Connected (Connections, #1)(103)

Her tears are streaming down her face, and they are not letting up. I hug her as tight as I can. Whispering into her ear, I say, “Hey baby, it’s okay. This is a happy time. Not a time for all these tears.”

Kissing her neck, I graze my teeth over her skin, and she giggles. I pull back and wipe her tears with my fingers, and I can’t help but smile at her when I see goosebumps on her arms. I want to cry with her, I’m so happy, but I don’t. Instead, I just look at her. At the same girl who, when I first saw her across the room our eyes met and our souls were forever connected.





VICTIM


Yes it’s real

There are victims of crime

Sometimes it can’t be prevented

They need help to shelter the pain

Sometimes we are just victims of a crime.





River’s POV

September 2012 - 9 months later…





Picking the location for our weekend getaway was simple. I know Dahlia loves beautiful views and the outdoors, so I picked a place where we can enjoy both. The reason for our weekend getaway wasn’t so simple. The band finished the album and the label is getting ready for it to drop, the promotional bonanza has begun, and the tour starts in six weeks. With all the chaos about to begin, I wanted to spend some time alone, just the two of us, so I didn’t tell anyone where we were going and wanted to surprise her by bringing her here.

Once the album promotion begins, I know our life together will change for a while. I’ve been through it before. It will be months of craziness. We’ll be living on a bus, in a different city every night, crammed together without any privacy. I’m doing this for Garrett, Nix, and Xander because if it were only for myself, I’d gladly stay in LA playing small venues, making music, and living life with her.

Dahlia’s extremely excited for me; it’s me that’s not so excited. I like the life we have going in LA. She’s agreed to start the tour off with me but has to return to LA to complete some jobs that have to be shot before the end of the year. I hate that she’ll be alone. I feel like she’s already spent so much time alone in her life. Now that she has me, I don’t ever want that for her again.

Bell suggested Monterey Bay for our escape, but I nixed that idea immediately. Dahlia grew up on the beach; she loves it, and actually, so do I. But the reason that it’s not one of my favorite places to take her, is him. We’ve gone to the beach a few times, mostly when we go to Grace’s house. But, when we’re there, I feel like she’s not truly with me. She stares out into the water almost like she’s looking for him. I’ve thought about discussing it with her, but as soon as we leave the beach, she’s always back to herself, and it seems unnecessary to bring it up.

Right now, as we ride the ski lift and I look over at her goldish-green eyes, I can see what she sees. All the beauty that surrounds me is her. It’s because of her I see the world so differently, and I have no doubt that she loves me. There are hundreds of miles of beauty below us to be discovered. The wet snowflakes fall all around the mountaintops as the crisp, cool wind whistles in the air, carrying them across the summit. The tall evergreen trees are reflected in the lake below us, their branches bending back and forth. We can even see the trails we ran earlier this morning leading to the breathtaking view of the stream. Now, as we sit under the azure California sky, waiting to ski down Pinball Mountain, I can see all of that. Before I met her, I would have only seen the snow-topped mountain I’m about to ski down.

Looking over at her, I ask, “You sure about this?”

She insisted we ski this mountain just because of its name. “Dahlia, it’s a black diamond. Those are for the expert skiers,” I laughed at her when she told me she wanted to try it.

Ignoring that important bit of information, she shrugged her shoulders and pulled me toward the lift. Raising her skis one at a time, trying to walk, she asked, “You scared?”

Chuckling, I pointed to her skis. “I’m not the one trying to walk with my skis on.”

She stuck her tongue out at me as I skied past her and waited with my hand outstretched to pull her as she reached the lift station.

Thinking back, it was pretty dumb of me to have agreed, but who am I to say no to her? Now we’re about halfway to the top of the mountain, she’s fumbling with the goggles on top of her head, and I think she’s second-guessing herself as well.

I pull her hat down to keep it from falling off. “You nervous?”

She looks at me, her cheeks rosy from windburn, but doesn’t answer.

“Did you hear me?” I ask, tapping my pole against her ski before leaning over and kissing her. She still doesn’t answer so I suck on the corner of her bottom lip before gliding my nose to her covered ear. “Can you hear me now?”

I see her breath pick up, and even though the skin on her neck is not visible, I know she’s covered in goosebumps. She blinks her eyes a few times. “Sorry. Just thinking. We’re pretty high up aren’t we?” she says, and I know she’s nervous.

“Hey,” I say, grabbing both poles in one hand so I can pull her chin to look at me. “I’ll stay with you, and we’ll zigzag down the mountain or walk if we have to. It’ll be fun and you’ll be able to say you skied Pinball Mountain.”

She nods her head, and I decide it’s time to take her mind off her poor decision to graduate from the much easier blue diamonds and go directly to the black.