Silently we sit and stare at the stars with nothing to interrupt or deter from each other. This is my happy place. The one place where the screams don’t touch and the memories die.
It’s not that I never have those moments. Since having C.J. my life has become more valuable to me, and the lives of my girls are my top priority. Because of that the paranoia still hits in crowded places, and we make sure to spend the Fourth anchored out at sea to keep away from the fireworks. But the nightmares are few and far between, my sobriety and therapy have helped me to cope with the trauma that I continue to learn how to live with.
Sawyer and C.J. make it bearable.
“Aden, if Celia hadn’t been sick, if it was her who came back to the cottages, do you think you would’ve fallen in love with her?”
“Where’s this coming from, freckles?”
Almost seven years of marriage and she’s never once asked me this, though I’ve wondered the same thing and come to my own conclusions that I’ve yet to share with her.
She burrows in deeper to my chest, her silky robe the only barrier between me and her naked body. “She was so much fun, and, I don’t know, I guess I wonder if you two would’ve been a better match.”
“Hold up.” With a little maneuvering, I manage to sit her upright so we’re facing each other. “You and I are the perfect match.”
She tucks a long strand of her hair behind her ear and dips her chin. “I know, but—”
“You balance me like no one ever could. You are beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but what I fell in love with had so much more to do with who you are than who you look like.” I grab her hand and kiss the underside of her wrist. “You’re the most patient woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart, so fucking forgiving. God, Sawyer, don’t you see? You’re every single thing I’m not, which is why I find you so fascinating. Why I need you. Just because Celia was more like me doesn’t mean I would’ve fallen for her. Fuck, I can barely stand myself most days.”
She blinks up at me with shining eyes and a soft smile.
“I would’ve thought Celia was very pretty, but I don’t think we would’ve gotten along well.”
Her body falls back between my legs, but her arms wrap around my waist. “No, I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right.” I drop a kiss to the top of her head.
She sighs and a few seconds of silence pass between us. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
My lips tip up on the ends at her Jaws quote. “What are you, some kind of half-assed astronaut?” I say in my best Quint voice.
Her shoulders shake with silent giggles. “That was good, but . . .” Her arms hug me tighter. “I was serious.”
My smile falls instantly as my insides dare to hope she’s saying what I think she’s saying.
“This boat only has two bedrooms.”
My pulse rockets through my veins, making me light-headed. “Um . . . are you?” It seems so unimaginable! We’ve been trying to get pregnant for the last couple years with no luck.
Pushing up my body she presses a kiss to my lips. “Congratulations, Captain Colt. You impregnated your wife . . .” She runs her lips up the side of my neck to my ear where she whispers, “With twins.”
In the span of a heartbeat my joy doubles and right there in the arms of the woman I love, I pray to thank the men who died protecting me so that I could live and experience just how sweet life can be.
What do you do when you wake up with no memory of what you did last night?
Read on for an extract from J. B. Salsbury’s thrilling novel that will leave you guessing until the very end . . .
Available now from Headline Eternal.
PROLOGUE
Ten years ago . . .
It’s dark. Like when I hide under my bed and can’t see my hand in front of my face. But I’m not under my bed now.
Cold seeps into my body. My head rings; static blares in my ears.
I blacked out again, but this is different. Everything about this feels different.
There’s shuffling . . . some kind of panic in the air. My heart pounds and with the rapid blood flow brings a sharp stabbing pain that explodes in my neck. I try to open my eyes, push at the dark and reach for light, but a sticky coating covers my face. I suck in a breath, cough against the thick sludge that clogs my nose and throat. The metallic tang of blood turns my gut. I retch, hacking up something thick, and agony slices through my jaw.
“Oh fuck!” A deep masculine voice rips through my panic. “This one’s alive!”
I try again to open my eyes.
“We need an EMT!”
I need to get up, find somewhere to hide. Mom always gets angry after one of my blackouts and with the pain . . . oh God the pain . . . I can’t take one of her punishments.
My arms ache but I force them to my eyes to clear the dark haze that clouds my vision. Weight presses against my shoulder, keeping me down. No, I have to get out of here.
“Don’t move.” The voice, I try to place it. A neighbor? I don’t know who else—“ETA on the ambulance! This kid’s gonna bleed out!”
“What . . .” My voice makes no sound, only a low gurgle within my chest. I try to push up, reach out. Help me! Shadows dance behind my eyes.
“God have mercy—we’re gonna lose him!”
“Stay down!” A male voice is close. “Oh shit . . . don’t move!”
I slip in and out. Voices frantic but muted in my ears.
“Neighbors said he’s fifteen . . .”
“. . . fucking bloodbath . . .”
“Help . . .” I cough and reach for the fire blazing in my jaw.
A firm grip wraps my neck. I struggle against it as it cuts off what little breath I’m able to take. “Hang on, son.” It loosens and I suck in a gulp of blessed air mixed with fluid that makes me cough.
“He’s gonna drown in his own blood if we don’t get him—”
“Son, can you hear us?”
I nod as best I can, reaching for the light. Don’t black out. Don’t give up.
“Did you do this, boy?” The thick growl of a different man sounds in the distance. His voice deeper. Angrier.
I’m in so much trouble. I want to tell him I don’t remember. I have a condition. Lapses in memory. But I can’t get the words to make it to my mouth.
“They’re all dead.”
My heart kicks behind my ribs.
Dead? Who’s dead?
Dizziness washes over me and I don’t fight it. Nausea rips through my gut. The biting taste of vomit mixed with blood floods my mouth. I suck air, fight through the mud for oxygen. My lungs burn. I absorb the words and pray for a blackout to come. The dark that takes away all the pain, the shadow that tucks me in and shelters me.
The pounding pulse in my neck slows to a dull throb. The static between my ears turns to a purr. Warmth envelopes me.
“Son of a bitch.” More shuffling. “He’s our only witness.”
Words blur as I drift in and out of darkness. Not like the blackouts, but something different. Deeper. As if sleep pulls me, then releases me like a yo-yo.
“Dammit! We’re gonna lose him.”
The pain dies off. Peacefulness wraps around me. I drift back into night and welcome the dark I know will protect me.
ONE
SHYANN