Destroyed Destiny (Crowne Point 4)

Instead, I left her, to play the hero.

About fifteen minutes later, I wove through my mother’s garden to where I’d last seen Story, petals falling like fragrant snowflakes. It was an off-path section of the garden, hidden from view beneath the blossoms.

Story lifted her head, startled, but when she saw it was me, every muscle relaxed.

Fuck, just that reaction to me twisted me up inside.

I reached into my back pocket and handed her a wrinkled, official-looking envelope. “I managed to grab this before my mother saw it.”

She stared at the silky envelope, eyes wide and drowning in emotion. In hope.

“It’s from your uncle’s lawyer.”

She nodded.

I looked across the garden, to where Lottie was standing surrounded by reporters. “I have a plan to get you out of here. There’s a car waiting, in just a few more minutes there will be a distraction.”

She kept nodding, staring at the envelope.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded. “Why are you so quiet?”

She paused, realizing the ugly, barbed truth. “I…down here, I’m getting used to not speaking until given permission.”

I clenched my fist, trying to rein it in. “And you’re still going to sleep in his fucking bed tonight?”

At that, she tore her gaze from the letter. “Somebody has to fight for this. Fight for us.”

“I am!” I screamed, then lowered my voice as some people looked through the trees, searching for the source of the noise.

I gripped her bicep, pulling her deeper into the blossoms. “If I wasn’t fighting for us, I would have used my coins already and shipped you the fuck out of this world, Story. I want happily ever after. I want you in my bed. I want you with me. But I’m not going to apologize for having a contingency plan.”

She inhaled, and breathed out her nostrils. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I can’t.” Tears filled her eyes and she swiped them away. “I don’t even like imagining a world where we’re not together, much less living in one. I’d rather be—”

I wrapped one arm around her shoulders and thrust her to my chest, muffling her words.

“Don’t fucking say it.”

We stayed like that for far too short. There was a time limit on this moment, after all. Like all our moments together.

Slowly I pulled back, brushing aside stray tears from her cheeks.

“You’re being nice to me,” she said softly.

The happiness in her eyes broke me.

It fucking hurt. Every day. I didn’t know how to deal with it. With the terror and helplessness and fucking pain of her being in someone else’s bed. Worse…was knowing she was right. For now, this was the only option.

I thumbed her bottom lip. “I’ve been too hard on my little wife.”

She shook her head. “You haven’t been hard enough. I can’t imagine what this is doing to you.” A breeze fluttered more blossoms, and she smiled weakly. “I missed you calling me little wife. I hate fighting with you. When this is over, I don’t ever want to fight again.”

“I don’t think that’s realistic, Snitch. You hog the bed and kick in your sleep.”

Her lips parted. “No, I don’t—” she broke off. “Jokes?”

I pressed my forehead to hers. “Jokes.”

She exhaled long and slow against my lips. “I’ve been thinking really hard about what you said that morning in February.”