Losing It: A Collection of VCards (28 page)

I look around too.  The taloned pigs are gone, the sawdust from their tree-meal scattered all over the ground.  The leaves around us are huge, thick, hard.

“We’re all together.” I say.  Garrett’s skin is warm and soft as I give his hand an agreeing squeeze.  “I think you’re right.  It must be Heaven.”

Extended scene from CAPSTONE, the final book in
The Cornerstone Series

About the Author

Misty Provencher is a long-term wife, mama, and author. The first two are a bit more recent, but Provencher's writing dates back to the hieroglyphics she left in her mother's womb.

While Provencher can ride a motorcycle, knows how to Karate chop, and has learned enough French, Spanish, and Sign Language to get herself slapped, Misty’s life is actually just the ruse she uses to connect with people. She is totally enchanted with them and spends her days trying to translate the soul-bouquets of her muses into words.

Misty Provencher lives in the Mitten. Knock on her internet blog door at:
Misty Provencher's Books
, or find her on Facebook and Twitter as Misty Provencher.

More Books by Misty Provencher

The Cornerstone Series, YA Paranormal Fantasy

Cornerstone
 

Keystone

Jamb

Capstone

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Selfish

By Ginger Scott

A bonus scene in Reed’s point of view from
Waiting on the Sidelines

Nolan Lennox has loved quarterback Reed Johnson from the moment she set eyes on him. She’s earned every scar he’s left on her heart. She’s also earned his love…finally. In this scene, the reader is shown how things play out from Reed’s perspective—when the couple has sex for the very first time.

***

This trip—everything about it—needs to be perfect. Nolan’s birthday…the gift I’m giving her…the lie we’re telling her parents so she can spend the night away from home…

It all needs to be perfect.

Near the end of the season, when Nolan asked me about
other girls
during our bus ride home from the track meet, a shift happened. My honesty with her was key, and I know it left a scar. But that scar—it was going to happen eventually.

The minute I slept with those other girls, I knew what I was risking. I was gambling away my chances to ever be with Nolan. When she asked me—point-blank, to my face—to tell her every girl I slept with, I knew I was rolling dice again by telling her the truth. I was aware that some details were more painful than others—some
girls
more of a betrayal than others.
One
girl in particular was going to break her heart.

I broke it.

I saw it break; I watched it fall into a million tiny pieces with the tear that slid down her face before she tried to wipe it away. Seeing that…it broke me too. But I felt the odds in my gut; somehow, I knew that
not
telling her—lying to Nolan—would be the fatal error.

I made my decision; I confessed. I confessed, and then I held her, begging her not to run. She hasn’t, not yet. But every time I’m with her, I feel her urge—her questioning of herself, wondering if she’s worthy, wondering if this is a trick, wondering when I’m going to drive the knife into her heart. She’s been questioning herself, questioning
us,
for a month. That…
that
is no one’s blame but my own.

I’ve hurt Nolan, and I’m the biggest dick in the world for doing it. But this trip will lay her doubts to rest, a do-over for our first date, a second chance for that epic beginning. It’s everything she deserves. Or, at least, it’s a start.

I think about the time I’ve wasted…how Nolan’s been there for
everything
in my life—even the times she sat there in those stands while I was on the field…my head not where it should have been at all. I was focused on partying, getting laid, having some girl make me feel like a king for five minutes. I wanted to be the guy everyone told me I was supposed to be—the hero, stepping into my brother’s shoes.

All that time Nolan was there…watching. I should have been looking back.

I ditched my last class to be here for this moment. Her backpack is weighing down her shoulders while she walks to my Jeep; I’m glad her overnight bag is already packed and tucked in the back seat from this morning. She thought it was strange when I asked her to pack a full change of clothes, sweatpants and sweatshirt, toothbrush, her favorite songs on her iPod, a flashlight, and an orange crayon. When she questioned it, I told her we might be doing something that would get her a little messy, but I didn’t breathe a word about the fact that it might take about twenty-four hours.

I put the
orange crayon
on her list just to mess with her, because I like the way she bites her lip before she pushes me, grinning. It’s just one of a million tiny things she does that I like. I doubt she’ll actually pack it though. Nolan—she’s always been good at reading my bullshit; I don’t think she’ll fall for this one.

I watch her every move as she tosses her heavy bag into the back with a
thump
, pulling her other bag to her lap, clutching it as she buckles herself in, her fingers nervously working the bag’s zipper back and forth. I stare at her hands, and for a brief second, I flash to my fantasies—to that little thought buried in the back of my head about tonight—Nolan is going to be in my arms all night; there’s a chance…

“So, where is this mystery date?” she asks, snapping me back to the present, my lap more than obvious what I was thinking about. I shift my weight, rev the engine, and move the gear into reverse, hoping she doesn’t notice I have the hard-on of a junior-high boy in health class. I take a deep breath, then look at her, her eyes full of hope that I’m going to give in and tell her early. I wish I could, because maybe, just maybe, she’d be as excited as I am over the thought of sleeping together, and maybe…

I stop myself there. I know better. If I tell her we’re leaving town—that I’ve concocted a lie with her friends so she can sleep out under the stars with me alone—she’s only going to spend the entire trip trying to talk me out of it. Nolan’s a rule follower—one more of the million tiny things I love.

Love.

“No, no…all will reveal itself,” I say, catching a glimpse of her bobbing leg, the nervous energy seeping from her. She’s anxious. Anxious is a whole lot better than being doubtful and worried. For now,
this
gamble is paying off.

Traffic is in my favor today. Our trip through the desert highway is quick; we’re buzzing south on the interstate in no time. I can tell that Nolan’s anxiety is picking up, though; I’m pretty sure she’s realized that this date I have planned—it’s not going to be over by curfew.

“Reed, maybe I should call my dad? I think he was thinking I’d be home by nine or something?” Nolan asks, her nail-biting picking up at a frantic pace.

She’s legitimately worried now, so I cut her a break. “Not a problem, already got it worked out,” I say, unable to help but smile while I talk. I hope like hell she’s smiling after I tell her this next part. “See…you’re spending the night at Sarah’s tonight. She worked this whole thing out with me.”

Shit. She’s not smiling. Her face looks shocked. I think I’ve stunned her. I also think she might think she’s actually spending the night with Sarah, and that makes me laugh a little. I keep my focus straight ahead on the car in front of us for the next mile, until I can get my massive grin under control.

When I finally sneak a look at her again, her brow is pinched, that small worry line forming on her forehead. I don’t like that line—I’ve put it there too often.

The entire trip takes about two hours. We’re right on schedule when I make the turn off of the interstate into the mountains outside the city. I’m watching the Tucson city lights fade in my review window as we climb higher into the desert hills. Soon the cacti give way to pines and forest brush. I always loved coming here with my dad and brother; the way the desert hides this forest oasis is almost like a fairytale. This place doesn’t feel like it should belong, like it’s fleeting and might disappear at any second.

That’s sort of how I feel about Nolan. The way she’s been carrying her doubt, like she might give up on us and run. To think that my time with her might be brief hits me in the pit of my stomach; I push the gas a little harder, like I’m racing against two clocks now. So this is regret.

The turn is coming soon. I start to slow the Jeep down again after a few minutes, hunching forward on the wheel to watch for the small wooden sign marking the road. I’ve never driven this road at twilight, but I remember the sign is crooked, leaning just enough into the roadway to make it hard to miss.

My bright beams glimmer off of the metal post, and I hit the break a little too hard, Nolan is gripping her seatbelt and pushing her feet against the floor to stay in her seat. On instinct, I reach my hand over her chest, bracing her, holding her in place. She wraps her hands around my forearm.

I leave my arm there for a few extra seconds. I like it—her touch. I like that it feels like she needs me. This girl…I could marry her one day.

The campsite comes up quickly, so I pull off into a thick section of trees, kill the motor and practically leap out of my Jeep. I sprint to the back and pull out my large hiking pack, the sleeping bags tightly rolled and tethered to the top; then I race over to her door, my breath held, waiting for her to react.

When the realization of what we’re here for hits her, the coordination it took to pull this off becomes worth it in an instant. Her lips make that slow curve upward, quivering with emotion until her smile stretches the width of her face.

That smile—that’s the one I did this for, the one I’d do anything for.

I don’t even wait for her to speak. Instead, I start spreading out our camping equipment, setting up the tent, dumping pieces from my pack. At one point, I actually laugh lightly to myself—the kind of release that comes from making someone else happy, and my heart is pounding so hard that my ears are practically thumping. I’ve never been this happy making someone else
happy.

Huh…

“Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to help me set up camp?” I tease, snapping her from her daze. She actually shakes her head, like people do when they wake up from a dream. I love that, too.

Love
that.

I love that I made her do that.

I love Nolan Lennox. I’m going to give her the stars to prove it.

“Oh! Yes, sorry. I was just taking it in,” she says, leaping from the Jeep and rolling up her sleeves to help me. As much as we need to set up the tent, I can’t help but waste the minutes away looking at her—
touching
her. The second she’s within reach, I drop everything and pick her up—holding her to the sky, spinning her until the stars swirl around her face, her hair blowing in different directions, her cheeks blushing with happiness, her smile making me feel whole.

“Happy birthday, Nolan!” I say, letting her body slide down into my arms, my lips finding hers, my forehead resting on hers, my breathing matching hers. Everything—
her
.

“Reed?” she whispers.

“Uh huh?” I say back, my hands finding her hips, swaying us side-to-side, my eyes closed while I think of how this small piece of her feels under my touch—how badly I want to feel her, more of her. But I won’t cross that line with her, not until she’s the one asking for it.

“We probably should set the tent up,” she whispers again, my eyes opening enough to catch a view of her lip, tucked in her teeth. She’s thinking about that line, too.

“Oh yeah, that’s what we were doing,” I joke, closing my eyes again while I flex my fingers once more, just enough to burn the memory in place before letting go.

The tent is pretty simple; we have it set up within minutes. I get a fire working quickly while Nolan sits on the sleeping bag I’ve rolled out next to the wood, her arms hugging her backpack to her chest. Her eyes practically paint me with their stare; disarming as it is when she studies me, it also feels damn good. She’s been looking at me like this for years now, like I’m
someone.
She did it the first time our eyes met—it filled me up with this strange sensation, which I ignored.

Goddamn how many things I’ve ignored. 

“What’s up?” I ask, her eyes still watching my every move.

“I was just thinkin’,” she smiles.

“Yeah, I get that much,” I say. “Whatcha thinking?”

“Well, I get the clothes, and the toothbrush. And the flashlight?” She furrows her brow. She’s trying to figure out the bag—the list of things I made her pack. She’s working up to the crayon; it’s so damned cute. Holy shit, I think she actually packed it!

“Oh, yeah. Thanks! I’ll need that. I don’t have one of those,” I grin, grabbing the flashlight from her backpack and pushing it into my pocket, turning around again quickly, hiding my grin because I know she wants to know about the rest.

“Why my music?” she asks next.