Page 32 of Cross the Line
“Oh my God, Elijah.” Finley’s sob rakes through both of us as I fold my arms around her, locking her in place, my hands gripping her waist.
I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in until my lungs burn with her fruity scent, and the relief of holding her is bittersweet with the downpour of her tears.
“Sweet, beautiful angel…” I press a kiss to the top of her head, shuffle her higher against me so my lips brush her ear. “I missed you.”
Her arms loosen. Her hands slide up my shoulders, fingers curling at the back of my neck, tugging gently. Her tear-streaked face tilts to mine.
And I’m gone.
I tilt my head, and our lips crash together before breath can get between us. The sound she makes—a sigh from somewhere deep in her chest—melts the tension from her body.
When her lips part, I taste her… coffee, peppermint, salt, longing. Finley fists my hair, pulling until the bite of it shoots sparks through me. I groan into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
Her sweetness floods my veins, cutting through everything else.
I just want her to know.
That she’s still the only girl I love. The only woman I will ever adore.
That no matter what happens, my heart beats in time with hers.
That my love—my need—will never stop growing.
As long as I breathe.
As long as I live.
CHAPTER 8
JAYDEN
I never knew I could feel this content watching two people I love mauling each other in public. This is exactly what Eli needed—the physical reassurance that he hasn’t lost Finley.
As I watch them, a spark catches low in my stomach and licks up into my chest, filling me with the ache to be closer. My heart rams my ribs, frantic to set me in motion.
I manage two steps before Finley looks up, scanning until she finds me. A smile tugs one corner of her mouth as Eli hesitantly sets her back on her feet. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, draws her in, and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead.
Panic, sharp and airless, stirs in my lungs when they glance at me. I see it now—the similarities between her and her piece-of-shit brother. The pale eyes. The upturned nose. Even the lighter blonde streaks are the same shade as his.
Finley is prettier, softer—her heart and soul are nothing like his—and yet, he’s all I see.
Ever since Eli told me what happened, I’ve been letting it drip through, slow and mean. Percolating until I can stack the feelings into boxes and lock them down. The last thing I want is to explode in front of Eli and make it worse. He’s had years of holding this. Years of carrying it like cancer.
And now I know. And I am not Eli. There is no logic, no reasoning, no twisted perception in this world that will contain my anger. I am sick with the need to ruin those sick sons of bitches for good.
Ryker Hallman.
Presley Tomes.
They’re going to pay for every ounce of hurt, every scar. I don’t know where to start without hurting Eli—but I know who does.
I pull my phone, open recent calls, and tap the third number from the top while I ease back into the shadow of a pillar. The giant pine draped in twinkle lights casts enough cover to make me feel unseen.
Two rings, and her voice blusters through the receiver. “JJ…”
“Hi, Momma,” I manage, trying to hold it together and failing, my voice a shaken warble.
“Sweetie,” she coos, soft and knowing, the tone she saves for when her kids are hurting. “Are you okay?”
