Page 31

I’d been serious with Beckett for just over a month.

I’d never really been huge on winter, as I’d never really loved the cold or had anyone to enjoy winter sports or the Christmas holiday with, but now I had Beckett.

And I knew that if I didn’t let my psycho crazy Amara restrictions come out to play, I’d more than likely always have Beckett.

So it was as we were walking hand in hand on a Saturday morning that I decided I now loved winter.

I loved the cold, because with every little shiver Beckett pulled me into his arms for a quick “warming hug” as he called it.

I loved winter sports, because I knew he’d teach me everything I wanted to know, and what he didn’t already know, if I wanted to learn, he’d assured me we would learn together.

And I loved the Christmas holiday, because it was through the blessed bliss of that holiday that I finally let my heart fall for a man.

I finally experienced the beauty of love in its truest, kindest, and unbridled form. I finally felt like I had family.

So it was this morning as we walked hand in hand beneath the unusually bright February sun, to the coffee shop I’d declared Beckett had to visit if only just once, that I realized I was finally happy.

Although I’d always be touched by my past, the repressing hand of my memories no longer dictated my life.

I didn’t feel the crushing fear weighing down on my soul as I smiled, free and easy.

I was finally living. Living and loving and—laughing.

Beckett glanced down, his lashes sweeping his cheeks as his warm whiskey eyes connected with mine. And then his lips twitched at the corners and his hand came to catch me by the nape of my neck, twirling me into him for a quick hot kiss.

When he released me, I felt swept away in the tide of all that this wonderful man was.

And for the first time in my life, I glanced around to see that there were people looking at me with something akin to appreciative envy.

That was when I realized that I had it. I had what everyone wanted—what we as souls strove to find.

I had it, and I had it with Beckett Davis.

So I smiled. I smiled big and I smiled proud as we walked hand in hand into the coffee shop.

“And she’ll get one of your long john donuts. The one with the rainbow sprinkles.” Beckett added to our order.

“I don’t need a donut,” I scoffed, bumping him with my elbow. “Especially not a long john.”

“You do.” He said firmly, giving the cashier no nonsense eyes. “She does.”

“Sure thing.” She grinned, adding it to our bill.

I huffed, rolled my eyes, and let Beckett pay. It was as he was sliding the plate with the long john across the table, that I mumbled, “You’re a horrible man.”

“Me? I saw the way you were looking at it. You have a sweet tooth to rival the Cookie Monster.”

Cocking my head to the side, I asked on a memory of purple socks and the Two-Headed Monster. “What is your thing with Sesame Street? ”

“Me?” He feigned innocence. “I have no thing with Sesame Street. ”

“I beg to differ,” I took a big bite of my breakfast donut. “You like comparing me to all the monsters from that show.”

“It was a favorite of mine.” He admitted sheepishly, his eyes getting suddenly shifty.

I giggled, because honestly, when a man tells a woman his favorite show was Sesame Street, what else can she do? “You’re adorable.”

“Your laugh is adorable.”

“Is it, now?”

“Like music.”

“Now you’re laying on the sauce a bit thick, don’t you think?”

A bark of laughter spilled from his throat, “With you? Never. I could lay layers and layers of sauce and it wouldn’t be enough to make you swoon.”

“Not true!” I declared, aghast. And then I asked, “You’re trying to make me swoon?”

“I’m always trying to make you swoon.”

I smiled, because how could I not? “I think I like that.”

“Good.” His eyes were hot on mine. “Because I don’t ever plan to stop.”

“Good.” I reiterated, breathless.

There was a beat of silence, and then Beckett announced, “I’ve been thinking,”

“Of?” I hedged, suddenly nervous.

“Kai and Raina set the date for July eighth.” I already knew this, and was terribly excited for the day they made their promise of forever final. Beckett continued, however, when I said nothing. “I was thinking we could fly out after the wedding.”

“Fly out—where?”

“Budapest.”

My eyes got wide. “Budapest?” Had I mentioned I loved this man? “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“I—yes!”

“Good.” He grinned. “Because it’s already booked.”

“It is?”

“My mom liked you a lot.”

“Your mom?” Now my eyes were even bigger. “What?”

“Yeah,” he shook his head again. “I think this was her way of making sure we stick it out until at least July. And she knows I’ve always wanted to go . . .”

“Stick it out?”

“Don’t break up.” He explained and I stiffened at the thought of losing Beckett. He hurried to add, “I’ve never brought a woman home before, Amara. You know that. She’s a mom and moms often want their sons to settle down. My mom’s no different, as work obsessed as she is, she cares for me still.”

“So she bought us a trip?”

“Yes.”

“That’s—crazy.” And a little awesome, I couldn’t deny that very huge fact.

“Say you’ll come with me.”

“Of course I’ll come,” I said. “But they don’t need to buy us things to keep us together.”

“That’s true.” His grin turned devilish. “You’re stuck with me forever and ever.”

“Forever and ever.” I whispered, loving the sound of that.

Beckett settled back in the chair across the table from me, grinning as he sipped his coffee. “So, back to July eighth,”

“Back to the eighth,” I prompted, unable to lose my grin.

There was something about the thought of attending a wedding with Beckett that made me feel irrefutably excited.

It was like a promise for sugary sweet romance, and in the past month I’d had with Beckett, I’d come to realize that I adored romance.

“Has Raina talked to you about the dress you’ll be wearing?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yes.”

“And?” Leaning his elbows on the table, he asked, “What color are you going to wear?”

“Any color I want.” I shrugged and he frowned.

“What?”

“We get to pick our own dress in whatever color we want.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” I nodded down to my sprinkled donut. “Raina wants a rainbow wedding.”

“Of course she does.” Beckett shook his head. “It’s going to look like a circus.”

“Not even close. She’s got plans.” I defended my friend to my boyfriend. “You wait and see.”

“So you’re going to wear purple?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

He raised a brow. “What color?”

“You’ll see,” I teased. “Maybe it’ll be a surprise.”

“It can’t be a surprise. Kai says my tie has to match your dress.”

I didn’t respond. I just smiled as conspiratorially as I could.

The day had been great. Beckett made love to me in the morning before we’d decided we were too hungry not to venture out of bed.

Once out, we decided the day was too beautiful to pass up staying inside.

That’s how we’d decided to have breakfast at the coffee shop, so that was also why I was standing alone on the winding path that weaved through the large city park as Beckett jogged to the nearest trash can to toss our coffee cups.

That was why I was alone when my eyes locked on a familiar face that had ice filling my veins and my past crashing back into me with the vicious force of a train. Air raced from my lungs and my heart seized. My fingers turned numb and my belly felt suddenly weighted with rocks.

No, not rocks. Boulders.

For a long moment, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe, or blink, or scream.

I was frozen—paralyzed in fear.

I hadn’t seen him since I was seventeen years old. The warden of my nightmares and the killer of my dreams—Jayden.

Adrenaline shot through my body and I was suddenly moving. I was running, fast and hard, for Beckett. He caught me before I even realized I was there, his arms coming around my waist.

His voice was frantic, “Mar, baby, what’s wrong?”

“He—he—it’s him, Beck. It’s him.”

“Who?” His hands were on my cheeks now. His eyes bored into mine. “Who, Amara?”

“Jayden.” I whispered the name I loathed on a breath that was weak and nearly inaudible. “He’s here.”

“Where?” He demanded, but when I looked back to where I saw the face from my past, he was gone. There was nothing but people walking on the busy sidewalk and cars driving by.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the piercing ringing in my ears for the sound of car engines, people talking, and snow crunching. I failed.

Beckett’s hands on my shoulders shook me gently, “Baby, where did you see him?”

“He’s gone.” I whispered. The sound was an achingly desperate sound that, as it made its way into my consciousness, I hated.

The fear I’d finally freed myself from had returned after only a month of sweet reprieve.

“Amara?”

“Take me home, Beckett.”

“Baby,”

“I said take me home.” The words were a harsh lash that had guilt flooding my heart. I pleaded, “Please.”

There were no thoughts of lovemaking, laughter, and weddings when I fell into bed that night.

I didn’t fight the safe circle of Beckett’s arms when he pulled me in close, but I couldn’t say that I found sleep easy.

I didn’t. I was awake late and long into the night as I watched the bedroom door, wide-eyed and afraid.

I knew better than most how monsters operated. They roamed free and unobstructed in the day, no one suspecting a thing. But they came out to play at night where the darkness obscured the horrors they craved. I knew—and I hated the night. I hated the darkness that toyed with my fear.

I hated my weakness.

But no matter how acutely I loathed it—I couldn’t fight it. I just couldn’t.