“You did this?” I ask Lo, who has tears streaming freely down her cheeks. She nods.
“I looked you up. Of course, it didn’t say your name, but I had enough details to find an old article about you. I thought you might like to meet him.”
I hear what she’s not saying. She knows I have no desire to find my mother, so she did the one other thing that could bring me a piece of my past without involving the person who abandoned me. I have so much fucking love for this girl. I hook an arm around the back of her neck, pulling her close and pressing my lips to her forehead. She smiles up at me, and I know she feels the gratitude I can’t put into words.
“I brought these for you,” Officer Davies says, holding out an envelope. I hesitate, not sure I can handle any more of the past. When I take it, I find drawings of stick figures scribbled in pencil. They look as if a kid much younger than four drew them.
“You saved these?” I ask, and he nods. “I think you were the first person to put a pencil in my hand.”
“He’s an artist,” Lo supplies.
“A tattoo artist,” I correct. She gives me too much credit.
“I’ll go ahead and take credit for that then,” Davies says with a chuckle. “I have one you drew for me at home, too.”
I notice a couple of photos behind the drawings, and I look at the pictures of my younger self with detached eyes. There’s one of him holding me in the parking lot, my head on his shoulder and his radio to his mouth. Another of me in a hospital bed—I assume getting checked out after Davies rescued me from freezing temperatures. Another one of me sitting at his desk, a dazed look in my eyes. In every photo, he’s next to me, or in the background. He didn’t leave me once.
I pluck out a picture of me, after a bath by the looks of it. My hair was lighter. It’s strange to see this kid and know it’s me. I’ve never known what I looked like as a child—never thought it was something that mattered, though I did wonder occasionally. It seems like something so…unimportant, but I finally feel like I have some sort of closure. A part of me that I didn’t realize I had been missing. Kind of like how I feel about Lo.
“I’ll let you get back to your birthday,” he says before turning to Lo. “Thanks for making contact, Logan. You’ve made a two-decade-long wish come true.”
Logan peels herself away from me, hugging him around the neck. I hear her thank him softly, but I can’t make out the exact words. He gives her a solemn nod, then turns to leave.
“Have I told you how much I love you, crazy girl?” I say, tugging her back toward me by her belt loop.
“I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” She smiles, linking her fingers behind my head before kissing the column of my neck. We’re interrupted when we hear Davies approaching again.
“I almost forgot. I don’t know where your other stuff ended up, but I was able to save this.”
He tosses me a dark, wadded-up ball of fabric. I untwist the t-shirt, revealing the last thing I thought I’d see. Lo’s eyes shoot up to mine, equal parts amusement and awe swirling in them before she tips her head back, letting out a laugh.
“Jack Skellington.”
THE END
* * *
First and foremost, to the readers, whether you’re just discovering me or have been there since the beginning, thank you. I started Dare’s book about four years ago. It was the first thing I’d ever attempted to write, and I never thought it would see the light of day. So, thank you for wanting his story and helping make that dream a reality.
To my husband who probably wished he could divorce me while I spent hours upon hours writing, thank you for stepping in making sure the kids were fed, bathed, and happy. I love you.
Thank you to my amazing editor Paige Smith who deals with my crazy without complaint, and to Letitia Hasser for spending 2789423050 years on this cover. I’m sorry. You love me. Remember that for next time.
Hey Leigh, remember when Defy was almost called Dare, but then you changed it because you remembered Bad Intentions was titled Dare back then? Also remember how you forced me to write it so you didn’t change the title for nothing? Thank you for believing in me even when I didn’t. Love you.
Ella, you da real MVP. Thanks for always keeping it real. Serena, thank you for everything. You’re irreplaceable. Bex, Melissa, and Melanie, thank you for stopping everything to help me. Love you guys.
To the bloggers, thank you for busting your asses all day every day. I appreciate you. <3
Lastly, Charleigh’s Angels, my reader group, I fucking love you. You’re my happy place. Thank you for all your support.
Read on for a sneak peek of Yard Sale, coming in May, plus excerpts from Bad Habit, the first standalone in the Bad Love series, and Misbehaved, a student/teacher standalone romance!
Preview of Yard Sale
Chapter One
Cam
5 months ago…
EAT.
Sleep.
Ride.
Fuck.
Repeat.
That’s life. My glorious fucking life. At least, it is during snowboarding season. In the summer, I trade my snowboard for a skateboard. It helps retain that muscle memory and core strength while improving my skills that carry over onto the mountain. I may have started off as a skater, but my drug of choice will always be that snow-white powder. And not the kind that goes up your nose.
I’m still high on the perfect fucking season, even though it’s August. I spent the entire winter touring and snagged myself another gold medal in the X Games for landing a quadruple underflip. The very first person in history to pull off that type of trick, making it my third medal total. I’ve been back home in River’s Edge for the past three months, living it up, taking advantage of my celebrity status with the local females, until the season starts again.
“So,” I drawl, taking a swig of my beer in the crowded waterfront bar. “When’s that pretty redhead coming back to visit?”
“She’s off-limits,” Briar reminds me. Again. Briar is my friend, Asher Kelley’s girl. I don’t know exactly what went down, except that Asher left for a while, and when he came back, he had acquired a girlfriend. It was about damn time. He was a grumpy fucker without her. Well, he’s still a grumpy fuck, but he smiles now. Sometimes.
I don’t even want her friend. I mean, I wouldn’t throw her out of bed, but truthfully, I just like to tease Briar. Especially about that time she got it on with Kelley in the Jacuzzi when she thought none of us noticed. Spoiler alert: we did.
“That’s a shame. I bet she likes hot tubs just as much as—”
“Don’t even say it,” she warns, holding up a palm. I can’t blame her for not wanting me anywhere near her friend. She knows how I am with women. It’s not that I’m a bad guy. I love women. I love the way they smell. I love the way they sound when they’re writhing beneath me. Love how they feel pressed against me. I respect them. I’ve never been anything but honest when it comes to my intentions. We have our fun, and then go our separate ways. No strings. No attachments. At twenty-six, I’m too young, and this world is too big to be settling down this soon. I’m in my prime, professionally speaking, and I want to milk it to the very last drop.