Fucking mine.
The saleslady removed a curly plastic lanyard from her wrist that had a key attached and unlocked the case. Then she looked up at me. “First, let’s start with a stone. Do you know what shape and size of stone you wanted?”
I raked my fingers through my hair and blew out a breath. “Not a freakin’ clue, lady.”
She laughed nervously, eyeing my tattoos and the chain attaching my wallet to my beltloop, and plastered on a smile. Then, she pulled out some laminated sheet and slid it toward me, pointing at pictures. “We have several types of cuts. Round, marquis, oval, trillion, princess, and—”
I thought about how Emory was my queen and said, “Princess. That’s the one.”
She grinned and said, “Excellent choice. Now let’s talk about size.”
I did know I wanted something over a carat, so before she could go into her sales spiel, I said, “Two carats, minimum.”
By the time I walked out of there, I was smiling like an idiot with a two-carat princess-cut diamond ring secured in a little black box in the pocket of my jeans. My stomach was in knots. We’d only been dating for a couple of months, but I had no doubt in my mind that she was my queen. My soulmate. My forever.
She would say “yes” … right?
The box was like a heavy boulder in my pocket. Every curve I maneuvered around, every stoplight I halted at, I could feel it pushing against my hip. With what this thing cost me, I was terrified of losing it.
But that terror was nothing compared to the thought of Emory saying no to my proposal. We were perfect for each other. That being said, I knew I had to show her my true self. I knew I had to confess to her what I really was. Only then would I propose to her. Only then would I have the peace knowing we had zero secrets between us, and that we could move forward with our lives.
The exit to get to my house was coming up, and I steered the Harley into the right lane to prepare to exit. Unfortunately, the semi next to me had the same idea, and as I was about to change lanes, he did, too. My heart leapt into my throat as the tail end of his trailer swung into the front of my bike. As I slammed on the brakes, my front tire caught the tip of his back one, and I found myself being propelled underneath the semi, my life flashing before my eyes.
Pain exploded on the left side of my body as I slid on hot Texas asphalt underneath his truck. I yelled out in panic as the tires of his semi headed straight for my face. For the first time in my life, I regretted not wearing a helmet.
My yelling stopped when my world went black and the blessed pain was no more.
122
Emory
Hot tears streamed down my face as I broke the speed limit to get to San Antonio General Hospital. Aunt Nora had called with the news that Holden had been admitted to the ER just a few minutes prior.
Even though she owned the Lone Star Clinic, she still worked in the ER two nights a week—Fridays and Saturdays—the busiest nights, for some extra cash. I was suddenly glad I’d told her about my relationship with Holden.
I parked in the hospital garage, sprinted across the bridge leading to the main hospital, and then ran toward the ER to make sure the love of my life was okay.
The past two months with Holden had been pure magic. I had been cautious at first because, let’s face it—magical sex and a hot-as-hell guy with seemingly no faults except a past was too good to be true. But Holden really had been. He’d always put me first—inside and outside the bedroom. Yeah, he worked a lot, and sure, I wasn’t a big fan of his motorcycle club, but they were his family and I had grown to accept that part of him. Aunt Nora adored him and had definitely approved.
But now? What was I going to find when I got to his hospital room? A broken man? He’d tried countless times to get me on his motorcycle, and I’d staunchly refused. Every time. I was never getting on one and he wasn’t going to make me. He eventually gave up asking, and for that I was relieved.
I found Aunt Nora at the nurse’s station in the ER. She grabbed me by the hand and led me to Holden’s room. The dried tears on my cheeks were wet again when I saw him lying in that hospital bed, gauze covering half his face and entire arm. An IV was in his other arm. But… he was awake.
“Hey, beautiful,” he croaked out weakly when I entered the room.
I rushed over and peppered his face with kisses, sniffling as I was still overcome with emotion. “Oh, my God, baby.”
He looked at me with those beautiful gray eyes and said, “Don’t cry. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
My bottom lip wobbled. “I told you those damn bikes were dangerous. You didn’t listen to me! Dammit, Holden!”
He attempted a weak smile. “I knew you were gonna say that.”
I looked at his vitals on the machine and saw they were surprisingly normal. I could see a little blood seeping through the bandages on his face and arm, but I dared not touch them.
Looking around, I found a chair and pulled it up next to his bed. “You scared the shit outta me.”
“I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that my bike is toast. Fucking semi not watching where he was going.”
This made me angry. “It’s really hard to see motorcycles in those mirrors. That’s why they post warning placards on the back of their trailers. This is how my mom died. Same scenario.” I sighed and
