Between Us (The Renegade Saints #3) (30 page)

“I have some, uh, issues,” he mutters. “My parents were too young when they had me and my mom wasn’t about having baggage. My dad got it together when I was about three and he realized my mother was a monster. He kicked her out, but by then the damage was done. The next year, I was diagnosed with reactive attachment disorder. I went to therapy until I was ten, but it only got me so far. Even now, it’s hard for me to let people in. I don’t even have any real friends. You two are the first ones to ever make it into my apartment. I can’t relax, which is why I’ll always be a virgin freak.”

Letting go of my hand, Devon gets up and goes to Ian, pulling him in for a hug. “You’re not a freak,” she says sternly. “Stop saying that.”

Pulling back, he lets out a joyless laugh. “But I am, don’t you get it? I could only say I wanted to be with you guys if I was either drunk or hung over. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex, it’s that every time I get the opportunity, I’m crippled by anxiety. I self-medicate with the alcohol but then I get sloppy and angry. It’s a shitty cycle. Most people just disappear from my life, but with the tour, you guys couldn’t go anywhere. I hoped if I did it, something big would change, and I’d be able to have some normal relationships going forward.”

“You can,” Devon assures him as she comes back and sits next to me. “Aside from this thing with us, which understandably made you anxious—you have to know you’ve been amazing these last few months.”

When he looks at her, I see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

“With what you just told us, I really do,” she says firmly. “You don’t need sex right now,” she continues. “You need friends.”

I agree. He needs help, and I have a good idea of what the first step is.

“You’ve been getting along great with so many of the people on the road with us,” I point out. “You’re making friends and this tour has been good for you. It’s gotten you out of your comfort zone. Don’t quit, Ian. You need to come back and see it through.”

“You don’t think it would be… weird?” he asks.

I shrug. “It might be for a few days, but that will fade. We all know what we are now. You can trust us, Ian. If you open yourself up and let us really know you, I think we can really be friends. Come back. Give it a try.”

He looks between the both of us nervously, but with hope, I think.

“Okay,” he says after a few seconds. “I’ll do it.”

Devon yawns as she rubs her head against my shoulder. “This worked out really well,” she murmurs.

Glancing across the plane to where Ian has nodded off on the sofa, I nod.

“It’s you,” I tell her.

“No,” she counters, “it’s you. You’re the one who made this all happen. I’m proud of you.”

Looking down and seeing her curled up against me, I smile. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

“It is you,” I insist. “Loving you has made me a better man. You’ve changed everything.”

The look of adoration on her face when she lifts her head makes my breath catch in my throat.

“You’ve changed me, too,” she says. “I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

I drop a soft kiss on her lips before hugging her tight.

“I never knew I could be this happy,” I say. I can’t even try to contain my massive smile.

She hums softly as she nods her head. “Me either, and I know there are even greater things to come.”

I’m hers forever—and only hers. Between us, there’s nothing we can’t do.

“B
abe! Wake up! Wake up!”

Cracking an eye open, I lift my head from my desk and look at Cole.

“Sorry,” I murmur as I yawn. “I was editing and wanted to shut my eyes for a second.”

“Baby,” he says as he crouches down next to my chair, “you slept through the announcement.”

My mind chugs sluggishly as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. Nothing comes to mind. That might be because I’m working on editing a new project, so I’m in the zone.

Shaking my head I say, “Huh?”

He smiles at me like I’m adorable. “Babe. The Golden Globe nominees were announced this morning. You’re up for best documentary!”

My jaw drops as I gape at him in shock.

“What? Oh my God! What?”

He nods excitedly. “Yes! You’re nominated for that and we’re nominated for the best song!”

Jumping from the chair, I let out a squeal as I clap. “We did it!”

It was such a long shot because documentaries about celebrities are notoriously overlooked. Even though I doubt I’ll win, being nominated is something I never expected.

He rises with me, hugging me tight as he tells me how proud he is of me.

When he steps back, he looks at me nervously. “Oh, and,” he murmurs, “this came for you.”

I look down as he pulls a black jewelry box from his back pocket, and my heart skips like fifteen beats.

It’s a ring box.

I repeat.
It’s a ring box.

Everything stops as he drops to one knee and opens the box.

“Will you marry me—”

As he’s saying the words all I can think about is how excited I am. I’ve wanted this moment so badly—but I kept telling myself it was going to take years and years for him to get to this point.

Dropping down to my knees, I throw my arms around his neck. “I will! I will!”

“I wasn’t finished,” he laughs.

Pulling back, I look at him in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Will you marry me next weekend,” he asks.

“I—wait, why?”

“’Cause your parents can fly in,” he answers. “I know it’s short notice but someone was willing to takeover for them and it’s the only time they can get off for at least six months—”

I burst into tears immediately. “Yes,” I whimper. “So much yes.”

“Phew,” he laughs. “I was really nervous you were going to make me wait until they could come again.”

I kiss him several times before pulling back and laughing. “I’d marry you tomorrow if they could get here that fast,” I assure him.

“Baby,” he says huskily, “We’re going to have such a great life.”

And we do.

Please read on for a sneak peek of the fourth and final Renegade Saints book,
Something to Believe In,
which is Tyson’s story. The release date is still to be announced, so stay connected with me on social media for all the forthcoming details.

I
chased the high so I could connect to the sound.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

I could feel my heartbeat, of course, but when I was high, I could hear it, too. It was a steady series of bass notes that reminded me of better times.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

I’d known she was there before she spoke because I’d smelled her Loves Baby Soft perfume. When she spoke, she was right next to me, close enough for me to feel her hand when it covered mine. I also felt her head as it set down on my chest, just over my heart.

“This is my favorite sound,” she said.

My eyes were at half-mast as I tried and failed to let her know I remembered how much she loved the sound of a beating heart. It wasn’t something I could ever forget.

“Dad always said the rhythm of the heart was musical.”

Again, I wanted to respond, but words were too difficult to form. My tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

“I know what you’re doing, and you have to stop doing this,” she whispered. “This isn’t okay. It’s almost too late.”

Could it be true? Had I finally done it?

God, I hoped so.

Ba…dum.

Ba…dum.

Ba…dum.

“It doesn’t sound right.”

That was because it was slow. I heard the concern in her voice, but couldn’t find it in me to care about the state I was in.

She expelled a heavy sigh.

“This is going to hurt,” she murmured.

I didn’t think it mattered since pain was what I knew. It had been years since I’d felt anything consistently other than agony. I tried to fake it sometimes, tried to pretend I was experiencing happiness—but when I was alone, all of the subterfuge disappeared. I wasn’t happy. I hadn’t been in years.

Ba.

Dum.

Ba.

Dum.

Ba.

Dum.

The rhythm of the beat was gone. In its absence was a series of slow thumps without rhyme or reason.

Light surrounded me, and I was relieved. It was almost over, and I wasn’t even a little bit sad.

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t work that way. Doing this—you don’t get to go where you want to go. It’s not your time.”

I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t open my mouth. Why wasn’t it ever my time? Why couldn’t I make the choice?

“Help is here,” she announced.

I felt her lips against my cheek, and it made me want to cry. I didn’t want help—I just wanted it all to be over. It felt like the end was close—I couldn’t hear my heartbeat anymore at all.

“But you can’t ever see me again if you don’t fight,” she reminded me. “Life is a gift.”

If I’d been able to, I would have laughed. It had never felt like a gift to me.

“That’s because you’re letting the pain win,” she sad sadly.

I wondered how she knew what I was thinking, and then I lost the ability to form coherent thoughts since my body felt like it was on fire. Pain rushed through my veins like lava, and no area of my body was immune. Even my eyelids felt dry and scorched. I wanted to scream my lungs out, to beg for it to end, but I couldn’t move. The Loves Baby Soft smell of her faded away, replaced by an acrid stench that burned my nostrils.

I thought I was in hell. Regardless of whether I could go home or not, I didn’t think I had the wherewithal to withstand the amount of pain I experienced. My ribs and chest hurt so badly, I prayed to stop breathing.

Through it all, I was unable to communicate. My eyes stayed closed, and my mouth wouldn’t open. I couldn’t even lift a hand. If I’d been able to, I would’ve shoved whoever was touching me far, far away.

Right then, all I knew for sure was that if being helped hurt that much, I preferred to go without the aid.

Special Note:

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