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“And though I’m the one who locked the handcuffs on her, she was the beauty who locked my sorry-ass beast down.”
Zeke nodded hard, his gaze glassy, his formidable jaw jutted. He was joined by the Bommer brothers, Shay and Tait, who added emphatic nods of approval.
“And yeah, it was the best high in the fucking world, watching her finally embrace the beauty of her submission…just for me. Because she trusted…me.”
Ethan’s face, such a famous sight the world over now but set in the smirk he reserved for his battalion brothers only, widened in a commiserating smile.
“She was my gift from the gods. The treasure that showed me the way again. Proved my life could still have purpose, when I truly thought I’d lost anything like it.”
Christ. Cornier words had never spilled off his lips but every damn syllable of them was true. So indelibly, breathtakingly, true. Every corner of his soul resounded with that truth. Sang with it. Ached from it. He looked up, squeezing stinging moisture from his eye, to witness the same sheen in Kellan Rush’s gaze. Kell scooted in closer, clapping a hand around Tait’s shoulder.
“She sees my scars but believes in my perfection. She knows my violence but calls it passion. She peers into my darkness and doesn’t try to change it or heal it—but because she dives into it with me, she does change it. She has changed it.”
For that, he received a pair of appreciative grunts from yet two more arrivals to the circle: Sam Mackenna and Dan Colton.
“Awww, fuck it,” he muttered then. Let himself drop back into the sand, his head low, his mushed-up vision trying to focus on the tops of his doubled-over knees. “She’s changed me. She’s changed me forever. Forever…”
He didn’t even waste thoughts on everyone’s angel garb, or why Pop’s ukulele music was suddenly silent, or why the air was so thick and quiet and expectant. He only knew the breeze smelled like Tracy, citrus and ginger and jasmine colliding with the tang from the sea and the salt from his tears, twisting his heart into a bigger, messier, stupid-ass knot. He only knew that for once, he would accept every goddamn branch of support his men offered to him right now. He’d readily let them grow a fucking tree under him if they wanted, lifting him up with the incredible, unbreakable, bond of their brotherhood.
Until the circle parted once again.
Opened with the discernible rustle of warriors’ feet…and the tangible energy of their collective honor.
To let one more into their energy.
One more with tiny footsteps…preceded by the scent of citrus and jasmine.
An angel disguised as a kitten.
The core of his soul…contained in the most gorgeous female on this planet.
The woman who plummeted onto the ground in front of him. Wrapping her small, urgent hands around his. Holding him as if she’d plunged all those sweet fingers into his chest, yanked out his heart, and now held it in the center of her palms.
Because she pretty much did.
“Forever sounds damn good to me, soldier.”
John blinked. Again. Swallowed hard but realized inhaling the whole damn ocean wasn’t going to help his dry, tight throat. Every drop of liquid in his body, now packed with every joyous, merciless, careening, disbelieving, detonating emotion in his soul, began exiting him through one orifice only. His one goddamn eye.
Finally, his vocal chords snapped into line again, working themselves around rasped syllables.
“Tracy?”
Her sweet kitten mouth turned up in a tiny smirk. “Yes, Sir?”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
All the guys laughed.
He didn’t.
“You’re the president, dammit.” He didn’t wait for the mirth to fade. This was too damn important. He showed her so by securing their hands tighter, twining his fingers between hers. The move had absolutely nothing to do with how fucking good it felt to touch her again. With what a miracle he once more held…and already dreaded having to let go. “You can’t just be flitting to the Hawaiian Islands on a whim, just to—”
Her sharp jerk back sure got him to shut up. “Flitting?” she retorted. “On a whim? Is that really your argument here, asshole?”
He was conscious, vaguely, of the guys chuckling again—though mostly he dealt with his fresh irritation. Why was she so bent out of shape? And why the hell did she have to look so magnificent about it? All he wanted to do was order everyone to go back inside and demolish Mom’s dinner, so he could flatten her in the sand, hike up the embroidered skirt of her filmy white sundress, and bury his body inside hers for hours.
But even that wasn’t an option anymore, since here was Mom, suddenly appearing behind the woman. Even she’d changed into white, with a matching hibiscus blossom in her hair and bright tears brimming her eyes.
