"We’ll be here for you, Serafina. In your dreams. Guiding you when you need us most," mommy tells me as she kisses my hair. "I love you, Serafina. Be strong and remember. Accept what’s in your heart and trust it. Your heart will never betray you."
"We will make sure of it," daddy promises.
I sniffle and nod. "I love you mommy. I love you daddy," I cry, wrapping an arm around my daddy’s neck and the other around mommy’s.
"I love you too, little one. We both do," he whispers and they shimmer away.
I sit up in the bed gasping and sobbing. Cage lifts me into his lap, wraps his arms around me, and rocks me gently. I cling to him.
"It’s okay, Fee. It’s okay."
I just cry.
"It’ll all be okay. I’ll make sure it’s okay," he promises, kissing my cheek and stroking my hair as I sob.
"I don’t know what I’d do without you," I whisper between sniffles.
I feel his smile against my cheek. "Then isn’t it a good thing you’ll never have to find out," he tells me, and I know he means it.
He pulls back to meet my gaze and wipes my tears with his thumbs. "Okay?"
I shrug a shoulder. "As good as it gets."
"That’s pretty great if you ask me." He winks.
I snort and he smirks. I lift a hand to his cheek.
"Thank you."
He nods. "Anything for you, Fee. You know this." I smile inside at the nickname he only uses in private.
I nod and reach for a tissue. "Stay with me?"
He smiles. "I’m not going anywhere."
He sets me on the bed and slides in next to me. He pulls me on top of him, my head resting on his chest as he rubs his hand up and down my back, the other holding one of mine.
"I don’t know how you can sleep like this. I’m not exactly a lightweight."
He snorts and I smile. He’s been doing that more and more lately and I like the sound.
"Fee, I bench press more than you weigh. Besides, I like the feel of you wrapped around me," his voice dips.
Cage Nichols is built. Muscles hard and defined. He’s disciplined and works out daily. He’s so sexy and I get that damn fluttering sensation in my stomach.
I look up and meet his gaze, then my eyes slide down to his lips. I don’t bother resisting the urge. I just lean in and kiss him, just a press of my lips to his, soft and gentle, lingering, which he returns.
When I pull back, one side of his mouth kicks up and I smirk back.
"Sleep, Fee. I’ve got you now," he tells me. I nod and settle back in, his chin resting on top of my head, his left hand holding my right, our fingers interwoven, my other hand resting beneath my head.
"I feel safe with you, Cage. I don’t feel safe anywhere else but with you," I confess sleepily.
He kisses the top of my head. "I won’t ever let anything happen to you."
I nod slightly. "I know."
"Good."
I let out a sigh and relax into his hold, into his warmth. For so many years I’ve been afraid. It’s a relief to be able to truly relax and breathe without the scent of fear flowing around me.
Cage runs a hand over my hair and down my back. "Just rest, Fee," he whispers. I close my eyes and let the peaceful warmth of Cage lull me to sleep.
Sera
I Can’t Not Love You by Every Avenue
Where I Stood by Missy Higgins
I WAKE UP SLOWLY TO FINGERS tracing lazily along my spine. I inhale deeply. Cage. He always smells amazing. Like pine and something I can’t quite place. I squeeze him a little as I stretch. His house, his bed, on top of his body—it’s the only place I can get decent sleep lately. Though, honestly, I don’t know how he can sleep with me laying on top of him, but he insists he sleeps just fine. Like I’m his own personal blanket and he’s my snuggle bunny.
I nearly snort aloud at the thought. Cage Nichols and snuggle bunny in the same sentence, that’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one. But he is to me—my snuggle bunny, that is. He’s warm and safe and I let out a soft sigh.
"Morning." His deep voice rumbles in his chest under my ear.
"Mmm," I yawn. "How long have you been awake?"
He shrugs a shoulder. "Not long."
I look up into dark brown eyes that are nearly black. Honest eyes. Kind eyes—unless you’re on the wrong end of his gun.
"Liar," I say with a grin, settling my chin on my folded hands resting on his chest.
He kisses the tip of my nose then smirks. "What are your plans for today?"
"I’m not sure. I need to contact Irene." And I think I’ll have to throw up a few hundred times if the queasy feeling in my stomach is any indication. And if I wasn’t so queasy I’d be paying attention to the erection poking my belly right now. Touching it, stroking it... Wait. No. Not after last time. I will not be making any more moves on this man. Lesson learned. If he wants me and only me, he knows I’m here. Until then...
"What’s going on?"
I look up. "Hmm? Oh, she might have a modeling job for me."
"I thought you didn’t want to do that anymore?"
I shrug a shoulder. "It’ll keep me busy until we get back on tour."
"You could hang out and write with the bands."
"Nope. I’m no songwriter. I just figure out the riffs and chords once they get the lyrics and melody down."
"Hmm," is all he says.
"Ugh. I don’t feel well," I say as the queasiness turns to full on nausea. I breathe through my nose slowly, closing my eyes to try to stave off the urge to vomit.
"Fee. You need to go to the doctor," Cage tells me.
I blow out a breath as he pulls my hair back from my face.
"I know."
"Today."
I make a whiny sound.
"Today, Fee. You’re losing too much weight."
"The doctors in Denver said it would run its course. It’s just a matter of time." Not a lie. That’s the truth, just not the whole truth.
"You don’t have any more time. At the rate you’re losing weight, you’re going to end up in the hospital," he states.
"But—"
He cuts me off with a fingertip to my lips.
"Please, Fee. For me."
The sincerity in his eyes, the pleading, the worry—all factor in to my easy agreement.
"Alright. I’ll call today." I swiftly get up and run to the bathroom. "But right now I need to puke."
"Aw, Fee."
He follows me in and holds my hair as I dry heave. He wets a cloth when I’m finished and hands it to me. I wipe my face and slowly turn toward him and see suspicion in his eyes. For a second I think he knows—and I panic. But then he just reaches for my toothbrush and puts some toothpaste on it for me.
"Sera..." he begins as I brush my teeth.
I meet his gaze in the mirror.
He runs a hand down my back, softly, gently. He shakes his head slightly. "I’ll go make you some tea and toast. Coffee will be hell on your stomach."
I nod, my body still shaking from the intensity of the vomiting, and try to force a grin with a minty mouth full of toothpaste. When he leaves the room, I exhale. Shit.
I rinse and wipe my mouth then lean forward on the vanity, just looking at myself. The dark circles are very unbecoming, that’s for sure, and if I do take a modeling job, they’re going to have their work cut out for them. Maybe I could bring Spenser.
I’m so pale. I reach up and pinch my cheeks, patting them lightly with my hands. Then I stare at myself again and sigh.
You, Serafina Rosalie Manzini, are a wreck. You need to get your shit together.
I hang my head down and let out a breath. I am such a disaster. He’s right. I need the doctor. I know I’m dehydrated, my mouth is constantly dry, and I look like death warmed over.
"You alright?"
I look up into the mirror to see Cage leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb. I wonder how long he’s been there. God, he’s so gorgeous with his short brown hair scattered in disarray, his arist
ocratic nose, his perfect lips, and those eyes. Those eyes, nearly black as night, that lure me in and hold me captive. Just one look and my heart beats faster. So not good.
I nod. "I think so."
He nods back. "You promise you’ll call today?"
"I promise. I’ll even do it after breakfast so you can be sure I do."
"Not necessary. You never break a promise." He knows me so well.
He reaches for my hand and I give it willingly. We walk into the kitchen just as the teakettle begins to whistle.
"Perfect timing."
He nods once and walks to the stove, turning off the burner. He pushes down the lever for the toaster and prepares my cup of tea. I head over to the little alcove rather than the table and sit on the window seat. I’d love to curl up here with a book... or just look out the window.
The ocean is angry today, the waves white-capping and frothing with fury. I wonder what fueled its anger today. I know all about anger. Anger is what’s kept me going the past twelve years. Without it, I’d have given up. Well, in truth, I did give up for a little while...until I found that anger.
Then I was able to focus and do what needed to be done. Just get through life until I could find my parents’ killers. I haven’t forgotten and as much as my parents tell me I should let it go when I dream, I can’t. Someone took them from me, took their lives so senselessly, so brutally, so carelessly, and then walked away without a thought. I grind my teeth and watch as a bird lands on the sand, picking at a dead fish. Irony? Or, my parents with a message?
"Here we go," Cage says and sets a tray next to me. He sits on the other side of the window seat, crossing his legs like me and I grin. He’s huge... get your mind out of the gutter. I mean overall, not his naughty bits, but in truth those’re nicely proportioned.
I nibble on a piece of toast, looking at him with his black-rimmed glasses on, reading the newspaper. God, he’s so incredibly sexy. The glasses...oh, I’d love to get him under me while he’s wearing those.
"What?" he asks when he catches me staring.
I take a sip of my tea. Lemony and sweet just the way I like it.
"How tall are you, exactly?"
He smirks. "Six-four."
I nod. "And how much do you weigh?"
"Two-fifty-six."
I raise my brows. "Nothing but muscle."
He shrugs a shoulder.
"You have to know that’s incredibly hot," I say without thinking.
When he grins, I feel the blush stain my cheeks.
"It doesn’t matter what I think or know," he replies, leaning forward, running a fingertip on my flushed cheek.
"What matters then?" Generally, I only care what I think about myself, my body. I’m not really into the whole making myself look how society and men want you to look—not since I gave up full-time modeling.
"What matters," he tells me, sipping his tea, "is what you think."
"Hmm," is all I can come up with. He stumped me there. What do you say to that? I take another bite of the toast, which isn’t sitting all that well.
He winks and goes back to reading his paper and I turn to watch a mother with two little boys playing down on the beach—well, it’s more like they’re running and she’s chasing them. They can’t be older than three or four, and oh goodness are they cute with their curly brown hair that’s a little too long, yet stylish, and their cute little board shorts. I wonder if they’re twins or if they were born one right after the other. They look very close in age.
Absently, I pick up my tea and take a sip, then cradle it in my hands, the heat of the ceramic cup reminding me not to get too comfortable, but I hold it steady. Most would set the too-hot cup down, but I need the reminder, apparently. What am I thinking, thinking I could have a life like that? I can’t. Not with la Famiglia. And yet, I’m going to be thrown right into that situation with the tiny life growing inside me. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my cheek on them, still holding my tea.
I sigh and take another sip, watching the mother and boys twirl in the sand. I wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl. I should tell the father, but I’m not ready. I just found out, just got used to the idea, and I’m not very far along at all. It’s only been since just before the tour started so that’s seven, maybe eight weeks.
I’m kind of glad we get a break for the next couple months. It helps with my being so sick and it also helps with the level of danger that’s been escalating daily.
The mom leads the boys back to their blanket and they sit down to enjoy a snack. Crackers maybe. And I imagine juice. Definitely juice. I note she’s drinking Starbucks and I long for my Caramel Macchiato.
I sigh again.
"You’re doing an awful lot of sighing over there."
I look at Cage from the corner of my eye and shrug a shoulder.
"You’ll have that one day, Fee," Cage says, tilting his head toward the family.
I snort. "It’s impossible. There is no way I can take my child down to the beach and be that carefree. I wouldn’t dare. I have to always be on alert. Always. It’s the first rule Grandpa taught me and one I never forget."
Cage frowns. "There are ways you can have that, Fee. Nothing is impossible. You forget, there are ways to protect those in la Famiglia."
I look at him, eye to eye. "Lucy," is all I say and he nods.
"That wasn’t supposed to happen."
I nod. "It never is. But it does."
He tilts his head to the side. "It does. More than it should. We should have anticipated it wasn’t just you they were after."
I nod, tears welling in my eyes as I remember seeing my sister pale and lifeless in that hospital bed.
One lone tear falls, trailing down my cheek and dropping onto my thigh.
"What is it?" Cage asks.
"That should have been me," I admit.
"No."
The way he says it, so powerfully and definitive has me starting a bit.
"It’s never going to be you. This won’t happen again."
"If they want it to, it—"
"No, Sera. It won’t happen again. Safety measures and security are now where they should have been then."
"The break from the tour is a good thing then. We can all get better organized and everyone is now on alert." I pause, taking another sip of my cooling tea. I meet his gaze once again. "We should have told them."
"You know we couldn’t."
"But if they had known, Lucy would have known—"
"Fee," he says softly, reaching for my cup and setting it down. Then he’s reaching for me, lifting me as if I were a doll, and settling me on his lap. "You know how things are done."
I nod.
"I hate that you know how things are done."
I look at him in question.
"You shouldn’t be involved in any of this. You deserve better."
I smile softly and rest my hand against his cheek. "I was born into this."
"I know. You still deserve better."
"This is as good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid," I tell him with a shrug.
He sighs. "We can do better. We will do better."
He says it with such conviction I almost believe him. And just like that the queasiness is back and along with it, an annoying ache in my left side. This kid is going to be the death of me—possibly literally if it doesn’t let me keep any food or liquids down. Damn it.
"Fee."
"Hmm," I say, closing my eyes and breathing through my nose, trying in vain to stave off the vomit attack that’s just around the corner.
"You’re looking a little green."
I just nod, breathe in through my nose, out of my mouth.
"You need to call."
I nod and meet his gaze. "I promise. I’ll call."
He leans in and presses his lips to mine. Just a soft touching of lips but it does crazy things to my libido. The man gets me all hot and bothered so easily it’s embarrassing. No man has ever had this effect on me. Ever. I’m not sure I
like it. Especially after the one and only time we slept together—well, I should say night because it was a hell of a lot more than one time.
It was amazing. I thought it meant as much to him as it did to me. I was so certain it did. We made love over and over all night long, and when the morning came, we made love again. We showered, lingering as we washed each other, kissing and holding each other.
We laughed and held hands at breakfast. Then I had to go home to CFD (Casa Falling Down) to get a change of clothes. Really it was an excuse to breathe and slow my heart down because it was leading me on a path I wasn’t sure would be reciprocated.
After I changed clothes, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to try things with Cage... exclusively. The time and care I took beautifying myself would be wasted. It’d started raining and my hair was ruined by the time I got to my car. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going and it turned out to be the best decision I’d made that day.
I pulled through the gates of Cage’s estate and parked. I pressed a hand to my stomach to try to calm myself down, took three deep breaths, and opened the car door.
I made my way up to his door, the rain soaking me as I stood in front of it. I decided instead of just walking in, this would be one of those times it was better to ring the bell. Boy, was I right.
Carina opened the door, hair wet, and naked except for one of Cage’s white button-down shirts.
Are you fucking kidding me? was my first thought. Bastard was the second. My heart sank when the blonde smiled at me, looking as if she belonged there. And she probably did—more than I did.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
I shook my head, my rain-soaked hair sticking to my face.
"No. You certainly can’t." Just then Cage walked down the hallway. He glanced over and stopped dead in his tracks, hair wet, and wearing nothing but the clichéd pair of lounge pants.
When I felt the first tear slide down my cheek I damned it—and him.
"Sera—" he called out, but there was no way in hell I was hanging out to hear whatever bullshit excuse he was going to come up with for fucking another woman when the sheets weren’t even cold from him fucking me.
I slammed my car door and peeled out just as Cage came to the door. He shouted, I don’t know what, I couldn’t hear him over the breaking of my heart. Besides the exchange of emails regarding security, I didn’t talk to him for over a month—not until we went on tour and I had to. We both went on as if nothing had happened. He tried to get me to talk about it at first, but I refused. Eventually he gave up and the awkwardness dissipated. The hurt didn’t, though.