Endure (Evolve #4)

By: S.E. Hall


“You should name the last book, if you ever write it, Endure. And can we please get a Nanabug character in there somewhere?”

Done and done, Mama. Done and done.

XO,

Stephie





“I do,” the sweet promise fights its way past her trembling lips, barely kept tears swimming in her big brown eyes.

“I do too,” he immediately parrots, an adoring grin, belonging only to her, on his face.

And I might be the only one who caught it, but there was definitely a subtle drop in his shoulders, telling me he also just let out a silent sigh of relief.

Maybe that’s the real reason they’d switched things up, the bride saying “I do” first—he was worried she’d change her mind at the last minute—and not the gentlemanly “ladies first” excuse we were given.

I’d get a kick out of his discomfort…if I didn’t know exactly how he felt.

“Son.” The preacher fails to hide his own amusement, much like the crowd, their subdued wave of laughter rolling over the ceremony. “It’s not your turn yet.”

“With all due respect, sir, now works for me just fine. If she does, I do too, whatever it is. That simple. Gonna kiss her now.” He starts to make his move, leaning in to claim her tiny mouth, but he’s stopped short by the hand on his shoulder.

“We’re not quite to that part either. There’s still the exchanging of rings and my pronouncement.” The man in the robe blushes as he tries to slow the eager groom down. All the while, every woman looking on is now audibly oohing and aahing.

“Well hop to it, your holiness. I’m itching to kiss my wife!”

His enthusiasm is as humorous as it is recognizable. There’s no feeling in the world comparable—the impatience to begin the rest of your life with that one person—the only woman in the world who turns you into a blundering fool, no matter who’s watching. The need to touch her so great, you’ll babble your way through an argument, with a man of God, no matter who’s listening.

He loves her. Without reason or restriction.

Unashamedly.

And watching this poor, pitiful young man fumble his way through the rest of the necessities, a bittersweet calm falls over me.



She and this marriage are both going to be just fine. No, better than fine… flourishing.



She will now be his, and he hers… and so, another chapter begins.





In Flight Entertainment



“You think you can keep the women distracted long enough for me to beat that lil’ fucker’s ass and drag him out of here?”

There’s not a whole lot I wouldn’t do for Sawyer Beckett. Except that. Not only won’t I help him with this half-cocked, completely unnecessary plan, but I couldn’t even if I wanted to. There isn’t a big enough diversion tactic to be concocted that will keep our women, or everyone in the vicinity for that matter, including the many security guards, from noticing him wailing on someone in the middle of an airport. And I’m pretty sure it’d change the pre-recorded “Code Orange” protocol announcement that repeats overhead to… an entirely different color.

Beckett needs to practice what he preaches and “simmer down,” at least until we get through this destination wedding. He messes this up for her in any way, and I’ll kill him with my own two hands.

“What exactly is your problem with Ryder?” I ask him.

Sawyer snarls, rolling his neck and popping his knuckles. “Beady-eyed little bastard keeps looking at me all funny and shit.”

No, he doesn’t. But, in the interest of limiting my time and energy to a language Sawyer actually speaks, I taper my reply to pack the hardest punch.

“If you quit staring at him, then you won’t know what the hell he is, or isn’t, looking at. So, maybe stop obsessing over this new lil’ crush of yours and go find Emmett? I’m sure she could use your help with something.” I suggest and point in the direction the ladies wandered.

“Crush.” He snorts. “Get fucked, Kendrick.”

When all else fails, call Sawyer’s manhood into question—works every time.

“And how the hell are you possibly the cool and collected one right now?” he asks.

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