Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)(84)

I stared at him, unsure of what to say, what to do. He had never acted like this, he seemed angry, that was obvious. And something else. Defeated.

“Asher,” I began.

“When are you going to get this? You’re not f*cking alone!” he roared at the end, and I flinched. Not at the anger, but the pain in his voice.

He stepped forward. “You’re not alone, flower,” he said softly. “I don’t know how else to tell you, to show you. I can’t control that,” he gestured to the door, “as much as I would like to stand in front of you and bear the brunt of everything that keeps coming at you, I can’t. I can’t stop it. I can’t control it. But I can make sure you don’t face it alone. You’ll never be alone with this shit again, I want you, Lily. Not for now, not for a while, forever,” he declared fiercely, kneeling beside the bed. He grasped my hands. “You’re strong in ways I’m not. And I’m strong in ways you aren’t. That’s why we work. I know shit is hard for you. That being around crowds, around people you don’t know scares the shit out of you. I know you’re suffering from a loss that gutted you. That you struggle every day with a condition that can make it feel impossible to breathe. That you get stuck inside your head and don’t know how to get out…” he paused and brushed a tear from my cheek. “All that should bring a person to their knees. Instead, my flower stands tall. Beauty blossoms where on most people it would wither. You’re willing to give your all for the one person you’ve got left.” His hand tightened on mine. “While I admire the shit outta that, babe. I’m not gonna let you do that. I need this,” he trailed his hand down to my chest, to my heart, “I need you if I’m going keep breathing easy. So let me help you. Let’s face this together,” he stated, though there was a question in there too.

Tears were pouring down my cheeks unbidden at this point. I couldn’t hold them in anymore. I knew he was perceptive, that our connection was out of the ordinary, that he saw more than other people. I didn’t realize he saw everything. He didn’t just see everything, he understood it. Even Mom, who knew what I struggled with, couldn’t truly understand was I was—the was I was. She accepted it, unconditionally. I never thought I’d meet someone that understood it.

“Lily?” Asher said softly.

“I love you,” I blurted through my tears. “I want forever, too. Beyond forever,” I continued in a whisper.

Asher’s face changed completely, softened completely. His chocolate eyes blazed into mine. “Marry me,” he said in a voice husky with emotion.

I didn’t hesitate. Not like I did with everything else. Overthink it, trying to find the sense. I didn’t need to look for the sense.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Asher’s hand fastened at the back of my neck, and he pulled me in for the most beautiful kiss I had ever experienced.

“Marry me tomorrow,” he murmured against my mouth.

Again, I didn’t hesitate, didn’t state the reasons why not, the stuff swirling out there. Instead, I smiled into his mouth, letting the feeling of elation lift me up.

“You can’t get married in one day, there’s forms, hoops to jump through,” I protested weakly.

Asher grasped my head. “I got it, babe,” he promised.

And for once, I didn’t question him.

“Let’s do it,” I whispered.

Asher grinned against my mouth, it was safe to say he beamed. Then he made love to me, slowly, beautifully. In a way that the outside world failed to exist, and it was just him and me.





“You’re beautiful, Lils,” Bex whispered, wiping a tear from her made up face.

I regarded myself in the mirror. My white blonde hair tumbled down my back in soft curls, two small plaits were pulled back on either side of my face. My makeup was natural, understated. Me.

It was the dress, the dress that caused my fingers to tingle and my eyes to prickle. What had Bex’s heavy eye makeup running down her face. My mom bought it for me.

Two months before she died, she gave it to me.



“I’ve got a present for you, Lily,” Mom exclaimed softly, leaning on the doorframe to the living room.

I pushed off the sofa, closing the lid to my laptop abruptly. Mom didn’t need to see the sites I was surfing. Scouring actually. Searching for some last minute cure.

“Mom, you shouldn’t be out of bed,” I scolded gently, my stomach turning at the way she held that frame for support, the way her colored pants hung off her emaciated frame. “And you most definitely shouldn’t be giving me presents,” I added.

Her bright eyes lit up, and she gave me a mischievous grin. “I’m the mother here, I say when I should and shouldn’t be out of bed,” she teased. “And, as the mother, it is my prerogative to give my daughter gifts. Now come on,” she waved her hand at me.

Despite the sorrow swimming in the depths of my soul, I smiled and walked toward her. I was getting good at making it look genuine. She linked her arm in mine, and I didn’t miss how heavily she leaned into me.

“Sit,” she commanded when we made it to her brightly decorated bedroom.

I did as she commanded and planted myself on the quilt that she and I had made when we first moved here. My eyes flickered around the room at the photos, at the scarves draped over lamps, antique perfume bottles arrayed on her dresser and clothes messily strewn across the floor. It looked normal. Like nothing had changed. My eyes touched the multiple pill bottles scattering her nightstand. Harbingers of change. Of doom.