Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (140 page)

Life wasn’t perfect for me, not by a long shot, but it was getting there.

Ivy skipped through the field, picking wildflowers and arranging them into two bouquets. When she deemed them perfect, she returned to my side, handing me one. “For you, my Queen,” she giggled, her cheeks rosy with happiness.

“Thank you, Princess,” I took the flowers from her, inhaling their scent—then trying not to sneeze.

She twirled some more, her dress fanning out around her legs.

“Oh, look!” She pointed towards the back of the Wentworth mansion. “Here comes the King and Prince now!”

I smiled, enjoying her little game. All I had wanted for so long was for her and Tristan to have the opportunity to be children. I’d finally gotten my wish.

“Mommy!” Tristan cried, running straight for me, much like Ivy had when she’d found me hiding out back here.

I liked the shade and privacy that the tall grasses provided. When I was here, in this spot, I felt like I was in a new place all together. There was something magical about this place. Once the weather had warmed I’d claimed this area as mine since I had been spending so much time with the Wentworth’s. Lily and I had grown close, and she was beginning to feel like the mother I never had.

Tristan collapsed onto the ground beside me, his chest heaving with every labored breath from his long run.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” I pointed to the leather bound book in his small hand.

“Daddy told me to give it to you,” he smiled proudly, holding out the book for me.

My eyes raised, connecting with Trent’s as he approached. God, he was beautiful. He wore a pair of long tan colored pants, and a white t-shirt. He grinned as he caught me staring at him. I stared at him a lot. I had almost lost him that day in the hospital. I always had to remind myself that he was here and he was alive.

Trent reached us and sat down beside me. He draped an arm over my shoulder, kissing my cheek.

I took the book from Tristan’s outstretched hand.

Ivy reached for him, and the two took off running through the field, their laughter dancing through the air.

“Open it,” Trent murmured, his lips grazing my ear.

I shivered at his touch, my body humming.

I opened the book to the marked page, a breath escaping my lips.

The emerald green ribbon that had been used as a bookmark had a ring tied around it, and written on the page in Trenton’s scrawling handwriting was:

Will you marry me?

“Trent,” I gasped, my hand flying up to cover my lips. I was shocked, to say the least, but I should have seen this coming.

After Trenton was released from the hospital, we had talked through things, and pieced ourselves back together. It hadn’t taken long for us to become a family. Trent and I already loved each other—and after countless hours of talking, of me telling him everything I’d been through since I was a child, we’d been able to move past what I had done by keeping Tristan a secret. Things had settled into normalcy for us the past few months and it felt like we’d always been a family, not like this was anything new. Trent showered Tristan and Ivy with love and a father’s affection, even though Ivy wasn’t his. He was the greatest man there ever was, I was sure of that.

After he’d been shot, things had been touch and go for a few weeks, but he’d healed. He’d had to drop out of college since he wasn’t fit to go back. He said that he didn’t need his degree; he had enough schooling to open his own photography studio and go from there.

“Rowan,” his voice was hesitant. “Say something, please.”

“Yes,” I gasped, my cheeks flushed with happiness. “Yes, yes, yes!”

I let the book fall off my lap, and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him passionately. His tongue found the seam of my lips, slipping inside. I moaned in pleasure as my fingers grasped the soft strands of his hair.

“Ew!” Tristan exclaimed. “That’s disgusting! Bleh,” he made a face, “kissing is gross!”

With a laugh, Trent pulled away, swiping his thumb over his lips.

He reached down, untying the diamond engagement ring from the ribbon. I held my hand out for him and he slipped the ring on.

His eyes filled with satisfaction as he stared at the ring glimmering on my finger.

His fingers tangled into my hair, cupping the back of my neck as he pulled my lips to his, kissing me sweetly.

Breathing rapidly, he rested his forehead against mine as he stared straight into my eyes so that I was powerless to look away.

“You’re mine now, Rowan Sinclair,” his voice was husky and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

I brought my hand up against his where he cupped my cheek. “Always.”

COMING SUMMER 2014 from Micalea Smeltzer

Beauty in the Ashes

SAVING TATUM

© Copyright 2014 Micalea Smeltzer

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover design and photography by Regina Wamba at Mae I Design

Formatting by Inkstain Interior Book Designing

I JOLTED AWAKE at the sound of someone trying to beat down our front door. I sat straight up, the blankets pooling at my waist. My head twisted to look at the blinking orange numbers flashing on the clock beside my bed. Three in the morning. 

Fear slithered down my spine like a serpent. 

Nothing good came from someone at your door that early in the morning. 

I heaved my tired body out of bed. My muscles were stiff and overworked from a rigorous cheerleading practice the night before. 

I opened my bedroom door and poked my head out. I saw my mom and dad coming out of their bedroom. A baseball bat was clutched in my dad’s hand. What did he think he was going to do to an intruder with that? Knock them out? Besides, if someone was trying to break in, why would they be knocking on the door?

“Stay up here, Tatie,” my dad warned in a stern voice, quietly tiptoeing down the steps. My mom followed him even though he warned her to stay put as well.

I kept watch on the door. 

My dad looked through the peephole and muttered, “What the hell?”

Swinging it open, I saw red and blue flashing lights and an officer stood at our door.

I rolled my eyes. The neighbor’s kids were probably vandalizing again. 

I was about to close my door and get back in bed when I heard the officer speak. 

“Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor?” He asked. He was young and nervous, obviously new to the police force.

“That’s us,” my dad answered, “is there a problem?”

The officer shifted nervously, clearly not wanting to talk. 

Finally he found the courage to speak—to deliver the most devastating news I could imagine. “It’s about your son, there’s been an accident. I’m so sorry to tell you this, but he didn’t make it.” His face was somber, eyes downcast.

My mom let out a piercing, soul-crushing wail, and started to fall. My dad’s arm held her upright.

But there was no one there to hold me up. 

I crumbled to the floor, clutching at my chest. 

I couldn’t breathe.

I was suffocating under the pressure.

He didn’t make it.

He was dead. My big brother—my best friend—was gone. 

“I’m sorry,” I heard the officer say one more time before my dad closed the door. His cries soon joined the sound of my mother’s. 

Tears streamed down my face, but my sobs were silent. 

Graham was gone. In a matter of hours he’d been ripped from my life forever. I’d just seen him at dinner and we’d been talking about school and how I’d be cheering at the football game on Friday. He was telling me how proud he was of me.

Everything had been perfect. The way it was supposed to be.

Something like this wasn’t supposed to happen.

I felt like my whole world had been tilted on its axis. I felt lost and afraid. I didn’t know which way was up or down.