Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 101(@200wpm)___ 81(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
“D-don’t think I ever made my old m-man p-proud,” I confessed and watched Mae’s expression fall. I ran my hand over her pale stomach, smirking when my kid kicked again. “W-Wanna be a g-good dad, M-Mae. Want ou-our son to be pr-proud of m-me.”
“He will be,” she whispered, and I watched the tears roll down her face. “How could he not? You stood up at the altar today and spoke. I watched you fight back your demons and win. I watched you fight your throat for the words you so badly wanted to say. In front of a crowd—your worst fear—yet you spoke. You took my hands, although they shook, and committed yourself to me . . . and our son, out loud.” She paused. “He will be nothing but proud of you. And I will watch him adore you, want to be just like you. His daddy, who struggles yet rises, victorious, every time.”
I swallowed at her words, and she moved closer to me. Her head was on my pillow. “What?” I asked.
“I wrote vows for you, River.” I nodded, knowing that she had. I’d seen some of them on her notepad. “I wrote them before we decided on the traditional vows.” She glanced away then, coming back to me, said, “I would like to say them to you now.”
I nodded. There was no fucking way I could speak. Mae cleared her throat and held onto my hand. Then she spoke. “River. I did not know what life was until I found you. The boy who came into my life as a child. The boy with no voice who miraculously found words in my presence. The boy who kissed me on my lips, blessing me with the foreign, unreachable concept of hope. The boy I was always destined to love. The boy who held the sweetest music in his heart, who saved me, and showed me what it was to be home.” Mae laughed when her voice cracked with emotion.
But I kept listening. I didn’t want to miss a damn word. “You accepted me, a girl who had known nothing but pain and sorrow in her life. And from the moment I saw you again, years after you comforted me by the fence as a broken, bruised child . . .” She smiled. “And kissed my lips as an eight-year-old girl, I was yours. We fought. We had to fight hard to be together, through too many obstacles to count. But in the end, our love was triumphant. A love that was impossible to forge in such a harsh world, but one that rose from the ashes regardless, to be pure and real and true.” Mae placed her hand on my cheek. “Because you are my Hades, my misunderstood, tortured dark lord. And I am your queen, your Persephone, the blue-eyed woman who saw through your shield and won the trophy of your heart. Forever to keep. Forever mine. And mine, forever yours.”
Mae exhaled when she finished, and I had no fucking words. I never did, but this time it was worse.
“Y-You’re it for m-me, b-babe,” I said and watched Mae’s face melt into fucking pure happiness. “Y-You know that, y-yeah? I ain’t g-got words, b-but I got that p-promise.”
“Thank you,” she whispered like I’d just written her a damn poem or some shit. “Love you, babe,” I said and kissed her fucking lips once more.
“I love you too,” she said then beamed a fucking smile my way. “And you did not stutter, not even once.”
So I took her fucking mouth again.
When Mae pulled back, she said, “Play. Play for me, River.” Her hand went to her stomach. “For us.” Slipping from the bed, I took hold of my Fender and sat beside her. Mae lay against my shoulder and put her arm around my waist.
And I played. I played and sang until I took her again, face to face, staring into those fucking wolf eyes I loved so much.
The ones I was never letting go.
Not even for a fucking second.
Epilogue
Styx
The coast, Texas
One day later . . .
I watched as she ran over the sand toward the beach. The sun was setting and night was closing in. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling; then she looked back toward the sea. I inhaled drag after drag of my smoke and felt the fucking sand beneath my feet. I leaned against the porch post of the cabin we’d got for the week.
No club shit.
No people here but us.
Just me and Mae and the fucking sand and sea.
“What is the ocean like?” she’d asked months and months ago. “What does the sand feel like on your feet? What does it feel like when the tide rushes over your bare legs?”
“It’s the ocean,” I’d said and shrugged.
“It is my dream to see it,” she’d said, lying on my chest. “I have read about it in books. It would be a dream come true to smell the salty air and walk on the golden sand.”