Chapters (33)
- Cover
- The
- Copyright Page
- Table of Contents
- A Note to Readers
- The Wicked World
- Playlist
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Epilogue
- More Books By Melissa Foster
- Acknowledgments
- Meet Melissa
How could he ever have thought putting a bridge and any number of miles between him and Carrie could dull the pain of her absence in his life? He gripped the handlebars tighter. His jaw tightened as he turned off the main road and made his way to the residential neighborhood.
It was late, most of the houses dark.
Was he too late?
The double meaning had him slowing to a crawl down his sister’s street. The picket fence came into view, and his hands were sweaty as he pulled up to the curb. A glance in the mirror showed the other two motorcycles hanging back. He was surprised at how their presence gave him strength, and he wondered if that came from good old-fashioned peer pressure—he couldn’t back down with two guys watching his every move—or the support of the men who had become an important part of his life. The men who had stood up to him to protect the woman he’d come to love and then had taken the time to get to know him and not only accepted his past, but were helping him to build a future he could be proud of.
His heart thundered, making it hard to hear his own thoughts as he looked past the fence to the tiger lilies that had lost their blooms and the vibrant blue and white hydrangeas flanking the front steps. Carrie had planted their mother’s favorite flowers. His sister’s younger voice cut through the thunder. I hate when the lily petals shrivel up and die, and all that’s left are ugly stems and leaves. I wish they could stay pretty forever.
He gritted his teeth as his mother’s voice sailed through his mind, as soft as a whisper. It’s a shame you only see dead flowers and ugly stems. I see brave flowers that made room for new seed pods, and strong stems putting all their energy into nourishing those pods. She’d crooked her finger, beckoning Tobias and his sister closer, as if she were sharing a treasured secret. Don’t be fooled by your beautiful petals. The part of you that people have to search deeper to find—the inner strength that learns and heals and grows—that’s where your true beauty lies.
But no one can see that, Carrie had insisted.