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Back Stolen Soulmate Save as PDF
Chapters (66)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Keep Reading
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-One
  25. Twenty-Two
  26. Twenty-Three
  27. Twenty-Four
  28. Twenty-Five
  29. Twenty-Six
  30. Twenty-Seven
  31. Twenty-Eight
  32. Twenty-Nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-One
  35. Thirty-Two
  36. Thirty-Three
  37. Thirty-Four
  38. Thirty-Five
  39. Thirty-Six
  40. Thirty-Seven
  41. Thirty-Eight
  42. Thirty-Nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-One
  45. Forty-Two
  46. Forty-Three
  47. Forty-Four
  48. Forty-Five
  49. Forty-Six
  50. Forty-Seven
  51. Forty-Eight
  52. Forty-Nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty-One
  55. Fifty-Two
  56. Fifty-Three
  57. Fifty-Four
  58. Fifty-Five
  59. Fifty-Six
  60. Fifty-Seven
  61. Fifty-Eight
  62. Fifty-Nine
  63. Sneak Peek
  64. Find Me
  65. Books by Mary Catherine Gebhard
  66. Acknowledgments

So why the fuck can’t I get Snitch out of my head? Her soft, eager mouth. Her teasing body. Her insane honesty.

More.

I crushed my teeth against the sucker, splintering the candy like glass. It was like she’d been made for me, and someone switched up the shipping labels.

My mother stood, following my eyes to the door. “A mistress or two is fine, but don’t make the same mistake your father did.”

Parting words from my mother.

Tansy Crowne didn’t miss a thing. I’m sure the minute she saw Story, she knew something was up. Hell, the day my grandfather saw her in my bedroom, he probably ran a fucking background check on her. I dragged two hands down my face. My father had taken a mistress and “like a fucking idiot”—Grandpa’s words—fallen in love. So when she got pregnant, he didn’t “take care of it.”

The same mistake as my father, in their eyes, was keeping the babies. In mine, it was keeping a mistress in the first place.

None of this was how it should be.

Snitch should be gone.

Lottie should be the girl in my bed.

I never wanted to be my father.

Twenty-Six

STORY

I froze when Grayson opened the double doors, nervous that he would be upset with what I was doing. But he was in a trance. He walked to the center of the room, grabbed a vase that must have been worth thousands, and chucked it at the wall.

It shattered into thousands of gilded white porcelain pieces and then we descended back into silence. Thorny, leaded silence. Gray stared at the spot now scratched on his matte white wall where the vase had shattered, breathing heavy. His shoulders strained, his jaw even tighter.

My Atlas.

In him I saw me—not Story, but Storybook—the little girl forced to seal secrets to keep her mother’s world afloat.

Then his eyes found me, and they turned to ice. “What are you doing?”

I looked at the small mountain of clothes in my hands. “Packing.”

“No shit, why?”

“I succeeded. Lottie wants you, right? You’re getting married.”

He stalked to me like a predator about to eat its prey. I stepped back, hitting the back of the couch. Like the first time I’d come to him, my things started to tumble off my little mountain.

“Should we talk about how you know that?” Grayson growled. “You really have a knack for hearing shit you shouldn’t.”

I attempted to ignore him, tried to pick up what had fallen, when he grabbed my wrist so tight I opened my hand and the cotton shirt fluttered down.

“We were in the middle of something.”

This was never going to end any other way. With Grayson Crowne marrying the love of his life, and me forgotten. The stupid thing was I had been starting to forget. Pretend maybe things could be different.