Where We Left Off (Phoenix Falls, #1)

by Sapphire Hale

Tate. Coleson. The best friend that I ever had. Who then became the worst friend that I ever had.

I don’t mention Tate. My mom has literally no idea what went down between us – hell, I don’t think she even knew that he existed – and he definitely doesn’t prescribe to the future she’s mapped out for me. If only he didn’t prescribe to the secret future I had mapped out for myself.

Then I fold my arms across my chest because I mean business. “Thanks. I just want whatever is best for my mom. If that’s you, then good.” Mitch rocks on the back of his heels and observes me with a slow nod. Suddenly I decide that I’m being too nice. I’ve hard-wired myself to never be nice to a guy again, so I elect to throw him off a bit. “And if not,” I continue conspiratorially, thinking back to his garage, “I’ve already seen where you keep the murder tools.” Mitch’s eyes widen and then he throws his head back in a dazzling laugh, one hand clutching his wide muscled stomach. I literally can’t believe that my mom has pulled this guy. When he drops his head forward again he sighs with a lazy smile, basking in my threat. I know that smile. “I knew you’d be even better in person,” he says and he gives me another winning grin as he leaves the dining area.

“How long ago did you do this?” he asks, already rummaging in his first aid kit for something. Hopefully an axe. Tate is standing over us looking incensed with his arms folded across his chest. I bask delightedly in his discomfort. “A few days ago,” I reply, with a nonchalant shrug. When Tate’s gaze moves from my hand to my eyes I do a sort of self-satisfied smile. His eyes narrow. “Dad, she needs to go to the doctor’s.” What’s it to you, Tate? Mitch doesn’t look up at his son but he nods in agreement. “The cuts aren’t deep but there are multiple, and it’s swelling because one of them must’ve become infected. Hopefully only one of them. We’ll get you antibiotics tomorrow.” I shake my head at Mitch. “I can go on my own - I don’t need you to come with me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, moving to pick up my shirt and pants, hoping that she’ll get the message and clear the hell out. “His mom’s step-son kind of raped me, so I am officially not going to ever be involved with their family.” She stands up and places herself in front of me. “That’s why we were out so long today, River. Giving up on Tate because of some pseudo-connection to… Hudson…” She eyes me warily for a second and then she lets out a rush of air, as if she’s diving into the deep end whether I like it or not. “I told Hudson’s father. Declan King, he’s a cop. And his son’s badness isn’t… hereditary. Declan was mortified, and he won’t ever let Hudson be around you again. I mean, I’m sure it’s not from a place of total innocence on his dad’s part – Pamela was absolutely disgusted, and you could press charges – but it’s a start. Don’t let one asshole get in the way of you doing whatever it is that you want. And I mean whatever you want.

“You want to date Mitch’s son and start a future with him? Then that’s exactly what you should do. I have been absent, stifling, dictatorial, and I am so ashamed. You let go of the good, but now it’s time to let go of the bad. I will be making this up to you forever River, starting now, but most importantly I want you to know that you have options.”

“Because you turned eighteen yesterday, baby,” he says softly, “so I had to come and get my girl.” I jump into his hold just as he wraps his hands around my hips, lifting me in a swoop so that he can meet my lips with his. A light sound, somewhere between agony and relief, releases from my chest at the feel of him holding me again, and Tate replies with a deep protective growl. I grip my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair, as he holds me tight and kisses me sweet.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as he spoils me with kisses, up my cheeks and down my neck. “I shouldn’t have given up like that. I should have fought harder.” My voice is hoarse. He shakes his head and then presses his forehead to mine. “You went through so much. I’m sorry, baby. But I’m here now, and I’ll be here always. Whatever you want, you’re going to get.”

“The song- and the band- did you get Madden to play-” He shuts me up by pressing his mouth firmly to mine, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Okay, I guess the answer to that is pretty obvious, plus I can quiz him as much as I want tomorrow morning when I wake up in his bed.

“Uh,” he starts, and he swallows thickly. “So this is a I’m taking you back kinda moment, right?” he asks, his cheekbones glowing sunset-red. I blink up at him confused but nod anyway. “Yeah, obviously,” I say, trying to pull his face back down to mine. He laughs shyly and then nods. “Thank God for that,” he says, and then he moves the hand from my hair so that it’s resting over his chest. My eyes instantly move to his hand and my mouth drops open. I read the letters freshly inked into his knuckles in neatly scripted capitals. RIVER. Just like he always said he would.

“The only word I never fuck up,” he jokes, but it only makes me sob harder. The most faithful person that I have ever met has branded his inhumanely incredible body with my name, permanently. How did I get so lucky?

His eyes glitter against the setting blaze of the sun and they are the most beautiful colour that I have ever seen. Molten. Sparkling. Mine. I have to say the words clearly because you only have one try at saying it for the first time, so I swallow hard and take a few deep breaths before I go in. I run my hands up his neck and lock my fingers into his hair. I didn’t say it before but there’s no way anyone could stop me from saying it now. We have both waited long enough. “Tate,” I say, all hoarse and quiet because my emotions are insane right now. He’s smiling down at me, jerking his chin to say yes before he settles his forehead down against mine again. I clench his hair tighter as I pray for the strength to get this out right. I pull back so that I can look at his perfect face, and his eyes meet mine with patience, adoration, and trust. “I love you.” Those three words are all that I have the time to get out before Tate crashes his lips back down to mine and he shows me how much he loves me too.

Tate is down on one knee, his hands clasping a little leather box, and when my rounded eyes flash to his, the fingers with my name inked across them gently ease open the lid. Sat inside a plump cushioned bed is a large twinkling diamond, so bright and multifaceted in the winter sunlight that it sends millions of refractions sparkling across Tate’s sun-kissed skin. “I’ve wanted to do this since you were fourteen years old,” he says. My eyes sting as I hold back a sob. “And I needed it to be perfect for my girl, so I thought I should write a speech.”

“Check your pocket, baby,” he says, eyes on the silver zipper. With shaking fingers I pull down the zip and put my hand inside. When I feel a little piece of folded paper I can’t keep my tears back any longer. They’re streaming down my face like a waterfall as I choke out, “Please tell me that this isn’t what I think it is.” He waits for me to pull it out and when I open it up I clutch my chest in anguished heartache. It’s a marriage proposal – and it’s handwritten. My eyes trail to the neat black question mark at the end of the last sentence and I can barely see for my tears. I shake my head and I hear Tate’s quiet laugh as he stands up to pull me against his chest. I clutch my fingers into the fabric of his coat as he caresses my head with his free hand, his biceps securing my body to his. “Want to read it later?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

“I need to say the important bits now though, okay?” he asks, before pressing a kiss to the tip of my cheek. “Okay,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his waist. He smiles at me and says, “I’ve loved you forever baby, and I have no intentions of stopping. You made me a better man than I ever thought I could be, and I want to live the rest of my life with you. Only with you. So please will you do me the honour of being my lawfully wedded wife?”

“Need to get this ring on you,” he murmurs, pulling away only so that he can get back down on one knee, take my shaking hand in his, and slide the diamond up my finger. He bows his head and kisses the back of my hand, and my legs tremble at the sight. He gets back to his feet and lifts me so that I can wrap myself around his waist as he walks us back up the shore to the chalet.

“Only the ring,” he says as he tugs his pants down my legs, his teeth grazing the insides of my thighs. “Want you wearing only the ring.”