Page 124 of Chasin’s Surrender

Chasin settled back into the deep Adirondack chair. Rory had shifted so she could look at him. She’d snuck out of Bobby’s house as soon as her sister had fallen asleep and she heard the first strums of Evie’s guitar. Rory Hall loved to hear Evie sing.

“Uncle Chasin?”

“Yes, my sweet Rory?”

“When are you gonna marry Aunt Evie so I can be a flower girl again?”

Chasin’s lips twitched.

“Do you have your dress picked out?” he asked.

“No, silly, Mommy says the bride picks the dress.”

“Right.”

“So? When are you gonna marry her so I can be your flower girl?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Yep. I’m the best secret keeper,” she said without hesitation.

Which was not the truth. The little girl talked, and when she did, she blurted everything out.

But since there wouldn’t be a secret to keep after tonight, he told her, “Soon.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“I won’t tell.” She made a cross over her heart but he lost her interest as Evie started singing the intro to a song she wrote when he’d killed her dream. That night, he hadn’t known how close he’d been to losing everything. He’d tasted heaven, he’d felt it under his palms, it had been wrapped around him, even buried itself into his heart, but he still hadn’t known. It wasn’t until later when he’d experienced hell, that he truly knew what it meant to have everything.

Bent Bromley entered his mind every day. And every day, he allowed it. He would never let himself forget. Chasin Murray had everything—it was precious, it was beautiful—and he’d protect it until his dying breath.

Chasin relaxed with his niece in his lap, family all around, happy, smiling, swaying to the music Evie was creating.

Pure beauty.

Genevieve started “Landslide” and the hair on the back of his neck tingled. This wasn’t new, it happened a lot when she sang. His woman’s voice was magic—always—but some songs hit her someplace deeper than the rest, and when they did, that magic wove a spell over whoever had the pleasure of hearing it.

“Landslide” did it for him, but so did the song “Iris.” Luckily, she rarely played it when they gathered together because when she was done with that song, he always had the urge to take her to bed and show her he saw every part of her. Even if he had to wait, he always made good on that urge and made love to her, slow and sweet, ignoring her pleas for fast and hard.

She gave him “Iris”, he gave her sweet.

But now, she was giving him “Landslide.” She stared right at him, belting out the lyrics in her sultry rasp he’d hear for the rest of his life.

Christ.

Beautiful.

The song started to come to an end and he patted Rory’s leg.

“Hop up, sweet girl.”

“Now?” she whisper-shouted, and he was sure everyone had heard.

Chasin hadn’t planned on doing it now, he’d planned on waiting until later when they were alone in their bed. But he couldn’t wait.

“Now,” he confirmed.