All the Pretty Lies (31 page)

Sloane looks aggravated for just a second
before she sighs and rolls her eyes. “You forgot to mention that
little detail. I thought you were just the manager.”

“Nothing but my truth, right?”

Her smile is slow, but it comes. “Right.”

“Then come home with me. I’ll tell you
anything you want to know. And probably a lot you don’t.”

Her smile turns soft and she yawns. “Bring it
on, big boy,” she says sleepily.

“You got it, little girl,” I whisper, leaning
forward to kiss her cheeks and her nose, her chin and her drooping
eyelids. “But tonight, you rest. We’ll all be here when you wake
up.”

I don’t tell her that, until then, I’ll be
planning ways to fill her days with happiness and adoration and
every wonderful thing her beautiful mind can ever think of.

If she’ll just say yes.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE- Sloane

I wake to the smell of frying bacon. My
appetite is coming back and I mentioned last night that bacon
sounded good. Hemi wanted to go get some and make it right then,
but I was tired, so I told him not to bother. Obviously, he didn’t
forget.

He has been absolutely wonderful these last
four days.

Although my father wasn’t too happy about me
coming home with Hemi, he didn’t put up
too
much of a fight,
which surprised me. It makes me wonder what kind of conversation
they had while I was out.

My mouth waters reflexively when another
burst of delicious aroma comes wafting into the bedroom. I roll
over in bed, sliding my hand over the rumpled sheets where Hemi
slept and burying my face in his pillow. I could wake to this every
morning for eternity and be the happiest girl on the planet.

I feel the tickle of the sheet receding and I
smile into the pillowcase. I don’t move a muscle until I feel
Hemi’s lips at the base of my spine. Finally, I turn my head,
opening one eye and fixing it on him.

“Good morning,” I mutter.

He smiles warmly at me, his eyes holding mine
for a few seconds. Then I see them drop down to where I feel his
fingers moving over my hip.

“You ever gonna tell me what this tattoo
really means?”

I roll slightly onto my side, exposing more
of my hips and ribs to Hemi. “Dad told you about me being sick when
I was little, didn’t he?”

Even before Hemi nods, I knew what his answer
would be.

“I figured.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re treating me like glass, like Dad and
my brothers always have. I’m too familiar with it not to
notice.”

“I can’t apologize for wanting to take care
of you, Sloane. Or for wanting to make sure you’re around for a
long time, and that I get to treasure every minute of it with
you.”

My stomach leaps at his words. He’s made
several references to the future lately. But I don’t want his
desire to spend it with me to have been colored by the uncertainty
that lies ahead for me.

“I don’t want you to. I’m just saying that
I’m familiar with it. That’s all.”

“Just like your dad and your brothers, I do
it because I love you.”

I smile. It spreads across my face like the
glow that’s spreading through my heart. “I love you, too. That’s
why I don’t mind.”

He leans forward and brushes his lips over
mine. “I’m glad,” he says. I feel the stir of desire, but I don’t
want to act on it just yet. I need to let Hemi get this babying out
of his system first. I don’t want him to baby me. I want him to
love me and touch me and treat me like someone he wants to live
life with, not have to cater to and care for forever. “So, the
butterflies…”

“Ever since I was sick, my family, for all
intents and purposes, kept me locked away, protected from the world
like I was in a big oyster shell,” I explain, reaching down to
trace the shell that Hemi inked on my skin all those weeks ago.
“But when I turned twenty-one, I drew a line in the sand. I was
going to live. Despite my family’s insistence that I have to walk
through life like I’m fragile, I was going to live. Like a
butterfly, emerging from a cocoon, I was going to spread my wings
and live what time I had left flying high, bathed in beautiful
colors.” Silently, Hemi touches each butterfly, dancing his way
along my ribs. “A butterfly only lives for two weeks, but in those
two weeks, they flutter all around, spreading their incredible
wings and bringing magnificent color to the world around them.
That’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Just like my mom did, I want
to bring happiness and beauty to the world while I’m here. I want
to smile and laugh and make a difference to the people I love. I
want them to carry those good thoughts of me in their heart long
after I’m gone. However long I have, be it two weeks or two years
or two decades, I want to
really live.”

Hemi says nothing, just nods slowly as he
trails his fingertips over my skin.

“I can understand that. Death has a different
effect on everyone. Whether it’s because they’ve seen it or they
dread it, or that they’re simply ignoring it, everyone reacts.
That’s why I got this,” he says, tugging up his shirt on one side
so that I can see his tattoo, the one he let me shade for him.
“These are my brothers initials and the date that he died. I had a
string of wire inked around it each year the date rolled past and I
hadn’t found his killer. For me, death put my life on hold. I
wasn’t living
at all
until I met you. You brought color and
beauty and
life
back to me, even when I didn’t know it was
missing. I got lost inside these letters. But even so, Ollie was
always speaking to me. He’s the one that used to say, ‘Live, no
regrets.’ Even in death, he was finding a way to help me get over
the loss of him. Over the guilt and the pain and the regret. That’s
why I wanted
you
to do the letters for it. As early as that
was, that first night at the hotel, I think some part of me knew
that I had to move on or I’d have even more regret. Regret over
letting you go. Regret over letting something that I can never
change rob me of the only future I’ll ever want now.”

Once more, I feel the twitch of my muscles,
reacting to what he sometimes
says
without coming out and
saying
.

“I love that philosophy! It’s why I’ve never
made promises. We’re humans. Frail and short-sighted. We don’t have
the right to make promises we have no way of keeping. Until I met
you, I didn’t really want any. No promises meant no regrets. No
lies, no broken hearts. But now I see what a promise can mean, what
kind of life they have, weaving in and out of the words. Some
promises are hope. Like my butterflies were hope.”

Hemi climbs in bed and stretches out beside
me, pulling my naked body close to his and pressing his forehead to
mine.

“
You
are my hope.
You
are the
promise of my future. Without you, I have
only
regret.
Nothing good. Or colorful. Or beautiful. Just death and sadness.
You
brought me to life, Sloane, and I don’t ever want to be
apart from you.”

His lips brush mine, softly, tentatively.
Despite my determination to wait, I lean into him, turning my head
into the kiss. Hemi is hesitant at first, but when I thread my
fingers into his hair, I feel the heat rise in him. I feel it in
the way his tongue sweeps over mine. I feel it in the way his
fingers dig into my hip. I want to show him I’m not glass. I want
him to love me like I’m made of steel.

I reach down to tug at the hem of his shirt,
pulling it up until I can feel his warm skin against my naked
breasts. I moan into his mouth as he rolls me onto my back, his
hips sliding between my legs like he was made to fit there.

I bend my knees and clamp them on either side
of his waist, unwilling to let him go now that I’ve got his fire
back. He flexes his hips and grinds them into mine, giving me
friction where I suddenly need it most.

I tear my mouth away from his just long
enough to whisper, “Hemi, make love to me.” And then I bring his
mouth back to mine, my free hand working its way under the waist
band of his jeans to cup his muscular butt.

“Sloane, you’re sick,” he says breathlessly,
his palms still roaming up and down my sides, teasing the edges of
my breasts.

“I’m not, Hemi. I’m not sick anymore. I feel
better. I’m strong. And I’m healthy. And I want you to do to me all
the things you promised you’d do.”

He growls, diving back into my mouth with
renewed zeal. I can’t help but wonder which vivid conversation he’s
thinking back to. We’ve had so many.

But then he stops. I could almost cry when he
extricates himself from my arms and legs. I try to hide the pout
from my face. Hemi moves to the end of the bed and stands there,
looking down at me. He does this for several seconds before he
reaches for the button fly of his jeans. He strips them off first,
then his shirt, before he crawls back onto the bed, kissing his way
from my foot to the top of my thigh, his hot breath stirring me
even more.

“Not today. I want to do depraved things to
you every day
after
today. But not today. Today, I’ll make
love to you. I want you to feel it every time I slide into your
perfect body that I love you. Yesterday. Today. And as many
tomorrows as we might have, I love you Sloane. I’ve always loved
you. Let me show you with my body what’s been in my heart all this
time.”

Hemi kisses me again, his hands travelling
over my breasts, teasing my nipples, then down to my stomach and
beyond. With his fingers, he brings me right to the edge, but
before I fall, he moves over me, guiding his thick head to my
entrance.

Looking down at me, his eyes boring holes
into mine, Hemi brushes his lips back and forth over my mouth, his
breath tickling as he says. “I love you, Sloane Locke.”

“And I love you, Hemi Spencer,” I reply.

With his eyes fixed on mine, Hemi enters me
in one smooth motion. I gasp and he groans, the feeling of his body
buried in mine nothing less than exquisite. He fills me so
completely, fits me so perfectly, that I know it’s meant to be.
It’s natural. It’s fated.

And, just like he intended, with our bodies
joined and him staring into my eyes, I
feel
exactly what’s
been in his heart all this time.

It’s the same thing that’s been in mine.

Eternity. Eternity together. Eternity in
love.

EPILOGUE- Sloane

18 months later

“I have no clue why you’re nervous.
Personally, I think you’re batshit crazy.”

“Sarah, I’m not batshit crazy. I’m not crazy
at all.
I just don’t know how he’ll react.”

“Yes, you do. He loves you, dumb ass.”

“I know he loves me, but…”

“But what?”

“We’ve always talked about the future as
being
after
the trial. Well, the trial is over. It’s been
four months since Duncan was convicted of involuntary manslaughter
of Hemi’s brother. Four months since
my
brother was cleared
of all suspicion after they busted Duncan. And even longer since
they proved Duncan used Steven’s security pass that he’d been
stealing at night. Now we’re free to move on. Just like Hemi said
we would. Only he hasn’t really talked about it much. At least not
seriously. Not like we’re making definitive plans. And now
this.”

This!

“Speaking of all that cloak and dagger shit,
have they still not figured out a way to tie Duncan to the death of
his informant? That guy who was muling all those drugs who just
happened
to have a very nasty, very fatal car accident after
Hemi’s brother died and Duncan got too scared to continue?”

“Nope. He may end up getting away with that
one. He thought he’d tied up all the loose ends. He just didn’t
count on Hemi. One thing you can be sure of, though. My brother
won’t rest until Duncan has paid for
all
his crimes. Steven
was devastated. And Duncan’s father was appalled. I mean, Duncan
used him to get the details on the coke bust to start with.
Otherwise he’d never have known how much was locked up down
there.”

“Well, even if he doesn’t get convicted of it
by the courts, some big jailbird named Bubba will make it right.
He’ll take it right out of Duncan’s ass. The hard way.”

“Ewww, Sarah!”

She giggles at my reaction and I smile and
shake my head. I press my foot to the brake, stopping at the stop
sign before turning onto the street where Hemi and I now live. A
few months ago, we bought a beautiful house in a subdivision right
outside Atlanta and he’s there today finishing up the painting of
the office. Even though I don’t like being away from him, even if
it’s for a little while, I’m filled with anxiety about going
home.

Since that trip to the hospital when I had
the flu, Hemi and I haven’t spent one night apart. I graduated
college three months ago and we both work full-time at The Ink
Stain now. We’re together a lot. And it never gets old. I never get
tired of him. I think, if anything, I just want him more. I
love
him more.

We’ve talked about the future quite a bit.
I’m just now twenty-three and Hemi is thirty. We’ve talked about
what comes next, but haven’t made any set plans. We’ve even talked
about having kids, which we decided to consider more
after
the wedding. Of course,
I
wanted to get started immediately.
Or six months ago.

Now, that won’t be an issue.

My stomach flips over nervously. “Well,” I
begin, addressing Sarah. “I’m almost home. I guess I’d better go.
Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need luck, Sloane. You’ve got the
love of one of God’s rare creatures—a good man. You won’t ever need
luck again.”

I feel a tiny bit better after hearing that.
But it doesn’t completely eradicate my anxiety.