudes pain. She inhales a shaky breath like she’s trying to differentiate reality from the fog she’s enduring.

Kade turns to me.

“I’ve got her.”

My brows knit together.

“If you don’t mind.” Kade takes out his phone, and my grandmother and I watch him for a few seconds as he taps away at his screen. A short moment later, “We Belong Together” by Ritchie Valens plays loudly on his phone. He sets it on her TV tray and steps in front of me.

“Would you take this dance with me, Mrs. Isla?” He smiles, bowing down and forward slightly with his hand laid out for her to take.

She looks at me, then at him. She pauses for a moment to think. But as the song continues, the tension in her eyes fades away, and she takes Kade’s hand.

I hand my grandmother over to Kade, and they intertwine their hands. They slowly dance to the beat of the music, all the while I’m holding a tissue, gluing it to my face, hoping I can hold it together and not collapse on the spot.

My grandmother rests her cheek on his chest, enjoying this serene, beautiful moment. I watch them sway side to side slowly together, pinching my skin occasionally.

“Graham, why did you stop writing to me? You made me think you didn’t want me anymore. I’ve been waiting for so long…” Her eyes close, and she presses her face closer to his chest.

As the song fades to nothing, my grandma smiles, wiping away the last tear on her cheek.

“I’m here now,” he tells her, looking straight at me.

“I knew you were going to come back, Graham,” she chokes out, dipping her head back. The room is full of dreary, tense silence. I’m so hot, I’m going to fall over if I don’t get fresh air in the next five seconds.

Grandma looks at him, holding his forearms with a soft smile.

“Are we going to the beach now?” she asks quietly, making my heart twist in my chest.

“Yes,” he tells her in that same deep voice I thought I’d never hear again. He helps her back into bed, brings the bear back to her hands, and raises her blankets to her chest. She admires him, a wave of peace lifting her spirits.

I’ve never, ever seen her so happy before.

As soon as she’s tucked back in, my grandmother grows quiet, staring at him, holding the widest smile in awe. Kade turns away, and his face hardens when he meets my glacial glare.

I storm out of my grandmother’s bedroom. I don’t know where I’m going, but all I know is I need to breathe. The doctors warned me about having hallucinations due to my TBI.

Am I having one now?!

As soon as I yank the front door open, I run into the darkened atmosphere. I don’t care that it’s actively raining, and I don’t care that I’m getting soaked head to toe. I round the trees of my grandmother’s home, trying to process everything.

Kade follows behind, right on my trail. I keep limping, unsure of what to do or say. When I try to catch my breath, I trip on my boot and fall into the tree. I catch myself and lean on it with both of my hands.

This isn’t real.

None of this makes any sense.

I’m not delusional. I’ll turn around, and he’ll be gone because the man I love died. I’m still trying to wrap my head around losing him, but how can I do that when I’m starting to see the ghost of him?!

I whirl around, expecting to see an empty front yard… but no .

He’s still here, looking at me like he’s also going to fall apart.

His intense, intimidating gaze sweeps me. The fire he owns with the power to ignite, explodes below my belly. I’m still unable to breathe, speak, or think.

We stare at each other. With every blink, he doesn’t disappear.

He really is here—alive—in South Carolina.

The trees behind him dance violently. The strong winds are making me shiver more.

Every second grows colder as I try to wrap my mind around this.

As I study him, I notice burns on his collarbone.

A small sob escapes my pouty lips.

He walks closer, and I shake my head, rocking it left and right crazily.

“Say something,” he begs.

As soon as he tries to embrace me into his long arms, I slap him across the face. His head whips to the side, his long, dark, wet hair lashing in the rain.

“You asshole!”

Slap .

“I thought you were dead!”

Slap across the chest .

“I thought you died!”

Slap .

“I saw you die!”

Slap across his arm .

“I—”

I raise my hand to slap him again, but he catches it in the air.

He pulls me in and crashes his body against mine.

His mouth collides with mine, mid-scream.

He silences me with a violently beautiful kiss.

At first, I fight him, but he just holds me tighter, stealing the air right from my lungs.

I’m full on shuddering when I decide to press my lips back onto his.

He spears his tongue inside my mouth, and I welcome it.

We hold each other tightly as rain continues to hit us.

Our lips dance together in a perfect duet.

I push him away and break. Even though it pains me to do it, I need to. He needs to start talking and give me answers. How did he get here? Why wasn’t I told? I’m going to kill Slater when I see him!

When we separate, I study his broad stature. There are visible cuts all around his face and neck. Injuries he didn’t have when I last saw him…

Was he captured?

“Explain!” I shout, pointing my finger at him. He yanks me until my chest collides with his ribs. He grabs me by the throat and tightens his grip dominantly. A beautiful smirk unfolds across his mesmerizing, effortlessly gorgeous, scarred face. My heart soars to dangerous limits.

“Always so stubborn. Let’s get you warm and into my bed, and I’ll spend all night explaining .”

I can’t believe I’m hearing these words. Happy is an understatement. There are no words to explain how much getting your soldier back home alive means.

“Is Booker really dead?” I narrow my eyes, squinting through my blurry, hot vision. Raindrops continue to drum against our bodies.

His gorgeous smirk falls.

“Yes.” He brushes his calloused hands across my face and then cups my jaw. I pepper kisses all over his wet, warm flesh.

“This can’t be real.” I press my face against his hand harder.

“I am real,” he says, kissing my forehead. “You’re wearing the butterfly I made you,” he whispers softly.

“What do we do now?” I ask. We share the same smile as we lock eyes.

“Survive.”