Free Speak (The Voice trilogy Book 2) by Noelle Bodhaine Page A

whatever it may become. “Please,” he begs quietly, “talk to me.” I am resigned. I know I have to talk about it. I know I should be honest with him.
                  “They were high school sweethearts, together since they were fifteen.” Just the thought of being with someone for so long and from such a young age boggles my mind, but for them it worked. “They were polar opposites, my dad was a physicist and my mom was an artist. She used to confound him, but God, did he love her. They were so happy.” And they were happy, always smiling at each other, kissing, holding hands. They were so affectionate, towards each other and towards me. We were all so happy. “I was so lucky to have them. When they told me in the hospital what had happened, I thought it was a bad joke. I just knew that things like that did not happen to people like us. My parents were happy, they were good people, and I needed them. They couldn’t be gone. But they were.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer and I rest my head in the crook of his neck.
                  “My mom was such a free spirit. You met Roseanna, her and my mom were practically inseparable. My dad was so rigid, so logical, but he just got her. He understood my mom better than anyone, and she knew how to make him laugh. They were perfect for each other. My mom was my best friend, and my dad was the best man I had ever known.” I sigh, but don’t cry. Talking about them feels good, cathartic, healing. “I miss them.” Rhys places the altar upright and puts the candle from Roseanna in the middle.
                  “Let’s light this,” he stands and grabs a lighter out of the bowl next to the door, “for your mom and dad.” He sits back down next to me and hands me the lighter. “Do it, Sophie. You need to do it.” I know he is right. I take the lighter and spark the candle. The wick erupts into a bright green flame, sparking and bending until it settles into a healthy, high reaching pillar of glowing orange flame. The kitchen is filled with a soft glow that radiates from the candle. Shadows dance across Rhys’ placid face as a tear rolls down my cheek. He catches it with the pad of his thumb, swiping it across my lips before claiming my tears for his own, kissing me so deeply, lapping the falling tears away with his warm tongue. Grief drains from my body under the safe passage of his gentle fingertips as he winds his hand behind my neck and pulls me closer. An urgency blooms between us and the sparks of the candle have lit a fire that neither one of us can deny. My breathing picks up as his kiss deepens and he pulls me from my chair into his lap.
                  “Let me cleanse you, Sophie. You are safe.” He speaks into my mouth without ever breaking the kiss and his words fill me. The empty space in my chest slowly swelling with a warmth that I had long forgotten. His kiss chips away at the last crumbling bricks of the wall I have hid behind for so long. And as the wall quietly crumbles to the ground, I am thankful to be in his arms. My whole body aware on a whole new level. He cups my face in his hands and stares into my eyes, those big green eyes filled with nothing but concern and pure longing. As if my pain hurts him more than it hurts me. He pulls me to his lips, a demand passing between us as he swallows me whole, “Let it go, Sophie.”
                  I fall into the kiss and abandon myself fully to him and everything falls away. In the darkness, we sit. Our mouths dancing, arms tangled and tugging. In that moment, nothing exists but the two of us. I could not say where I end and where he begins and it is so overwhelming I don’t know whether to cry or shout. I cannot get close enough to him as I crush myself to his chest, wanting to crack him open and crawl inside. I turn and straddle him on the chair, needing every inch of me to be pressed against every inch of him.