Yours Forever (Reign 3)

“Shut up,” Cal said, and took his seat beside me. Putting an arm around the back of my chair, he placed his other forearm on the table and leaned toward me while talking to Dave. “It’s no secret I can’t cook.”

“Not even breakfast?” Mark asked, then shook his head. “Lana, when you’re ready for a real man, you let me know. I can cook any meal.” Mark winked, purposefully pissing off Cal, and I laughed.

“I can barbecue you breakfast,” Cal said in my ear with all the confidence in the world.

For a moment, I got caught up in the fluid easiness of the moment. The way he looked at me, tossing a few winks out and melting my heart with that sly smile was enough to make me ache at the loss of how things used to be. Even the way he sat next to me was possessive in a simple way. A comfortable way that told the world I was his.

But I’m not. Not anymore.

“You alright?” Cal whispered into my ear, while everyone else held conversations around the table. I looked at him. Those blue eyes laced with concern. I couldn’t help but be honest.

“Not really,” I whispered back. I could tell he was on the brink of asking why, but I just gave a tight smile and refocused on my food. I didn’t want to talk about how the reminder of how this love, this sense of family with Cal, was pulling at my bones until I felt my joints were on the brink of crunching.

Dinner passed in a haze. Everyone talked and laughed.

“So, Rhett and Harper are on their honeymoon for a few weeks, huh?” Mark asked. “Does that mean I have to stop hitting on her?”

Everyone laughed.

Last night, Harper had told me she was going to postpone her and Rhett’s honeymoon, but I insisted she go. No reason she needed to sit here and watch me wallow and cry all over the place.

“No, you can. I’d love to see Rhett kick your ass for that,” Dave said.

“That guy has got it bad,” Mark said.

“Of course he does, he married her,” Cal chimed in. Mark’s playful smirk zeroed in on Cal.

“Speaking of guys who’ve got it bad,” Mark said. “Did Cal show you the art project he made for you yet, Lana?”

Surprise lit my face and Cal grumbled something like “shut the fuck up” to Mark.

“No, I haven’t seen this art project?” I said with wonderment, glancing at Cal.

“Dinner’s over,” Cal announced, and took my hand, helping me stand.

“Aw, don’t be sad, big guy,” Mark said. “The glitter was a nice touch. I think she’ll like it.”

“There was no glitter,” Cal defended, then marched me out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into his room. The memories instantly flooded from the last time I was in this small area at the station. It was on this bed that Cal and I had sex for the first time. I’d tasted his entire body and he enveloped me in all that strength. Now, he simply sat down, and coaxed me to sit beside him.

“You have to tell me about this art project now,” I said, trying to go for a lighter topic.

“It’s not a project,” he said, and bent to grab something from beneath his bed. “I ordered this, then just put a few pictures in it.”

He handed me a large book. It was red with a matte finish, and when I opened it, tears instantly sprang to my eyes. There, on the first page was a picture of Cal and me. Smiling and happy. I turned, and on the second page was a picture of me on the ladder, wearing Cal’s fire gear. That was the night he’d taken me over a hundred feet off the ground, and let me rise above all the problems that had been weighing me down.

I covered my mouth with my hand.

“You made me a scrapbook,” I whispered.

“It’s not much.” He leaned over and looked at the page I was staring at. “I remembered your face when you saw all the pictures Aunt Bea brought out of me, and I wanted you to have a place you could put your memories.”

I folded my lips together to keep the tug of pain at bay. Bea was Cal’s aunt and the nicest woman I’d ever known. She’d taken me in from the first day I’d met her. Her hugs could cure cancer and she was the kind of mother, friend, aunt, anyone would be lucky to have.

She’d raised Cal since he was a kid after his mother died. She’d also basically raised Jack, since his father was an abusive bastard that lived right across the street. And she’d loved both of them dearly.

“I’ve never had a scrapbook,” I said. I couldn’t even get a picture of my father. Let alone have a book of memories. Mostly because there were very few memories that were worth keeping. Until I met Jack and Cal that is. Then life had changed. And I wanted to remember the good time

s. Because they gave them to me. And now Cal was giving me even more.