Harrison groaned. “Okay, okay, you win.”
“Again,” she said.
He laughed and put his arms around her. Makay looked over to where Nate was playing table tennis with Tianna. This was their sixth time over to his parents in the last month, and she was beginning to feel like part of the family. She had never again discussed the events of that night with Sherry, but the woman treated her well, and she doted on Nate, and that was more than enough for Makay.
Harrison pulled her backward to the couch under the window. His breath tickled her ear, sending sparkles of light throughout her body. Makay settled against his arm. Physically, she was all back to normal, the cast having been removed yesterday, and though sometimes she still had nightmares from her past, she was doing better emotionally as well. Lenny was behind bars, she and Nate were doing well in school, and Snoop and Nate were thriving at Brette’s house. Nate now played soccer with his friends at least three times a week. Harrison was almost always the goalie.
Her schooling and career goals had undergone a big change. While her accounting classes would still come in handy for her new business venture, she’d added an online course in private investigating. Her focus would be reuniting birth children and parents—those who wanted reuniting, yet she wouldn’t necessarily limit herself to that. In fact, right now she was slowly building a dossier on Darren Nichols, the man who had beaten her in Colorado Springs. Officer Sharpel had assured her that once she had proof of his treatment of his wife, he would put the man’s arrest into motion. So far, Sharpel had been her best ally in the mess with Lenny, and Makay trusted him. She would never find justice for herself with Nichols, but she would help the man’s wife escape from his clutches—and also help the two children he’d lied about having.
All trust aside, she had wasted no time in appearing on the doorstep of the second-floor residents at Lenny’s apartment building to retrieve his manila folder. Instead of giving it to the police, she and Harrison had enjoyed roasting hot dogs over the nice fire the contents had made in his barbeque.
“Any word?” she asked Harrison, who had brought up his email on his phone. They’d registered on several birth parent and family connection sites with his sister’s birth information. Harrison didn’t want to butt into his sister’s life, but he did want her to know that someone was interested if she ever started looking.
“Not yet. She’s probably busy with the wedding. I’m glad for her.”
“Do you think your mother will ever tell Eli?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I hope she does. Maybe after he mellows in a few more years.”
Makay snorted. “Don’t you think that would have happened already?”
“Yeah, but did you see him blowing on Caulin’s stomach last week after dinner? That’s something I
never
thought I’d live to see.”
He had a point. “So what now?” Makay asked. “Another game?”
Harrison didn’t reply for a long moment, and Makay looked at him with a raised brow. Something was different in his face, but she couldn’t tell what. “Well, I was going to challenge Nate to a game of pool,” he said, glancing again at his phone, “but it looks like Mom just texted about needing help with dinner.”
“Really?” Makay was surprised. If there was one woman who was on top of running her home without help, it was Sherry Matthews. “I’ll go. You play with Nate.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. She never lets me help. I want to do it.”
Downstairs, the kitchen was deserted, and the smell of Sherry’s delicious pot roast was much stronger, making Makay’s mouth water. On the counter a single can of diced tomatoes nestled between a large white bowl and a can opener. On top of the can was a note that read
open me.
Makay recognized the brand of tomatoes. It was the same one Harrison had thrown at her feet at the Q Lounge.
The night I fell in love with him.
Her matching can sat on her nightstand at Brette’s. It was a sentimentality she didn’t usually allow herself, but she did all sorts of things she’d never expected to do where Harrison was concerned. Had he given his can to Sherry, or did she always use this brand?
Makay opened the can.
“Sherry?” she called, sensing movement in the hallway outside the kitchen door. “What do you want me to do with this?” No response. Was Sherry making some kind of sauce for her pot roast? Makay would probably have to go find the woman unless there were more instructions somewhere. She picked up the note and turned it to the back where it said
pour me.
Okay.
She was beginning to feel a little like Alice in Wonderland.
As she poured the tomatoes into the bowl, something flashed up at her. She fished it out and stared.
A ring.
Arms closed around her and then slipped away as Harrison went to one knee on the floor. “I love you,” he said. “Totally and completely. I know this is fast, but I’ve waited as long as I possibly can. I want us to be a family. You, me, and Nate. What do you say?”
“Say yes!” Nate appeared behind him. By his grin, Makay knew he’d been in on Harrison’s plan. “Please say yes.”
More heads appeared in the doorway: Harrison’s sisters, their husbands, Sherry, and even Eli. Not perfect and not her family and yet she knew they were both those things to her now.
Makay pulled Harrison up to kiss him. “Yes,” she said against his mouth. “Yes, I will.”
THE END
NOTE FROM RACHEL BRANTON: Thank you for downloading this book and for spending a little time with me in my world! If you enjoyed
Your Eyes Don’t Lie,
will you consider leaving a review on
Amazon
and
Goodreads
? The more positive reviews I receive, the less time I spend trying to sell random people my book and the more time I can spend writing. I promise to make it up to you! In fact, for your enjoyment, I have included in the next section a sneak peek of my novel
The Change
,
a contemporary urban fantasy I wrote under the name Teyla Branton. Enjoy! Or if you missed Tessa’s story in
Tell Me No Lies
, you can read the first chapter
here.
You can see all my books on the
About the Author
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. Thanks again!
Sneak Peek
UNBOUNDED
THE CHANGE
by
Teyla Branton
Chapter One
O
n the day I set foot on the path to immortality, I was with Justine in her car driving down 95th on our way to pick out her new sofa. Ordinary. That’s what the day was. The plain kind of ordinary that obscures the secrets lurking in the shadows—or behind the faces of those you love.
Justine was the sister I’d never had, and our relationship was close to official since her brother had asked me twice to marry him. Tom was sexy, persuasive, and best of all, dependable. The next time he asked, I was considering saying yes.
A van came from nowhere, slamming into Justine’s side of the car.
Just like that. No warning.
Justine jerked toward me but was ultimately held in her seat by the safety belt. My head bounced hard off the right side window. A low screeching grated in my ears, followed by several long seconds of utter silence.
An explosion shattered the world.
When the smoke began to clear, I saw Justine’s head swing in my direction, though not of her own volition. Her blue eyes were open but vacant, her face still. Fire licked up the front of her shirt. Her blond hair melted and her skin blackened.
“No!” The word ripped from my throat.
I tried to reach out to Justine, but my arms wouldn’t move. Heat. All around me. Terror. Pain. The stench of burning flesh.
Fire and smoke obscured my vision, but not before I saw something drip from the mess that had been Justine’s face. We were dying. This was it. The point of no return. I thought of my parents, my grandmother, my brothers, and how they would mourn me. I couldn’t even think about Tom.
A premonition of things to come?
I lost consciousness, and when I came to I was lying flat on my back. A sheet covered my face. I was suffocating.
“Witnesses say . . . in flames almost on impact,” a man’s voice was saying. “A fluke . . . not for the fire . . . might have survived.”
I turned my face, struggling to move my mouth from the sheet. Searching for air. Agony rippled up my neck and all over my head and down my body, the pain so decimating that it sapped all strength from me. I couldn’t move again, but that little bit had been enough.
“What the freak!” the voice said. I could barely hear the words, but they gave me something to focus on through the pain. I clung to them. “Gunnar . . . the oxygen . . . thought you said she was dead.”
The sheet lifted and air rushed into my tortured lungs. I could sense people all around me, though I couldn’t see anything except a hazy light. My throat was tight and burning, reminding me of the time I’d had both strep-throat and tonsillitis as a child. Only far worse. Blinding pain so intense that I couldn’t even moan.
More snatches of conversation filtered to my brain. “Black as a crisp . . . try an IV . . . have to be amputated . . . University of Kansas . . . Burn Center.”
Motion. The blare of a siren. Then blessed nothing.
When I awoke the next time, my throat still hurt, and so did every single inch of my body, though not with the all-consuming pain that made me wish I were dead. Probably they’d given me drugs. Or maybe too many nerves were damaged. I could feel an oxygen tube in my nose and cold seeping into a vein in my right shoulder. How could that be? I’d had IVs before and I’d never felt the liquid. It was so good, so necessary, that for a moment I concentrated all my attention on that small, steady flow. Life seeping into my body. But far too slowly. I wanted more.
Abruptly the sensation was gone. The pain cranked up a notch.
I tried to open my eyes, but only the right one was uncovered. From what I could tell, I seemed to be completely swathed in bandages and unable to move. My single eye rested on Tom, who was standing near the window, staring out with the unfocused expression of a man who saw nothing.
Tom shifted his weight, his muscles flexing under his T-shirt and jeans. In the past months I’d learned his body almost as well as my own, and even now I felt a sense of wonder at the miracle of our relationship. He didn’t push me for commitment, didn’t question why I was so hesitant to take the next step, and I loved him for that perhaps more than anything. It was also why I didn’t know if things would work out between us.
A tiny rush of air escaped the hole they’d left in the bandages near my mouth. He turned toward me, his face stricken, looking older than his thirty-five years. “Erin? Are you awake?”
I tried to nod, but found I couldn’t. I lay mute and helpless. Finally, I thought to close and open my single eye.
He was at my side instantly. “Oh, honey. Thank God! I thought I’d lost—” He broke off, struggling for control. “Erin, can you understand me?”
I blinked again.
“Okay, good. That’s really good. Do you remember what happened?” He took a shaky breath and hesitated before adding, “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”
I remembered the accident. I remembered the fire and how Justine had burned, but I wanted the rest explained. I wanted to hear if Justine was in a bed like I was. I wanted to hear if we’d be okay.
I blinked twice.
He leaned closer, not touching me, his eyes rimmed in red. His eyes had a tendency to change color with what he wore, and today they were the inviting shade of a lake on a hot summer day. My favorite color.
“This morning you and Justine were in a car accident. There was a fire. You were burned.”
Over seventy percent of my body.
The thought came from nowhere, and I wondered if I’d unconsciously heard someone talking about my condition. If that was true, my chances weren’t good. I’d heard of a formula at the insurance company where I worked: take your age, add the percentage of your body burned, and the sum was your chance of fatality. I’d be over a hundred percent.
I’m still alive. I’m the exception.
“Your parents just stepped out for a while. Your grandmother was here, too, almost all day, but they finally convinced her to go home. Chris is on his way.”
Had that much time passed? My older brother, Chris, had left that morning to pilot a charter flight from Kansas City to Tulsa. I’d been planning to go over tonight when he returned so I could spend time with him and Lorrie and their kids.
“They called Jace. He’ll be here soon.”
Jace was on his way from Texas?
My younger brother had barely arrived at his new unit, and the army would never allow him to come home.
I knew then what Tom wasn’t saying: I was dying. Was that why there wasn’t as much pain? Or had my limbs been amputated? I tried to move my legs, but they felt heavy, and I wondered if that was the sensation the nerves sent to the brain after amputation. I concentrated on moving my arms, and though they were sheathed in bandages, I managed to move my right one slightly.
Tom’s eyes followed the movement, swallowing so hard I could see the lump in his throat go up and down. He wet his lips, started to speak, stopped, and then tried again. “It’s going to be okay, Erin. You’ll see.” The lie was so bad I felt sorry for him. I knew it was killing him not to do something useful for me, to somehow alleviate my suffering, but there was nothing he could do now, nothing either of us could do. This was one of those moments you endured and survived. Or you didn’t.
A nurse entered, and Tom eased away from the bed. “She’s awake,” he said. A pleading kind of hope had come into his face, and it was painful to see. More painful than the lie. “She understands what I’m saying.”
The nurse leaned in front of my good eye, doubt etched on her round face. Two bright spots of red stood out on her plump cheeks like awkwardly applied blush. “Well, that’s a good sign,” she said, but hesitantly, as though I was somehow breaking the rules by regaining consciousness.
Her eyes lifted toward something behind me. “What happened to the IV? It shouldn’t need changing already. That’s the third time we’ve run out in the last hour.” She shook her head. “Must be something wrong with the valve. I’ll check it and get another bag.”