Fractured Sky (Tattered & Torn #5)(98)

“That means we need to do it soon.”

I reached up, my hand pressed to his stubbled cheek. “I’d marry you tomorrow. Bind myself to you in any way I could.”

Ramsey’s onyx eyes shone in the low light, those glittering specks appearing in their depths. His hand dipped into his pocket, and he pulled out something that caught the light. He slid the band onto my finger—a scattering of black and clear diamonds that reminded me of the night sky. So perfectly me.

His eyes collided with mine. “Next week. You, me, the family.”

My heart nearly burst at his claiming of my family as his own. “I can’t imagine anything more perfect.”

“Because it’s you and me. Our everything.”

I pressed my forehead to his. “It’s our sky. It just keeps getting bigger.”





Curious what Holt’s story is? Find out in Whispers of You. Available for purchase by tapping HERE. And stay tuned for a special extended preview after Whispers of You.

Want more of Ramsey and Shiloh? Get a special bonus scene delivered to your inbox by tapping HERE.





ENJOY THIS EXTENDED PREVIEW OF WHISPERS OF YOU





PROLOGUE




WREN





PAST

My eyes narrowed as I took in my nemesis. My head lowered as if I were dipping my hat in one of those old Westerns. I swore the beast was mocking me. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t burn.”

The chicken and vegetables in the roasting pan didn’t respond. They never did. They made their displeasure known by blackening to a crisp, no matter what I tried.

I’d been practicing for weeks. Every time I showed up at the meat market again, Sal would give me a sympathetic smile and move to the back to get me another chicken. He’d tried time and time again to give me tips. He’d even printed out recipes and removed the giblets for me.

I was getting better. But the results, while edible, still didn’t taste all that good. Whispering a barely audible prayer, I opened the oven and slid the roasting pan inside. I closed the door and pressed my hand to it as I shut my eyes. “Please, please, please.”

Roasted chicken and mashed potatoes were Holt’s favorite meal. When I’d asked his mom for the recipe, she’d given me a soft smile, her eyes glowing. “It’s a family recipe. Passed down from my great-grandmother. But I know it’ll be in good hands with you.”

I worried the side of my lip as I stared at the oven. The familiar squeeze around my lungs took root. I wanted so badly to get it right. Perfect.

If Holt were here right now, he’d probably press his lips to the top of my head and tell me to breathe. That the intention behind the action was what mattered, not the outcome. Then he’d eat the worst blackened bird if it meant a smile stretching across my face.

As if I’d conjured him with my thoughts alone, my phone rang on the counter—a tone that was only his. It wasn’t as if I needed a special one for Holt. I could count on one hand the number of people who called me on a regular basis.

Holt. His sister, Grae. Two other friends from school. My grandma.

Certainly not my parents, who took off every chance they got, traveling to so many places I couldn’t keep track. As I reached for my phone, I tried to remember if it was a conference in Cincinnati or Chicago they’d gone off to this weekend.

My mouth curved as I lifted my phone. The photo that flashed on the screen was my favorite—Holt’s arms wrapped around me, his lips pressed to my temple, and his deep blue eyes shining. The cheesy grin on my face said it all: My happiest place was always in his arms.

I slid my thumb across the screen. “I hope you’re not calling because you had to rescue a kitten in a tree, and now you’re going to be late.”

Holt’s chuckle skated across the line. It was deeper than it had been when we’d gotten together two years ago. A sound that sent a pleasant shiver skating across my skin.

That was the gift of knowing someone all your life. You got to see every incarnation of them. I had a lifetime of chuckles to play over and over—from little boy to teenager to man. I got to hear the way age sank into that sound and made it husky.

“Not gonna be late, Cricket. I’m just calling to see if you needed me to pick up anything at the store on my way over.”

I scanned the kitchen. It was a wreck, but I had time to set it back to rights. “I think I’m good. Just need you.”

“That’s the way it’ll always be.”

There was a warmth in his voice that soothed so many of my rough edges. The ones caused by missing-in-action parents and living all but alone in an empty house. The ones of never feeling good enough, no matter how high my grades were or how many extracurriculars I participated in. With Holt, I could simply be.

“I like the sound of that,” I said softly.

Voices sounded in the background. “That’s Nash. I told him I’d help him with his bike.”

The voices grew. It was the typical cacophony of the Hartley household. With four brothers and one sister, their house was always barely contained chaos. I loved it. It was so different from the sterile silence of mine.

“Tell him hey.”

“Little Williams, release my brother’s balls for ten minutes, would you?” Nash called.