"What happens now?" she asked, her breath skating against the skin of my collarbone.
"Now, we start over. I've got weeks left before I have to go back, and there are still so many things I need to do here. Like spend every second I can with you."
"And then what? What happens when you leave again?" The fear in her voice was slight, controlled — her heartbeat betrayed her.
"That's up to you." I leaned back so I could see her face. "If you're happy, if you still want me, then you can tell me what you want. If you want to come with me, you can. If you want to stay, I'll wait for you. I'll wait forever, if you want. I'll give you anything, if you ask."
She closed her eyes for a moment, opening them again to show me her shining irises. "I've waited for a second chance to answer this question. I've dreamed of what it would be like to give the answer I wish I had so long ago. And now I can tell you that I will follow you. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, if you'll give me your heart in exchange for mine."
"My heart has been yours as long as it's been beating. It'll be yours until it beats its last."
A sparkling tear rolled down her cheek, and she cupped my jaw, leaning in to kiss me, sealing the promise.
As my fingers wound through her hair, the kiss deepened, the urgency we'd lacked before now present in her hips pressing against mine, in her hands holding my face. The time apart had erased nothing — I knew her body if it were my own. The last time I'd been with her, I'd been driven by fear, by pain. Now, I was only driven by my love for her.
My hand trailed down her ribs, down the valley of her waist, to the curve of her hip. I savored every touch: the warmth of her skin under my palm, the weight of her body against mine, the softness of her lips as they moved gently against my own. The moments of waiting, of pain and longing, they had washed over me, passed through me, leaving me clean and new.
Her hips rolled against mine as we kissed, her body asking to be touched. Her fingertips roamed from the seam of our lips to my jaw and neck, across the place where my heart thumped in my ribs and down the ridges of my stomach. And as she touched me, I touched her, hands slipping under her tank, pulling it up with my wrist, fingers hooking in the edge of her bra to bare her. My palm cupped the swell of her breast, my thumb grazing her peaked nipple, the sweet softness of her body memorized by my skin.
She gasped against my lips, her body arching, and she tilted her head, tipping her chin up. But my lips couldn't stop, and they made their way down her long neck, to her collarbone, to her breast as she clutched me to her, hands twisted in my hair. I was surrounded by her, my thigh between her legs, her arms all around me, her skin everywhere, and I wanted every inch.
Lower I went, my busy lips seeking work, making a trail down her body as my hands rolled her onto her back, then moved down her stomach, to her panties. My fingers hooked them, pulling them down her thighs, her calves, away, my chest aching at the sight of her stretched out before me, all porcelain skin and dark eyes. Her breath was heavy as she crossed her arms to reach for the hem of her shirt and pull it off, the two of us undressing quickly.
The last time I held her, I was broken, unseeing what I had, unknowing what she could be. But now, with Elliot in my arms, I took nothing for granted. I knew what I had, and I'd hold on to her until the last beat of my heart.
She reached for me, and I filled her arms; I'd give her anything she wanted, forever.
I hovered over her, and she held my face, telling me with her eyes alone all the things I knew to be true. That she loved me. That she was sorry. That I was forgiven. That it was forever. And then I kissed her, giving myself to her in all the ways I could.
For a long moment, our bodies were still as we kissed, our only focus that place where our lips touched, where our tongues danced, but with every breath, heat spread across our skin. She moved, shifting until her thighs rested against my ribs, opening her up to me, her hips angling as her body reached for me. I was pressed against the heat of her, and with a shift of my hips and a flex, I filled her, connected to her, body and soul.
Neither of us breathed, our eyes locked, my heart thudding desperately in my chest as her lids fluttered closed. She took a breath that sounded like a sigh. I took a breath that shuddered with emotion.
Every movement was long and slow, deliberate. Her head turned to the side, lips parted, body rocking against mine. My arms, my back, my legs trembled as I moved slowly, deliberately, my pulse racing faster with every flex, and a soft sound passed her lips. I pressed harder, and she gasped. Harder still and my name, a whisper, slipped into the air. And then, just before I lost my composure, her back arched, her breath gone, lost from between her parted lips, the squeeze and pulse of her body around me taking me with her. And I let go too, the past, my pain, my heart and soul. I let it go and gave it to her.
Our bodies slowed to a gentle wave, my heart thundering as I buried my face in the curve of her neck, her heartbeat fluttering under her skin against my lips as her arms wrapped around me, cradling me.
I thought I'd never find freedom again. I thought I'd never know home, never know love. But in that moment, in her arms, against all odds, I found it all.
28
Only
For time cannot stop,
But moments,
Seconds,
A fleeting smile,
A kiss in the sunlight,
Can live forever.
* * *
- M. White
* * *
Elliot
The sun shone crisp in a cloudless sky, warming us in the cool in-between that spring so often brought. Wade stepped forward onto the mounded grass and placed a bouquet of flowers on Rick's grave, then another on his mother's. When he came back to me, he reached for my hand, and we stood silently, his final goodbye, for a while at least.
Almost two months had passed, bittersweet with grief over our losses and joy that Wade and I had found our way back to each other. Grueling and time consuming was the process of finalizing the details of the estate, paying off lingering debts and medical bills, setting up Sophie and Sadie to be able to manage the house with him so far away. But I'd been there through it all, and over the weeks, the hard shell of a man who'd come back after so long had cracked and fallen away, and I found Wade, my Wade, underneath it all.
I'd also submitted my work to a string of agents, a nerve-wracking and slow process. But I felt good and right, as if I were stretching my dusty wings for the first time in years and years. I found my light, my spark, and Wade had found his. We'd held each other's all that time.
I'd moved into the house with Wade and Sophie once Charlie's parents came to town and the new nanny was hired and settled in, and though I still went by every day to see them, they seemed to be just fine without me after all. Mary's absence was the likely culprit of their adaptability — she would have only made it harder on everyone, children included, strictly for the sake of doing it.
I hadn't seen or spoken to her since that night. I didn't know that I ever would again.
She'd disappeared, abandoning Charlie and the kids, and my father and Beth had disappeared right along with her. It should have made me sad, made me regret my part in the falling out, but I didn't. That they blamed me for their circumstances only made it easier to walk away.
I'd been freed from chains I hadn't known I'd been wearing.
The grass was still damp under our feet from the morning dew — Wade's flight would be leaving soon. My heart skipped a painful beat at the thought of being separated from him, but I reminded myself it was only temporary. I'd follow him in a few weeks, and then forever after. Warmth blossomed in my chest at the thought.
When he left all those years ago, I'd been afraid to leave home, leave everything I knew. But what I'd learned since was that he was everything that home meant to me. Without him, I'd been lost, wandering through my life without moving an inch, searching for something to make me whole.
Now that I had him, I could do anything.
I was unstoppable.
He squeezed my hand and began to walk away, and I followed, neither of us speaking until we'd left the cemetery.
"I don't want to leave you," he said once we were in the cab headed for the airport and I was tucked into his side, my head on his shoulder.
"I don't want you to go, but I'll be right behind you."
He sighed. "Two weeks is too long."
I chuckled. "Seven years is too long. Two weeks is a heartbeat."
"I've spent every day for the last two months trying to memorize your face, trying to get my fill, but I can't. No amount of time will ever be enough with you to satisfy my heart."
I lifted my hand, touching his face as I kissed him. "Well, do you think forever would be long enough?"
He smiled down at me. "Guess we'll see."
My heart fluttered, and I rested my head on his shoulder again. "Do you think Lou is getting settled in?"
"Ben says everything's great. I just can't believe they ran off like that and got married without telling anyone."
"Oh, I dunno. It doesn't sound so crazy to me. And anyway, I'll be glad to have someone familiar in Germany."
"So I'm already not enough for you? I see how it is," he joked.
"You're a given. You're more familiar to me than my own reflection."
He kissed the top of my head. "I love you, you know."
"Almost as much as I love you."
He sighed again. "Two weeks is too long."
I laughed and wrapped my arms around his chest as we rode the final minutes in the cab in silence, the ticking of the infernal clock never stopping. And too soon, we were standing at the passenger drop at LaGuardia, his duffle bag at his combat boots, cap on his head, shielding his eyes from me.
"For so long I didn't want to come back, and now I don't want to leave."
"Yet let me not be too hasty,
Long indeed have we lived, slept, filter'd, become really blended
into one;
Then if we die we die together, (yes, we'll remain one,)
If we go anywhere we'll go together to meet what happens."
He smiled, a crooked thing, surprised and teasing and full of love. "Quoting a Whitman poem about death is supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's easier than saying goodbye, isn't it?"
He pulled me close, still smiling. "It's only two weeks."
"Two weeks is too long," I echoed, and he kissed me sweetly before whispering in my ear.
"Two weeks, and then forever."
And at that, I cupped his cheeks, kissing him once more as the sunlight danced across his grandmother's engagement ring resting on my finger, the same finger that was closest to my heart.
Epilogue
Elliot
He laid his hands gently on my jaw, my heart singing his name and tears stinging my eyes, and he kissed me, sealing the vow of our forever.
The people who loved us cheered and clapped from behind us, but I barely heard a thing. There was nothing outside of his hands, his lips, in that moment when our lives began. And when he pulled away, his hands still warm on my face and the ghost of his kiss still on my lips, he smiled at me with more joy than I knew one man could possess.
He took my hand, and we walked up the aisle, past Sadie and Sophie, crying and smiling from the front row, past Ben and Lou with her hand on her round belly, Charlie and the kids, as confetti rained down, spinning to the ground like dervishes. Hanging candles in jars and paper flowers spun above us in the light breeze, whirling the tiny scraps of paper around us.
The Black Forest was magical, a fairy tale forest of trees stretching up to the heavens, lush and green and older than time. The big trees were so tall, so dense we could barely see the sky, the leaves and moss so green they almost glowed. When Wade and I had come here to view the venue, we'd both known it was the perfect place to start our fairy tale.
A year of planning after years of loneliness had brought us to that moment. We'd flown back for Sadie's graduation and brought her and Sophie back with us, and every day since then had been busy with the whirl of preparations, time mostly spent constructing decorations for today, this day.
All the paper cuts were worth it.
I'd typed up all of our letters on an old typewriter, and though it wasn't the first time I'd read them all, every one hurt in its own way, sated only by the peace of forgiveness. But I remembered writing every line, and I felt every line of his.
We'd photocopied the originals and used them to make a myriad of decorations, mostly paper flowers, some big, some small, some in bouquets, some to make garlands of, which hung all over. Some were made into strips and used as streamers. A thousand more copies were shredded into confetti, confetti that floated around us like snow.
A thousand letters that brought us to that moment.
My heart skipped in my ribs as we walked together to the back of the venue with my hand in the crook of his elbow, the long chiffon spilling down from the empire waist of my dress, floating around me like mist. And as we reached a curtain made of tulle strips strung with flowers, he pulled me through it and stopped.
He was so beautiful, his uniform crisp and medals shining as he smiled down at me.
"Mrs. Winters," he started as he brushed a scrap of confetti from my nose.
"Yes, Mr. Winters?" I asked with a smile.
"I have dreamed of this day for eight years." His fingers trailed across the lace capping my shoulder in a triangle.
"And was it all you imagined?"
At that, he smiled and tipped my chin with a single finger. "More. And now there is nothing left in the world I could possibly want."
His kiss spoke the truth of his words, stealing my breath, stopping my heart, starting my life.
Because now, we would live.
With every end
Comes a beginning,
A new path forged
Through the pain
Of an end
Giving life,
Giving breath
That once caught cannot be lost.
* * *
-M. White
Otherwise known as Elliot Marie Winters
Thank You
There are always so many people to thank, and I always forget someone. Such is the curse of being a mad scientist type.
As always, the first person to thank is my husband, Jeff. This time, more than any, you have stepped up and knocked it out of the park during what was the most taxing book I've read in years, during a time in our lives that was tumultuous on its own. So thank you, forever and ever, thank you.
The second person to thank is almost as high up on the list as my husband, and that's Kandi Steiner. If I had the proper equipment, and if I wasn't already married, I would totally put a ring on that. There are days (too many, too often) when your support is the only thing to keep me moving. How can I ever repay you for that?
Third comes Karla Sorensen, who showed up in an unbelievably supportive way for this book. Not only did you talk my characters and plot through with me ad nauseam, but you slapped me around when I needed it, pet my hair when I needed it, and generally helped hold me up so I could make it to the end of this thing. You're an excellent fascist cheerleader, and I couldn't ask for a better friend than I have in you.
Next is Brittainy Cherry, the woman who knows my soul when even I don't. How can I ever express what you mean to me? When I was in the depths, when I was so deep in this story that I could barely function for the toll on my soul, you were there. You understood. You knew. And you told me I could do it. The comfort, the love you've given me fills my heart up over and over again. Thank you will never enough.
To my many, many Alpha, Beta, and Charlie readers: Thank goodness for you. Every one of you made an impact on this story. Every one of you helped to shape this story. Every one of you have a little piece of your heart in this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I'd like to also thank Kris Duplantier and her husband SSG Robert Duplantier for their insight, for the answering of all the questions, even when they were hard, even when they dug a little too deep.
To Lauren Perry — you're a genius.
To Becky and Ellie — spit-shine polish, that's what you do. Don't ever leave me.
And to my readers, thank you. Thank you for your time, for letting me into your hearts and minds; thank you for existing.
Also by Staci Hart
HEARTS AND ARROWS
Rereleasing in 2017
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Hardcore
With a Twist
Chaser
Last Call
Wasted Words
Tonic
A Thousand Letters
SHORT STORIES
Once
Desperate Measures
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Staci Hart, A Thousand Letters
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