Enamor (Hearts of Stone #3) (38 page)

The announcer comes on the speakers again. "Ladies and gentleman, he first sang at Petco stadium when he was just twelve years old. Here to perform the national anthem again, San Diego's own Giles Caldwell."

My heart skips a beat and lodges somewhere in my throat. Mouth parted, I watch Giles approach the infield, microphone in hand.
 

I can't see his face. He's facing away from the crowd, and me, looking toward the flag and the outfield beyond. But my eyes move over every inch of him, marveling in how he looks so small from this distance and yet larger than life.
 

The giant screen over at the end of the stadium switches from a live shot of the color guard to a close up of Giles as he raises the mic to his mouth with a faint echoing sound.
 

My hand moves to my chest and beside me, Luke's does the same. Except mine didn't move there in anticipation of the national anthem, but instead because my chest literally swells at the sight of Giles. Up on the screen, the face I know so well is in crisp focus.
 

I can't help but stare. He's gorgeous and radiates a confidence that fills the entire stadium. I battle the urge to run to him now, to run down however many flights of stairs I have to in order to reach him. But I stand, frozen, watching.

Giles opens his mouth and the very first note he sings erupts with such a strength that it drives right through me. My heart thumps madly against the palm of my hand as I listen to his powerful voice. It's deep and rich, with a tremble that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.
 

Incredible. It's incredible that he sounds like this. Incredible that he's here singing. Something about his performance is haunting and exorcising all at once.
 

You should do something special that day, something to commemorate his life.

He took my advice.
 

Deep in my gut, the truth rings out that he's singing this song for his father. He's singing it for me, too, his eyes staring back at me from the screen as if he can actually see me where I stand. All of this makes my own eyes burn and a small breath catches in my throat.

God, I love this guy. My heart's about to burst from my chest as though offering itself up as proof. It aches at the thought that I might never feel those lips on mine again, that we might return to the time when we tried to be just friends.

Cheers of appreciation erupt at random from behind me as my section—and people around the entire stadium, it seems—react to Giles reaching his ultimate crescendo. And when he sings the very last lines, everyone goes quiet. His final note echoes around the stadium, reverberating through me and around me, nearly lifting me off my feet.

My ears ring from the cheers and applause of the crowd at the performance. The now-familiar voice of the announcer booms, cutting through the stadium noise.

"And now a quick message from our performer."

The noises die down a few octaves as Giles turns to face the crowd. To face me. He's so far away and yet I can feel his eyes lock onto mine. Even with the distance between us, with me up here in this balcony and him down by home plate, I suddenly feel right in front of him. The cheers around me die away completely, as though I've been enclosed in a soundproof box.

Giles's voice comes over me again, this time his speaking voice, also deep and smooth. "Julia Castillo, I need you to listen closely because this is important." He points up at me and even from all the way up here, I can see his lips twist into a smile. "I want to be with you. You and me? We're an 'us.' We're a couple. We're a thing, an item, a solid pair. Just you and me and none of the static in between. Because, just in case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm in love with you." He pauses as excited noises rise from the crowd. "You got that?"

Luke nudges me with one giant elbow of his costume. And I nod in disbelief.
 

"Stay right there," Giles says into the microphone. "Don't move."

I can't move, anyway. My knees have turned to jelly. Giles hands the microphone to someone nearby and runs off the field, into the stadium. The announcer comes back on, saying things that don't matter. Things I can't even begin to decipher, because my heart is thumping in my ears as I stand, motionless, waiting, only vaguely aware of everyone else taking their seats, talking amongst themselves, and staring at me.

"You look like you're going to faint," Luke says, patting the top of my head in what I'm sure he thinks is a reassuring gesture.
 

 
I'm not sure how many minutes pass before Giles is rushing toward me, breathing hard, cheeks flushed.

"Hey," he says, smiling wide as he catches his breath. I just stare at him. Somewhere overhead, someone shouts something at us. A few people laugh and someone else responds with a suggestive whistle. Giles doesn't bother to look at them, just keeps his eyes on me. "Can we talk? Inside?"

A hand on the small of my back, he guides me away from the seats and into the relative privacy of the inner halls, where people are too busy ordering food to be interested in us.

"I've got a lot to say to you," Giles warns. His mouth closes and opens again.
 

"Giles, I—"

"Let me go first, please?" he says and I fall silent. Really, I'm not prepared to speak. My heart's still beating so fast I think I really might faint. I'm not even sure I can string words together at the moment.
 

"I've never been good at relationships," he says. "I've never been good with words or opening up to people. I've never been good about facing the things that scare me. I've never been good at being a friend. But somehow, with you, none of these things have been an issue. With you, these things come easy." He pauses, bringing a hand to the side of my face. "It's because you make me a better man, Julia."

I try to let his words sink in and, though they caress my insides, guilt still surges to the surface.
 

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you today. I didn't know."

"I know you didn't know. But you were there."
 

It's my turn to look confused. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a photograph. I take it, and my mouth gapes in surprise. I've never seen this before, but I recognize the night it was taken.

 
It's a picture of me, lit up in laughter, face glowing from the surrounding lights of the fair games. That night, I thought he was taking pictures of himself and his prizes. But he's barely visible in the corner of the photo. He was taking a picture of me.
 

"You looked so happy," he explains. "I loved that I was part of that. You asked me what I wanted.
This
is what I want. Everyday."

I stare down at the picture in my hand, running a finger over the glossy surface. "When did you get it printed?"

"Last night. You were gone and I needed you to feel real, so I printed it out on Ava's printer and then I stared at it for hours."

I continue to stare at the picture now, not really seeing myself. What I see is the shift that happened between us, the first crack that brought down the wall keeping us apart. The first night we stayed up talking. All the nights we found comfort in each other's stories, in each other's voices. In each other's bodies. All the nights we came together in ways that words can't describe.
 

Giles pulls my chin up to bring my eyes to his. "I stayed up all night trying to figure out the exact moment I fell for you. Then I realized that I didn't fall for you. You grew into me, tangled yourself up in me, and now…" He pauses, but his eyes burn with the promise of more so I remain silent, counting the milliseconds before his voice rolls over me again. "…I can't tell where I end and you begin. And I don't want to. You showed up and settled into a gap I thought was a permanent part of me. And…I'm in love with you, Julia. I'm so fucking in love with you."

My mouth opens wider. I take a second to breathe in his words. The air around us smells just like him, blanketing me, making it impossible for me to find my way back out.

"You said love makes people stupid," I remind him, an involuntary smile splitting my face.

"Love does make you stupid, I still stand by that statement," he lays his hands on my waist, "but it's the good kind of stupid. It's the 'I can do anything' stupid. It's naive and a little crazy. But it feels so damn good. So really, when you think about it, where's the harm in that?"

"None at all."
 

"I'm glad we're on the same page on that."

"I think you're forgetting something."

His eyebrows furrow, despite his smile.
 

"You haven't asked me if I love you back," I point out.

"Well, then? Do you?"

I tilt my head back and let a few seconds drag by, as though I'm thinking about it.
 

"Damn it, woman. Quit playing with me," he says, tugging at my hips until my body is pressed tight to his.

"Of course I love you, stupid."

He grabs my face and kisses me. I suddenly don't know where I am, because his lips on mine make the whole damn world flicker away to nothing.

I should've known it would always come down to this moment. Whether we admitted it or not, we fell for each other a long time ago. The only choices left were to give into it or run from it. We resisted, but we couldn't run.
 

Some things in life are inescapable. Me and Giles, together? There's no way to describe it other than a ridiculously innocent optimism that there's perfection in a tiny corner of the world. A tiny corner that belongs to just him and I. Nothing else can reach us. Because, together, we're bulletproof.
 

<>

Stay tuned for the first chapter of
Entangle
(novel available now!)…

Thank you for reading.

Please consider leaving
a quick review.
 

They help books get discovered and make a huge difference to indie authors such as myself.

You'll see more of Giles and Julia in these Hearts of Stone novels,
 

available now:

Entangle

(free preview ahead)

Entice
 

Do you like to be teased?
Be the first to receive exclusive content, giveaways, cover reveals, and news on my upcoming novels by opting into my
newsletter
.

Reaching the author:

Email
|
Facebook
|
Website
 

Now, a sneak peek of…

Entangle

A Hearts of Stone Novel

By
 

Veronica Larsen

CHAPTER ONE

Alexis

THIS IS MY MOMENT to prove the past is in the past. To prove I've moved on with my life and haven't even bothered to look back.
 

There's just one problem. Instead of the aloof smirk I
want
to wear, my lips are pressed into a thin line.

I should be happy for him. Hell, I
want
to be happy for him. But I'm not. I can't bring myself to be. I can't seem to pull the maturity it takes to even pretend.

I'm staring at the picture on the screen, my eyes tracing over the details with a razor-sharp scrutiny. I forgot how handsome he is. His exotic features lay against lightly tanned skin, perfect eyebrows frame light-brown eyes. The woman resembles me at first glance. Ivory skin, golden-brown hair, green eyes, and a pointed nose. Except, her teeth are sort of large for her smile and her chin juts out in an asymmetrical way.
 

My eardrums are still vibrating from the ridiculous ballad that split through my speakers when I first opened the invitation. The sound is off now and the silence in my office feels jarring.

I manage to tear my eyes from the faces to examine the rest of the page. White and teal lace etches the corners of the white background. Off to the right of the picture, royal-blue lettering curves into a nearly illegible cursive.

Mr. & Mrs. Williams