Page 96 of The Cruelty of Thorns

He bent over the bed and dropped a soft kiss on my lips. I closed my eyes, savoring the contact that was over too soon. When I opened them, I couldn’t stop a tear from escaping.

“Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure right now.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“No.” He squeezed my hand again. “You have a good life, Myra.”

And then he turned and walked out the door. The sound of it clicking shut again caused the man in the chair to stir. He sat up and wiped his eyes, pulling himself together. When he saw that I was awake, he stood and cautiously approached the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

What could I say? Part of me was broken-hearted, while another part was grateful to be alive. I looked up, meeting his eyes. They still had that haunted look I’d seen earlier when we’d fought in the quad, but there was something else there as well. Hope.

“I think I’m going to be all right.”

He nodded and ran his hand through his hair in what I’d come to realize was a nervous habit. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then seemed to come to a conclusion. “Myra, I’m sorry for being a jerk to you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. But I’d like to make it up to you. Do you think…” he hesitated, running his hand through his hair again. “Is there any chance we could maybe, um, start over?”

I thought about that. I did still like him. When he wasn’t being a dick, he was sweet and funny and yes, sexy. And I guess I can understand now why he acted the way he did after the attack. The truth was, I missed him.

“I think that would be nice, Ron.”

EPILOGUE

MYRA

One year later

I PUT THE finishing touches on the painting and stood back to admire my work. With the morning sun streaming in the windows, the colors on the canvas seemed to glow like they had in real life. I’m surprised I recalled it so vividly, since it had been years since I’d been to the lake. The sound of the front door closing pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Car’s loaded, babe,” Ron’s voice called. I listened to his footsteps cross the creaky wood floors of the bungalow until he settled in behind me and slipped his hands around my waist. “Is it done?” I nodded. “Looks great. You planning on keeping it or putting it out on consignment?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” I glanced across the sunny space to the drafting table in the corner where several sketches were arranged. “Looks like you’re done, too.”

“Noah says he needs six more panels before the book is finished. Then we can send it out to beta readers.”

“That’s great.” I smiled and leaned back against him. “I can’t believe how lucky we were to find this place.”

The sunroom in the back of the small bungalow made a perfect studio for our artwork. We’d lucked into the rental this past summer when one of the professors at the college decided to accept a position at another school. We both had to get part-time jobs to afford it, but it was worth it for the privacy and this space.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you,” he replied.

He spun me around and closed his arms around me, his lips finding mine. The kiss that started out slowly became more demanding, our tongues tangling, his hands reaching down to fist the hem of my dress.

“I thought you were in a hurry to get on the road,” I teased.

“What’s a few more minutes?”

“I don’t know,” I hedged. “What time did you tell your mom we’d be there?”

He sighed, his lips trailing across mine, up my cheek, to my ear, where he nibbled on the sensitive skin. “No specific time. Besides, it’ll be four days before I have you all to myself again.”

“You’ll be so involved with your family, you won’t even notice.”

---