Here is an excerpt to tie you over until its release. Much love.
Lindy
He smiles faintly. “Want to
watch the rain together?” I blink, surprised by the invitation.
When I don't immediately respond, he adds, “We can do it for your
mom's benefit.”
“Is that the only reason we'd
be doing it?” My gaze lifts to his and holds, my breath catching
as I wait.
“Of course not.” He sips from
a cup of coffee with eyes as mysterious and dark as the sea trained
on me. “We'll do it to find shapes in the clouds and to count the
moments between lightning and thunder.” We'll do it for a
childhood friendship, are the unspoken words.
As we sit on the porch sipping
our coffee, the sky cries. I watch the rain fall, listening to it
contact with the roof and the street, wondering if they are happy
tears, or ones of sorrow. I decide they are ones of relief, if
anything. They are for regrets and hope; they are for loss and
redemption. They are for second chances. They are for us.
Grayson quietly sits beside me,
his gaze forward, his hand dangling off the armrest of the chair.
Inches separate us, and I close my eyes, letting the nearness of him
calm me, as I do the scent and sound of raindrops. In this moment, it
really does only feel like finite space is all that separates us. I
hear him shift and open my eyes.
“See that one?” He leans
toward me, pointing upward.
I incline my head and follow the
direction of his finger. “What one?”
“That one.” He sets his mug
down on the stand and his cool fingers graze my neck as he gently
tips my head, causing all kinds of chaos inside me. “It's the shape
of an 'L',” he murmurs next to my ear.
Finding the wispy tendril of
cloud he means, I smile. “That is a very sad-looking 'L'.”
I wonder if I imagine his touch
against the back of my neck as he says, “I agree. It is.” When I
turn my face to meet his gaze, the seriousness of his expression
freezes me in place. “Don't be sad anymore, Lily.”
I need to look away from the
midnight blue of his eyes, but I cannot. I see too many things in his
features. I look at my old friend and I ache for him. I see
everything I ever wanted and had; I see it all gone, and I see
something I shouldn't see in the eyes of a man who does not belong to
me. And then I think, Doesn't he? Doesn't he still belong to me?
It feels like he does.
“I don't want to be sad,” I
whisper.
“Then stop.”
The need to confess all my
secrets—all my wants, all my regrets—is heavy and I bite my lip
to keep them inside. I break the precarious connection we have,
tearing my gaze from his and instead watching his house across the
street. The tension is thick, full of our past, and something needs
to lighten it. I decide I can do that.
Inhaling deeply, I ask, “Do you
know what makes me sad?”
Shadows dissipate from his
features as he watches me. He realizes we were heading for dicey
territory. “Not having chocolate?”
“There is that, yes, but...”
Impulsively I jump to my feet, daring him with my eyes. “You know
what really makes me sad?”
Weariness creeps into his face
and posture. “Not having chocolate for two days?”
Grinning, I hop from the porch
and run for the nearest water puddle, charging into it. Rainwater
splashes up my legs and shorts. I drop my head back and raise my
arms, laughing as rain pelts me. It is refreshing, exhilarating.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, adding a dangerous element to the
fun.
“Come on, Grayson!” I taunt.
“You're crazy!” he calls from
the porch, but he is laughing. “It's lightning!”
“And you're chicken!” I run
for another puddle, losing a flip-flop in the process. I leap into
it, not caring that I am completely soaked and a little chilled. I
watch my sandal float down the side of the road, having no desire to
chase after it. I take the other shoe off and whip it into the yard,
staring challengingly at him.
Indecision flickers over his
features and then Grayson bounds over the railing, kicking off his
shoes and striding for me. My pulse speeds up in response. He looks
determined, sexy, and uncompromising; his mouth pulled down in a grim
slant. The look fits him.
When he is but an inch from me;
water dripping down his face, he states, “You know you're insane,
right?”
“I don't care,” I tell him
with feeling, and I don't. I fist the front of his sweatshirt in my
hands, ignoring his furrowed brows and the need to pull him to me,
and instead shove him back as hard as I can.
Grayson stumbles back in
surprise, catching himself just before he lands in a particularly
massive body of water. “What was that for?”
I shrug and do it again. This
time he lands in the water, though he does remain on his feet. He
might as well sit in it with as wet as he is. I could say frustration
and a feeling of helplessness in an impossible situation urged me to
act in such a way, and I think that is partly true, but I also want
him to have fun, to forget for a while. I want him unbound.
“Stop doing that,” he snaps.
His shirt clings to the defined muscles of his chest and torso. My
stomach clenches in longing.
“Why are you letting me do it?”
I stomp through water to get closer to him and kick some at him.
Annoyance narrows his eyes.
“Lily, I'm serious. Stop it.”
“Why? You're already wet. What
does it matter if I get you wetter?”
He closes the distance between
us, staring down at me under a film of wetness. His eyes seem
brighter with the darkened world around us. “Why are you acting so
immature?”
“Why are you acting like an old
man?”
Pressing his lips into a thin
line, he growls, “I'm not a kid anymore.”
My heart hurts. “I know. And
that's what makes me saddest of all. At least then you could have
fun. Now you're just a pompous ass.”
He blinks and then his mouth
curves up on one side. “You think I'm a pompous ass?”
“The most pompous of asses.”
A flicker of something in his
eyes is all the warning I get before he hooks his leg around mine and
the ground comes rushing up—only it doesn't. Strong and steady arms
hold me as I dip back. The boy who always saw so much of me; the boy
I always saw, stares back at me.
“Would a pompous ass do that?”
“Really not impressed,
Grayson.” I let my arms fall back and close my eyes, schooling my
expression into one of utmost boredom, though on the inside, I am
jittery and out of control—a complete mess.
I feel the coldness of his hair
against my skin as he lowers his head to the crook of my neck. My
breathing quickens and I hold myself perfectly still. His arms
tighten around me until he is no longer holding me up, but holding me
to him. I slowly lift my arms and hug him back, keeping my eyes
closed to make this moment all I know for the little time I am
allowed. I have missed this so much. Sensations wrap around
me—the coolness of the air, the dampness of raindrops, the warmth
of his face against my collarbone, the scent of thunderstorms, and
the perfectness of being so close to Grayson.
He carefully rights us. I open my
eyes, not wanting the moment to end, but knowing it has to. A barrage
of emotions filter across his face. I swallow, my fingers folding in
to keep from tracing the frown from his mouth. As I watch, a devilish
grin takes over his mouth and then I am somehow sitting in a large
mass of water and he is looking down at me, laughing. It happened so
fast I am not even entirely sure what happened.
“How's that for a pompous ass?”
thank you for this giveaway!!
ReplyDeleteI'm new to this series but I'm very excited about it!
ReplyDeleteI cannot wait to read this!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI'm going to have to check out Incomplete. and then I need to read this.
ReplyDelete