Chapter 6: A loud Crash

TAMARA

A sharp crash shattered the air, silencing the room in an instant. Forks froze midair. Noel’s mother, Lucy, shot up from her chair with startling urgency and rushed toward the window.

A gasp tore from her lips.

“Mama? What is going on?” Noel demanded, following after her.

He reached the window, peered out, and I nearly stumbled at the sight of his face. His usually composed, mild-mannered features twisted into something raw, red with anger, eyes blown wide like saucers.

“This… this…” he stammered, his voice shaking with outrage.

Just cuss, I wanted to snap, because that pent-up anger was begging to spill, but my curiosity drowned out everything. I leapt to my feet and hurried to the window with the rest of the family.

The sight that met me made my breath hitch.

A Ferrari; sleek, gleaming and predatory—had plowed into the back of Noel’s Hyundai like it was paper. The poor car crumpled beneath the impact. It was like watching an elephant crush a mouse, effortless and almost cruel.

The driver’s door opened, and out he came.

The perpetrator didn’t just walk, he strolled out with a kind of dangerous grace that made the air feel heavy. The moment he straightened to his full height, a gasp escaped me before I could stop it.

He was tall. So tall it was unfair to us with average height. His body was a fortress of muscle barely contained by a tailored suit that looked one breath away from splitting at the seams. His back was impossibly broad; broad enough that I swore my entire closet could fit between his shoulders with room to spare.

He hadn’t even turned yet, and still my pulse thundered.

Lucy must have sensed something because she clapped her hands sharply. “Alright, everyone. Party’s over. Back to the table.”

I groaned inwardly, my head still tilted toward the window, eyes straining to see his face. But Lucy’s gentle push nudged me away.

“Mama,” Noel bemoaned, frustration dripping from every word, “why aren’t you saying anything? He just smashed my car!”

“I’m sure it was an accident, son,” she replied smoothly, her tone so casual it jarred. “Come. Sit. He’ll explain himself soon enough.”

But Noel didn’t sit. His entire body was coiled tight, vibrating with a kind of anger I had never seen in him before. He wasn’t just upset, he was seething, his jaw locked, nostrils flaring. It shocked me how much fury this stranger’s presence had pulled out of him.

My eyes darted around the table, expecting others to share Noel’s outrage. Instead, everyone wore the same expressionless calm, as though this were normal. As though this sort of thing happened all the time.

And then the front door swung open.

The intruder stepped inside, his presence swallowing the room whole. Instantly, the younger children squealed with joy and rushed him. His laugh rolled out, deep and velvety, vibrating through the walls.

The sound alone undid me.

His voice was powerful, gravel and silk at once, so low it seemed to seep beneath my skin and travel south. Heat flushed through me, pooling between my thighs in a rush so sudden I had to grip the edge of the table for balance. My cheeks burned crimson.

I couldn’t believe I was aroused by the voice of a man I hadn’t even seen yet.

He scooped up two children with each arm like they weighed nothing, and lifted a third onto his shoulders. Effortless strength. Effortless command.

My eyes betrayed me, devouring every inch as they traveled upward. From his long, muscled legs encased in the dark perfection of his tailored suit pants, up to the solid expanse of his chest straining against his shirt. My gaze lingered on the strong column of his throat, where a tattoo curled out from beneath his collar, dark ink teasing me with secrets.

And then, finally, my eyes reached his face.

The world stopped.

The spoon in my hand clattered against my plate, my chair screeching backward and crashing to the floor as I shot to my feet, trembling.

My heart plummeted, my stomach twisting violently into knots, my eyes wide as if they could somehow deny what they saw.

Because standing there, with a look of sharp confusion and heavy intensity, was not just a stranger.

It was him.

ISAIAH CANNIGHAN.

My first love. My ghost.

The devil I thought I’d buried a decade ago.