Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(107)

My heart catches in my throat as I move in slow motion, rising from my hiding place, a single step onto the same path that continues into the woods behind me.

Sloane’s eyes snap to mine. They widen with surprise. Her hand tightens on the knife she holds against her thigh. And then I see it. Recognition.

Her eyes track down the length of the shirt I’m wearing. The one she gave to me when I was naked in the dark. When she meets my eyes once more, she smiles.

She nods. I nod in reply. And then she turns and walks away.

I watch until she disappears after the others. When the forest has gone still, I turn and head in the opposite direction.

Once upon a time, my name was Autumn Bower.

And I have my own story to tell.





BONUS CHAPTER





SUSPEND





ROSE





I roll to a stop in the driveway and cut the engine to my Triumph, sliding my helmet off. I let it rest on the tank and brush the hair from my eyes so I can stare up at the house. Our house. Fionn’s and mine. The first house without wheels that I’ve ever owned. It needs some work, don’t get me wrong. The deck might as well be ripped right off. We’ll start demolishing the kitchen this weekend. Fionn was so eager to get the renovations started that he and Lachlan painted our bedroom and replaced the carpet the day after we moved in. I can even hear the drill upstairs now, its whine floating down to me through the open guest bedroom window. There’s music too. And Fionn’s off-key singing. I smile and swing my leg over the bike. We’ve only been here a week, but it already feels like home.

When I enter the house, it smells like fresh paint and sounds like happiness. Barbara wakes up and stretches, half in and half out of the wooden box Fionn built for her next to the brick fireplace. I set my helmet down and then give her a scratch, lingering for a moment to look at the photos he must have unpacked today to set on the mantle. Some of my circus family. Some of Rowan and Lachlan. One from our first Annual August Showdown almost a year ago, Rowan’s face a sickly shade of green from the poster paint that took a week to fade completely. And then there’s one of my favorite photos, the biggest of the bunch. I pick it up, and smile down at our kiss, frozen in time. It’s a photo from our wedding last month at Covecrest Cottages in Maine, the same place where we reunited. The place where it felt as though a last invisible thread pulled closed around a wound that took months to heal.

I run my finger over the glass that covers our faces. And then I set it back on the mantle. I don’t linger, not when Fionn belts out the lyrics to “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen as loud as he can upstairs.

I’m trying to sneak up the stairs, but I don’t know yet which steps creak and which ones don’t. Despite taking it slow, the fourth one is loud enough that somehow it alerts Fionn to my presence. I don’t know how. It’s as though his time with Leander has awoken a sixth sense that’s been dormant for too long. The door to the guest room flies open, and a moment later, Fionn is standing at the top of the stairs with a drill in his hand and a grin on his face.

“Hey,” he says, taking his phone from his pocket just long enough to turn off the music. “Were you trying to sneak up on me?”

“Maybe just a little,” I reply, and his eyes brighten as though he’s proud of himself for stopping me before I even got close. “How the hell did you hear me?”

Fionn shrugs and closes the distance between us, not stopping until he reaches the stair above mine. He leans down to press a kiss to my lips. That sense of home only weaves tighter around me. The scents of sage and paint and mint. His warmth, his touch. His taste. The way his fingers caress my cheek and tangle in my hair. Our first kiss on the stairs. Fionn draws away but keeps me close, pressing a kiss to my forehead.




“I have something for you,” he says, still close enough that I could count every shade of blue in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“A late wedding present.” I tilt my head and he grins. “It’s a show, not tell, kind of thing.”

In a flash of motion, Fionn has picked me up and turned to deposit me on the step above him. In the next breath, his hands are covering my eyes.

“I thought you said show.”

“It’s still a surprise. And not easily wrapped.”

I grab the railing, and with Fionn’s hands still over my eyes, we make it to the landing and turn in the direction of the guest room. “What if I don’t like it?” I tease as we stop at the door.

“Well, it’s not really the kind of thing I can return.” Fionn lifts one hand away just long enough to turn the handle. The hinges creak as he pushes it open with a foot and then guides us over the threshold. “You ready?” I nod. “Three … two … one.”

He lifts his palms away and I blink as I take in the room.

There are no pictures or paintings. No dressers or desks. No bed. There’s only one thing in the room. A single piece of furniture.

The sex swing.

I cackle a laugh and take in the finished project, a black crocheted piece suspended from a painted wood frame bolted into the ceiling. It looks suspiciously like an oversized plant hanger. “That is amazing.”

“All credit to the Suture Sisters. They helped to work out the kinks in the design.”