It slips, so, so easily, onto my ring finger, and I stare at it, I start to cry. Tiny tears that slip silently down my cheeks, and fall into my hands. Onto that ring that means everything.
A song is playing. My radio is off, but I can hear it. A song that he sang in a dirty bar, a lifetime ago, to a girl who was scared and running from a family she wanted to forget. I remember sitting in that bar, Lindsay at my side and her telling me to lock him down. The pride and envy in her, the happiness in his best friend’s eyes as he found me across the bar. And his voice, crooning a truth I couldn’t believe.
I remember falling in love with him that day, and never once looking back. I was his sea, but for me, he was the sun. The light that always guided me home. I couldn’t look away from him, because he was everything.
I scramble for my phone. Grab it from where it’s sitting on my desk and type the message while the memories crash over me.
Me: I remember
Rike: What??
The phone rings, and his voice is frantic in my ear, demanding. And I’m sobbing, laughing, the world crashing down around me. “Everything, Jokes. I remember fucking everything.”
Epilogue : Now
It’s raining, coming down in relentless sheets, and part of me says, Fuck this. Stay home. But Scott needs this. We haven’t shared the stage in almost a year, since before the accident. After all the shit we’ve been through, we need it. So we play, and when the crowd is worked up into a frenzy, I take the spotlight, grabbing my guitar and pulling out the song that took us from a tiny bar to this crazy thing that we call real life.
He arches an eyebrow at me and nods to the corner of the room, where a girl with flame red hair and the body of a fucking siren is swaying along to the music. A blonde with glasses and a half-smile sits next to her in a bright pink wheelchair, a small circle of space around them.
The audience knows who they are. They’ve learned to give our girls room at shows.
“Here’s a throwback, to the early days,” Scott says and I hit the first chords of her song. The crowd is going crazy, and lighters are in the air. The fans love this shit.
She’s smiling, shaking her head just a little. Too amused as I adjust the mic and croon.
Perfect girl,
She sits and listens, And I can’t help but see
Everything that she’s hiding.
She’s beautiful and broken, Tears she tries to hide,
And I can’t help but wonder what’s on the inside
You’re broken and lovely,
Fire and ice,
And holding you is painful,
But the payoff is worth the price,
Because you’re everything to me,
Yes, you’re everything to me,
Perfect girl.
Everyone said she was wrong, When she danced
to a song only she heard,
And I just want to sing along to the music of her soul,
Because she’s beautiful and broken, with the tears she tries to hide.
You’re broken and lovely,
Fire and ice,
And holding you is painful,
But the payoff is worth the price,
Because you’re everything, to me,
Yes, you’re everything to me,
Perfect girl.
And all of us are broken, all of us are flawed,
All of us have battles, and times when we fall.
And I will love you always, with scars and broken heart,
You’re beautiful and broken, my perfect girl.
You’re broken and lovely,
Fire and ice,
And holding you is painful,
But the payoff is worth the price,
Because you’re everything, to me,
Yes, you’re everything to me,
Perfect girl.
When we leave the bar, Peyton can’t keep her hands off me. Scott and Linds are trailing us. Not everything is smooth there—she’s fallen into a distance that bothers me, and even now, almost a year after the accident, she hides behind managing the band. But he’s patient and I’m hopeful. One day, her walls will come down, and I’ll have my family back, whole and the way it should be.
But for now—I finally have Peyton, and she’s here. All of the memories we built, and the love we shared. She said it wouldn’t matter. She chose me, even before she remembered loving me. That counted—because we fought hard to find each other, and we did. Twice. It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t happen. And it did. Sometimes, that kept me awake at night, thankful for things I can’t put a name to.
Her head cranes back and she grins at me. “Want to do something crazy, Jokes?”
My eyebrows go up and I smile, slowly. “What’d you have in mind?”
She smirks and prances away from me, twisting to give me a siren smile, the one that’s sleepy and sweet. The one I’ve never been able to resist. The one she gave me in a bar when I fell in love, and on a beach when she promised me forever, and in a hospital when she woke up with no memory and every fucking day since.
“Wanna tattoo your wife?”
Acknowledgments:
As always, I could not have written this book without a host of people.
My mom who babysat and didn’t even complain while I wrote through our vacation. My kids who have been amazing with a mom on deadline during summer break, and didn’t complain when I listened to the same 20 songs for four months straight.
JC for keeping me laughing and didn’t whine when I vanished for a month to write. Deadlines are a beast, babe.
Aj, thank you for listening to all my midnight panic attacks and for pushing me to be better with each story I write. Even the fluffy ones.
All of the amazing bloggers who have read and reviewed and tweeted. Thank you thank you thank you!
For Mike, who has been my favorite love story to date.
A special hug and thank you to Melissa for the gorgeous cover—you blew me away with this one. And to Bri, for making my words look intelligent.
And finally, Jessica. For always being in my corner, with all of books I bring you. This one’s for you—and look, no one died! :)
Coming soon:
THE SCION LEGACY
I was just a college student, trying to stay ahead of my student loans. I knew the rules, and I followed them.
I thought I knew how the world worked—humans lived their petty little lives in the safety of the sun. We fucked and fought and—when the sun sank—we scurried behind our walls and lived in fear. That is when the monsters came out to play.
And even in the safety of the sun, we knew who ruled us.
The Houses. And their Scions.
Everyone knows the great Houses and their Scions—they are feared and loved and hated and envied. They are the gods who walk the shadows and rule all of our lives. They are salvation and death.
And somehow, I am one of them.
Join the Legacy...
Fall 2015
About the Author:
Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves
chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.