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emmdaenovice · 4 years

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Towards a better future #1

Daminete

So I should probably put a few trigger warnings on this

Ah, suicide, abuse, um… depression, mature readers only?

On a cool night in Pairs Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood alone on the highest spot on the Eiffel tower she could climb to while not being a danger to herself and a potential nasty mess on the sidewalk. She looked at the stars hiding behind a thick layer of cloud, or at least she imagined they were there, silently sparkling looking down on all. thinking that holding onto faith is only easy thing to do when its something physical, like the stars. As you see her faith was slowly wavering, mostly due to her miraculous partner Chat Noir but also Paris’ civilians, and. Herself.

It all began barely a month ago, it’s amazing how Marinette’s world could change this much in a small matter of time. She and her parents traveled to China to visit her Uncle, Wing Cheng, partially to escape from the stress of school life (a holiday) and also because of the grand finale of the D.A.B,’s cooking competition. Which no one was surprised when it was announced that Wing was winning. Marinette was so excited for so many reasons, she would be able to see her extended family again and get some more ideas for this new jacket she’s working on, and new inspiration, all the colours, flora, fauna, people, trends, smells, people, places, things!… She had to remind herself daily that she as Marinette Dupain-Cheng could to do all of those things but, she wasn’t just here as Mari. No, what not many people know is that Ladybug and Chat Noir planned to meet in Beijing for a secret mission to involve more miraculous holders and guardians in their mission to defeat Hawkmoth.

The plan started when Chat Noir informed Ladybug that he would be unavailable due to the psychopathic wishes of his father, forcing him to relocate for a few months.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had become closer and closer with each fight they won together and now found themselves in a sibling like relationship. They knew almost everything about each other, except their identities. Which neither of them really knew why but resorted to the explanation of the danger it would cause if one of them was compromised. To say that they trusted each other with everything was an understatement. Because of this Ladybug knew there was nothing she could do about Chat Noir leaving, the fact that the father managed to be a helicopter parent, an absent parent and a psychopath with trust issuers all in one makes her head spin. So, she decided she would make the best of the situation.

Marinette began to pull stings to make sure everything fell into place perfectly, she encouraged Wing to compete in the D.A.B’s, began letting cracks in her emotions show through to her family more than usual, asked if they were going on any upcoming trips, she researched and planned way into the night for months, this would be the most successful trip Ladybug and Chat Noir took together in the history of miraculous. They would find help, and they will take down Hawkmoth. Chat Noir bid his good buy to ladybug and the semi-permanent team of miraculous holders consisting of Rena Rouge, Carapace, Viperion and Ryuko. Ladybug then explained that she was also going to be out of area for a while but will always have the miraculous of teleportation on her for Akuma purification and emergencies. She trusted the group with small Akuma’s but didn’t think Alya and Nino really took the job seriously, Marinette blames herself for not giving the Kawami better matching holders.

So, the plans were set, everything was ready, she was ready.

Chat Noir and ladybug often conversed and went through the plan of attack through the days after Ladybugs arrival. To be honest that’s false, they were trying to find the bloody thing, the entrance to Hunan’s miraculous league. They found information on it thanks to the miraculous book and some odd new posts hidden deep within the internet. One might think that this was a long shot and it was, but it was the only shot they had. They needed adults, people with expert knowledge on battle strategies, physical and mental training, detective skills, … someone with a car. Literally anything would help, they both agreed that nothing would get worse in this situation as why they were trying their best to find it. Oh boy how they were wrong.

When they finally found it, they were ecstatic, so excited to learn more and to finally get help, but they were met with unenthusiastic faces. It seems that this ancient place only held artifacts of the past, no trainers, no holders, no guardians not even Miraculous. To say they were heartbroken would be an understatement. Marinette found herself slipping through the superhero façade as a single tear fell as soon as they were out of the temple, which soon was followed by more until they turned in to full on sobs as Chat Noir held his lady tight whispering sweet nothings into her hair. She knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up, she tries to always expect the worse when it comes to new material on miraculous and hero work, but she couldn’t help herself. Just this one time she hopped things would go her way. After a while she calmed down and realised how she was truly thankful for her partner, the beautiful heart and hair of gold, mischievous little tom cat, her Chat Noir. They conversed and decided to take a deeper look at all of the artefacts the next day to see if they missed something, and to also discover where the mysterious aura within the temple walls was coming from.

They returned to Paris the next day at an alarming pace as they both realised that they haven’t been called over to help in any battles all week let alone purify any Akuma. They both came up with possible scenarios that would explain their absence but most of them were impossible or much in the worse scenario possible category. When they arrived in Paris they found that everything was quite normal, everything seemed to be in place, they located the hero’s and discovered that Hawkmoth hasn’t attacked in quite some time… This freaked the duo even more so. The heroes have been looking after petty crimes for the past 7 days without any suspicious activity at all. Well at least Viperion and Ryuko have. It seems that Rena Rouge and carapace have been keeping up the social experience of the team, to an extent where they were over sharing. Ladybug was furious at this for first not telling her about the suspicious activity (and yes no activity counts as suspicious activity) and secondly for sharing private information about their hero work to the public. Furious doesn’t even begin to describe what she was feeling especially when she found out that Rena Rouge was sharing yet again information, but about the hero’s personal lives, and even identity on Alya’s blog. This time she had gone too far. Chat Noir stood besides his lady silently supporting her as she disciplined his friends, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t mad, he thought he could trust them with more than this, they broke his trust.

It might be because Chat Noir’s and Ladybugs spirits were already broken but they were seriously thinking of the next best step to take as permanent miraculous holder and guardian. Drastic measures such as demoting them to normal civilians was thrown around, but they decided against that, instead they planned to revisit the situation when their civilian identities came back home, and their minds refreshed. They spent the rest of that day checking out potential suspects relating to Hawkmoth. When It came to Gabriel Agreste they weren’t sure how high or low to put him on the list of suspects, but when they visited his mansion to find that he was absent struck a cord with Marinette. She knew something was wrong. Chat Noir didn’t seem too keen on looking around the place determined that his father was a good person.

‘He just doesn’t seem like the type of guy you know?’

‘Chat I don’t think anyone thinks that a fourteen-year-old could ever be Ladybug, suspects are suspects’

When Chat wouldn’t tell her why he was acting weird Ladybug dismissed it as Him just feeling weird being in her old crushes house.

Ladybug found herself feeling off in the house, an especially when it came to Gabrielle’s study, a feeling in the pit of her stomach like a void sending sparks down her legs. They let Kaalki explore the room as they had her on handy, exited to be in a famous person’s study she eagerly obliged to snooping around the room. She zoomed quickly around the room knocking over books and papers, which Chat Noir quickly put back into place, as she finally took a plunge into the floor. They both stood there for a minute conversing in whether a Kawami can get stuck in the ground or not, but didn’t have to act as Kaalki soon flew out beneath the floorboards slower than before with a grim look on her face.

‘Well, what did you see?’ Chat said eagerly wondering what the Kawami found. Forgetting to drop a pun in the process. The Kawami only looked solemnly at the guardian.

‘I advise you to never go down their” she said, almost afraid of the words she spoke

‘Kaalki, why? What’s down there?’ Ladybug spoke, the Kawami squirmed and Chats face paled. What could be down there? What could be down there that a Kawami that has been around for thousands of years is afraid of?

‘I do not wish to speak the horrors. But I can confirm that Gabriel Agreste is in fact Hawkmoth’ her words hung beneath them like a dead man swinging side to side by a noose.

‘What.’ Was all Chat Noir could say. His mind a mess filled with memories and arguments. Finding there was two sides of himself, one that always knew and one who knows he’s innocent.

‘Are you sure’ Ladybug said grimly. meanwhile Chat Noir sat down on his father’s desk staring at the painting of his mother, his emotions running astray within his heart.

“my guardian I am sure as the sky is blue.’ Kaalki looked up at the duo both with horror and sorrow in their eyes, ‘There is refinance of the torcher of Kawami down there as well as a room filled with butterfly’s and Akuma alike. Not to mention a motive for his wish’ she continued.

‘We need to get down their’ Chat Noir decided.

‘You can’t access the tunnels from here there all been sealed off mechanically.’ She thinks for a moment ‘We can open it with Hawkmoth present’

Ladybug thought for a minute, she doesn’t want to attack a man without seeing the proof herself… But she trusts the words of her Kawami ‘Ok’ Ladybug decides ‘lets go find Gabriel Agreste’.

‘I’m glad you decided on this, It is the best to have a clear head while defeating Hawkmoth and this room will do quite the opposite’ Ladybug feeling true terror within her for a moment then turned to Chat Noir.

‘We have to find Gabriel Agreste’ she said with a determining tone ‘if I was an evil mastermind, where would I be if I weren’t at my house?’ Ladybug thought out loud. Finally coming to her senses she sees Chat Noir on the floor.

‘Hey, you ok?’ she sits down next to him and pulls him into a hug ‘Perhaps Hawkmoth has gone to catch butterfly’s’ she laughs trying to make light of the mood, trying to put a smile on his face. But Chat Noir, Adrien Agreste has never felt more conflicted in his life, his emotions were tearing him up inside, all he felt like doing was crying. He would be safe in his lady’s lap, within the embrace of his partner, his best friend, she would listen to him. ‘heck maybe he’s taken a vacation to Hawaii.’ Chat Noir jolts out of Ladybugs arms, quickly remembering where his father is and why he might be there.

“He’s in China.’ he spoke as if there was a hair ball in his mouth.

‘What.’ Ladybugs eyes wide as he has ever seen them ‘Chat what do you mean?’

‘Ladybug. Gabriel Agreste is in China.’

The statement dropped out of the cat’s mouth and rolled around the floor. This is bad. It couldn’t be, that he was also looking for the hidden miraculous association in Hunan like they were… right? No, of course not. Probably, because everything that can go wrong must.

The pair teleported to the temple once again fighting large tree branches in the way, they had no time to care for the nature in the way of their path. They had to get to the association as soon as possible, they had to make sure that everyone was ok, sure they were unhelpful but that doesn’t mean they deserve to suffer at the hands of Hawkmoth. Questions like these and more flowed through their head faster than a cat jumping out of water like; what was Kaalki so afraid of, is Gabriel really Hawkmoth, where do my parents think I am now, what am I going to do now, will we win? After all these years of fighting finally will we win.

They ran towards the temple stopping halfway to catch their breath, understanding that if Hawkmoth was there that he would feel the presence of the portal but still silently cursing Kaalki for not bringing them closer. A scream was taken out of their lungs as large boom thundered across the forest accompanied by a large dust storm and the deepest colour of orange licking the tips of the sky. Someone had blown up the temple. Who were they kidding hawkmoth had blown up the temple. All that ancient memorabilia, the history, the connection to the miraculous, even the old farts that occasionally dust the entrance. All gone. All obliterated by the hands of one man, and for what?

‘Milady theirs something I need-‘

‘There he is’ Ladybug points at a shadow emerging from the debris ‘let’s go Chat’ she extends her hand to him, he pauses for a second then grasps her hand tight.

‘I would go anywhere with you my lady’ Kaalki quickly teleports the duo directly behind their villain of four consistent years. He turns noticing the presence, but Ladybug quickly wrapped her yo-yo around him. She pulled on the strong fiber forcing him onto the ground.

‘Gabriel Agreste’ Ladybug yelled in the most fearsome Guardian like tone Chat Noir has ever heard. To both heroes surprise Hawkmoth lifted his head off the ground looking them both in the eye

‘Ah beetlebug and kittycat, I would say I’m surprised but honestly, it took you long enough’ he spat, quite confident for a trapped man. ‘I suppose that’s what I get for fighting a bunch of children’ he huffed.

‘Well these children kept you busy for four years now didn’t we!’ Chat Noir yelled. ‘fuck you’ he said less confidently his voice breaking, both unable to move an inch towards their captive, like a moment in time that froze completely

‘I had certain obstacles in my way preventing me from defeating you, if I had a powerful miraculous this little game of cat and mouse would be over a lot quicker’

‘So, you got angry when you didn’t find any here and blew up a sacred miraculous temple?!’ she yelled her arms shaking a little from the adrenaline, unable to explain this monsters thought process

‘No, no, no little girl, I’m afraid you aren’t quite right’

‘Don’t belittle us, you’re the one trapped’ Chat Noir said growling, like a hungry beast in front of its prey.

Hawkmoth began to laugh manically ‘That’s where your wrong foolish boy, I’m right where I want to be. Don’t you know what happens if you back a wild animal into a corner?’ Chat shakes in fury as this grown man, his father laughs at him. All of those years of looking up to him, trying to get him to be proud of him, acting as the best child one could have, … all those years fighting for his life, dying again and again for the sake of his lady for the sake of taking him down. All for what. Chat controlled by rage silently walked towards the man, looked at him in the eyes, those deep dark eyes holding horrors he never wants to see. This man has tortured him for years mentally, physically and emotionally in all meanings of the word, he wanted him to pay. It was time for Adrien Agreste to finally get his revenge. With all the force he could muster he kicked his father in the ribs, feeling or maybe imagining the satisfying crack of ribs underneath his boot. One part of him thought he should be sad, but all he felt was empty. Hawkmoth coughed and wined in pain looking up at Chat smiling.

‘Is that all you got? Pussy’ his laugh this time was cut off by chats fist finding its place on garbles cheek.

‘Chat that’s enough’ Ladybug said a solemn look on her face. He looked at her and stood back.

‘Oh, I see, the little stray has an owner.’ he laughs ‘Come on ladybug give it a go! Hit me! Though I doubt you could hurt me with that tiny whore body of yours‘ he laughs one again and ladybug turns away, she knows that Hawkmoth wants to rile them up, no matter what he throws at her she won’t give in to what he wants, she will not give control to him. Chat Noir however couldn’t say the same, he wanted to follow the rules of his lady but Hawkmoth was laying in front of him completely defenseless asking for a beating ‘Oh oh I’ve got it the bitch owns the bitch’ that was the last straw for chat Noir he tackled his father the one that helped bring him into existence and started beating him unable and unwilling to hold back.

Ladybug was frozen in time afraid of her partner, afraid of how violent he had become, though she didn’t blame him. The sheer force of his attacks and the emotion behind them, such raw hatred, she’d never seen her best friend like this before. That small moment in time was all it took. Both heroes distracted one hitting the terrorist which forced the entirety of Paris under extreme pain, and the other afraid of her most trusted friend, her partner of four years. Kaalki’s glasses were slid off ladybugs head and placed into the hand of Myura. The ladybug yelped in terror as she realised a plant like looking Amok had stolen the miraculous from atop her head with its long wipe like vines. Chat also looked up from his pray in time for him to be thrown off Hawkmoths body like a sack of potatoes. Before chat could get up off the ground, he was hold tight by the forest monster as he found his lady was as well. Hawkmoth was slowly picked up off the ground by the vines and placed on his feet. His bloody face dripping with crimson and slight black bruises starting to form where Chat punched him repeatedly. How could they forget about Myura, how could they forget? They should have just transported Hawkmoth to Paris then and there, they should have tied him up, they should have checked their surroundings, they’re ladybug and Chat Noir for miraculous sake they heroes. Heroes don’t make stupid mistakes like this, freezing up when things are finally going their way. No. real heroes would have done better. They’re not heroes they failed Paris they failed the guardians before them they failed themselves. The only thing that they are is children. Scared children trying to save the day in feeling like adults dressing up in their parents clothing. How could this have happened?

‘You won’t get away with this Hawkmoth” ladybug yelled ‘Our miraculous don’t belong in the hands of evil. Good will always find a way, and it will punish you for you evil doings, the terror you have spread across Paris and now the world, if not us then the next.’ She spoke proudly as if she had won the battle, her words spoken like a true hero like a true guardian. Hawkmoth was steadied by Myura, as she gave him Kaalki’s miraculous, looking at them like she had said something strange

‘If you kill us now you will regret it, the weight of two innocent, in your word’s children, weighing on your soul for eternity. Don’t you have a kid? Adrien?’ This got Hawkmoths attention ‘He’s about the same age as us, what will you see when you look at him. Will it all be worth it? all this death and tragedy for a wish? A wish that will blow up in your face?’ Chat finished wanting to back up what Ladybug said in his own way. Hawkmoth laughed once again as if Chat had said something funny, for a moment Adrien wondered what type of face Hawkmoth would make when her realises he had killed his own child, would he laugh, just as he is now? Would he be happy that the burden of his perfect son would be gone?

Ha sorry to end it like that

I’m sorry but we wont see the romantic side for a couple of chapters but it’s coming soon I promise!

Tell me if you hate it ~

#miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fandom #miraculous ladybug #miraculous marinette #mlb #mlb x dc #angst #maridami #maribat #daminette #xoxo

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wickedwritingswickedgame · 5 years

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ALL THE QUESTIONS FOR CHARLES

Send me a symbol. Please note that some answers may be NSFW.They may be NSFW but I will try to be discreet.

These answers will follow the Second Chances storyline.

Trigger warnings ahead.__________________________

🌟 What is my muse’s sexual/romantic orientation?

Bisexual but almost exclusively bi-romantic now.

💦 At what age did my muse lose their virginity?

He was around fifteen or sixteen years old.

😘 Would my muse have sex on the first date?

Now? Noooo. In the past he was a bit of a player and on a few occasions did have sex following a first date. None of those relationships ever progressed past a point but they were mostly for personal reasons on Charles’ end.

😊 Would my muse ever ask someone on a date?

Yes, but only because he’s in a happily committed and safe relationship. I imagine Erik rarely if ever turns down a date.

👍 Does my muse prefer to be asked on a date, or would they rather do the asking?

Right now he’d rather be asked. Confidence takes time but he’ll get there (Unless ‘dates’ mean a home-cooked meal and reading on the sofa. That he might suggest.)

😉 What are my muse’s fetishes/kinks?

So at this stage in his life Charles is asexual. That said, he does love scruffy!Erik

💬 When did my muse go on their first date?Honestly his first date was probably with Raven. Completely platonic, just a way to lift her spirits on a bad day and get out of the house. They probably went into town and had lunch at a little cafe. Charles was around thirteen or fourteen.

💯 What is my muse’s ideal date?

A candlelit dinner on a warm night on their back porch. Lots of handholding and dreamy-eyed whispers. A homemade dessert (that he made of course!) and lounging on the couch tangled up in Erik’s arms. Maybe they’d read for a bit, maybe just cuddle and kiss. Then Erik would scoop him up and carry him bridle-style to bed (because damn all he’s not too old to enjoy that.) They’d help each other change into nightwear and fall into bed.

💗 Has my muse ever been in love?

Once, although he almost fell in love two other times. When he was younger he it almost happened with a woman named Gabrielle. Then he met Erik Lehnsherr but of course that ended in terrible tragedy…Twenty-five years later the two reunited and Charles was finally able to trust his heart to Erik in full.

👠 What was my muse’s last serious relationship like?

If we don’t count the first few months he and Erik shared together, Gabrielle was his last partner. Charles had just moved to England and was a student at Oxford. Gabrielle stood out to him; she had her pain, he had his and she seemed to understand it. They spent almost a year getting to know each other…but Charles got scared. No one saw into his life, no one but Raven and that as well as other difficult self-discoveries led to a breakup. He never saw her again but for years wondered what might have been…

👰 Would my muse ever get married?

Maybe. If a certain metal-bending someone asked ;)

🌼 Would my muse prefer a big wedding or a small wedding?

Small wedding❤️ Erik and Vivian are more than enough.

🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?

None of this really applies to Charles anymore. He was probably more dominant in his younger years but that was effectively taken away from him.

He’s more submissive by nature now, although not in a sexual way. However, he’s grown so much since reuniting with Erik and continues to grow. Who knows where he’ll be in a few years (again, not in a sexual way.)

🏩 What was my muse’s first time like?

Awkward XD He was a teenager after all. A young, tipsy and clumsy teenager.

🎆 Is my muse into monogamy?

Yes…but only with Erik because before Erik walked back into his life Charles believed himself too broken for anything like that. He didn’t even consider it.

💕 Would my muse ever be in a polyamorous relationship?

Only if the third party happened to be his Alter after gaining his own separate body… ;)

🔥 Would my muse ever be up for a threesome?

No.

👮 Has my muse ever had sex in public?

Yes, although it was by no means out in the open. The few times he did were usually in a public restroom. In a stall of course!

💔 What was my muse’s first heartbreak?

You mean besides realizing your mother wasn’t going to protect you when your step-family had a bad day?

He was around fourteen and the cute girl he’d gone on a few dates with called him a freak when his powers slipped. It wasn’t a deep heartbreak of any kind but it still hurt.

💑 What are my muse’s requirements for a potential partner?

Erik. Be Erik. The Erik that works to understand you, to make you see he wants nothing but the best for you and will fight for you when you don’t believe yourself worth fighting for

💋 How many people has my muse slept with?

A lot, most of which occurred between the ages of twenty and thirty. Most were also one night stands or casual acquaintances with benefits.

👀 Is my muse the type to sleep around?

No. Never. There will be none of the sex.

👎 Would my muse ever cheat on their partner?

No. There is no life without Erik. Erik is his whole world.

😳 What was my muse’s worst romantic/sexual relationship?

You know what happened so I won’t reiterate…but I will say it was the first and only time he had sex with a man.

💲Would my muse ever date/marry/sleep with someone because they were rich?

No. He learned a long time ago what money and the pursuit of it can do to an individual…

👓 Would my muse ever lie for sex?

Nope.

👿 Would my muse ever blackmail someone into sex?

Never.

🎥 Who is my muse’s celebrity crush?

So before Charles reverted into himself he had a crush on Howard Stark. He didn’t know it was a crush at the time but looking back, yes. He was definitely a little gay for Howard.

🎀 Who would my muse sleep with if nobody ever had to know?*

screams from the rooftops* THERE WILL BE NONE OF THE SEX

💍 Has my muse ever had a one-night stand?

I already covered this but yes. A lot of them. It was a way to be close without getting close…and it kept him out of his head. Sometimes telepaths need that.

💝 Does my muse like Valentine’s Day?

He will ;)

💘 What are the ways my muse says ‘I love you’ without actually saying it?

Koala-husband. Hanging off Erik, leaning into him, cuddling snug up against him. Other ways involve touching Erik’s cheek or taking his hand. It means a lot to Charles that he’s no longer afraid of close contact with Erik

Charles also likes to surprise Erik with small favors and treats. This usually involves baking. Further down the road and he might start dressing up a little. Nothing extravagant but he loves the way Erik lights up when he takes that extra grooming time. It stirs his own confidence and that means the absolute world to him.

#wgcharlesheadcanon #xmwg #xmen wicked game #v: second chances #secondchancesmagneto #wgprofx #tw: abuse #tw: rape #tw: ptsd #ship: cherik #ship: three is not a crowd #gabrielle

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stopforamoment · 6 years

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TRIGGERS Part Fourteen: Shit Show Rodeo (Series Eleven, Part 14 of 16)

Series Eleven: It’s uh Movin’ Thing, but Still and All (Sixteen Parts) TRIGGERS Part Fourteen: Shit Show Rodeo (Series Eleven, Part 14 of 16)

Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three)

Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks

Word Count: 2,054

Rating: R for Strong Language, Verbal Fight, Reference to Online Child Predators, Reference to Grief after Death of a Spouse, Reference to Children Affected by Death and Divorce

TRIGGERS: Verbal Fight, Reference to Online Child Predators, Reference to Grief after Death of a Spouse, Reference to Children Affected by Death and Divorce

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Thank you @asherella-is-a-dork-3 for always being my sounding board! Thank you @liam-rhys and @silviasutton1989 for still being a part of the journey!

Triggers: There are going to be some dark themes in this series that deal with the consequences of what happens when parents don’t put their children first. I promise I won’t get graphic, and I’ll tag each section accordingly. This will tie in with future events and another aspect of Bastien and Rinda’s personalities—as individuals and as a couple.

TRIGGERS: Verbal Fight, Reference to Online Child Predators, Reference to Grief after Death of a Spouse, Reference to Children Affected by Death and Divorce

Series Summary: It’s the week of October 14th, the sixth week of the school year. Henry and Rinda are staying in Cordonia, which means that Rinda can now begin to move forward, and backwards, with professional and personal aspects of her life.

One inspiration while I wrote this was a quotation from Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God:

“Love is lak de sea. It’s uh movin’ thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it’s different with every shore.”

The other was these lyrics from the song “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Misérables:

“But the tigers come at night / With their voices soft as thunder / As they tear your hope apart / As they turn your dream to shame.”

Chapter Summary: This jumps backward to Tuesday night of week six, before Bastien visited Rinda and Henry at their house. Bastien and Drake get into a fight, and Drake points out Bastien’s shortcomings—and dumps out some of the pain he’s experiencing.

Shit Show Rodeo

Tuesday of Week Six, Three Days before the King and Queen’s Visit

They were at the palace, and Bastien found Drake drinking in his room. “Drake, why is Vivian Trakas on the guest list for this Friday’s teacher appreciation dinner?”

“I don’t know, Bastien. Why aren’t you ever able to tell her to just fuck off? She only invited herself because you’re going to be there.”

Bastien pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to be patient. “Why would she do that? Everything was resolved at the block party, and besides, I’ll be working. It’s not like I’ll even have time to talk to her. I know she’s annoying . . .”

Bastien actually flinched when Drake threw his whiskey glass against the wall, shattering it into tiny shards that sailed through the air and settled on the floor. “I’m trying to deal with this goddamn shit show and now you’re here asking me why Vivian Traskas is on the guest list, and all you can say is that ‘she’s annoying’? He slammed his fist into the wall. “You have no fucking clue what’s going on, so just let it go. You’re back to doing palace security, and that guest list is part of your job. I gave you an answer. If you don’t like it, then I suggest you do your job and figure out why she’s on the list. Or better yet, just take her off the list. Having her at a teacher appreciation evening? Fucking priceless, Bastien.”

Bastien sat down. “What’s going on?”

“Do you know how much this entire shit show is hurting Rinda? And Henry? You have no fucking clue, because Rinda won’t tell you. She wants you to be able to focus on security for the King and Queen’s visit. Bastien, all you have to do is take Vivian off the fucking list. You don’t have to deal with her every day anymore. You have no fucking clue . . . You never do. Just like you didn’t know how badly my mom was hurting because she didn’t want to tell you the truth and burden you. Or how badly you fucked over Riley when you helped set her up with the Tariq scandal.”

Bastien stood up, livid because he knew Drake was right. If something was going on, he knew Rinda wouldn’t say anything until the visit was over. And he knew he failed Bianca, even if he did judge her for leaving her children in Cordonia. And God knows he regretted what he did to Riley—probably now more than ever before. “Drake, you’re out of line. And I did everything I could . . .”

Drake cut him off. “Well you didn’t do enough. And you don’t know how badly you’re fucking up now. Do you? Sit down, Bastien. I’m going to tell you. I’m going to fucking tell you what you are too stupid to even realize you’re doing.” Drake stared at Bastien until he sat down.

“Look, Rinda reminds me a lot of my mom—especially how much Rinda loved Jameson. But when dad died, mom just broke and nothing could fix it, and she had to run away. I think Rinda’s different that way. At least she’s trying to be. She stayed in the same school building Jameson died in just so she could be close to Henry and try to protect him, but then she knew when it was getting to be too much and she had to do something different. So she talked with Henry, and they decided to do the exchange program. She needed to run away, but she knew she still had to be a mom.

“And even when it was changed to Cordonia instead of Scotland, she still checked with Henry before they agreed. This position was supposed to be a full year, not one semester. But Rinda fought like hell to make it one semester, for Henry, with the condition that she would stay for the full year if that’s what would be best for her and Henry. She gave Henry the most time she could to make his decision on whether they would stay or not, and you know she was in fucking agony while she waited for him to decide. She was so fucking afraid she was going to tip her hand that she wanted to stay, and she begged me to talk to Henry and keep reminding him that it was HIS choice to make. And when I told her that Henry was asking about what it was like for me when my mom wanted to move back to America? And when I was stupid enough to be honest and tell her that Henry was asking me how I dealt with protecting my mom when she was trying to protect me? Fuck, Bastien. It was horrible to see Rinda in so much pain.”

Bastien closed his eyes, feeling his chest tighten as he listened to Drake tell him how badly Rinda was hurting. Bastien knew it, but really, he had no idea. His Tria . . . But Drake was still talking. There was more.

“And she told me this earlier in the year, after we first met. So I don’t know what’s going on with you two now. She always respects your privacy, Bastien. But she told me that she couldn’t date because she wants Henry to be ready for that step. And she won’t date a guy unless Henry likes him, but she also won’t introduce him to a guy because she doesn’t want to confuse him by introducing a potential dad figure in his life who may not work out.” Suddenly Drake gave an eerie laugh. “Oh, God. I remember I actually joked with her about setting up a Tinder account. And even though we laughed about it, she told me that she could never use a dating service. She knows having a child is something you have to disclose pretty early on, but that would be a predator’s wet dream. To pose as a . . . Shit. That’s why she’s been talking about internet safety . . .” Drake trailed off for a moment, deep in thought, and Bastien waited for Drake to continue.

“Bastien, it may look like she’s moving forward, but she’s not. She can’t. It’s going to be better now that she’s staying in Cordonia. But otherwise she’s stuck in this holding pattern with all these Catch-22 situations and backup plans, and she knows life is passing her by. She just. Fuck. She told me that she just wishes time could stop so she could catch up. Or that someone would just be patient and wait for her. She’s terrified that she’ll make the wrong decision with Henry and let him down again.”

Drake was frantically running his hand through his hair and he suddenly caught himself and blushed. He grabbed another glass and poured himself another drink, offering the bottle to Bastien.

“Drake, how do you know all of this? And why would she think that she’s letting Henry down? She’s an amazing mother.”

“Look, that first weekend that we met we got drunk and just started talking about stuff and the next day I thought it was pretty amazing that she swam back to shore with me when we went fishing. Then she found out about my dad, and how you thought I could help Henry. Well, you know Rinda. Being part of a team and all that. She’s been really great. I know it’s strange to say she’s been like a mom to me, but maybe like an aunt to me? I don’t know. But she’s also talked to me a lot about ways she can help Henry, and she’s really afraid of letting him down again. You know. When she stayed with Jameson’s body in the school when she should have been with Henry. She’s . . . that decision is always going to haunt her, even though it probably would have been a lot worse if Henry had seen her like that.”

Suddenly Drake looked at Bastien. “Describe Vivian to me.”

“What?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Bastien. Describe her.”

“She’s tall, about 5’10”. Slender build but still curvy, Dark eyes. Dark hair.” Drake kept staring. “Okay, she’s got legs that don’t stop. Huge . . .” Drake arched an eyebrow. “Breasts. Okay? Rinda would joke that they’re made for motorboating.” Drake leaned back in his chair but didn’t say anything. “She’s got long, dark hair that you just want to run your fingers through. Wrap around your hands so you can pull her head back. Is that what you want to hear? Physically, she’s totally my type. And she even loves football.”

“Okay, now describe Rinda.”

“What the fuck, Drake? This isn’t a Friends episode. You don’t compare . . .”

“Yes, Bastien. You do. We all do. Women do too. Why do you think I’m such a fucking insecure mess when it comes to dating? Riley choosing Liam didn’t help. Now describe Rinda.”

Bastien ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “She’s funny. She has the most inappropriate sense of humor. And she’s tough. And brave. And compassionate. An amazing mom. Friendly. She just lights up the room, you know? And her laugh. I once told her that she’s everything and not to ever forget it. Because she is.” Bastien suddenly stopped. “Why?”

“Rinda is all those things, and more. But she’s still . . . Rinda. That loveable insecure mess who can’t order a fucking meal to save her life. Who is a total football disaster. Who questions every parenting decision she makes. Who rambles. She hates how short she is. She thinks she’s overweight because she isn’t as thin as she was before having a kid. She thinks her hair is a troll doll rat’s nest, and she always wears it up because she can’t do anything with it. And you didn’t even mention her looks when you described her. Not one thing about her eyes, hair, smile, body. Nothing, Bastien.”

“I love her hair. I tease her about it, but I’ve told her that I love it. She has beautiful hazel eyes. I can tell what she’s feeling because I can see how her eyes change colors. She knows that. And I love Rinda because she’s . . . her.”

Now Drake leaned in. “But have you ever told her that she’s beautiful? Or that you love her? That she’s more than just a mother or great teacher? Reassured her that it’s okay she’s her—even with the stuff she hates about herself?” He saw the panic in Bastien’s eyes. “I can’t believe I ever got dating advice from you. No wonder I’m still single. No wonder you are, too.” Bastien winced. “Bastien, think about it from Rinda’s perspective. Vivian is the opposite of her in every way possible, and it’s no secret you could have Vivian if you wanted her. Do you know how shitty and inadequate that must make Rinda feel? And Vivian has already moved on since her divorce—a lot. But for Rinda it’s different. She doesn’t even have to say it. You know she hasn’t . . . since Jameson died. She needs to get to know someone really well first, and she knows no one will wait for that, either.” He flushed. “I went too far. I shouldn’t have said anything about that. It’s too personal and I’m sorry I crossed that line. But . . . I get her, Bastien. I get what it’s like to think you aren’t good enough for someone. And Rinda’s been trying to help me with that, and it’s partly because she’s the same way. She doesn’t want me to be a mess like she is. Fuck. Just never mind. Just forget I said any of this. Seriously. There’s some sad stuff going on at school, and I’ve been drinking too much trying to forget it. I don’t know how Rinda and Laura deal with the shit they see every day. I don’t know how you were able to handle it. I’ve only been there a week and I’m already seeing shit that I wish I could forget. And I’m sorry what I said about my mom and Riley. That was out of line. I’m sorry. Just. Go away and let me drink in peace.”

#bastien lykel #long post #rinda parks ofc #choices trr

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heartfelthotinhouston · 5 years

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As Recession Fears Rise!

Bill Rapp here with the Heartfelt and Hot in Houston Blog, and this is our newest segment: As Recession Fears Rise! It seems that whenever you pick up a newspaper or turn on the news these days, a scary word hits you in the face: "recession." Germany is already teetering on the brink of recession; an unruly exit from the European Union this fall could cause one in Britain; and in the U.S., a rapidly escalating trade war with China is increasing fears.But although the R-word may be a trigger for those who remember—or even experienced—the mass layoffs, scores of foreclosures, and plummeting home prices of the last downtown, folks shouldn't panic just yet. And they shouldn't expect another real estate fire sale. "This is going to be a much shorter recession than the last one," predicts George Ratiu, senior economist with realtor.com®. "I don't think the next recession will be a repeat of 2008. ... The housing market is in a better position." As Recession Fears Rise! Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell indicated on Friday that last month's interest rate cut would be followed by another in September, but cautioned that that might not be enough to counter the trade tensions, which ratcheted up in recent days as China responded to an earlier round of U.S. tariffs with its own, and President Donald Trump responded by making U.S. restrictions even tougher. About 2% of economists, strategists, academics, and policymakers believe a recession will start this year, according to a recent survey of more than 200 members of the National Association for Business Economics. Thirty-eight percent believe one will begin in 2020, while 25% anticipate one starting in 2021. Fourteen percent expect it won't materialize until after 2021. However, Trump seems confident that there's no risk of a recession at all. He's been putting out a series of positive tweets about the economy for the past week or so. He responded to China's tariff announcement on Friday by tweeting, "Our Economy, because of our gains in the last 2 1/2 years, is MUCH larger than that of China. We will keep it that way!" For sure, unemployment is hovering around the lowest it's been in the past 50 years. (However, it turns out there weren't as many jobs in 2018 and early 2019 as previously reported.) Wages are growing, and we've entered the longest economic expansion in U.S. history. But a downturn within the next two years still looks likely—particularly if a trade war heats up, making it more expensive to import goods. Those increased costs are likely to be passed along to everyday consumers. The housing market's risky mortgages and rampant speculation were blamed for plunging the world into a financial crisis the last time around. But these days real estate isn't likely to be the cause of a recession. As Recession Fears Rise! Will home prices and sales plummet in a recession? Aspiring buyers hoping that home prices will crash, like they did during the Great Recession, are likely in for a rude awakening. There simply aren't enough homes being built to satisfy the hordes of buyers. And with more members of the giant millennial generation wanting single-family homes in which to raise their growing families, there isn't likely to be a drop-off in demand anytime soon. But the anticipation of a recession in itself could make the housing shortage even worse. Worried would-be sellers may decide to postpone listing until they can get top dollar for their properties. Yet although a lack of homes for sale typically drives up prices, that effect could be mitigated if there are fewer folks who can afford to buy. In a recession, it could become harder to find a good-paying job or steady freelance work. Even those who remain gainfully employed may worry about their job stability. "If we do go into a recession, there will be layoffs," says Ali Wolf, director of economic research at Meyers Research, a national real estate consultancy. "If you move from a two-income household to a one-income household, it doesn’t change the desire to own. But it does impact the ability.” Realtor.com's Ratiu believes prices will flatten, but likely not fall. Meanwhile, the number of home sales will also remain flat or potentially even dip, he believes. Other economists expect the recession to take a bigger toll on housing. "With people having PTSD from the last time, they’re still afraid of buying at the wrong time," Wolf says. "But prices aren’t likely to fall 50% like they did last time. As Recession Fears Rise! "We do expect prices will fall marginally," she continues. The priciest parts of the country, which saw the biggest price hikes, could see the biggest price corrections. Sales could decline anywhere from 10% to 20%, she predicts. The luxury market is already seeing price decreases. These high-end homes, usually in the range of $1 million and up, are usually considered a bellwether for the greater housing market. A big wild card in all of this is mortgage interest rates, which were at an ultralow 3.55% for a 30-year, fixed-rate loan as of Thursday, according to Freddie Mac data. If they continue to fall, it could give the housing market a boost. That's because low rates translate into lower monthly mortgage payments. Those hoping for rental prices to be slashed will probably be disappointed as well. "We expect a little bit of an impact," says Greg Willett, chief economist at RealPage, a property management technology and analytics company for apartment buildings. "But it's not doom and gloom." He expects apartment price hikes to slow from 3% annually to more minor 1.5% or 2% price increases over the next few years. The rental market is likely to be buffered by those nervous about making what could be the largest purchase of their lives, a home, in uncertain economic times. Those folks may decide to live in a rental until the economy is booming again. The exception, again, is the luxury rental market. Developers may have to offer concessions (e.g., a free month's rent) or lower prices a little to attract wealthier tenants. But that isn't likely to trickle down to the middle or even lower end of the rental market. As Recession Fears Rise! Will builders stop putting up badly needed new homes? A recession could make builders even more reluctant to break ground on new residences, particularly in the priciest markets on the coasts. A year ago, about 10% of single-family home builders offered buyers incentives such as discounts to go under contract, says National Association of Home Builders Chief Economist Robert Dietz. Today, about 40% are turning to incentives to spur home sales. That's not a good sign. Tariffs on building materials such as steel are already making construction more expensive. And the construction worker shortage is severely limiting the number of homes that can be built. A downturn could make this worse. "You'll some local markets where home construction declines," says Dietz. “Some prospective home buyers could be concerned about making that purchase.” As Recession Fears Rise! Will a recession spur another foreclosure crisis? One of the hallmarks of the Great Recession were the blocks littered with foreclosed properties. Some sold quickly to intrepid young families or investors. However, those with boarded-up windows and overgrown yards blighted many a neighborhood. And losing a home was a devastating blow to many owners. But foreclosures aren't expected to be such a problem if a downturn occurs. Lending laws were tightened in the wake of the housing bubble bursting. So now only the most qualified borrowers can secure a mortgage. "This time we won’t have bad mortgages, just people who are losing jobs," says Lawrence Yun, chief economist of the National Association of Realtors®. Plus, homeowners these days have a record amount of equity in their homes. That means homeowners who lose their job and are unable to make their monthly mortgage payments are much more likely to put their property on the market instead of going into foreclosure. And with home prices expected to remain high, fewer folks will find themselves underwater on their mortgage. That should make it easier to unload the residences if need be. And more people own their homes outright today than they did just over a decade ago. About 4 in 10 homeowners don't have a mortgage on their abode compared with 3 in 10 when the last recession occurred, according to Ratiu. "Foreclosures will definitely increase, but only because foreclosures are at rock bottom," says Andres Carbacho-Burgos, a senior economist at Moody’s Analytics focused on housing. He expects a recession will happen at the end of this year or early next year, and last only two or three quarters. In addition, Carbacho-Burgos expects home improvement spending to remain flat during the recession. And home flipping, one of the factors contributing to the previous housing market bust, is expected to slow, he says. That's because slower home price growth makes flipping less lucrative for investors. As Recession Fears Rise! That is all for today folks from the Heartfelt & Hot In Houston Blog, make it a great day! The inspiration for today’s edition came from this original article: https://www.realtor.com/news/trends/how-the-coming-recession-will-affect-the-housing-market/ If you are seriously considering moving right now you need to take action right now and talk to a reputable Real Estate & Mortgage Broker today, please call 281-222-0433 or visit: https://www.zillow.com/lender-profile/BillRappMortgageViking/ https://www.billrapponline.com/ https://twitter.com/BillRappRE https://caliberhomeloans.com/wrapp https://onlineapp.caliberhomeloans.com/?LoanOfficerId=21493 http://www.HoustonRealEstateBrokerage.com https://mortgageviking.billrapponline.com/ https://highcostarea.billrapponline.com/ https://commercial.billrapponline.com/ https://renovationvideo.billrapponline.com/ https://doctorvideo.billrapponline.com/ https://sba.billrapponline.com/ https://veteransvideo.billrapponline.com/ https://fha203h.billrapponline.com/ https://privatemoney.billrapponline.com/ https://rei-investor.billrapponline.com/ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCsF3Rh4Akd1OAOAgTmzgqQg Read the full article

#CommercialMortgageBroker #CommercialRealEstateBroker #CRE #ForSaleinHoustonHeights #HeartfeltandHotInHoustonBlog #HousesforSaleinHouston #HoustonRealEstateNews #MortgageBroker #MortgageViking #SBASpecialist #SunRealtyHouston

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kp-reading-blog · 7 years

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One Summer Day: A Short Story by LG O'Connor

One Summer Day is a prequel novelette to L.G. O'Connor's novel Shelter My Heart. It serves as a standalone offering to introduce new readers to the world of her Kindle Press Book. Check it out and learn more about the romantic world of Shelter My Heart!

You can also check out the feature of her book and find out more about characters of that world and pick up your copy!

Author's Note

Meet Jenny and Devon ten months before their story begins in Shelter My Heart. This short prequel gives you a glimpse into three of my favorite characters: Jenny, Devon, and his twin, Lettie. These characters have flaws, doubts, and in some cases, shattered dreams, but they also have hope and determination. This story, like all of the stories in the Caught Up in Love series, has a central theme of love, loyalty, and the meaning of family. Welcome to my Kindle Press world!

About One Summer Day

Recently dumped by her long-time boyfriend and still looking for her first job out of college, Jenny is grieving the recent loss of a family member, the fourth in six years. Her aunt thinks their family is plagued by death, Jenny doesn’t disagree. She only wishes she wasn’t partially to blame for the first one.

In remission for the last twelve months, Devon won a battle for his life to sacrifice what’s left of it to protect his family. Groomed since birth to step into his deceased father’s shoes as CEO of the family’s multi-billion-dollar conglomerate when he turns twenty-five, Devon has fourteen months left to prepare with the help of his twin sister Lettie…if he lives that long.

She's haunted by nightmares of the past.

He's bound to a future he can't escape.

All they want to do is forget for One Summer Day.

One Summer Day

Chapter 1

Jenny

“THEY’RE BACK.” I slide deeper into the plush couch across the desk from my therapist, Dr. Graham, inside her sleek, modern office. Like an addict admitting a slip, I whisper, “The nightmares…they’re back.”

Not that shocking, since I lost someone else I love two weeks ago. The perfect trigger for unhinging my coping mechanisms and opening the Vault of Black Doom to prey on my grief and drag back me into its macabre maw.

My aunt Jill thinks our family is cursed by the specter of death. Maybe. Someone close to me has died every two years since I was sixteen, Great-Aunt Vee makes the fourth. Right on time. I’m twenty-two.

The guilt I carry over the first death, my friend Brittany, and knowing I’m partially to blame, is what brought me to Dr. Graham six years ago. That, and the near catatonic state I was in after finding her body. Nightmares and other PTSD-like symptoms have plagued me on and off ever since, along with an unnatural fear of the people I love dying. After Brittany, the other deaths felt like punishment.

So here I am, on the heels of my great-aunt’s memorial service. A total mess. Again.

Unlike before, someone new haunts my dreams. A guy I’ve never met. His face remains out of view, though I’ve seen the back of his sandy-blond head and a sliver of his profile. Not enough to pick him out in a crowd.

Dr. Graham, a slender and attractive woman in her late thirties, lifts a perfectly shaped brow and scribbles a note. “The same dream as before?”

I chew my lip and shake my head. “No…I don’t know this person, and I didn’t see his eyes.”

That’s the other thing that’s different. I never see his body. I wish I could say the same about all the others.

I shiver and remember the morning I found Brittany. Cool mist hanging in the early morning air at the campsite just past sunrise. Brittany, lips parted, lying in her sleeping bag. Her sightless eyes wearing the filmy, white calling card of Death. My screams…

It’s a memory I can’t expunge from my brain no matter how hard I try. In my nightmares, the dead eyes are always there, it’s only the person who changes.

My hands tremble with remembered panic as I run them over my shorts. “I was trapped on a plane, far away. They kept us on the tarmac and wouldn’t let us take off. I couldn’t save him.” Phantom pain, raw and bottomless, assaults me and raises a lump in my throat when I think of failing him over and over, every night for a week. My lip quivers and I brush away an escaping tear. “This hurts more than the others. I don’t know why.”

There’s an odd intimacy between me and the faceless stranger. Something important is at stake. Whatever it is, his survival hinges on me. And I fail him. Every. Night. Just like Brittany.

Dr. Graham gentles her voice and relaxes the hold on her pen, tapping it on her notepad. “Given the plane, perhaps this new man is a metaphor for Russ’s departure. How do you feel now that he’s been gone a few weeks?”

Simmering anger replaces any weepiness over the blond guy and a heavy scowl settles over my lips.

Russ. His name sits silently on my tongue like a lead weight. He’d been my boyfriend since high school, and my ex-boyfriend ever since he accepted a job in California—three thousand miles from Summit, New Jersey—without me. We’d graduated in May from NYU. His tech degree scored him an offer in July at a start-up in Silicon Valley, while my communications degree… Well, let’s just say I’m still waitressing and living off tips.

Abandoned. That’s how I feel.

My jaw tics. “How am I supposed to feel?” I pick at my chipped Posey Pink polish, my new favorite color until it became a reminder of the night Russ and I broke up.

Bastard. I’m not even close to being over it.

I try to stifle a replay of our beach weekend at the Jersey shore almost a month before Great-Aunt Vee died. I lose…

****

I hold up my champagne flute. An excited flush fills my cheeks as I smile, ready to celebrate my upcoming job interview at a prestigious media company in New York City. “To our bright future?”

Instead of picking up his glass, Russ flinches and takes my hand across the candlelit table. He’s been distracted ever since we arrived at the bed and breakfast this afternoon. Even our pre-dinner lovemaking fell flat.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, reaching the limit of my patience and trying to ignore the uncomfortable buzz traveling over my skin.

The flickering candlelight dances over his dark curls and sends shadows across his face. The set of his jaw and the distant look in his swoon-worthy green eyes puts me on edge.

“I have something to tell you,” he whispers, and then kisses the back of my hand before releasing it.

I sit up straighter and a shiver travels down my bare back. “What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he lowers his gaze to the table. “I got a job offer from a company called Nanotekx.”

I lean into my chair and frown. “When was this?” And why didn’t I know about the interview?

His face flushes a light pink. “Recently…”

My instincts fire, sending my stomach into free fall. Liar.

My brain rapidly snaps the puzzle together, and the distance between us widens into a cavernous gorge. My voice turns hollow. “Where are they located?”

“Silicon Valley,” he whispers, still not looking at me.

My lips part as the last piece falls into place. “You’ve accepted,” I whisper back. An icy numbness settles in the center of my chest, knowing the answer to the next question before I ask. “And you’re going alone…”

“I’m sorry…,” he whispers, peeking up to meet my gaze. “This doesn’t mean… I just need to get established first…”

I can’t speak. I’ve lost the ability to form words. Yeah, a bright future, but not for us. For him. He plans to leave me behind.

At least he has the good sense to look regretful. “I love you, Jen. That hasn’t changed.”

Bile and the bitter taste of betrayal rises in my throat. I push back my chair and drop the napkin on the table. “Obviously, not enough,” I grit out. “I thought…”

Angry tears collect in my eyes and I brush them away. I thought we’d get an apartment, have some fun, and plan our future together.

“Please, Jen,” he whispers, his pleading eyes glitter a green that used to weaken my knees. “I’m not saying we should break-up, just see how things work out.” He reaches for my hand, but I snatch it out of reach.

“And how’s that supposed to work?” I snap. “I thought we were doing this together. What happened to that?”

He sighs, and his shoulders collapse forward. “My parents think I should go alone.”

I knew it. They always wanted him to find someone with more potential than me. Translation: someone from a wealthier family. It’s been a bone of contention in our relationship since day one.

“No,” I whisper. “Let’s not do that. You’ve made your choice, and it’s not me.”

Before I realize what I’ve done, I’m halfway across the dining room, taking whatever dignity I have left with me. I’m not going to waste any more of my life on someone who doesn’t have the strength to choose me.

“Wait! Jen…”

I don’t stop.

****

Dr. Graham gives me a pointed look and taps a finger to her lips. “Doesn’t this separation give you an opportunity to test your love?”

I grimace. “How do you figure that?”

She tents her hands and leans towards me. “Do you miss him?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been too mad.”

“Maybe that’s your answer,” she says gently.

“What answer is that? That I’m not important? That I don’t matter?” I’m unable to hide my bitterness. “I gave him six years of my life, for what? So he could run off without me? I thought…I don’t know what I thought.” Whatever it was, he’s no longer in my nightmares. He’s no longer someone I’m afraid to lose because I’ve already lost him.

I study my nails and admit the truth. “He betrayed my trust, and I’m not sure I can ever forgive him for that.”

Dr. Graham smiles and asks, “So who’s the stranger?”

Great question. I run my hands over the gooseflesh suddenly covering my arms. “No clue…Whoever he is, he’s someone I’m afraid will die.”

Chapter 2

Devon

MY PAINTBRUSH hugs the canvas like a lover’s touch as I take refuge in creating whatever the hell it is I’m creating. Nothing about the painting felt right until I added her. Why my landscape needs a woman crouching at the water’s edge, I’ll never understand. But something about the way my brush sensuously caresses the curve of her neck sends my mind heading in a much different direction.

I lean back and soak in my monthly therapy assignment—to create a place of solace—and a smile creeps onto my lips.

My concentration breaks with a rubber band snapping and the sting of it hitting the back of my head.

“What the—?” I snarl, spinning on my stool in the light-filled studio to find James grinning like an idiot next to his easel. We’re the only two who showed up today. Not that I can blame everyone else. It’s a sunny Saturday in early September. According to some, it’s the perfect time for an end of summer holiday. Wish I had the time to take one, but with the little time I do have, I’d rather paint.

James wiggles his eyebrows and points to my canvas. “Dude, you want to go clubbing tonight? Looks like you need to get laid.”

I snort and give him a cocky grin. “Tempting, but I don’t need to go clubbing to get laid, man.”

Yeah, well, maybe I do, or one of those dating apps, but I’m not about to admit it. Besides, that would involve contact with a real woman, and right now, I have all I can handle keeping my own counsel to retain my goddamn sanity outside the sanctity of this studio. It’s my safe place. A place I can escape everyone else’s expectations and do what I love. Today, that’s painting a tranquil place I once visited in England’s Lake District.

Our painter’s loft is on the top floor of a ten-story, pre-war building near Mount Sinai Hospital on New York City’s Upper East Side. The studio occupies a corner unit with high windows on two sides. Just shy of nine hundred square feet, the space has twelve-foot ceilings, a kitchenette, bathroom, hang-out area with a sofa and two chairs, six work stations, and a storage room.

I share it with James and four of our cohorts as part of a hospital-sponsored experimental arts program. All of us are cancer survivors in varying stages of remission. My chemo ended a year ago. I’m in full remission, but I’m not out of the woods. Not by a long shot.

Chemo nearly destroyed my kidneys, putting a major crimp in my life. I’m getting by for now on diet, exercise, and meds. But that won’t last forever. Whatever happens, dialysis isn’t an option for reasons that aren’t medical.

Outside of here, obligations of gargantuan proportions lurk, ready to coil around my neck and throttle me to death. With the help of my twin sister Lettie, every second of my life is absorbed in learning all there is to know about Kingsbridge Industries.

As heir to my father’s global conglomerate, in eighteen months when I turn twenty-five, I will take over as CEO from the board that’s been running the show since my father died.

If I live that long.

If I don’t, we could lose everything. And I’m not only talking about money.

I hop off my stool and walk over to take a gander at James’s work. He’s got a hot nude going on that’s painted in black watercolor brush strokes of varying thickness. It’s good but borders on pornographic. I cock a brow and stare harder. I take that back, it is pornographic. Hidden within the folds of fabric pooled between her thighs is a rather large phallus.

“And you think I need to get laid?” I snort and give his shoulder a friendly shove. James, standing a few of inches taller than my six feet one, throws out a foot to keep his lanky frame from slipping off the stool. Like me, he’s done with chemo and has been N.E.D. (no evidence of disease) for the last twelve months.

Sweeping a piece of shaggy brown hair from his face, he shrugs and smiles broadly. “Never said I didn’t. Can’t think of a better place of solace than that. Just looking for a partner in crime.” He points at my canvas. “What’s with the chick by the lake?”

I rub my chin. “No clue. She just kind of popped into my head, so I added her.”

He gives my landscape a dubious eye. “Need something better than that to submit to the ArtExpo SOLO show next spring.” He’s been obsessed with that show since we were in treatment. Having hope and aspirations is a beautiful thing, especially when you’re sick. Even better when you’ll live long enough to make them happen.

I don’t want to come off like a conceited dick, so I don’t tell him about the body of work I have in storage and the art shows I exhibited at in England when I was still too young to realize I’d never be allowed to have my own dreams despite my talent.

I point at the hidden penis and smirk. “You should talk.”

The alarm on James’s cell phone chimes. “Crap.” He taps it, grabs a pill bottle, and heads to the kitchen area.

I lean against James’s station and glance at my picture, assessing it. Not my best work. My mystery girl is the only thing good about it. “Hmm. You’re right. It’s absolute rubbish.”

He chuckles and opens the refrigerator. “Your Briticisms kill me.”

“Yeah, well, see how you speak after spending your formative years in an English boarding school.” I mindlessly pass a hand through my hair and realize too late that I have paint on my fingers. I look behind me to find a discarded palette, and then glance in the mirror affixed above James’s work table on the wall. Multi-colored streaks cut a haphazard path through my light hair, which borders on sandy whereas Lettie’s is pure cornsilk. “Bollocks,” I mutter and look for a clean rag.

Behind the stainless steel door, James chuckles again, followed by pills rustling and the pop of a soft drink top. “Maybe you should go full-on James Bond and speak with a British accent. Girls love dudes with accents.” The door slams shut and he takes a long draught from his soda as I head to the small bathroom to check the supply cabinet.

“That could definitely help us in the getting-laid department,” he yells after me.

I roll my eyes and scrub at my head in front of the tarnished mirror. My efforts just make it worse. Dammit. “May I borrow your baby oil?” I yell back. Better choice than mineral spirits.

His muffled laughter filters through the wall. “What’s the matter? Can’t wait? Need a little tension relief?”

I stick my head out the doorway, glare at him, and point at the multi-colored streaks. “Hardly. Pull your mind out of the gutter. I need to get the paint off my hands then out of my hair.”

His brows shoot up and he takes the can from his lips. “Dude, you look like a peacock.”

I scowl. “Thanks.” Before I can do any more damage, my cell phone rings. James gives it a toss, and I catch it one-handed.

I eye the display. It’s my sister. “Hey, Lettie. What’s up?”

“Hey, Dev. When will you be ready to leave?”

I roll my neck and suppress the urge to snarl at her. “Why?” We have an unspoken agreement: I’m her willing slave for everything Kingsbridge twenty-four-by-seven, except for the time I carve out to be here.

“It’s a surprise,” she says too sweetly, tripping my alarms. Lettie may look underage and deceptively innocent, but looks are deceiving, and there’s nothing sweet about my sister. My condolences to anyone who underestimates her.

“I hate surprises.” Especially the Lettie variety, since her motives aren’t always apparent at first blush. Although we’re close and fiercely loyal to each other, she has no shame when it comes to manipulating the hell out of me to get what she wants.

“You’ll like this one.”

Doubtful. I glance at my watch. It’s half past three. “I’ll be home by six.”

“Wrong answer. A car will meet you downstairs in thirty minutes. Ta!” She hangs up. I grit my teeth and swear under my breath.

Classic freaking Lettie.

I text her. “I’m covered in paint. I need a shower and clothes.”

She texts back a crazy face emoji with a winking eye and tongue sticking out. “Have some faith, little brother.”

I roll my eyes at the reminder of our three-minute separation in pecking order. I text her a middle finger emoji and stomp back to my station to clean my brushes.

She texts two pink hearts followed by blond prince and princess emojis.

James holds out a plastic bottle of baby oil. “Leticia?”

“Who else could annoy me this much?” I retort, and wave off the Johnson & Johnson. Screw it. I’ll keep the Technicolor hair. If for no other reason than to annoy Lettie, because God knows, it’s not like I have any plans to get laid.

Chapter 3

Jenny

“HOW WAS the headshrinker?” Dad asks and chuckles at his own joke. He does that a lot, laughs at his own jokes. Whether they’re funny or not, I can’t help but smile. What can you expect from a guy who works with numbers all day? Like my mom, he’s in financial services.

As far as dads go, he’s the best. Just shy of six feet, he’s kind of geeky in an endearing way. Smart, bespectacled, and a little paunchy, he has a warm smile and the same blue eyes as me.

Oh, and he collects classic cars and has decent taste in music.

I belt myself into the passenger side of his ’75 Mustang GT, and mock groan. “Like my head’s three times larger than when I walked in, and it’s about to explode.”

Dad throws the car into reverse. “Sounds like you could use a little Magic Fountain to set you right. Do you have time before work?”

Ice cream for lunch? Sold.

I sit up straighter. “You bet.” I’m not due at the diner until two o’clock for a short shift. I’m filling in for one of the other waitresses until six. “Where’s Mom?”

“Your aunt Jillian asked her to meet with Raine to consult on an investment plan for his inheritance.”

That’s right. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own crazy town that I haven’t made time to check in on Raine. He lost his father the same week Aunt Vera died. Though rumor has it, his father was abusive and a total bastard. Still… Now that we’re finally friends after a rough start and my eventual apology, I need to reach out.

I’m ashamed to admit that when we first met, I accused him of only being interested in my aunt for her money. Who could blame me? He’s eighteen years younger and she’s, well, a rich and famous romance author. Yeah, not one of my finer moments. But we’re passed that now.

Dad parks and we join the end of the line at Magic Fountain. There’s always a line no matter what time you go. It’s an institution and has been around forever. Case in point, my mom used to go there when she was a teenager.

“Hey, hey, hey!” A girl a whole head shorter with blue-streaked hair tackles me into a hug.

“Hey, Crystal. What are you doing home?” I ask, smiling at the expected surprise. She moves from me to my father, “Hey, Jenster’s dad.” He chuckles and gives her a squeeze.

Voted “Most Outrageous” in high school, Crystal has always been a little out there. We used to work on set design together for all the school plays. She’s an artist now and lives in New York City on the Lower East Side. We both went to college in the city, so we’ve stayed in touch.

“Came home for my sister’s baby shower,” she says. “How’s Russell?”

I blow out a breath, shake my head, and gag on the words. “He broke up with me.” Okay, so maybe I broke up with him, but he’s the one who left. Jerk.

Crystal squints and give me a look like someone peed in her soup. “What’s wrong with that boy?” Then she lights up. “Come to the city with me tonight. We’ll go out and you can crash at my place. My friend’s band has a gig. It’ll be fun.” She nods vigorously and shakes my arm. The multi-hued blue streaks swishing over the blonde underneath. Then she looks at my dad. “She should come, right?”

Dad cocks his head and shrugs. “A change of scenery might be good for you. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” Understatement. More like a rough summer.

Hmm. It’s been a while since Crystal and I spent time together…Why not?

“I won’t be able to leave until seven, will that work?”

Crystal high-fives me. “Perfecto!”

I shrug and wink at Dad. “You and Mom have the house to yourselves tonight…Go wild.”

He laughs and shakes his head as if there’s no chance of that ever happening.

“Here. Put this on.” Crystal thrusts a plastic hanger into my hand with a tiny black dress dangling off it.

I frown and give her a look like she’s gone mad. “In what universe do you expect me to fit into this?” I glance at the tag and roll my eyes. “A size four? It won’t even cover one of my thighs.”

Crystal runs an assessing eye over me, snatches the dress, and disappears back into the melee inside her closet. She squeals and comes out with another hanger and another black dress. “This should work. It’s from my fat days.”

My head jerks back. “You’ve never been fat.”

“Have so.” She breezes by and grabs a glittery top and skin tight shorts.

I fish out the tag. It’s a six. I discard the dress on Crystal’s queen-size bed, and plant my hands on my hips. “What’s wrong with what I brought?”

She stares heavenward. “Help me!” Then she looks at me like I’m dimwitted. “Duh. Jeans aren’t slutty enough.”

“I’m not trying to look slutty.”

Crystal blows out an exasperated breath. “After dedicating your whole dating life to Russell, you need to rustle up—” She giggles and snaps her fingers. “No pun intended—some new male attention, stat!”

I glower but she ignores me.

“It’s the only way to get that look of misery out of your eyes, Jenster. Face it, you’re hot. Men want you.” Then she puts the tip of a finger to her lips. “And at least one woman I know.” Then she shakes her head as if to clear it. “Never mind. My point is there were guys in high school that would’ve sacrificed small animals just to get a date with you. They prayed that you would dump Russell Montieth.”

Huh? “What are you talking about? And by the way, that’s disgusting. I’d never date anyone who would harm an animal.”

She rolls her eyes and tosses herself, back first, onto the bed. “That’s not the point. It’s only a metaphor. Real conversation, ‘Oh, Crystal, do you think Jenny Lynch will ever break up with that dick Montieth?’”

I stare at her, stunned, and then let out a nervous laugh. “Who said that?”

She purses her lips, lifts onto her elbows, and raises a brow. “Hint: nickname Delish.”

My jaw drops. “Michael Delicious Dawson.” Captain of the varsity soccer team. Sweet. Smart. Gorgeous. Taken.

A maniacal smile stretches over her lips and she tosses me the dress. “He’s coming tonight.”

“Wait, but what about—”

She waves me off. “Old news. They broke up ages ago. He’s ripe for the pickin’.”

Is that so?

I chew my lip and eye the dress. The top part won’t be a problem. God knows most of what I have upstairs is the clever disguise of Victoria’s Secret pushup technology. My curvy hips are another story.

There’s only one way to find out. My shoulders slump and I grab the scrap of black fabric.

We totter into the small bar on Avenue A at ten o’clock. I say “we,” but I mean “me.” I’m the only one in heels. Crystal has on long socks that reach her knees and a pair of bedazzled Converse high tops.

We pay a cover charge on the way in. Half-full, the space is dark and casual, on the industrial side with a black-painted ceiling and aluminum bar stools. Other than a long bar and twelve tables, there’s not much else except a stage on the far wall. From the looks of the place, I’m woefully overdressed. Or underdressed, depending on how I look at it. I’ve already spent the better part of the walk over from Crystal’s apartment tugging at my hem to keep the dress from flashing my underwear.

Chrystal propels me up to the stage, where four guys are hanging out. One of them is tuning a guitar.

“Hey, guys!” Crystal greets each of the band members with a hug, and then turns to introduce me. “This is my friend, Jen.”

I get a combination of waves and smiles. A guy with shaggy dark hair pairs an appreciative glance with his smile. My cheeks flush and I’m suddenly wishing my dress was a few inches longer.

Shaggy Hair makes his way over. Dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a casual button-down that’s open and rolled up sleeves to expose his tattooed forearms, he’s on the skinny side, but not half bad.

“Hi, I’m Rick.” He gaze lingers on my lips as he tips his head toward the bar. “Buy you a drink before our first set?”

Crystal steps in between us and pokes Rick in the chest. “Back off, Hound Dog. I said she’s a friend.”

He throws up his hands and glares at her. “What’s the problem? I just offered to buy her a drink.”

Crystal gives him the evil eye. “Uh-huh.” Then she pivots and gives him her back. Widening her eyes, she moves her lips without speaking, S.T.D.s, and ushers me away.

“Nice to meet you,” I say over my shoulder and follow Crystal to the bar. I heave a sigh of relief and collapse onto an empty bar stool.

“Kip! A round of tequila shots with salt,” Crystal yells at the bartender, then sits down next to me. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you about him. He’s a walking petri dish.”

I cradle my head in my hands. “This was a bad idea. I’m going to hate dating,” I whine. For the first time in a month, I feel something other than anger toward Russ…I miss him.

Crystal rubs my back. “Don’t worry, Jenster. It’s easier than you think.” The bartender pours the shots, and Crystal slides one in front of me. “Lick the back of your hand and give it to me.”

I do as she asks. She sprinkles salt on the wet spot, then hands me the shot. I take it and she holds a slice of lime.

“Lick, drink, suck.”

I lick the back of my hand, down the tequila without choking, and suck the lime dry. “Holy crap. Do me a favor?” I pant.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let me drunk dial Russ tonight.”

Crystal snorts a laugh. “Deal.”

The band is well into the second set when someone taps me on the shoulder. My head swims and my vision is fuzzy from the four tequila shots, but I feel good. Real good. Too good. Dancing-all-night-long good.

I spin and almost lose my balance, right into Mike Dawson’s arms.

He keeps me from taking a spill on the makeshift dance floor.

“Jen?” he asks, wearing a tentative smile.

“Mike. How are you?” Oh my God, did I slur his name?

“Crystal said you’d be here…It’s good to see you.” He points toward a table. “Get a drink?”

I nod. A table? Yes. A drink? No. Make that, a “Hell No.” I signal to Crystal, who’s dancing with some guy she picked out of the crowd. She salutes and turns back to her partner.

Mike laces his fingers through mine and leads me to an empty table in the corner. There’s something unsettling about the familiarity of his touch. He’s even better looking than I remember. Dark hair, light eyes, muscled, a nice smile. Delicious. An object of teenage worship, but not someone I know well.

He flags down a waitress, and raises a brow when I order a club soda. “I’ve had enough already.” I fail to tell him I should’ve started on club soda two drinks ago. A fleeting look of disappointment travels over his face.

Our drinks come and we trade news about ourselves and then mutual friends. It’s nice. Then he takes my hand and puts it to his lips. There’s a hunger in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. If it was, I missed it. “I’ve had a crush on you since high school,” he says.

Heat burns a path to my cheeks. I smile. “Really?”

He nods and his lips quirk to the side. He stares at my mouth, and I lick my lips. Not to entice him, but because my mouth has suddenly gone dry.

Instead of answering, he leans in and kisses me. His tongue feels foreign in my mouth. But it’s not until his fingers slide up my inner thigh that I go dead still.

Only a heartbeat passes and I scream. “Get away!” I wrench his hand out from under my dress. Blind panic fills my chest, and I scramble away from him. This is wrong, all wrong. He’s not Russ. He’s not…The faceless stranger.

I can’t breathe. I push my way through the dense crowd to find Crystal. She’s on the dance floor right where I left her. I’m shaking violently by the time I tug on her arm.

One look at my face and she drags me to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry…” I mutter, a moment before the tequila roils and makes a hasty exit.

I can’t do this.

I’m not ready.

True to her word, Crystal takes my phone, and that’s the last thing I remember.

Chapter 4

Devon

WHEN I EXIT the building, a suit-clad driver with clasped hands, stands next to the black Lincoln Town Car idling at the curb.

I soak up the sun for the few yards of sidewalk it takes me to reach the limo and give the driver a friendly nod as he reaches for the back door.

Inside, I glimpse Lettie wearing a pair of Jackie O. sunglasses, her fine, blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun at her nape. Crap. She’s in full makeup. Bad sign. This is more than a casual jaunt.

I toss my backpack on the floor and climb in. The air conditioning chills my skin as I slide onto the cool leather and the door closes us into semi-darkness.

Lifting a brow, Lettie slides down her glasses to reveal pale blue eyes. “What’s up with your hair?”

Mirroring her raised brow, I counter, “What’s up with sunglasses in the dark?”

Her red-painted lips curve into a mischievous smile that on anyone else would look playful. On Lettie it radiates vigilant intent. She pushes the glasses up to perch atop her head. “Why so pissy, little brother?”

“Where are we going?” I scowl, still annoyed that she interrupted my afternoon and probably my night.

“The Hamptons. Howie wants to meet you. He invited us for the night and sent his jet to Teterboro to pick us up.”

I cut Lettie with a glare. “What? How about a little more notice next time?” I snap, glancing at my grungy clothes and the paint still embedded in my skin. At least I had the foresight to toss the baby oil into my bag on the way out. “I can’t show up like this.”

Appearances have taken on a new importance since I went into remission and started the grooming process for CEO. Lettie’s new boyfriend—a term I use loosely—Howard Cato III, happens to be the chief operating officer of a large shipping conglomerate, a privately held family business like ours.

Like it or not, tonight we represent Kingsbridge. In Lettie’s case, inside the bedroom and out. Though I’ve no doubt Howard is the disposable party in this equation once she gets whatever it is she wants. No-strings sex has never been a problem for Lettie. Wish I could say the same.

Lettie releases what I recognize is a patient—and slightly patronizing—breath. “Relax. You can shower on the plane.”

Gritting my teeth, I make another feeble attempt at slipping her hold. “I can’t just leave. I need my—”

“Meds,” she cuts in and waves her hand as if she’s batting away a horde of insects. “I know. I packed you a bag. Live a little, Dev. Your life could use some excitement.”

Not her kind. I’m happy having all my limbs intact and a clean arrest record.

“What—”

She holds up a hand and cuts me off a second time. “About Mom? She said to have a good time.”

My mouth snaps shut. Great. She’s enlisted our mother into her “force Devon to have fun” campaign. Though I’ve no doubt this trip to the Hamptons is a weakly disguised Trojan horse for a business meeting.

She pokes my side with a perfectly manicured red nail. “Relax. Gladys is with Mom.”

I fend her off with an elbow and mutter, “Not the point.”

Our mother, though vibrant and alive, is bedridden and requires around-the-clock care. Until it went bankrupt, she had been living in an all-expenses-paid, luxury Kingsbridge facility where my father had ensconced her when he was alive. Now she lives with us, and I make a point to visit the west wing every night. Besides Lettie, she’s all I have. She’s the only reason I’ve agreed to pledge whatever’s left of my potentially very short life to taking on a birthright I never wanted.

Exasperated, I slump back into the seat, brush a hand across my face, and admit defeat. “Fine. So why are we really going, and what’s your plan?”

***

By the time we touch down at Southampton Airport, all traces of paint are gone from my hair and skin, and I’m dressed in something suitably professional yet casual: pressed khakis, a Vineyard Vines button-down, and Italian leather loafers. Lettie selected the Breitling Superocean from my watch case. All I’m missing is a tan, which Lettie doesn’t hesitate to comment on.

“You really should get a little sun this weekend,” she says in a light, breezy tone, before descending the stairs onto the sun-baked tarmac.

I bite back a snide remark about her spray tan, and bring up the rear like a good pack mule, carrying an overnight bag over each shoulder. Fake or not, the bronzing on her legs works for her, along with the clingy dress and high heels.

A ruggedly handsome guy, almost a decade older than us and the size of a linebacker, waits with a driver next to a Rolls-Royce. He’s sheer muscle and power with dark hair that touches his collar, piercing blue eyes, and a strong jaw dusted in shadow on a head with no neck. The kind of guy who needs to shave twice a day and can pound you into dog meat without breaking a sweat.

I’d be afraid of him if he wasn’t wearing pink shorts with tiny whales and a bright green polo shirt. His mouth tips up in a smile revealing a slash of white teeth when he homes in on Lettie.

“Howie!” My sister almost squeals as she throws out her arms and accelerates into a high-heeled sprint.

“Hey, Baby,” he says in a low, affectionate growl, opening his arms. A second later, her delicate frame is swallowed inside his embrace and his mouth is on hers.

I shove down a pang of jealousy half wishing I had someone like the girl by the lake for the same kind of greeting. But I’m not that stupid. There’s no happy ending to my fairy tale.

Resisting the urge to clear my throat and remind them I’m here, I wait patiently until they come up for air.

Lettie spins in his arms and extends her hand, palm up, in my direction. “Howard, my brother Devon. Devon, Howard.”

Keeping one arm locked securely around Lettie’s slim waist, Howard reaches out a meaty hand. “It’s a pleasure. Lettie says amazing things about you,” he says in a gravel-filled voice that reminds me of whiskey and cigars.

I resist a snort as Lettie stares up at him and glows. He blazes just as bright, his smile reaching his eyes. Poor bastard. Only I can see through Lettie’s doe-eyed gaze. He’s a means to an end, I’m just not sure which one. Lettie sidestepped my question on the plane, but I’m sure I’ll have an idea by the end of the night if not sooner.

I shift the weight of my bag, extend a hand, and give a genteel smile the way I was schooled. “The pleasure’s mine.” Despite myself, I like him already. His handshake is firm and confident but not crushing. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Let me take those,” he nods at our luggage, then takes the bags and hands them to the driver. “I’m glad you could make it for the beach party tonight. Lettie says you’re not much of a partier, so I’ve had a guest room prepared in case you want to turn in early.”

Lettie winks to confirm my secret’s safe—that fatigue puts me in bed most nights by ten. I quirk a brow at the singular room reference, and assume that means Lettie won’t need one. We trade a glance. Her answering smirk tells me she doesn’t expect me to defend her honor.

Fine. I hadn’t planned on it. She’s a big girl and can make her own decisions. It’s when she makes mine that I have a problem.

Howard gives me a crooked smile, and herds us toward the waiting car. “You guys must be hungry. We’ll grab a bite before the party.”

Ah. There it is. The business meeting.

***

“So what’s your position on Kingsbridge’s Russian shipping concerns?” Howard asks as he leans back in his chair with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc from one of the nearby North Fork wineries. He and Lettie share the bottle while I drink sparkling water with lime.

We’re having a quiet dinner on a private upper deck of Howard’s massive cedar-shingled beach house, away from the caterers buzzing around preparing for tonight’s party.

Prime Hamptons real estate, the house sits tucked at the end of a narrow lane with a sweeping view of the ocean over the dunes. It’s serene and beautiful. I forgot how much I love being near water.

“Hmm.” I breathe in the refreshing salt air, pensively stare over Howard’s shoulder, and pretend to ponder his question. Instead, I admire the view. My gaze sweeps over the water’s edge and the colors painting the sky as the sun meets the horizon. Caterers wind down the stairs below us to the private beach where stacks of wood are tented and set up in an open pit ready for tonight’s bonfire.

After a long pause, I stick to the script that Lettie and I discussed before dinner, and shrug. “They’re turning a healthy profit. If memory serves, they grew by seven percent last year. Why? You want to buy them?”

Lettie stays uncharacteristically quiet. She doesn’t want Howard to know she’s running the show as much as I am.

Howard chuckles and sips his wine before his gaze sharpens. “And what if I do?”

Feigning nonchalance, I raise the bubbled water to my lips and drink. “Why do you want them?”

He pinches the stem of his wine glass and swirls the liquid inside. “Cato Shipping needs to expand its Eastern European routes to cover our growth in the oil and gas sector. The number of barrels is more than our fleet can handle long-term. We may not want to buy, just rent some capacity. Kingsbridge has the second largest fleet, and Maersk already turned us down.”

I purse my lips and nod, as if considering, then say, “Give me a call in eighteen months.” After I assume the mantle of CEO.

Howie holds up his glass for a toast and tips his chin. “I’ll send you some projections and a proposal. I won’t need it until then anyway.”

My glass meets his. “I’ll take a look.” I hate getting his hopes up, but there isn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell I’ll give him the Russian trade routes, or use his company for shipping of any kind. Given what Lettie dug up on Howard’s father, chances are high he’s looking for an unwitting partner to smuggle illegal goods into the United States. The only thing she’s not sure of is Howard’s involvement. No matter. Lettie’s using him as an insurance policy for something else entirely. That’s one of the things I love most about my sister: she’s always three steps ahead.

I play my part well. His eyes carry a triumphant gleam. “Good man.”

***

As midnight approaches, the party is still raging in the house and on the beach. There must be over two hundred people blanketing the property. The steady beat of dance music and chatter ride the mild breeze, comingling in the night air. I lost Lettie hours ago somewhere inside.

Breaking my own dietary rule, I grab a beer at the nearest bar, and then skirt the edge of the crowd on the lower deck. I’m not exhausted, but I’m talked out and no longer in a partying mood. Holing up in the guest room seems lame, so I make my way to toward the wood plank stairs leading down to the beach.

I’m almost there when a female voice behind me slows my pace. “Devon? Devon Soames… is that you?”

Bloody hell. A vaguely familiar English accent. Oxford, more specifically. I cringe and rapidly contemplate whether to keep walking and let whomever it is think she’s staring at someone else’s retreating back.

The decision is made for me when delicate but firm fingers grasp my arm. “Devon?”

Inhaling deeply, I slip on a pleasant smile and turn.

My pulse quickens and not in a good way. Painful memories batter my chest in unceasing waves as I stare into Isla’s face. The sister of the only woman I ever loved.

An attractive, statuesque brunette with the same slanted green eyes as Tessa, Isla smiles broadly. “It is you!”

Before I can react, she’s got me wrapped in a hug. “It’s so lovely to see you,” she says, holding me uncomfortably close. Her thin frame warms me and I fight back revulsion when my body unconsciously tingles with awareness.

I wiggle out of her grasp and move aside. “Issie, what are you doing here?” I ask in a heated whisper.

“I’m on holiday in New York…I’m here with a friend. How are you?” Her gaze turns to the one thing I can’t tolerate: pity.

My mask of cool confidence slips back into place. “I’m well, and have been for some time.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Her smile wavers and she looks away but makes no move to leave.

Rather than ask the question I’m sure she expects, I give her arm a gentle squeeze. “Good to see you. Enjoy the party.”

I clutch my beer harder and pivot, eyeing the stairs like a convict about to make a prison break.

“Devon, wait!”

Cursing under my breath, I stiffen and press my eyes shut.

“I’m sorry…for what she did. I’m sorry she chose Phillip.”

My teeth gnash at the mention of my bastard half-brother. I can’t turn around and look at Isla for fear of exorcising my pent up rage over her sister’s betrayal. I hate myself for still caring.

“Goodbye, Isla,” I say without turning or betraying a hint of the emotion roiling around inside me. I reach the stairs and descend at a steady clip.

The heat of the bonfire’s flames hits me when I reach the bottom. Pulling off my shoes, I tuck them underneath the stairs. The sand cools my feet as I move unnoticed past the edge of the crowd and head for the stretch of empty beach to the north.

Beer in hand, I take a long draught of the hoppy, amber liquid. The alcohol hits my bloodstream by the time I finish the bottle. After no alcohol for nearly three years, I’m a cheap date.

I drop down in front of a dune and lie back on the sand, not caring that I’ll be covered in it when I get up.

“Dev…” Lettie’s voice and near-silent footsteps travel over the sound of gently crashing waves. “Where are you?”

“Over here,” I say, staring up at the stars. So bright, so welcoming. “How’d you find me?” Though I’m not sure I care…about anything right now.

Lettie drops down next to me. “Hey,” she says gently, “I’ve been looking for you…to warn you about Isla. I was too late. I followed you from the house.”

I give a mirthless laugh. “Out of all the people on the planet I’d like to avoid…”

Lettie touches my arm and gives it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, Dev,” she says with an unmistakable ache in her voice.

“I hate this…,” I whisper, not talking about my past, but about my future. “All of it.” I don’t want it. Everyday puts me closer to being a prisoner in my own life, or dead. Not much of a choice.

“I know.” Her voice is small and there’s a quiver I only ever hear when we’re alone. She lays down next to me and rests her head on my chest. “I love you, Dev. I’d make it all go away if I could.”

A lump rises in my throat as I stare at the stars, and wrap her in an embrace. We’ve clung to each other for comfort since we were toddlers. I can’t imagine doing any of this without Lettie by my side. She feels fragile in my arms, but it’s her strength that’s gotten me through. “I know.”

She sniffles and brushes at her eyes. Then she bolts upright and lets out a devilish chuckle. “You know what might make you feel better?”

Clearing my throat, I slip back into my mental armor and lean up on my elbows. “I’m afraid to ask.”

She snickers and claps her hands with giddy abandon. “Seduce Isla! Poetic justice and all that rubbish.”

My lip curves up at her use of the same British slang. Lettie spent her formative years at an English boarding school, too. Just not mine.

I snort. “No, thanks. That’s not who I am and you know it.”

“Oh, come on, Dev. When was the last time you got laid?”

Seriously? That’s the second time in one day.

“None of your business!” I sit up, incensed she would ask, and start to wonder if I’m giving off some sort of desperate scent.

She laughs. “Now that’s the Dev I know and love. Having you pissed at me is much better than watching you mope.” She stands, grabs my hand, and pulls me to my feet. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

“Fine.” I give the stars one last look, and think about the girl I painted by the lake. I’m not sure who she is, or where she lives in my imagination, but there’s one thing I do know…she’s nothing like Tessa.

The Next Day

Jenny

A DULL PAIN thuds behind my eyes in a mad staccato beat, and every step jostles my brain inside my skull. Payment for all those tequila shots. Sunglasses barely help as I step out of the train station into the heat. Taking out my phone, I text Dad to pick me up in ten minutes then amble across the street to the Starbucks on the corner.

Nothing less than a triple espresso will do this morning. Wait, I mean this afternoon. I glance at my phone. Yup. Almost two o’clock.

Most of the umbrella-covered tables outside are taken. I shift my backpack higher on my shoulder and sidestep a Rolls-Royce limo with tinted windows that’s double parked halfway in the crosswalk. A white-gloved driver stands next to the back door.

Okay, that’s over the top even for Summit. I’m shaking my head as I walk into the cool interior. The line extends almost out the door. I scan the fifteen or so people in front of me. No one in particular stands out. I’m still gawking when someone accidentally brushes passed me.

“Sorry,” a woman’s voice whispers.

Startled, I twist to see a blond, casually dressed couple pass behind me. I catch a glimpse of her pulled-back hair and sunglasses, but she’s blocking him from view. I don’t catch his face. A moment later, they’re out the door.

Through the window, I see the limo driver pull open the back door. They duck inside and my skin pebbles with a sudden chill. My gaze is glued to the limo as it pulls away from the curb.

I blink and remember. My dream. It was different last night.

The faceless stranger; I saw his eyes this time.

They were blue, and he was very much alive.

Shelter My Heart

Check out Shelter My Heart, the Kindle Scout novel by L.G. O'Connor where this novelette is set!

Summer Solstice

One Summer Day short story is also featured in the Kindle Press Anthology Summer Solstice. You can get it from Instafreebie for free!

#Romance

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fujibutts · 7 years

Text

help me find a title for this

TIMELINE

Year 0: Bum is born

Year 1: Sangwoo is born

Year 14: Bum’s parents die, sent to live with uncle

Year 18: Bum graduates, begins 2 years of compulsory service

Year 19: Sangwoo graduates, mom dies, begins 2 years of compulsory service

Year 20: Bum’s 2 years are over, kept for extra year as fucktoy

Year 21: Sangwoo’s 2 years are over, discovers Bum being raped

Year 22: Both go to university

Year 23: Bum pining, Sangwoo courting him

Year 24: Sangwoo discovers Bum’s abusive uncle, moving in together

Year 25: Graduation -> Sangwoo works at police station, Bum at a bookstore

Year 28: 5 year anniversary (Present Day)

-Bum working at the school library to pay tuition/rent- a helpful cutie!!!

Sometimes Bum wondered whether leaving his uncle’s house was actually a good idea.

On one hand, it was hell. From the moment he stepped through the door as a newly orphaned fourteen year old, that man had made it his life’s goal to break Yoon Bum. To completely shatter him and then use those shards to rip him up into even littler pieces with no hope of ever being put together again.

But on the other hand, he had a roof over his head (though he was often forced to stay home other than school, so it was more like a prison), food in his belly (well, only sometimes when uncle was feeling generous or was too drunk to notice… it was still considered food when dug out of the trash, right?), but most of all, Bum had his medication.

Even before his parents’ deaths Bum had been seeing a child psychiatrist regularly about his severe anxiety. During the last session before the accident, they were working on a plan to help him with a speech he had to perform in front of the class.

After the accident, after moving in with uncle and moving schools, Bum didn’t see that psychiatrist anymore. He began seeing someone else at the insistence of the doctor who monitored him during recovery. Bum didn’t like his new psychiatrist. He had been feeling this way for as long as he could remember and had made no substantial progress in years of therapy. Now that mom and dad were dead, he really didn’t see the point to any of it. Why bother? Nothing has changed and nothing ever will…

Until she brought up the topic of medication.

Bum’s parents and his old psychiatrist didn’t like the idea of him taking medication, but they weren’t here anymore. Bum could see that his uncle was growing weary of the way he acted; he didn’t want to upset his already irritable guardian so he jumped on the opportunity. Anything to help.

And help it did.

Slowly but steadily, Bum could feel something shift within him. He could think more clearly, without irrational thoughts to make him feel nauseous with anxiety. He found the desire to get up from his bed every morning- instead of the fear of uncle being upset with him scaring him out from under the covers.

But uncle, generous uncle with shelter and food wasn’t satisfied anymore. Bum was too obedient now, not fun to toy with.

He threatened to take away the pills, if Bum didn’t follow his orders.

Bum was afraid of what uncle wanted, but he was more afraid of what would happen if he sank back into the hole he had been in for the first fourteen years of his life. His classmates had only recently started including him in conversations; he even had a few people he could call his friends!

At fifteen, Bum had been the closest he’s been to happy for as long as he can remember. He would do whatever he needed to keep that happiness.

…

He was wrong, of course.

It got worse at home and talking to overly enthusiastic kids at schools wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that he wanted to die.

But he lived, and lived through hell again for three years…

Until someone stepped in.

It was someone he recognized that began service a year after he did. He didn’t get a name, but he remembered that face. Those determined eyes and those saving words.

He remembered and remembered as he returned from service and entered university years too late.

Uncle sent him an invitation to come home, but with shaking, sweaty hands, Bum threw that letter into the garbage.

It was hard. He started work at dawn, opening the café on campus for sleep deprived students like himself. Bum never touched the coffee though, because he learnt the hard way that caffeine triggered his anxiety and he no longer had medication to help.

He worked until his classes began in the morning, and went on until early afternoon. As pathetic as it felt, Bum generally went home to his dilapidated apartment in the shady part of town and passed out until his graveyard shift at the library began. From there he generally went straight to open the café, and on went the cycle.

Often Bum wondered what he was doing all of this for. He didn’t have any ambitions or goals, all he wanted to do was live an average life, as an average person. So why was he working so hard?

No matter how many times he asked himself over his first few months at school, he never got a straight answer.

Eventually, a break came- in many senses of the word. First, the semester ended and Bum was free to work and save money without worrying about his grades. And second, he had been awarded a scholarship for the coming year, for outstanding academic achievement, of all things.

For the first time in months Bum could breathe a little easier.

With the money he saved up from working, and the aid received from the school, Bum left the little shell he had built around himself and lifted his eyes to the world around him.

He had never realized how vibrant the campus was; sure occasionally he was irritated at the noise other students were causing while he was trying to study, but he would never have described it as vibrant until now.

Students were smiling and laughing, and he felt a stab of pain at the friendships he had lost all those years ago, and the potential friendships he was never able to explore.

Bum sighed and realized that while he had been staring blankly into space, it had seemed like he was staring right at somebody’s face.

And he recognized that face.

BEGIN SANGWOO’S POV

-Sangwoo begins to notice him around, becomes smitten but doesn’t know how to approach him

-cue Sangwoo always asking for help even though he can find books himself

“Hello?” he calls out. The boy jumps, more startled than Sangwoo would have expected. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open, but at least he doesn’t drop any of the books he’s holding. He’s cute, in the same way that a small startled kitten would be, and Sangwoo wants nothing more than to protect this boy.

But he has to get to know him first. It would be kind of weird, to just take him underwing… that would be kidnapping.

He just wants to get to know this cute librarian. Maybe get some coffee at the campus café, or a quick study session, or-

“Um, can I… help you?”

Sangwoo realizes he must have been staring while his thoughts wandered. His also realizes that this must have looked unbearably creepy to this boy. He didn’t want to be creepy, he just wanted to take him out! Maybe wrap him up in a warm blanket and feed him soup and-

“Sorry, my mind tends to wander. Can you help me find this book?” he hands the cute librarian a slip of paper with the call number for a book he knows is on the other side of the library, but he’s been seeing this boy around the library a lot and he finally found the perfect excuse to talk to him.

Cute Librarian scans the paper and motions for Sangwoo to follow, leading the way with his little push-cart of books.

“Oh, did I disturb your work?” Sangwoo asks, suddenly aware of the cart half-full of books that looks much too heavy for this boy to be pushing by himself.

“No, no it’s fine!” he turns and faces Sangwoo. The two of them stop, just looking at each other. The silence of the library is almost suffocating, and he can see red slowly blooming on the boy’s cheeks. “I-I mean,” the boy turns back to their task, grunting a bit as he got the cart rolling again, “it’s no problem, I like… helping people find things in here.”

Sangwoo grinned inwardly as he spied the smallest of smiles grace Cute Librarian’s face. “Well, I like it when people help me find things in the library!”

They continue the rest of the trek across the library in silence, weaving their way through hallways and shelves, and the occasional student cramming for a test in the early hours before dawn. Their time together has to end eventually though, when they stop in front of a bookshelf in the section of the library with case files. The section that Sangwoo knew quite well in his months as a criminology major.

Cute Librarian reaches up for the book, stretching enough for his shirt to ride up and reveal a sliver of porcelain white skin and- fuck- Sangwoo freezes, entranced by the sight as Cute Librarian grunts and lifts himself up on his tip-toes to try to make a grab for the book.

“Almost… almost… ah!”

Sangwoo blinks up at the boy, suddenly in front of him holding out the book he needs.

“I hope this is the right one,” he offers with a shy smile. He’s looking up at Sangwoo through the thick eyelashes framing his big brown doe eyes. His lips look slightly chapped and bitten, matching the pink of his cheeks which are still slightly flushed from trying so hard to get the book that Sangwoo needed.

“Thank… you…” takes the book from the boy, reaching far enough that their fingers brush in passing. “I…” he really doesn’t want this to end. This beautiful, beautiful boy, and those- no, he can’t leave without at least getting a name.

“Oh Sangwoo- um, that’s- that’s my name.” He smiles what he hopes is a charming smile despite his steadily moistening palms. The boy in front of him looks surprised at his sudden introduction, and doesn’t seem like he’s going to be responding any time soon. “You can call me Sangwoo,” he adds.

The boy blinks at him and begins fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater, “I’m Yoon Bum.”

Sangwoo can’t help but grin. Success! He lets his usual charming nature take over. Now that he’s got a name, it’s time to start wooing. ”Nice to meet you Bum, if I can call you that?” he asks with a flirtatious smile.

Bum’s face grows redder as he nods vigorously, “That-that’s okay! It’s nice to meet you too, Sangwoo.”

This boy was just too adorable for Sangwoo to let him escape. It’s time to go in for the kill.

“Thank you so much for helping me find this book, it would’ve taken forever to find it by myself!” Sangwoo laughs, or barks, more accurately. He ruffles the fuzz of his undercut nervously, he meant for that to come out as charming and flirtatious, not awkward and stupid.

Thankfully, Bum doesn’t seem to take it as a sign of his clear incompetence and the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly in that little smile of his. “It was really no problem, I’m glad to help.” Bum quickly breaks eye contact and gnaws on his bottom lip as if he wants to say something more.

With newfound confidence, Sangwoo is ready to continue with his plan.

“If-“

“I was-“

“Oh you go first!”

“No, you go first!”

“Please go, it wasn’t anything important.”

A protest is on the tip of Sangwoo’s tongue, ready to proclaim that nothing short of poetry could fall from his perfect lips, but he stops himself in time. No, that would be coming on too strong. Just a little bit. He has to work his way up to that.

“Um, I was just going to, well…” Dammit Sangwoo why are you like this? “I wanted to know if you wanted to go out sometime?” okay, that’s a good start. Come on Sangwoo, you can do it! “Maybe we can get something to eat at the café across campus?” Well, at least it was a strong start even if he didn’t finish strong. Sangwo sighs in resignation and averts his eyes in shame. There’s no way that Bum found that attractive.

But when he doesn’t hear any outright rejection, he chances a glance at the boy.

Bum’s eyes as wide as saucers, mouth opening and closing in disbelief. His cheeks are an alarming shade of red as he meets the taller boy’s eyes.

“Is… is this really happening right now?” he chokes out.

“Huh?”

“Are you… asking me out?” It was as if Bum didn’t even believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Sangwoo chuckles nervously, “As thanks- if that’s okay. I wanted to repay you, for helping me find this book!” he cut himself off as Bum’s expression grew more and more dejected. Did he say something wrong?

“No, you don’t have to repay me. You probably don’t remember, but… Last year you helped me,” Bum murmurs. “I owe you my life, so please don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

“Saved…” Sangwoo thinks back on the past year. Last year he was still in the military. Those two years were pretty unremarkable, full of paperwork and cleaning that was dumped on him by lazy superiors. There weren’t any notable events, except for that one incident near the end of his service… “Wait, that man… was you?”

okay so basically this is chapter 2?? chapter 1 is a cute established relationship thing where it’s their 5th anniversary and sangwoo is sending bum flowers throughout the day and it’s super cute and they have dinner and sangwoo starts reminiscing like the old man he is

chapter 3 is the rest of this conversation (cue light angst) a date and the beautiful start to their beautiful relationship.

chapter 4 is back to their anniversary dinner and SANGWOO PROPOSING

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