“C’mon,” he says, taking my hand and tugging me toward the stairs. I think we might be going back downstairs for round two, but he leads me to the spiral stairs. “So, downstairs, this is pretty much it. The laundry room and bathroom are over there,” he says, gesturing to a door between the kitchen and the living room. “And the bedrooms are all upstairs.”
We pass a doorway at the top of the stairs. “Brenda’s room,” he says with a nod, pushing it open so I can see in.
It’s not too different than I remember my room looking when my parents were still parents, double bed with a pink quilt and nondescript furniture.
He knocks on the next two doors as we pass. “Guest rooms.” At the end of the hall, he pushes open a pair of double doors. “Mom’s room.”
It’s huge, with a stone fireplace on one wall, antique furniture, and a king size bed on a chunky wooden frame.
He gives me a gentle nudge back toward the door across from the guest rooms. “My room.”
It’s austere with a plain navy comforter on a queen size bed and nothing on the walls, similar to his bedroom in his apartment. Except hanging on a corner of the mirror over the dresser are his dog tags.
I go over and lift them away from the mirror, sort of hating them. They’re the source of his nightmares.
“Silo, B. S.” I look up at him. “Smith, like your father?”
He nods, moving closer.
He slips the tags out my hand. “I hadn’t slept in six years before I met you.” He looks at them, rubbing them between his thumb and fingers. “I can’t explain it, except to say when my life was meaningless, this was all there was to dream about. Now,” he says, reaching for my face, “I’ve got something so much better.”
He pulls me close and kisses me, then drops his tags on the dresser.
We kiss and I never want to stop, but Vicky’s voice carries up the stairs. “Dinner’s on!”
We head down to the dinner table and as we all sit and talk and eat way too much, I feel myself getting a little choked up. Destiny and Vicky are talking recipes, and Smith and Trevor offer to be their test subjects. Brenda asks me about my music and, as I tell her about the song I just wrote for her brother, I glance at Bran and find him smiling at me. It’s not exactly Norman Rockwell, but it’s more of a family than I’ve ever had. I don’t even know half of these people at the table very well, but it feels warm and inviting and I’ve never felt so much like I belong.
And when Bran takes my hand under the table and squeezes, I know, as long as it lasts, this is where I want to be.
Acknowledgements
My most heartfelt thanks to my extremely patient husband, for providing basic life necessities and keeping us all sustained during my obsession with my imaginary friends. To my girls, for being a source of inspiration for everything that I do. To my parents who, from the beginning, taught me to believe in myself. To the incredible team at New Leaf, including but not limited to my omnipotent uberagent, Suzie Townsend, for being the most incredible advocate any author could have, and Danielle Barthel for everything she does behind the scenes. To Danielle Sanchez and the fabulous ladies at Inkslinger, who put up with me for some unknown reason. And my writer friends for all their incredible support.
And, because my Muse is a wannabe rock star, a special thanks to Sam Hunt for
Take Your Time
, the incredible song that brought Bran and Lilah to life in my head.
About the author
Mia Storm is a hopeless romantic who is always searching for her happy ending. Sometimes she’s forced to make one up. When that happens, she’s thrilled to be able to share those stories with her readers. She lives in California and spends much of her time in the sun with a book in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, or hiking the trails in Yosemite.
Connect with her online at MiaStormAuthor.blogspot.com, on Twitter at
@MiaStormAuthor
, and on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/MiaStormAuthor
.