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As I lift my hand up to her face, she touches the scar, just days fresh of stitches. I don’t wince when she barely, with a light touch, runs her finger over it. The scar starts at the crease between my thumb and pointer finger, and stops dead center of my palm.
“Does it hurt?”
“Only when its cold or you touch it really hard.” I smile, looking down at her assessing it as if she were a medical professional.
The white scar will hopefully fade enough to where it isn’t the first thing you notice when you touch my hand, but not enough to take away the mark of my survival. Because I want it. That scar is my proof that I lived.
“I’m so happy you are here, Lana,” she whimpers, and my eyes jack up and I see her crying.
“Oh, sissy, don’t cry. I’m fine, everything is fine.”
She wipes away the tears, and I would almost chuckle over the fact she’s so emotional, but I decide against it.
“But you almost weren’t, L, you’re my best friend. You don’t understand how much it would kill me if I lost you.”
I help wipe her tears away and she leans
into my palm. “But you won’t. Through every ultimate fall, remember?” I smirk, leaning to bring my forehead to hers.
“Yeah, you’re right. Gosh, I swear being with Trey has made me, like, the biggest crybaby.”
“No shit, he’s a whiner.” I wink, and she wipes her eyes dry.
“True.” She chuckles. “Let’s get going. We have to hit the road soon. I’ll grab your wedding dress!”
“Weirdo.”
“Can you believe our monkey is going to be a year old soon?” Kingston pulls my attention from the cheesy romance novel I’m reading. Interestingly enough, it’s all the things that Kingston is—a hotheaded sex expert with a huge ego and cock—a true alpha to the max.
“I know, and little baby is almost four months along. It’s a boy. I know it.” Really, I do. I found out last week but kept it a secret, because I plan to surprise him. But that’s not what I want to tell him.
“Oh, you do? And how is that?” he questions, adjusting his hand effortlessly on the wheel and tightening his grip on my knee. I haven’t told Kingston about the vision I had the night Joel attacked me. I can’t see into the future, but I did that night. I swear of it. A glimpse of serendipity in a moment of unclarity.
“The night he attacked me.” I don’t use his name, no longer giving it a place in my memory. “I had this vision or something like that of you and our little babies. We had three little boys and one baby girl.” I smirk happily, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“What a lucky vision to have. I bet they were perfect. Shit, a little baby like you, Mama? I don’t think I could handle that.” He shakes his head, digging his hand deeper, resting it between the back of my thigh and the seat.
“You don’t? Imagine her,” I laugh. The image of her at prom or on her first date is frighteningly humorous.
“I will be a fantastic daughter-daddy. Hush it, woman.” As he monkey-bites my thigh, I chuckle.
“You will, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have those days that will make us all mental.”
“You make me mental.”
“I have since we were younger.” Dragging my nails up and down the dark ink on his smooth skin, I rest my head against the back of the seat and watch him watching the road with that cute little smirk he wears.
“Fifteen years tomorrow, to be exact,” he adds, and I swear my heart about pops out of my chest.
“You remembered. I was waiting to see if you would notice.” I bring his large hand engulfing mine to my lips and leave an open-mouthed kiss.
“I can’t forget. I’ve been chasing that heart since the day you basically stole mine.”
“And tomorrow, I’m gonna steal your last name, my king.”
He growls, dropping my hand from his and gently but forcefully grabbing my head of hair to meet me in the middle for a kiss, his eyes only leaving the road for less than a second. “You fucking better believe it. I own that sass, ass, and, damn it, that fucking heart.”
“You do, and I own that ass too. That cute little bubble butt.”
