Chaos series by Kristen Ashley

She broke it.

“Tyra had to cancel all the wedding plans.”

“Yeah?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Second time she had to do that. That Elliott guy wasn’t dead when she had to do it for Lanie, but still. Two times. Two weddings. It isn’t worth it. All that planning. All that money…” she pulled in a shaky breath “… not worth it. I’m not doing it again. I’m never getting married.”

At that, Shy rolled to his side, reached out and found her hand lying on the bed.

He curled his hand around hers, held tight and advised, “Don’t say that, baby. You’re twenty-two years old. You got your whole life ahead of you.”

“So did he.”

Fuck, he couldn’t argue that.

He pulled their hands up the bed and shifted slightly closer before he said gently, “If he was in this room right now, sugar, right now, he wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want to hear you say that shit. Dig deep, Tabby. What would he want to hear you say?”

She was silent then he heard her breath hitch before she whispered, “I’d give anything…”

She trailed off and went quiet.

“Baby,” he whispered back.

Her hand jerked and her body slid across the bed to slam into his, her face in his throat, her arm winding around him tight, her voice so raw, it hurt to hear. His own throat was ragged just listening.

“I’d give anything for him to be in this room. Anything. I’d give my hair, and I like my hair. I’d give my car, and Dad fixed that car up for me. I love that car. I’d swim an ocean. I’d walk through arrows. I’d bleed for him to be here.”

She burrowed deeper into him and Shy took a deep breath, pressing closer, giving her his warmth. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tighter as she cried quietly, one hand holding his tight.

He said nothing but listened, eyes closed, heart burning, to the sounds of her grief.

Time slid by and her tears slowly stopped flowing.

Finally, she said softly, “I dreamed a dream.”

“What, sugar?”

“I dreamed a dream,” she repeated.

He tipped his head and put his lips to the top of her hair but he had no reply. He knew it sucked when dreams died. He’d been there. There were no words to say. Nothing made it better except time.

Then she shocked the shit out of him and started singing, her clear, alto voice wrapping around a song he’d never heard before, but its words were gutting, perfect for her, what she had to be feeling, sending that fire in his heart to his throat so high, he would swear he could taste it.

“Les Mis,” she whispered when she was done.

“What?”

“The musical. Les Misérables. Jason took me to go see it. It’s very sad.”

If that was a song from the show, it f**king had to be.

She pressed closer. “I dreamed a dream, Shy.”

“You’ll dream more dreams, baby.”

“I’ll never dream,” she whispered, her voice lost, tragic.

“We’ll get you to a dream, honey,” he promised, pulling her closer.

She pressed in, and he listened as her breath evened out, felt as her body slid into sleep, all the while thinking her hair smelled phenomenal.

Shy turned into her, trapping her little body under his and muttering, “We’ll get you to a dream.”

Tabby held his hand in her sleep.

Shy held her but didn’t sleep.

The sun kissed the sky and Shy’s eyes closed.

When he opened them, she was gone.

Chapter Two

Waking Up in His Arms

Six weeks later…

The bell to my apartment rang and, standing in front of my mirror in the bathroom, I jumped.

Dad and Tyra were there to take me to the hog roast.

It was time, according to Dad, that I got back into life. I wasn’t so sure but Dad was, and when Dad was sure about something, well… you got yourself together and hauled yourself to a hog roast.

I stared at myself in the mirror, seeing my hair out to there, more makeup than I usually wore, a sweet long-sleeved Harley tee I bought just last weekend, the first I’d bought or worn in ages, faded jeans that fit great, and a fabulous belt. I couldn’t see them in the mirror but I also had on high, spike-heeled boots that I usually wore under smart skirts.

Nice.

Stupid!

I looked awesome, so awesome even I could say I looked awesome.

It was still stupid.

The bell rang again and there was a knock following it but I couldn’t move. I just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror, wondering what the hell I was doing.

I heard the door open and I knew Tyra had used her key.

“Tabby, honey, are you here?” I heard her call, and I tried to get my feet to move but I just stood, frozen in front of the mirror. “Tab, you here?” she yelled.

She was closer, moving into my bedroom, I could tell.

My feet finally moved, taking me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

There she was, thick, lush, shining auburn hair and lots of it, great figure even after two kids, Tyra Allen, my friend, my saving grace years ago.

My stepmom.

The instant her green eyes hit me, they got wide and a smile spread on her gorgeous face.

“Wow, honey, you look great.”

See? I looked great.

I was still stupid.

I knew what she saw. For months, I went through the motions of life but I put no effort into it. I got up and went to work, came home, and tried to sleep. I hung with the family and pretended everything was fine but they knew it was all a show.

Especially Dad.

Kane Allen, known as Tack to everyone but Dad to me, was far from dumb, which was cool most of the time but wasn’t when I was trying to pull the wool, something which I never, not in my life, succeeded in doing with my Dad.

“I messed up,” I declared and watched Tyra blink.

“Pardon?” she asked.

“I messed up,” I repeated.

“How did you mess up?” she asked.

“I slept with Shy.”

She didn’t blink then. Her eyes got so wide I thought they’d bug out of her head.

She rallied quickly, stuck her hand in her back pocket and pulled out her phone. She jabbed it with her finger and put it to her ear.

“Tack, honey, go on without us,” she said into her phone. “Tabby and I’ll take her car and meet you there later.” She paused, then, “I don’t know yet, but she and I have to talk, and when we get things sorted out, we’ll meet you at Chaos.” Pause, then, “Handsome, I told you, I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out and we’ll sort it out, then we’ll meet you there.” Another pause with an eye roll, then, softer, “I got this, you know I do. We’ll meet you at the roast soon.”