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The corners of his lips curl up into a boyish smirk. “It’s completely foreign to me. I don’t know what you’ll do, and that’s the draw to it. I'm not sure if you’ll push back, guide me, or what. It’s uncharted water for us.” He watches my face carefully, trying read my thoughts, but there’s so much apprehension in that beautiful face.
A broad smile lights up from within me. My voice warbles when I try to agree, “It is.”
Is this actually happening? Sean is dropping the rest of his guard with me. It’s completely down, and as he stands there before me, I know he truly loves me. That’s what this is about—he wants to show me—but our past arrangements have limited how we do that. Even when we moved past the contract, this aspect was off the table.
“Sean, I want a chance to know you like that.” I bite my lip to keep from squeeing or crying. I’m in emotional overload.
Sean sees it and pulls me up. When I stand in front of him, he steps closer and slips his hands across my cheeks, tipping my face up toward his. Tears stream down my face as he confesses, “I’ll love you forever if you let me. I want to discover you, who you are now, what makes your toes curl, what makes you scream out my name in ecstasy. I want to know you in every possible way. I want all of you, Avery Stanz—shadows, light, and glitter. I’ll never let you go. You are the very best thing that’s ever happened to me. Please let me show you how I feel.”
Trembling works its way through me, but I manage to say the word that will start the next part of my life. “Yes.”
Ready for more Sean & Avery
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THE ARRANGEMENT 24.
Don’t miss H.M. Ward’s next book!
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UPCOMING RELEASES BY H.M. WARD
EASY 2-5
ALL THE BROKEN PIECES
MORE READS BY H.M. WARD
HOT GUY: A NOVEL
DAMAGED 3: A DAMAGED WEDDING
SECRETS & LIES 7 (series finale)
THE PROPOSITION
by H.M. Ward
Turn the page to start reading the New York Times bestselling sexy, dark story with more Sean Ferro. This series tightly intertwines with THE ARRANGEMENT.
Please be advised that this series is very dark and intense. The faint of heart should not turn the page.
Chapter 1
Hallie
The sky is clear except for a few white glittering stars. They’re hung high out of reach, impossibly beautiful and distant. The air has that crisp fall scent, and I know there will be frost tonight. Dad would have covered his plants with plastic to get a few more weeks from their fragile lives. The tarp is in the basement, still folded, where he kept it. The pansies will freeze and fade. This is their last night in this house, as it is mine.
Pushing the swing on the back porch with the tip of my foot, I start it swaying again. Life is so fleeting, so meaningless. The hole that’s swallowing me is relentless. I thought I’d cry more, but I haven’t even been able to do that. The tears won’t fall. Neil says it’s because my father’s death hasn’t hit me yet, but it has. The weight of his loss presses so hard on my shoulders that I can’t lift my face from the dirt. For all those years, it was just the two of us. He was always there for me. He saved me from incomprehensible misery and now that he’s gone, I find myself back in the shadows, unable to escape.
My eyes sweep over the wooden fence, taking in the rotten boards. Things were tight and I knew Dad sacrificed for me, but I had no idea how much until now. My college bills, my car, and all the things I needed were paid for without a blink, but I never stopped to wonder where the money came from. Dad worked hard, so I assumed it was enough.
I was wrong.
There hadn’t been enough for a long time, and I had no idea. He never said anything. When I came home from classes at the end of the day, he’d hand me a twenty and tell me to be a kid and go have fun. He said stuff like that all the time. It makes me wonder if he knew what was coming, but there’s no way he foresaw this.
When I came home from class last week, I found him in the yard, face-down in a pile of leaves. My throat tightens and I push away the memory. It’s not something that I ever want to see again, but the recollection lights up over and over again in my mind. My senses are overloaded. I can still feel Dad’s cold skin and the weight of his lifeless body as I rolled him over. The texture of his tattered flannel jacket is still on my fingertips. The sound of my strangled voice crying out his name over and over again still rings in my ears. It’s been a long time since I felt so afraid.
For the first time in a long time, I am alone.
My phone is on the wooden swing and chirps next to me. I don’t feel like talking. Silence has encased me in a tomb of misery since that day. Neil stood next to me and held my hand until hours blurred into days. He didn’t want to leave me here alone tonight, but I insisted. It’s my last night in this house. I’ll never step over the threshold again. I’ll never catch the scent of my father’s aftershave in his little bathroom. All the memories will be lost and it will be like he never existed.
There’s no grave in which to lay his body, no stone to mark his plot. Those were things I couldn’t afford. It kills me to leave him in the morgue, and let them have him, but I don’t know what to do. There’s not enough money to change anything, so when I found out the mortgage also needed to be brought up to date or they’d foreclose, I collapsed. It was too much. I understand Neil’s concern and he’s been a good friend, but there are some things a person has to face alone.
This last night in my house is one of them. It’s my only chance to really know and hear that Dad’s gone. He won’t walk down the hall and I won’t hear his footfalls on the stairs. It’s just me now.
Neil’s text beeps a second time and I finally flick the screen to life. Are you all right?
No, of course not, but that doesn’t change my answer. Yes, I’m fine. That’s what people say when they’re in despair so deep that there are no words. They pretend to be all right and hope to God that one day, they will be. The fantasy that there is a day somewhere ahead of me where everything will be fine keeps me breathing.
Call me if you want me to come over. Love you, babe.
Neil is great, but I have to do this on my own. Saying goodbye isn’t something he can do. Besides, I c
an’t crumble into his arms and fall to pieces. For one, Neil is in graduate school working on his shrink degree. He won’t let me fall to pieces. Losing control is bad for the soul, he would say. I don’t know if I agree with him, but right now it feels safer to sit in my somber cocoon and stare at the ailing lawn. I want to soak in every last detail and say goodbye before I’m thrown out in the morning.
When the chill in the air bites through my pajamas, I pad across the crunchy grass and head inside. My laptop is on the kitchen table where I left it. The screen glows dimly and I stare at my story. For the past few nights I poured my heart into this computer. I don’t really know what I wrote or why I wrote it. The things in this story aren’t recent. They’re from a former life where I was happy, loved, and safe. I relive those nights, the ones I spent in Bryan Ferro’s arms, doing things that Neil would never condone. As I write, I find that love has two faces, passion and companionship. The long lost days are filled with silly stories of things I remembered doing with my Dad—learning to drive and running over a Canadian goose. They’re the things that float to the top of my head, so I write them down without thought, without judgment.
It was my life, and now it’s not.
The story floods and overflows from one page to the next, shifting between joy and agony, pain and pleasure. Sunlight and darkness mingle, fracturing the foundation of my life. They spill out of me like a living thing that needs to escape. I can’t contain it. The words block the pain that pierces my heart and drowns out the sorrow that never ends. I find solace lost in a world of memories, in a world that’s no longer real.
