CHERISH Read Online Free

agenda for today.
    Beckett holds my left hand in his against his chest. He’s palming the wheel, taking a wide left turn into the precinct parking lot, and suddenly I can’t breathe again. He's got my left hand, so I bring my right to my forehead, rubbing and squeezing, draping it down over my eyes and nose, blocking out the light. I squeeze my eyelids shut. Anything to take away the nausea.
    “Babe, stay with me. I’ve got you today. And every day from now on. Take a breath. I’ll carry you through this if you need me to. You just focus on me, tell me what you want and don’t want. I’m your personal concierge for the rest of your life so let me do my job.” Another one of those smiles that make it nearly impossible to think about anything else. He is so beautiful, inside and out.
    He's trying so hard. I know I have to say something. “I can’t believe we got married yesterday.” The strain in my voice makes each word slow and thick.
    Beckett settles our hands onto my lap, our fingers still twined together. I look down and I’m mesmerized by the intricate ivy of veins that stand up over the bones in his hand. His hands are as stunning as the rest of him. I stare at the contrast of his darker skin against my near ghost white complexion. His long fingers dwarf my hand in his. It makes me think how Jordan looked up at him on our wedding day like he was bigger than life.
    I can see Jordan’s face as he stood next to Louis and Beckett in the front of the church. What I remember most about that day was the joy.
    Not just happiness. Joy.
    It’s different. Beckett told me the difference and once he did, it was so clear. Happiness is something conditional.
    Joy is infinite. Like you are touching a greater power.
    I break the silence. “Do you think they can find Jordan? Bring him back?” Frustration clenches my stomach as I feel how helpless I am. Even more than when I fought for Jordan over the last year.
    “One way or another, babe, we’ll get him back. If they can’t do it, I’ll fucking do it myself. Let’s just get inside, see what other info they have for us. You can see your mother or not, doesn’t matter to me, then I’ll figure this out. Okay? It’s what I do.” Beckett catches himself and lets out a tiny sigh. I see his jaw muscles harden. “It’s what I did,” he finishes as his eyes scan the packed parking lot. “Damn, are they giving away get-out-of-jail-free cards today? What the fuck?”
    We drive up and down until we are in the far back end of the parking lot. There are several open spots here, against a ragged chain link fence that separates the public lot from the police lot, where there are about ten patrol cars parked.
    Finally, he swings the truck into an open spot, giving my hand one last squeeze before releasing it to put the vehicle in park.
    I’m still staring at his hand as he pushes the button to shut down the engine, then reaches over and grabs his phone from the console between us.
    I don’t remember ever noticing a man’s hands before like I do with him. Now I can’t imagine how one person could have so many parts of him that are so incredibly sexy. Seemingly normal parts. Even his knuckles are sexy. And even right now, with everything else storming around inside of me, I have to acknowledge the way he ignites a part of me I didn’t know existed before him. I want to pray.
    Pray more than breathe.
    I’m not sure I know how to pray. I’ve worn this tiny gold cross around my neck because it was one of the only things I had from my childhood with mom.
    It was her mother’s. She used to always tell me, don’t ever count on God for anything . I still used to sneak the little cross out of her jewelry box and play with it when she wasn’t home.
    Which was a lot.
    Then, one of the many nights when the police showed up with Child Protective Services in tow, I had it around my neck and I’ve kept it there since.
    I’m not honestly sure how I feel about God. I do know if