Out of Love(93)
Several times a day.
Do you really think I’ll see my dad again in this lifetime?
Yes.
What went through your mind when you saw me after five years apart?
It hurt like hell. Worst fucking pain of my life. I thought death would have been better.
When should we give Wylder a sibling?
When you’re done reading this.
Do you have a stick of gum?
Of course.
XO Your Livy always Your world—always.
My mom used to say goals are the future we’ll never have, dreams are the future we’re too afraid to have, and reality is what you never could have imagined.
Before I saw him, I smelled peppermint.
“Pesky? Really?”
Wylder chuckled, ripping a piece of gum in two and sliding half into my mouth before shoving the other half into his mouth and shrugging off his shirt. “Like a fly.”
I grinned, holding my words while so many thoughts swirled in my head. He slid off his jeans, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs as he leaned against the vanity and crossed his arms over his chest. My love for him ran to the center of the earth and infinitely into space; it never failed to bring tears to my eyes.
My lover.
My protector.
My world.
My monster …
“I wasn’t chasing you, in spite of what your ego thought.” The corner of my mouth twitched. “I liked the unknown, the mystery, the enigma that was you and your dog on campus. I wanted to know why you chose to live in a haunted house. Your asshole attitude wasn’t an attraction. It was a small speed bump.”
“Wow …” His eyes widened. “I say pesky and your comeback is all of that?”
Still … after all that time, I couldn’t let him win. I pulled the drain and stood, blotting my wet body with a towel as his appreciative gaze caressed me.
“Wylder …” I whispered.
“Livy,” he replied just as softly.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I ever could have imagined. And leaving my family was hard, but choosing you was easy.”
His gaze fell from mine. One—there was one thing that brought out his guilt, maybe a hint of insecurity.
Me.
He would always feel guilty for asking me to choose him. So I played the one card, the only card that mattered.
“How far would you go for me?” I stepped out of the tub onto the mat.
He lifted his gaze and pushed off the vanity, taking two short steps to me. “The ends of the earth.”
I grinned. “I think you’ve already done that.” Everything Wylder did for me, even when I didn’t trust him, was out of love.
He nodded slowly, ghosting his hands over my hair to my face, cupping it with a gentle touch. “Now … I think you mentioned something that requires copulation.”
Before my giggle fully released, he kissed me, stealing my gum, my heart, my soul … my world.
All because I had no control over my stupid …
Crazy …
Impulsive heart.
The End
shit. . .
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Chapter One
Day
Four graves.
Four caskets.
Two bodies.
A throng of family and friends mourned the loss of four innocent lives under dapple gray skies in a cemetery nestled at the bottom of a hillside just miles from the Golden Gate Bridge. A DEA agent and his wife were murdered a week earlier and their two adult children were reported dead in an apartment building the following day. Investigators reported the cause of death—self-inflicted gunshot wounds. Those same investigators collected a bag of cash at a drop location in exchange for their report which led to two empty caskets and headstones carved with the names Jessica Maeve Day and Jude Paxton Day.
“How many people live to see their own funeral?” Knox, the lead Agent for G.A.I.L, mumbled from the driver’s seat of the SUV custom built to meet presidential motorcade standards.
“I could snap your neck and not shed … One. Fucking. Tear,” Jessica Day answered.
The cocky agent chuckled, as any asshole that treated life and death like a business would do. “I taught you everything you know. I’m not too worried.”
“No, you taught me everything you know.”
“Jess,” Jude warned, grabbing her fisted hand and holding it until she relaxed.
“I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.” Jessica turned away from the window and closed her eyes as she released a slow sigh. Why couldn’t she have a normal life? A husband who worked too much but adored her, a daughter with long black hair and an ornery son that loved to pull it, and a dog that dug up the flowers planted along their white picket fence.
How could fate be so cruel?