“A little,” I replied cautiously. “Just that he…”
“He was younger than me by a few years. But he was so smart. And talented. He loved to paint. And sing and dance. Even after my father took us up to Maine, Spencer still did everything in his power to put a smile on our faces. One day when my mom, Spencer, and I were cleaning the house, he started dancing and singing along to show tunes.
“Now you have to understand, my father essentially outlawed any sort of secular music. Hell, it was a miracle he let us read anything that wasn’t the Bible. He wasn’t always religious. In fact, before he took us up to Maine, I don’t think he even owned a Bible. But up there…” He shook his head, sighing. “He changed. Or maybe he’d changed before. I’m not quite sure. But when he walked in on Spencer singing and dancing, he lost it. Took off his belt and did a number on him. But Spencer didn’t cry. Didn’t shed a tear. Later that night, he told me it was worth it just to see Mom and me smile. To remember how happy we once were.”
I sighed, snuggling closer against him. “I think I would have liked your brother.”
“He would have loved you.” He pulled back, and I met his eyes. “You remind me a lot of him.”
“I do?”
“Yes. He could be stubborn, just like you. His nose would be buried in a book every chance he got, much like you. But he was also so damn brave.” His voice wavered as he brought his hand to my jaw and cupped my face. “He never backed down from a challenge. Never wavered. Always stood up for what he believed was right.” He inched his mouth toward me, his breath dancing on my lips. “Just like you. I love you so fucking much, Ariana.”
“And I love you,” I responded in the seconds before he touched a kiss to my mouth, his tongue easing inside and tangling with mine.
He pushed me onto my back, his lips never breaking away. A moan slipped from my throat as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
I tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time I ever feel him like this. The last time he’d ever link his fingers with mine. The last time he’d ever kiss me like I was oxygen.
The last time I’d ever bask in his love.
“I need you,” I whimpered as he tore his lips from mine and left frantic kisses along my jawline and down the column of my neck. “Need you one last time.”
“No.” He snapped his eyes to mine. “We’re not doing that. This isn’t our last time.” He grasped my jaw in one strong hand. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” The quiver in his voice betrayed his emotions. “We’ll find you. And after, you can live the life you’ve always dreamed of. The life you deserve. Do you hear me?”
I blinked back my tears, remaining mute.
“Do you hear me?” he repeated, so much fervor and determination in his expression.
“I hear you,” I managed to squeak out.
“I will not fucking lose you. Not now that I have everything I never thought I deserved. Not now that I finally have you.”
He crushed his lips back to mine, and I lost myself in his kiss once more, so many emotions overwhelming me at once. Fear. Apprehension. Despair. But mixed with all that was something stronger. Something that wouldn’t back down. Something I felt all the way down to my marrow.
My mother often told me the only thing stronger than hate was love.
Now I understood.
Because regardless of all the other emotions swirling inside me, the love I had for this man shined brighter than anything else.
And in this moment, I was convinced our love would help us navigate whatever storm we were about to face.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Henry
I leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching Ariana drag her fingers through a bowl of mud. The earthy smell filled the room as she smeared another streak across her cheek, studying her reflection with intense concentration.
I thought it was excruciating to watch her do this earlier in preparation to take the photos to send to this bastard.
Now it felt unbearable.
Because this wasn’t just a shot in the dark.
This was real.
In a matter of minutes, I’d watch Ariana leave this house in the hopes of leading me to my daughter.
