I wrote about the whole day and what each person meant to me. I wrote about last night, and how perfect it was. About how I still feared tomorrow, but that it wasn’t going to deter me from enjoying every minute of every day with Wes and my family and friends. I also wrote about how, if anything happened to me, Wes would have our memories. How we’d already defied fate, and that everything I’d just written was totally ours, and nothing could erase it. When I was finished, I confidently and optimistically signed the entry,
This is my story.
Sophie
Once I’d closed the book, I tucked it neatly back in my bag, looking forward to finding a permanent place for it later. No longer able to stand the distance, I skipped down the stairs like a child on Christmas morning. A new level of completeness permeated my entire body, pulling me toward Wes.
“Hey, you,” he greeted as I entered the kitchen.
“I love you,” I stated for the record.
“Good thing. Because you’re stuck with me now,” he breathed, pecking me on the lips.
I laughed. “I don’t consider it stuck and this is so not fair, you know?”
“What?” he asked, holding a spatula, confused.
“You’re spoiling me by cooking. I want to start spoiling you. I’m your wife now. I need to start acting like one.”
He raised a brow. “You’re not my wife because you aren’t cooking?”
“You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just that I’m excited about moving in and getting a chance to take care of you.”
He strategically placed strips of turkey bacon on a platter and paused to cross his arms, contemplating deeply.
“How about tomorrow?”
I smiled immediately. The sound of tomorrow rang so perfectly in my ears.
“Yes, tomorrow sounds perfect.”
“Good.” He smiled that delicious smile of his. “Now, Wife, will you please help me carry this into the dining room?”
I thought for a second and then bounced my way out of the room, “Nope.”
“What?” he yelled after me. “I thought you wanted to help?”
“Today is your day. Tomorrow is my turn, and maybe the next day, we’ll share.”
I heard him laugh. “Fine.”
Within minutes, he was juggling trays of eggs, bacon, fruit, and cinnamon rolls, Yum.
We shared the best breakfast possible, just the two of us and, of course, the perfect three-sided view from his dining room. Finally full, I leaned back and finished off my cranberry juice.
Deciding to capitalize on all the things I was grateful for, I brought up something I was sure Wes would feel good about—besides our new life together.
“I’m really happy that you have Dr. Thomas back. It’s like fate knew exactly what you needed. Now you’re about to release one amazing cure and who knows how many more to follow. It’s perfect.”
He took his last sip of orange juice and then reached over to touch my cheek with his fingertips. “Yes . . . it is.”
He smiled softly, but it didn’t move up to his eyes, telling me he was holding something back. A few quick thoughts of what it might be ran through my mind, hoping it wasn’t related to last night in any way.
Sure, finding a cure for the cancers and diseases would be hard, but working together with him and Dr. Lyon would be perfect. Even fun, I imagined. So why the look of seriousness?
“What’s the matter, Wes?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.
He shook his head nonchalantly, “Nothing.” Then he leaned over and gave me a kiss. “Nothing at all Mrs. Wilson.”
Hearing him say my new name made me smile, and pulled his smile into his eyes, but I pressed further, “Then what’s going on?”
He leaned back about to change the subject, so I moved myself onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck with his eyes turned to me.
“Tell me, Wes. Please. ‘Be honest with each other,’ remember?” His gaze melted into mine and he put his arms around my waist. “Please?” I whispered again.
I waited for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. When they didn’t turn into words, I gave him a squeeze.
“Okay.” His voice was soft and flowed through my soul in a way where I knew nothing would take away anything we had accomplished up until this point. At least, nothing I could think of.
“Sophie,” he began, interrupting my self-assuring thoughts, “I didn’t want Dr. Thomas to come with me just so he could find cures for other people.” He repositioned me so I was facing him more directly, and the sparkle in his eyes returned. “I want him to . . . find a cure . . . for me, too. I want him to fix me.”
“You what?”
“I want him to change me back.”
“But I don’t understand. How, I mean . . . what are you thinking? You can’t change back.”
“Why not?”
“Because everything in you is changed already. Your blood, everything.”
“Yeah, but what happens if he replaces it with regular blood again. Maybe he can reverse it.”
“What?” I stood up. “Wes, you’re scaring me now.”
He pulled me back down. “Listen.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. Please don’t. We just got to a point where everything is perfect, and I was content knowing that if I die, I’ll find you again. And now you’re talking about putting yourself at risk. No. No way.”
“Everything is not perfect. If anything happens to y—”
“Nothing will. I’m cured. I’m perfectly fine.”
“I know you are, but it’s not over. You still have to be monitored for side effects. These cures take time to perfect and anything can go wrong. I won’t sit around while we wait and see.”
“I can’t think about something happening to you. Please don’t make me think that. It’s too risky.”
“Sophie, they have things like dialysis now and ways I think it could work. I mean, I don’t know, but it’s worth looking into. If Dr. Carter can’t do it, then we won’t try it.”
“Even if it were possible, why? Why would you? If something happens to me, you’ll die and we won’t ever find each other again.”
He moved my bangs out of my face and raised my chin to his. “I don’t believe that. I think the whole reason you have never had a full life is because our destinies have been artificially altered. I want to set it right. Like it’s supposed to be.”
“Wes, you were supposed to die at sixteen years old. You’re trading my life for yours. No.”
He started swaying his knee back and forth, calming me with a rocking motion, and then he got a look in his eyes that spoke of more secrets.
“Wes, what else are you not telling me?”
“Nothing, it’s just . . . “
My eyes widened. More? “What? What is it?”
“I’ve been having dreams.” He paused, and I waited anxiously. “Of us. You and me.”
“Okay? What about you and me?”
“I was old and you were, too.”
The sound of those words softened my heart, but my brain still twisted with anxiety.
“Wes, I won’t risk your life for a dream.”
He grabbed my face, demanding my complete attention, as if he didn’t already have it.
“I don’t think they were dreams. I think they were memories.” I shook my head, not understanding. “Did you hear me? Memories. We were wearing clothes, not of this century or even the last one, and we were rocking in chairs on a front porch of some farm I’ve never seen. It was us.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I think there is more history to our lives than Wes and Amelia. Something further back, that neither one of us remembers.”
I took in what he was saying, trying to make sense of it. If we were true soul mates then we could’ve been together before Wes was changed, but it didn’t solve anything.
“It doesn’t change the way things are now,” I said.
“Yes it does. Sophie, I bel
ieve that I was saved in 1916 for a reason. To help others, but I wasn’t meant to be this way forever. Now that I’m close to fulfilling that medical purpose, I want to go back to being normal, with you, the way I’ve seen us.”
“But what if it’s not possible? Do you understand what you’re risking? I might die anyway, and then we might never find each other again.”
“I would find you anywhere. I know that now.”
“No,” I growled.
He looked deeply into my eyes, and his intensity slowly softened, but his words spoke with an unfamiliar excitement. “It sounds crazy, I know, but I’m willing to risk it to have a long, normal life with you. Please, will you just consider it? I wouldn’t do anything hasty. I just want to explore the possibility.”
I had been so wrapped up in his words that I’d neglected to fight the tears that were welling up in my eyes, and in that instant one snuck up on me and spilled over, traveling slowly down my face. He wiped it away and kissed the wet trail.
I thought about saying something, but couldn’t form any words. Instead, I leaned into his collarbone and squeezed him, hoping and hanging on to this moment. I couldn’t think about his insane thoughts or my fears of tomorrow.
I found myself unable to hold back a second tear, which traveled slowly down my cheek. Once it reached the bare skin of Wes’ neck, he held me tighter, still rocking me, and after a moment, he whispered the familiar words, “Please don’t cry . . . Everything is going to be all right…
Acknowledgements
My first thank you goes to you, the reader, for holding this book in your hands. I can’t tell you how much your enthusiasm and support for this series means to me. I wrote The Pace for myself, but I wrote the others for you. Your passion and desire to know more of Sophie and Wes were truly what motivated me to imagine their story this far, so thank you very much. Next, I’d like to thank a few fellow authors whose hard work on their own projects inspires me to keep spreading my own wings: Amanda Hocking, Colleen Houck, Elizabeth Isaacs. They are just a few of the authors who have worked super hard so their books could make it in the big world, and I think their dedication to their stories is an inspiration for many.
To authors Nicholas Sparks and Stephenie Meyer, whose talent inspires me to blend my two favorite things in books: characters that feel real to me and a love story that touches me long after I’ve turned the last page.
To my mother, again, for your hard work and passion for reading books that matter to teens and for books that have something to say. The sharper your eye gets, the better my writing gets, so thank you for your care and support in everything. To Dawn, who always offers the best, last set of eyes ever.
To the reviewers and bloggers. Your blogs have been the most significant factor in spreading the word about Sophie and Wes, and I cannot thank you enough. You are amazing and continue to keep me working hard to give you something good to write about!
And to my copyeditor Kelly Lenox and designer Kimberly Martin. Without you two, this would not be an actual book to hold, so thank you so much for your hard work.
To my amazing family and to God who is with me everywhere I go, helping and guiding me. It’s the most fantastic feeling in the world. Thank you!
For information regarding
the conclusion to Sophie and Weston’s story:
THE HOUR OF DREAMS
Visit: www.thepaceseries.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: THE WAIT
Chapter 2: TWO DAYS EARLIER: DR. EVAN CARTER
Chapter 3: THE SHARP EDGE OF PATIENCE
Chapter 4: THE TRUTH: DR. EVAN CARTER
Chapter 5: GONE FOREVER
Chapter 6: THE LIMIT: DR. EVAN CARTER
Chapter 7: THE ARREST
Chapter 8: THE CALL: DR. EVAN CARTER
Chapter 9: TIM WALTERS TALKS
Chapter 10: THE CLOCK: DR. EVAN CARTER
Chapter 11: SECOND GUESSING
Chapter 12: DAWN: DR. EVAN CARTER
Chapter 13: THE RETURN
Chapter 14: MATURITY
Chapter 15: THE LITTLE GIVER
Chapter 16: COMING CLEAN
Chapter 17: THE OTHER RETURN
Chapter 18: THE UNEXPECTED
Chapter 19: THE PIECES OF THE PAST
Chapter 20: THE MISSING LINK
Chapter 21: THE NEWS
Chapter 22: THE CLIMB
Chapter 23: IN THE WIND
Chapter 24: ON THE BRIGHT SIDE
Chapter 25: THE FINAL RESULTS
Chapter 26: COMING TOGETHER
Chapter 27: THE VOW
Chapter 28: THE FIRST TIME
Chapter 29: TOMORROW
Acknowledgements
Shelena Shorts, The Iron Quill
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