Happenstance 3 Page 13

  "I want you to stay," I whispered.

  He exhaled, so surprised that he almost didn't trust what he'd heard. "What?" His eyes met mine, and he leaned in, stopping just an inch from my lips.

  "You heard me," I said quietly.

  "I promised your dad I wouldn't. I got a hotel room."

  I bit my bottom lip, staring at his. "Stay."

  His eyebrows pulled in, conflict scrolling across his face. "What's going to happen tomorrow?"

  I spread my legs wider, pulling him toward me, and I rested my hands on his shoulders. They were thicker than I remembered. I trailed down his arms until I reached his fingers that tenderly lingered against my jaw. I gripped them in my own and lowered them to my backside, never taking my eyes from his.

  His mouth hovered just out of reach, and I could taste each breath he panted in anticipation.

  His breath caught. "I just want to hear that you still love me. If want me, Erin...I'm all yours."

  "I love you." My voice was barely a whisper.

  His body stiffened before he lifted me in his arms, blindly carrying me into the bedroom. He lowered my body to the bed as if I were weightless. He stood before me and stripped off his shirt. When his toned chest and the ridges of his abdomen came into view, I knew that he had been using the gym to escape the misery he'd described.

  I tugged off my sweater as he slipped his boots from his feet and unbuttoned his jeans. His eyes locked on mine as he slid them down over his hips, revealing the staggering V-shaped muscles below.

  Weston gripped my heel in his hand as he unzipped my tall leather boot before sliding it off, and then he did the same to the other. The corners of his mouth turned up into a ghost of a smile as his fingers tugged at the hem of my black leggings, pulling them toward him, achingly slow.

  As he lowered his body against me, the searing heat of his skin scorched mine. A groan resonated from the back of his throat as his eyes closed, and his tongue slid over the seam of my lips. My mouth parted, allowing him to enter, and I silently begged him to make up for lost time.

  His fingers slid easily along my sensitive skin, finding their way under my tank top before gripping my back against the mattress. With one deft movement, he unsnapped my bra, peppering my skin with tiny kisses. By the time he relieved me of my shirt, bra, and then my panties, his boxer briefs were all that separated us, leaving little to the imagination.

  I relaxed my head back, letting my arms fall to the bed, as his mouth rediscovered every inch of me.

  "I've missed you so much," he whispered against my delicate skin.

  I could feel every breath and every smile, and I could sense every decision he made to move lower. My fingers tangled in the sheets as I closed my eyes, begging him to take us further, and I sighed with relief when he did.

  I PUSHED OUT THE DOUBLE DOORS of the north building. I was tired and sore, and I wasn't sure that my final grade would be an A, but I was confident that a percentage point or two was a good trade.

  The walk to Bennett Hall took too long, and it wasn't because of the staggering wind chill. By the time I stepped off the elevator, I was scrambling to get through the door.

  Once I stepped through the threshold, I was in Weston's arms, and his mouth was on mine. His backpack was zipped and sitting by the door, and he had my suitcase open and ready.

  "I still have clothes there. Julianne didn't want me to have to cart things back and forth."

  "Toothpaste?" Weston asked.

  "Yes," I said after thinking for half a second.

  "Will you ride with me?"

  I smiled. "That was the plan, wasn't it?"

  He leaned over and slid one arm through his pack. Then, he held his hand out to me. I swiped my wallet off the kitchen counter and glanced back at my apartment. Weston had cleaned while I was taking tests in my classes.

  As I locked my door, Weston stood behind me, holding me while he nuzzled my neck. I giggled, and after I could finally concentrate enough to turn the bolt lock, we made our way downstairs to the parking lot.

  Shiny, beautiful, and bright red, the vehicle that held all my best memories waited for Weston and me to climb inside. Once I slid into the passenger seat, I was tugged a bit farther until I was sitting next to my boyfriend, my first love, and--if Weston was right when he was just a boy--the man I would marry one day.

  We spent the ride home chatting about the Art Institute of Dallas, Weston's new apartment, his crazy roommates, and his favorite professors. The drive seemed to be too short when the Chevy parked next to the curb of my parents' home.

  Sam and Julianne were outside--having made sure to get regular updates on our time of arrival--with their arms wide open. Julianne was squealing and clapping before nearly tackling me when we met in the middle of the lawn. Sam caught up, and as usual, he eclipsed our bodies with his in a warm bear hug.

  "Our girl is home! She's home, Sam!" Julianne squealed.

  "Yes, she is!"

  When they released me, they expectantly watched Weston and me.

  In answer, Weston slid his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side, and I reached my arms around his middle, interlacing my fingers.

  Julianne clasped her hands together, more than just pleased. She pulled us both into a hug.

  "Well?" Sam said. "Come in, come in. Julianne's baked a turkey so big that we can just warm up the leftovers next turkey day."

  My parents led the way, hand in hand, but Weston tugged on my fingers, asking me to stay behind.

  He wrapped me in his arms to ward off the cold, his breath puffing out in white wisps. "I wouldn't let myself hope that I'd be walking into your parents' house with you in my arms."

  Weston reached down, letting the small silver heart he'd had made for me months ago slide over his palm and fingers until it fell gently back into place.

  "I don't know how we made it work," he said. "It could have all been coincidence, or maybe it was meant to be, but I know I'm not taking any more chances."

  "It's by chance that I have my parents back," I said, rolling up on the balls of my feet to touch my lips to his.

  He closed his eyes tight, savoring the moment. "And by some miracle, I got a second chance."

  "We got a second chance," I said.

  He reached into his pocket and sighed. "You don't have to wear this," he said, holding up his class ring. "I just want you to have it."

  I held up my left hand, and his emerald eyes glowed.

  "Really?"

  When I nodded, he chuckled nervously, and then he slipped the ring over my knuckle. It fit perfectly, and he beamed with pride.

  "Show me your palm," he said.

  I turned my hand, and etched in black to match the other markings was the word that described my life, our love, and everything in between. It was my favorite word in existence.

  HAPPENSTANCE

  The End.

  In elementary school, whenever a certain classmate decided she was angry with me, the other kids in class would be required to shun me. Valerie Clark and Lisa Coffey would always play with me during recess even though they had been told not to. My eight-year-old self thanks you, and I'm still grateful.

  In middle school, my science teacher ridiculed me in front of the entire class. I don't remember why, but I recall Tammy Starks standing up to her, telling her she couldn't treat me that way, even after being threatened with the principal's office. I thought it was amazingly brave back then, and I still do. Thank you.

  In middle school, I was tricked into meeting someone at a local park, so the school bully could beat me up. Mr. Mike Garcia saw the crowd, pulled over, and stopped the fight before it began. He wouldn't let me walk home, knowing they would follow, and instead, he gave me a ride. I cried the whole way home, and he assured me life wouldn't be like that forever. Thank you, Mr. Garcia. You were right.

  When I moved to a new school in the eighth grade, Walleen Littlebear missed her bus to follow me home from school just to make sure two girls who wanted to
attack me wouldn't have the chance. Thank you for making me feel safe.

  In high school, Bridget Saint confronted the homecoming queen in my honor, and Ryan Feddersen refused to let the show-choir tryouts be a popularity contest. Thank you.

  Even in our adult lives, it is sometimes required of us to stand up for others. Thank you Abbi Glines, Fred LeBaron, Danielle Lagasse, Kelli Spear, Jessica Landers, Jennifer Armentrout, and Kristi Browne.

  It's not always easy to speak out, but I'll never forget it. Sometimes, even fighters need a champion.

  Thank you to Mr. Bringham for assisting me in some of the details about the school and to Dr. Lisa Vandermeer-Kahle for also aiding me with my fading memory.

  A big thank you to Patty Stuever for the use of her Dairy Queen in the book.

  JAMIE MCGUIRE was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She attended Northern Oklahoma College, the University of Central Oklahoma, and Autry Technology Center where she graduated with a degree in Radiography.

  Jamie paved the way for the New Adult genre with the international bestseller Beautiful Disaster. Her follow-up novel, Walking Disaster, debuted at #1 on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists. Beautiful Oblivion, book one of the Maddox Brothers books, also topped the New York Times bestseller list, debuting at #1.

  Novels also written by Jamie McGuire include: apocalyptic thriller, Red Hill; the Providence series, a young adult paranormal romance trilogy; Apolonia, a dark sci-fi romance; and several novellas, including A Beautiful Wedding, Among Monsters: A Red Hill Novella, and Happenstance: A Novella Series.

  Jamie lives on a ranch just outside of Enid, Oklahoma, with her husband, Jeff, and their three children. They share their thirty acres with cattle, six horses, three dogs, and a cat named Rooster.

  Find Jamie at www.jamiemcguire.com or on Facebook, Twitter, Tsu, and Instagram.