Chapter Twelve
Isla
We don't get married in the middle of the night. We spend it making love and talking instead. But Brantley and I find ourselves at the courthouse first thing in the morning, standing before the judge. We exchange our vows with Daniel and a clerk acting as our witnesses.
When Brantley slips his ring on my finger, promising to love me forever, I know he means it. He won't get it right every day. He'll mess up. We'll argue. I'll worry about him. But he'll love me. We'll fight for each other. And we'll make it through. Because, despite everything—or perhaps because of everything he's been through—he knows what's important to him. And he's finally fighting for it.
I repeat my vows with tears in my eyes. And I pray he knows just how much I mean them too. I won't get it right every day. I'll mess up, too. But I'll love him. There isn't a world or a future where I won't love him and every broken, exposed piece of him. He deserves that more than anyone I've ever met.
I can't save him. Only he can do that. And for once, he's finally ready to do that. Not for me or because he loves me. Not for his mom or Daniel. But because, for once, he's finally letting himself believe it's what he deserves.
By the time we make it back to his place, I'm a bundle of anxiety. Because now…we tell my dad. We tell Bella. I already know they're going to be disappointed that I've kept so much from them, and hurt I got married without them, but this wasn't about them. It was about me and Brantley. It was about reminding him that no matter what, he's the future I choose.
I know Bella will understand eventually. Of course my mom will. I'm not so sure about my dad, however. He's never liked to admit that we're not little girls anymore. Now, Bella has Cormac, and I have Brantley. And somehow, they're both the best parts of our dad. They're protective, devoted, and loyal. He might not have chosen Brantley for me, but if given a choice, he would have chosen a man just like him for me—gentle, courageous, and infinitely compassionate. And he would have chosen one like Cormac for Bella too—fierce, kind, and infinitely patient. They're exactly who we need.
"Are you ready to go see your dad, little bird?" Brantley asks, running his hand down my arm as he steps up behind me in the bedroom.
I spin to face him, and then swallow, caught off guard again by how damn handsome he is. But how much love shines in his eyes. He's so damn soft with me, so open. It blows my mind that anyone can look at him and not see the same things I do. His story is right there, peeking out no matter how he tries to hide it. As much as he might think he's broken, he's never been that. He turned all that pain into something beautiful, shaped it into a man full of kindness and goodness—one who takes my breath away.
"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "I'm not ready yet, Brantley. There's something important we need to do first."
He cocks his head to the side, a question in his eyes.
I answer it when I sink to my knees at his feet, reaching for him. Before we invite more chaos into our lives, I want an hour to be just us—Brantley and Isla. Husband and wife.
Judging by the way desire flares in his eyes, eclipsing everything else, he wants it too. He takes a step toward me, his tongue skirting along his bottom lip. "Yeah?" he rumbles, brushing his hand down my cheek. "You think getting on your knees for me is important?"
"Very," I whisper, inching his zipper down. "Highly important." I delve my hand inside, wrapping my fist around his already hard cock. He groans in response, his eyes at half-mast. "So freaking important, Brantley."
"Jesus," he groans, spearing a hand into my hair as I pull his dick from his pants, leaning forward to lick the broad head.
I moan as his taste bursts on my tongue, and then pull him into my mouth, plunging down on him all at once.
"Fuck!" he shouts, bucking his hips against my face.
That tiny move forces him a little deeper, and I choke, lava coursing through my veins.
"Christ. Ah, Christ," he pants. "I'm a bad husband already. Forgot how fucking perfect this mouth is, little bird."
I pull back, looking up at him. "Guess I'll just have to remind you."
He growls like a wild beast when I plunge down on him again, using everything I've learned to slowly drive him crazy. I lick and suck and bob on his cock, teasing him until he's on the brink, his hips pulsing restlessly. And then I start all over again, determined to make him as wild as he makes me. To love him until he can't think or breathe.
"Christ, Isla. You gotta stop. I'm going to come," he pants, his eyes on fire as he pants for breath, his hand tangled in my hair. His hips moving restlessly as he pumps in and out of my mouth, unable to stop himself even as he tries to stop me.
I wrap one hand around his shaft and the other around his legs, pumping so my fist meets my mouth every time I bob down on him.
"Ah, fuck. You want me to come down your perfect throat?"
I hum around him.
He growls a curse, his body going taut. He throws his head back, moaning my name as his cock twitches in my grip, his seed splashing against the back of throat. I swallow quickly, trying to drink it all down as he spills into my mouth again and again.
I don't even have a chance to swallow the last drop before he yanks me up into his arms, his mouth crashing down on mine in a fierce kiss. If he tastes himself on my lips, he doesn't complain. He's too busy storming toward the bed with me in his arms, pulling my dress off at the same time.
My back lands against the cool sheets as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, ripping them down my legs.
"Brantley!" I shout, my back bowing from the bed as he buries himself between them face first. I grip his hair, sobbing in ecstasy as he attacks my clit with his lips and tongue, snarling.
"That's it, wife," he growls. "Let me hear you moan for your husband."
My husband. God, he's my husband now.
He stiffens his tongue, thrusting it inside me to fuck me with it.
I sob in ecstasy…and then sob again when I feel him spreading my cheeks. Feel his tongue slipping lower.
It dances over my back entrance in a teasing flick.
I shatter with a sharp cry, shocked at how good that feels. At how much I like it. I'm still coming when he rears up over me, thrusting into me all the way to the hilt.
"Fuck," he groans, his head kicked back. "I feel your pussy rippling all up and down my cock, little bird. You're squeezing the hell out of me."
"It's your f-fault," I choke out, wrapping my legs around his waist…rocking against him. So damn greedy for more. I don't think I'll ever get enough of him. He can't fuck me enough or kiss me enough or eat me enough. Every time he does, I just want more. I need more.
"More than willing to take the blame for making this greedy little pussy happy, baby," he grunts, dipping his head to drag my nipple through his teeth. "I think I'll keep doing it for the rest of our lives."
"Yes," I whisper, clutching him to me as my core clenches at the thought. If happily-ever-after exists it's this: Him fucking me for the rest of our lives. It's us tangled up in each other, loving each other just like this until we're too damn old and gray to do it anymore. It's him and me and every damn second of pleasure we can wring out of one another. And it's him, knowing that's what he deserves.
He seems to know it right now. He fucks me like it's his mission in life, pounding into me so hard the headboard rattles and my voice breaks from screaming his name.
We come together, moaning, panting, and writhing in ecstasy. My heart pounds like a war drum against my breastbone, every single centimeter of it stamped with his name, his possession.
"I love you," he groans when he catches his breath. "If I have a reason for existing, it's this. It's you." He tips my head back until my eyes meet his. "I already spoke my vows, but I have another one for you, just for you." His lip slides along my bottom lip. "I might not always remember that I'm worth it. You may have to remind me of that shit a thousand times while I work on undoing all the shit he did. But I will never forget that you're worth it, Isla. I'll never forget that we're worth it."
"Brantley," I sob, tears spilling down my cheeks.
"I mean it, little bird. You pulled me back from the brink yesterday because I fucking knew that, even if I was willing to destroy myself, I'd be destroying you too. And I won't ever do that," he murmurs. "I wanted you more than I wanted that drink. I'll always want you more. I'll always need you more. I'll always love you more. Choosing you wasn't something I had to think about. When it came right down to it, choosing you was automatic."
I throw myself against his chest, clinging to him as my shoulders shake. "I love you so damn much, Brantley Hill," I cry. "I'll never regret you. Not for a single second."
He pulls me close, brushing his lips across my crown. "I know you won't, baby. Once you love someone, it's forever. That's how you were built."
"It's how you were built too," I whisper. "You love with your whole heart. And that's part of why you've been hurting for so long. You loved him. Part of you still does."
"Yeah." He swallows, closing his eyes. "I guess part of me does."
"It's okay to love him," I whisper, pressing my lips to his heart. "And it's okay to forgive yourself for feeling that way."
"Jesus," he groans, rolling us to the side and wrapping his arms around me. He buries his face in my throat, his body shuddering as he clings to me. He doesn't cry, but I think, for the first time in a long time, he lets himself feel it.
And then he lets it go.
I'm nervous as hell when we go to meet my dad. He isn't. He's…calm at my side, the picture of strength. It's like he knows what he's fighting for now and he's found a hidden vein of unlimited perseverance. Of courage. It's pretty incredible to witness.
The Brantley who steps out of the truck at my dad's isn't the same man I met in his office. He isn't even the same man he was two days ago. This one came face to face with rock bottom…and somewhere in the muck, he found peace. He hauled himself out of the pit stronger than he went in, more at peace than he's ever been.
I know he'll face obstacles a thousand times in the future. It's inevitable after everything he's been through. It's part of addiction. But I don't think he'll ever land at the bottom again. And that gives me so much damn hope.
I think my parents were waiting for me because we're not even halfway to the door before my dad throws it open and storms out. He takes one look at me and Brantley striding toward him, hand in hand, and a shudder goes through him.
I expect him to be angry.
Instead, he barrels off the porch like a desperate man, yanking me into his arms. "Don't you ever do that again," he growls, his voice shaking. "You scared the shit out of me, Isla."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, guilt pricking at me. "I left you a note so you wouldn't worry."
He tips my head back, his gaze firm. "You think a note is going to keep me from worrying about you? You're my daughter. You left in the middle of the night." He exhales a ragged breath. "Jesus Christ, kid. I was afraid you'd been kidnapped."
"Shit," Brantley mutters from beside me.
My dad whips his head in his direction, narrowing his eyes on him. "And you should have fucking called me when she showed up at your place," he growls. "You damn sure should have called me before I had half the state looking for her this morning."
"Mac," my mom says from behind him, her voice gentle. "You can't blame him for her choices. You know she's just as stubborn as you are."
"He's right, Mrs. Sterling," Brantley says, his voice full of apology. "I should have called. And it should have happened days ago." He meets my father's gaze, unflinching. "I apologize, Mac. You deserved to know she was safe, and I fucked up. But I promise you, she will always be safe with me. She's been safe with me from the beginning."
"You don't know that, son," my dad says, sighing wearily. "Her sister was just attacked in Texas."
I gasp, my eyes flying open wide. "What? They found her?"
My dad's jaw pulses where he clenches it. "They set Cormac's house on fire."
I choke on a whimper, too terrified to ask but desperate to know. "Is…is…?"
Brantley slips his arm around my waist, silently offering me strength.
"She's safe," my father sighs. "One of the two who attacked her is dead. Cormac's cousin was injured. But she's safe."
"How did they find her?"
My dad's jaw pulses again, white-hot anger blazing in his eyes. "They planted a fucking bug in the house. They've known where she is the whole time."
"Jesus Christ," Brantley mutters.
"A few of Cormac's brothers are on the way to help clean up the mess." Dad runs a weary hand down his face. "They should be here in a few hours. In the meantime, nothing gets said in the house that you don't want them to hear."
"So they're listening?" Brantley asks, glancing at my dad. There's something in his eyes…fury, I think.
My dad jerks his chin in a nod.
Brantley releases me and strides toward the house, his shoulders set.
"Where the fuck is he going?" my dad asks.
"He was going to pay them what Bellamy owed them," I whisper. "All they had to do was leave Bella alone."
Surprise flares in my dad's eyes before he takes off after Brantley. My mom and I watch until they disappear inside the house, and then I sigh.
"You okay, baby girl?" she asks, reaching out to squeeze my hand.
I jerk my chin in a nod and then bite my bottom lip. "I'm sorry I worried you guys. I didn't mean to do it. I just…my place is with him. I couldn't go to sleep last night and leave him thinking that we couldn't fix this."
"I know, sweetheart. I figured that was the case."
"You didn't tell Dad?" I ask, surprised.
"You mean tell your father that you ran off in the middle of the night because you've been secretly falling in love with Brantley Hill since the day you met him?" she asks me, one brow arched. "I told him. I didn't have much of a choice after he called in the cavalry behind my back this morning."
I grimace, my shoulders slumping. "I don't want him to hate Brantley. I'm the one who decided to keep it from him."
"You've got a lot to learn about your daddy, sweetheart," she says, patting my hand. "He worries about you because he loves you. But he knows you, too. You and your sister are just like him. You're stubborn to a fault, and you want to do everything on your own. He's frustrated Brantley didn't call him because what happened with Bella scared the crap out of him. But he doesn't hate him."
"He might." I swallow. "Um, we got married this morning."
My mom's eyes widen. "You got married?"
I bob my head in a nod. "Please don't be mad that you weren't there. I didn't want it to be this big overwhelming thing. I just wanted it to be about us." My throat burns with emotion. "We needed it to be just the two of us."
"Sweetheart, I'm not mad." My mom wraps her arms around me. "When we got married, it was just the two of us and you girls. That's what we wanted too."
"Dad is going to be so mad."
"He might surprise you, Isla. He's taken the news of you and Brantley very well, all things considered."
"Really?"
She nods. "He's disappointed you felt like you needed to keep it from him. That's something the two of you need to discuss. But he's not angry." She taps me on the nose, smiling. "He knows more than you think he does, you know. He's smart like that."
"I should go talk to him."
"Yeah, you should."
I nod, inhaling a deep breath. Ready to fight for Brantley and what I want, even if it means fighting my father. I send up a prayer that it doesn't come to that—that my mom is right and he's willing to give Brantley the chance he deserves—and then I stride toward the house.