Page 1 of Sweet Redemption

PROLOGUE

SERENA

Three Years Ago

“Serena . . .” The sound of my name on his lips has always been my undoing. Always. For what feels like a lifetime, all Hendrix Sinclair ever had to do to break down every single wall I’ve had was whisper my name.

A million memories flood my veins.

Pictures flash like old home movies.

Vivid memories. Sensory memories.

Ones I can touch and taste and smell.

Memories I get utterly lost in.

The scent of the ocean on his warm skin. Always warm to my cold.

Hiding from my parents . . . his brothers . . . from our families.

Fighting. Making up. Doing it all over again. And again.

In silence.

In secret.

Breaking hearts.

His and mine.

They all come crashing down, their weight crushing my already splintered soul.

“Hendrix . . .” His name rips softly from my lips as I empty the last drops of red wine from the bottle, square my shoulders, and force myself to look back at the phone screen.

I know this man’s face as well as I know my own. I’ve traced every line. Memorized every small scar and freckle. Warm sandy-brown hair always just on the right side of too long. Scruff lining his beautifully chiseled jaw. Tonight, even the faint light breaking through the darkness can’t hide the stress I recognize hiding in those crystalline eyes. And I swear to God, that’s what breaks me. Because I know why this man is stressed, even if I don’t want to accept it. Even if I would give every last breath left in my body for it not to be . . .

“Is it true?”

Oh God, even asking . . . giving sound to my nightmare . . . the pain is excruciating.

He sits up, his bare chest flexing with the movement before the phone jostles and the ceiling comes into focus momentarily. Christ, Hendrix . . . When he finally rights the phone again, he’s sitting on his couch in his living room in Chicago, the one I wish I didn’t know as well as I do. The one I swore I’d stay away from.

But as much as I’ve always known I had to, I never could stay away from this man.

Not completely.

Even when I begged him to do it for me.

“Tell me I’m wrong . . .” I don’t want to be this woman. Desperate and needy. But here I am. “Please, Hendrix.” I stifle a sob as his jaw flexes, and those gorgeous blue eyes I love more than my own life look away. There’s so much pain there. Hiding in plain sight.

The breath I suck in might as well be wrapped in razor blades with the red-hot agony that spreads through my chest. “Oh God—it’s true.”

Clenching his jaw, Hendrix forces his eyes back to the screen . . . and it’s gone.

Every single trace of the boy I’ve spent my entire life loving is obliterated.

Replaced with this man I no longer know.