Page 108 of Beautiful Defiance

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LEIGH

Ididn’t go over to Seven’s and meet his parents. Instead, after we made love, he cleaned me up, held me in his arms, and we talked. We spoke of our dreams. Got to know one another more. I want to help kids. He would like to play football professionally.

If that dream doesn’t come true, he would like to be a football coach. Someday, we would marry the two, helping kids by offering scholarships based on need, talent, or grades. Why not give the kids choices? We also talked about what a relationship would look like. Trust. Support. Listening.Talking.

I didn’t tell him of my mom’s plan to divorce my father. Why tell? It would kill off his hope that his parents’ marriage will be okay after talking and making love. My parents did that too. Yet, what did it do for them other than delay the inevitable—my mom leaving my dad for her secret lover?

“Hey, doing okay?”

I blink. Seven is looking at me with a concerned expression.

“Yeah, why?”

“You were staring off into space. Ready?” He extends his hand to me. I’m sitting on the bleachers, waiting for him to be done with practice.

I set my hand in his, and he tugs me to my feet. It’s mid-week, and we’re back to our routine, the one we had before Seven decided I was a distraction and needed ditching for a girl who didn’t do it for him.

When he was cleaning off the blood from me losing my virginity, I almost reconsidered forgiving him so quickly. I should have slammed the door in his face. Stole something else from him, like his letterman jacket. Or burned his collection of expensive sneakers. I would ignore those puppy eyes and how defeated he looked standing in front of my door with his peace offering next to his feet.

I had this burning need to have him feel what I went through. The crushing hurt and ache in my chest. My longing for his presence. The emptiness inside me knowing he’ll never come through my bedroom window again.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him I changed my mind. That I needed a good month away from him. Even that wouldn’t be a guarantee I’d take him back. Except he changed my mind with the tenderness and hope on his pretty face.

“Would you mind if we plant the roses? Unless you’d rather I take them back. It was dumb of me to think you’d want red and white roses.” He’d gathered me in his arms and kissed the top of my head. “A dozen roses isn’t enough to show you how sorry I am, Leigh.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I . . . Seven, I love them. Let’s go plant.”

With the moon and the stars as our witnesses, he used the shovel that was on the ground, leftover from Maddox, and dug two holes.

“The colors are for you and me.”

“Which one am I?”

“White. Pure, beautiful, didn’t have your first kiss until you were eighteen. Red is mine. I’d bleed for you, Leigh.”

Maybe so, but I would never ask him to hurt for me or fight my battles. Alistair taught me to be independent and stick up for myself.

“Do you like sitting outside for a change?” Seven’s voice pulls me back to the present.

“I do.”

“I’d do you too. I mean, I do like having you sit out here too.”

Sheepish grin from Seven. My attention hangs on his mouth. So sexy. He’s so hot. Stinking adorable when he gets tongue-tied, which is not often. That boy, minus the f-bombs, can be so eloquent. A romantic too. And he’s my guy. How is it possible a girl with nothing to her name found someone willing to give her her heart’s desires?

I look at him with everything in my heart. Hope. Excitement. Anticipation.Longing.

“Seven.” His name edges from my lips in a breathless-like whisper.

“Babe.”

He steps into my space. He smells good. Sweat. The cool air. Male. I’m heady with need. He cups my face. Slides his fingers under my hair. Weaves his thick fingers in the strands and pulls me close.

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