Epilogue

One year later.

“Ihate this place,” Ransom greets me merrily as I slip into our little Prius.

I snap the safety belt, waving goodbye to Meadow, who is just closing up Misfits and Shadows, and Grady, who watches her doing so longingly.

The night is dark, but Sunset Boulevard dazzles brightly. Twinkling lights stretch their limbs along the boulevard as more businesses open up their gates, turning on their neon signs. The moon hangs high and silvery, a perfect crescent, dangling like an earring.

“You don’t have to suffer it for very long.” I pat his thigh.

Ransom leans in to kiss the side of my neck, his lips brushing their way to mine. He kisses me long and hard, his tongue prodding my lips open, seeking access. I clutch the side of his jaw, deepening our kiss, running out of breath and inhibitions.

This is how we do things, every time he lands in Los Angeles from Chicago, or I go to visit him. We claw at each other like tomorrow never comes.

Like the next time is just a maybe.

Because it is.

Nothing is guaranteed in life.

We learned this the hard way.

When he pulls away, he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I’ll be suffering long enough. The last thing I want is to go to Texas and play happy family with your sister.”

I make a face, pushing at his chest as he revs the car to life. “Not nice. She’s been trying extra hard.”

“The tagline for her life.”

The car lurches its way toward LAX, where we’ll be boarding a plane to Texas. Hera is getting married…again. This time to a very nice medical technician named Jeff. He coaches the local T-ball team and wants three kids and always asks the elderly ladies for a dance at functions.

In short—he is good. And real.

Craig is currently in prison, serving three years. It might not sound like much, but I know that no matter what, his life, as he knew it, is ruined. He got stripped of everything he cared about, and for me, that’s enough.

“You’re thinking about how nice Jeff is again,” Ransom murmurs, looking about ready to punch a wall.

“The devil called. He wants his attitude back.” I laugh.

“Tell him he should know better than to ask a bastard like me for anything. I’m keeping it.”

Despite the traffic, we get to LAX in time. We park in the long-term parking lot and check our bags and ourselves into the next flight to Dallas. We hold hands. We grin at each other. We’re the couple I used to look at from across the street and loathe, because they looked so wholesome.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks. I know he means about moving to Chicago.

“Not really.” I scrunch my nose. “I know you can’t move your business elsewhere. I can. Art doesn’t have an address. Its home is in our souls.”

Ever since his cybersecurity department opened, it blew up. Ransom travels a lot, but his hub remains in Chicago.

“That is the most Hallie statement I’ve ever heard.” He smiles.

He squeezes my hand, bringing it over to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of it.

“You’d have done the same for me,” I say, knowing it’s the truth.

“In a heartbeat.”

A make-out session on the terminal seats and a coffee later, we board the plane. I no longer travel to Texas with lead in the pit of my stomach. I feel good. Light, even. I have my own room in my parents’ house. And Mom makes it a point to free up time for me whenever I’m there to go shopping, eat, or just head out for a nice stroll. It’s still not the kind of relationship I’d dreamed of when I lay in a strange bed in a foreign country, in boarding school accommodations that didn’t belong to me. But it’s a start.

After takeoff, Ransom turns around and gives me that smirk. The one that turns my bones marshmallow-soft. It’s infectious, and I find myself smiling back. We still power-struggle. We still push each other to the edge, challenge one another every step of the way. But the game has become so much more fun, now that I know that his love is unconditional.

“Care to join the Mile High Club?” He quirks a thick eyebrow.

I tap my lips, pretending to think about it. “Was it Groucho Marx who said he wouldn’t want to be accepted to any club that’s willing to have him?”

It’s a midnight flight. The few people in business class are fast asleep.

“Did he say that? Well, I don’t trust people with moustaches,” Ransom deadpans.

I let out a soft laugh. “What a thing to say.”

“It’s scientific.” He frowns, dead serious. “There’s a reason why no president after Grover Cleveland had a moustache. They were advised against it. Not just bad associations, but bad character traits.”

I’m grinning, delighted to be basking in his attention, in his passion once again. We see each other every two weeks, but lately, it hasn’t been enough.

“I’ll go first, and you wait a few minutes.” I bite down on my lower lip. “And…Ran?”

He stares at me.

“Let’s pretend like I don’t want it.”

He gives me a nod. I stand up, slipping into the narrow passageway and making my way to the lavatory. Before I even click the door shut, he is behind me, blocking my path to close it.

“You’re playing dirty, Mr. Lockwood.”

“Well, Miss Thorne, it’s the only way I know how to play.”

It is a tediously boring ceremony.

With all the staples of a boring couple: swan-shaped ice statues, white peonies, and one malnourished, anxious bride. The upside—and there is, indeed, only one positive to the event—is the fact that it will be over soon.

My girlfriend—the bridesmaid—is currently skipping between people, the social butterfly that she is, accepting compliments about her breathtaking beauty. I lounge back in my seat and watch her thrive. It’s a peculiar feeling, to care for someone else. But I don’t hate the helplessness that comes with feeling this way toward someone anymore.

Anthony plops down in a chair beside me with a long-suffering sigh, a cigar tucked in the side of his mouth. He claps my shoulder. “She’s happy.”

“The one who is getting hitched, or the one who is about to?” I drawl.

He chuckles. “Easy there, tiger. Hallie hasn’t said yes yet.”

Because I haven’t asked her. But I will, tomorrow. When we go back to Chicago and I show her the place I rented for her. A tattoo parlor in The Loop. Somewhere she can flourish and do her own thing. No better place to go down on one knee than in her own kingdom.

“She will,” I say with confidence.

“Probably.” He withdraws the cigar from his lips, sending a plume of smoke skyward. “She is crazy about you.”

As if sensing the conversation is about her, my girlfriend twists her head, peeks at us from behind her shoulder, and gives us that big Hallie beam that makes constellations light up in the sky.

“I will make you a very miserable man if you hurt her, son.”

“Sir.” A smile tugs at my lips. “If I ever hurt her, she’d hurt me back twice as hard. That’s why I’m marrying her.”

Hallie turns away, just as Anthony swivels toward me. He fingers the hem of my blazer, where my skin meets the fabric. “What’s that?”

Before I can answer, he pulls the blazer up, just enough to make the sliver of ink peeking from my tux reveal itself into a full-blown sleeve.

“She needed one hundred and fifty tattoos under her belt for her internship,” I say.

“And you decided all of them would be done on you?” Anthony chuckles.

“Not all.” I smirk. “But most.”

Over a short period of time, Hallie has used me as her personal canvas. She carved my past, my present, and my future onto my skin. Faces and quotes and people who meant something to me over the years.

“She marked you.” Anthony gives me an appeasing once-over, like he is finally sold on me. About to make an offer on a horse.

I sit back and watch the love of my life as she becomes an integral part of her family.

“She didn’t need any ink to do that.”

BIG BELLS AND BEAUTIFUL BALLROOMS: HALLION IS GETTING MARRIED!

By Anna Brooks, Yellow Vault contributor

Hallie Thorne has given her image a makeover…and that includes a sexy, high-profiled bodyguard of a boyfriend. Or should we call him now…her fiancé?!

You heard it here first, Vaulters. Our dear socialite, our favorite party girl, is tying the knot! Check out this exclusive photo of Hallie and her beau, Ransom Lockwood, sharing an ice cream and a pretty hot and heavy kiss in downtown Chicago. Why, we never thought we’d see the day. One thing is for sure—if this girl could find her happy ending, then my dear Vaulters, I can assure you—so can you!

The End.

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