On the other side of his father, Thomas caught Lathan’s eye and smiled a quick upward tilt of the lips. A smile meant to show excitement and happiness. And to everyone else it would. But Lathan could smell the tangle of emotions coming off the guy. Thomas was happy for them, but he was dealing with a world of shit too.
The posthumous letter from Thomas’s mother to the local paper outlining every sin Junior and Rob ever committed was bad enough. But the cherry on top: Thomas had requested a voluntary suspension from his job at the Bureau of Criminal Investigation so a full investigation could take place and he could publicly clear his name from any involvement in his stepfather’s and stepbrother’s corruption.
That was something Thomas had asked Lathan to keep from Honey until after the wedding. The guy hadn’t wanted to ruin his sister’s special day. And Lathan respected him for the decision. Later, Lathan intended to discuss the situation with Xander and see if the two of them could do anything to help the guy out.
It wasn’t like Lathan to be all Mother Teresa, but he sent Thomas a hang-in-there look. The guy dipped his chin in response and turned his smile up a notch.
Next to Thomas, Ernie—Honey’s bald-headed ex-boss—folded his arms over his chest, his body language sullen, but at least he wasn’t shooting hate bullets at Lathan anymore. The look he gave was more of a don’t-you-dare-fucking-hurt-her look. Which Lathan was cool with—he’d never let anyone or anything hurt her ever again. Him and Ernie were buds in that respect.
The minister cleared his throat and began. “We are gathered here today to unite Lathaniel Montgomery and Evanee—Honey—Brown in matrimony. Lathaniel has requested to skip the fluff and get to the good stuff. So, we’re diving right in. The couple has written their own vows. Lathaniel, you may begin.”
Lathan sucked in a breath and focused all his attention, all his energy, on Honey. “Do you remember a few weeks ago when I found you crying in the kitchen? You said it was because you’d heard a song that touched you, and I teased you about being like Isleen.” From the audience, Isleen sobbed a laugh. “When you weren’t looking, I checked your iPod. You’d been listening to Infinite. I looked up the lyrics. No words would be as perfect as those on our wedding day.”
Honey slapped her free hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”
Lathan spoke slow and clear, as if inking each word onto Honey’s soul.
I’ll be the one you dreamed of,
Your cloudless sky,
Your star-filled night,
Your sun, your moon, your endless June.
I need you until the skies turn dark,
I need you until the days are done,
I need you until everything’s gone,
And then I’ll still need you.
And he did need her. Had needed her from the moment he first saw her alongside the road.
Tears swelled in Honey’s eyes.
“I’ll be the one you reach for…” Emotion weighed his voice down.
“I’ll be the one you reach for…” Honey’s voice shook and melded with his, reciting the rest of the words to him at the same time he spoke them to her.
To stop the world crashing in,
To place my hand in yours.
Your friend, your lover.
Your soul mate.
I need you until the skies turn dark,
I need you until the days are done,
I need you until everything’s gone,
And then I’ll still need you.
“I’ll still need you.” He finished the repeat of the final verse by himself, but he didn’t look away from her. Their gazes were fused together.
“Guess what I was going to use for my vows?” Her voice wobbled with happiness. Tears slipped in silent streamers down her cheeks, but not sad tears. These were happy tears, the kind that smelled like their happily ever after.
For more Abbie Roads
check out the Fatal Truth series
Saving Mercy
On sale April 2017
Author’s Note
In case you were curious about Fearless and Bear, here’s their entire story:
A man, different than all others, used to roam this land. A man who was more than man. He carried a bit of spirit inside him. But even that bit of spirit was too great to contain within. Some of it showed on his skin.
The People, suspicious of all things unknown, believed a Bad Spirit had marked him—cursed him—for all to see. For all to avoid. For all to fear. The People believed the Bad Spirit wanted their souls.
So the man lived a solitary, nomadic life, nearly driven mad by isolation. One day a desperate loneliness overtook him. He tried to fight it, but was drawn to a field of women harvesting corn.
The women ran from him screaming.
A maiden stayed behind. Unlike the others, she did not fear him, but walked directly to him. Her face and arms bore the remains of a hundred healing wounds. He held out his hand to her.
She didn’t hesitate, but settled her palm in his. A jolt of fire passed between them, but neither withdrew.
The maiden closed her eyes. “Take my life, and you may have my soul.”
He stared at her, mesmerized by her fearlessness. Why would she want to die?
When death did not claim her, she opened her eyes and pulled her hand from his.
He saw a pain inside her greater than what her body had endured. “Why do you wish to die?” he asked her.
“I possess dream sight. I’ve seen my fate and would rather die than submit. Death would be freedom.”
“Do you not fear me?”
“I fear this life more than you.”
The sounds of many feet running through the forest came to man and maiden.
“Kill me now. I do not wish to survive another sunrise in the village.”
“I do not take souls.”
The maiden’s face twisted as if in great pain.
“Come with me.” The man held out his hand.
Men burst through the far side of the field.
The maiden hesitated only a moment before she placed her hand in his. As one, they turned and ran—together somehow swifter than the fastest of warriors. They ran until the dark of night covered the earth and the man no longer sensed anyone following them.
At a stream, they stopped. He lowered himself to the ground and the maiden collapsed atop him, knocking him back against the earth. Fearing his curse had claimed her, he grasped her shoulders and lifted her to see her face.