by Leigh Lennon
Jules’s eyes reach mine, and with a little nod, she affirms its who I think it is. I’ve not caught sight of the face that fills my dreams, but her position, and the way she’s cradled by Matt’s sister, tells me her breakdown has just begun.
I lower my tone to less than a whisper. “Jules, let’s take her inside.”
“Yeah, but through the basement. She doesn’t need a crowd.” I agree as Matt gathers near us. It may be the three of us, but if the rest of the Montgomerys join us, I’m afraid Malia’s anxiety attack will worsen.
I waste no time. “Hey, go unlock the basement door,” I instruct, and Matt understands what we’re attempting to do.
Jules raises her voice a tad to be heard over the wracking sobs that fill the night air. “Honey, we’re taking you inside through the basement, okay?”
Malia attempts to stand, but I don’t give her a chance. I scoop up her small body into my arms just as I had so long ago. “I got you, sweetie.” It’s then, in her understanding—maybe a nudge in her memory—her dark chocolate eyes and raven hair—I see the same little girl from so long ago. Her silent pleas are what has me wanting to cradle her in my arms. She shifts against me, and I realize she’s not a girl anymore. Her breasts push up next to the thin fabric of my simple V-neck T-shirt I wore to work this morning. Her stomach is exposed, a crop top giving way to her flat stomach, and as I have my hands on her legs, the small ass booty shorts give a little glimpse of her bright purple panties.
She’s light and limp in my grip, and I’m holding her so tight as though she may evaporate. She had fit in my arms as a girl, and as a woman, she fits even better. Ah, fuck, what am I thinking? All the while, she turns her face and buries it in my shoulder as I’d instructed on the fateful day.
I follow Jules into the Montgomery basement, and when she instructs me to place her on the couch, I sit, cradling Malia’s small body.
Jules’s voice lowers. “This is not exactly what I had in mind.” Malia’s fingers hold on tight to my simple T-shirt, and I take this as a sign she needs me to continue holding her as much as I need her in my arms.
“I don’t think she’s letting go, Jules,” I answer, but even if she hadn’t been clinging to me as her lifeline, I’d still keep this position as long as she requires it.
The squeak of the door and the ascending footsteps alert me to impending company. My bet is on it being Gail Montgomery, the mama bear of bears who are not her kin. It doesn’t matter with Gail Montgomery. “Stephen wouldn’t let me come out when he saw this poor girl’s breakdown,” Gail attempts to whisper but isn’t pulling it off very well. “Then I saw Wells carry her in here, and I just had to see her.”
Gail’s chin rests on me after her declaration to her daughter. “Well, look at her.” She sits down next to me, kissing me on the forehead first. “She’s all grown up.” She fusses over Malia, but every feature of the angel is still buried in my shoulder. She’s asleep, her small like snores causing my heart to beat in tune with hers.
“Mom, Wells has her. I mean, she went to him, and it’s kind of reminiscent since he’s the one who carried her out of her house so many years ago. Let her be, and we can go back upstairs. One of us will be down with her at all times until she wakes.” Jules pulls her mom to her feet, her silent acknowledgment it will be me. Jules knows me, and with the resolve in my eyes, it’s a moot point to argue. I’m not going anywhere.
My breathing aligns with the movement of her chest, and I’m lost in the familiarity of it all. Is it because I’ve personally looked out for her for years and donated money anonymously when her aunt died? She’s grown up before my eyes, even more so than she had just two years ago, and the little girl I once would have given my life for is not so little anymore. She’s tiny compared to me, tiny compared to Jules, but she’s fully grown.
I’m a sick fuck, right? This girl, still a child actually at only twenty, is thirteen years younger than me. Hell, the part of her brain responsible for decision-making isn’t even fully formed yet. But mine is, and it’s telling me I’m a demented son of a bitch.
But I can’t help myself as my gaze falls on her pale face. Her pouty lips are full and a perfect shade of cherry red, and it’s not because of lipstick. Her long, wavy raven hair calls for me to run my hands through all the perfect locks on her head. The rosy cheeks over her high cheekbones accentuate her face and the little button nose is so fucking cute, I want to touch it.
Her body quakes with tremors, and I grab a blanket from behind me, covering her and bringing her closer into my embrace. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got you.” It may be my soothing voice or the warmth of the blanket that relaxes her, but she exhales the cutest little whine and burrows herself deeper into me. I’ve not thought this possible, but her ass wiggles its way farther onto my lap. The extreme friction from her behavior has my cock straining to find the motivation, the almost delicious motivation she’s causing throughout my entire body.
My head is attached to my shoulders, but the body part responsible for every dirty image in my mind is poking out with a fucking hard erection, certainly having a mind of his own. He’s going rogue.
“I got you, sweetie, I got you.” The words were intended more for my hardening cock than for Malia as I will every part of me to understand this is not a hookup and my buddy down under doesn’t need to come out for any extracurricular activities.
Instantly, I think of everything to soften my erection—the next-door neighbor in a two-piece, clowns, trash cans… pretty much anything I deem as unappealing—and I finally have it at half-mast when her bubbly butt squirms against me, but this time, her eyes pop open.
Her hands reach for my scruffy face, merely dancing her fingers across them. “Are you real, Police Angel?” She’s not fully awake. I don’t have to know her to realize this.
“Malia, do you remember me? Wells Shanahan.” I’m still holding her tight, but my hands stay planted even though I’d like to dance them around her body as she is doing with me. All the softness I’d been willing for my friend downstairs now has him ramping up to attention.
“Of course, I remember you. I see you every night in my dreams.” If I wasn’t fully hard, I am now, at her confession if I can believe it. Thirty minutes ago, I wanted to protect her with my life as the little girl I remember, and now, I want to protect her with my life because of the woman I always imagined she’d become.
“Sweetheart, I think you’re still sleeping.”
In spite of my tight grasp, she pulls her other arm free and rubs her eyes while still caressing my five o’clock shadow. A little tilt of her lips shows her vibrant smile. “You normally call me sweetie.”
A deep-seated chuckle leaves my chest, and her smile continues. “You’re right. I did call you sweetie, but you’re a little older. Sweetheart seems appropriate like you grew into a new name.”
Her eyes register our surroundings, and in the flash of them, she’s fully aware of her words, of her actions, though her hands are still stroking my face until she’s not—and bolts from my embrace. Backing to the farthest wall in the room, she cowers as her mind catches up.
“Malia, sweetie, it’s Wells Shanahan. Remember? I carried you in here, and Jules followed us. You fell asleep. We’re at the Montgomery home.” My hand is out, but in my posture, I don’t advance. I don’t think she’s fully awake even though she did just jump from my arms.
“Wells, my police angel?”
I kneel when I nod. My height is opposing at best, and if she’s five feet, two inches, it’s a stretch. The tremors in her hands reach her lips, but she can’t keep them still. Her eyes shut, and tears squeeze through, falling in large dollops on the floor.
She opens one just enough to focus on me. “Wells, is it really you?” She pinches them shut, waiting for my answer.
“Yes, sweetie, it’s me.”
My tone interrupts her shaking, and her pouty lips, those beautiful cherry lips of hers, turn from dread to a tight smile. The fear in her eyes sub
sides as she toddles from one toe to the other. “I thought I’ve graduated to sweetheart.”
I want to reply, but it’s private, in her dreams, and it will stay this way, for now, though now I share her dreams with her. She’s still so nervous and has kept her distance. I know from the various hours of training that people are more threatened when you’re standing over them, and though I’m not close, if I were to push to my full height, I’ll tower over her small frame. I fall back on the couch with an easygoing smile and act as if this is all normal. It’s not, not in the least, but I can calm the girl who’s still as nervous as she was when she popped off my lap.
“I can’t go upstairs and be a part of a happy reunion, not yet.” Her pleas are followed by a long sigh as her fingers work out the knots in her neck.
“And that’s fine, sweetheart. Everyone will understand.” Her eyes meet mine, and I won’t part from our connection. “I’ll tell you what. Let me know what you want to do, and I’ll make sure it happens.”
She looks away, breaking our gaze, and I miss it immediately. “I just need to get back to the university.”
Without thought, I interject, “I’ll drive you back. I don’t want you by yourself right now.” There’s no way she should be behind the wheel, not in her state, but I don’t share this part with her.
Our gaze seems to meet again as she begins, “My car?”
We are still a room apart, her touch, in my arms invaded my need for more. “Is tomorrow the first day of classes?”
“No.”
In the amount of time we’ve been discussing logistics, her shyness has come out. It’s cute. Fucking adorable. She twirls her hair around one of her fingers, and her eyes stay downcast from mine.
“You can’t drive right now. It’s been an emotional day.” She doesn’t stop me and my alpha tendencies, which is the one thing that led to the demise of my relationship with Vanessa. Plus Vanessa happens to be the biggest fucking cunt-rol freak.
“Um…” She keeps her focus on the floor. “I guess, but I have some errands to run.”
I start to hum and tap my chin. “It just so happens that I’m off tomorrow, so I’m at your disposal. Plus, I think we’re only going to be able to hold off Mama Montgomery for twenty-four hours until she has to hug you.”
My cheesy response rewards me with the biggest smile I’ve seen on Malia since scooping her up in my arms.
“Yeah, I need one day to get my foggy head around this.” We have an agreement, and I reach for my keys, but then I remember I rode with Matt. Fuck. “Stay right there. I need to get the keys, and I’ll be right back.”
Malia settles into Matt’s BMW, and she whistles a little tease, almost petting the leather of the car. “The police must pay well.” She reclines in the seat, touching the leather of the chair. “This is heaven. Can we keep her?” Her pitch changes, a little tease lacing her tone, and it’s cute, but as I’m discovering, everything is cute with her. This is the real her, not the scared little girl who darted from my embrace earlier.
“Full disclosure, I rode here with Matt. This is his car. I think it’s one of the perks of having a professional football player in the family,” I tease.
“Oh, shit, that means we can’t keep it.” I’m a little turned on by the whole we in her statements, and like before, I’m a sick fuck, but in her musings, she now has become a chatty Cathy. “That’s right, Will Montgomery. Yeah, I’ve watched him take his team to the Super Bowl.”
I pull from the house, then circle around the block to the other entrance. I don’t take her by her childhood home, and she doesn’t ask about it.
“So, tell me, are you married?” She’s direct. I like it. I have no thoughts of grandeur that anything can come of us just because my cock recognizes a beautiful young woman. In her little question and what I have learned from the dream confession, I sense a bit of jealousy. I confirm this when I pass under a street lamp and gaze upon her clenching teeth and an adorable sneer.
“No, I’d been engaged, but she turned out to be the most controlling, self-centered, and narcissistic bitch ever placed on this planet.”
She doesn’t hide her laughter, and it fills the entire car. “Ah, so tell me how you really feel. Well, at least you don’t have to see her every day. There’s a silver lining.”
I return my own chuckle. “No silver lining, sweetheart. I see her every day.”
“Oh.” Her voice cracks, and I don’t have to know this woman to recognize a disappointed tone. “You all share a child together?” I want children. Fuck, I’m around enough of the Montgomery babies to know a longing in my heart for my soul mate and a baby to boot.
“Oh, lord, no. I thought working with her every day had to be bad enough. If I procreated with the devil herself, I’m not sure what I’d do, pray to the God above that my baby got all my DNA!”
This has her chuckling. “Is she your partner then?”
“Nope, just my boss,” I supply. As we pass under another street lamp, a large smile emerges on her delicate face, and I know she’s pleased with my answer.
I begin, “Now, that you’re all up to speed on me—”
She interrupts, “I would say me getting the goods on your boss and ex-fiancée isn’t the full low down.”
She’s a brazen one, this woman next to me. “Well, you currently know more about me than I know about you, so you’re caught up as much as you will be for now,” I quip. In this easy banter, I’m thankful we’ve moved past the hurt. Not to be misunderstood, she’s not past the pain. I don’t know if she ever can be, but for now, we are living in the here and now, and not in the past that could have made her never want to leave her home in Oregon.
“Okay, so what do you want to know?” Her bold demeanor is evident, and I just know she’s going to be trouble.
“Let’s start with your major. What are you going to study?”
“Design but I haven’t picked what field. I’m undecided but have been accepted into the program with the understanding I’ll pick a concentration next year.”
“That’s right; you’re a talented artist.” I intend to prolong this conversation; not wanting it to end. “So does this encompass everything from interior design to architecture?”
“Yes, but I’m leaning toward industrial design. There’s a demand, and I want to be able to live the life my family wasn’t able to.” She says it with so much ease as if it’s the norm in life, yet it’s the norm in her life.
“But I want a year to be able to decide what I’d like to do. Seattle’s always been my home, even if I grew up in Eugene. Aunt Mally never wanted me to come back here. She would have protected me my whole life if given the chance.” From the headlights of the passing cars, I see a little tear fall down her cheek.
“I’m very sorry to hear about your aunt,” I return, and her eyes whip around to me. “How did you know?”
I attempt to explain it very casually as if I haven’t been stalking her. “Jules kept me up to speed with you throughout the years.” She bobs her raven-colored head of hair as an acknowledgment she’s heard me. “You know, they missed you, Jules and Gail. They cried for months, wanting to see you.” She stills at my words as though they suffered to the extent she has. “Fuck, that came out the wrong way. All I meant is that with them, you’ll forever have a family.”
“I know what you meant. And I missed them, too. It’s just, I can’t do large crowds right now. It’ll be hard enough to live in a dorm and never escape people, but a part of coming here is facing the fears from my past that immobilize me. And it sounds all easy, like ice cream sundaes with cherries on top, but it’s one step at a time for me, a choice every day.”
“Not many people in your situation can say this, but you’re living, despite everything.”
She begins pointing as we enter campus, and soon, I’m in a parking lot, near her dorm. Exiting the car, I walk around to open the door then turn to escort her to the building. “It’s fine, Wells. I got it from here.”
; “Yeah, sweetheart, you better believe that when I drop you off at your dorm, I’ll be walking you from point A”—I point at the car—“to point B.” I extend my fingers toward the long walkway that is at least a half of a mile to the front of her dorm. “And you might as well not argue with me, or I’ll pop you up over my shoulder and carry you for the whole world to see,” I warn.
She hitches her right eyebrow higher than the other. “I never took you as the Neanderthal type of alpha male?”
I move my hand to the small of her back, staking a protective claim on her. “Well, then, sweetheart, you’ll have a blast getting to know the real and transparent Wells Shanahan.”
Chapter 6
Malia
The key turns, but something is blocking the door. “Greenlyn,” I call out. “Greenlyn, are you in there?”
Laughter floats out of the small crack I’ve been able to wedge open. It’s not just female; a male tone mixes with it, too. “See, I told you my roommate would be back soon.”
“She has shitty timing,” the male voice begins, but he’s laughing just as hard.
“Give me a second, M, I’ll be right there.” How fucking hard is the name Malia? I’ll put a stop to this, right now.
The chair is moved from behind the door, and the shirtless male squeezes past me as he bids his farewell to my roommate. “Catch you later, Greenlyn, the tantalizing witch.”
Well, that’s original, I internally criticize in my head, but this winner of a man isn’t done. “Hey, I’m Victor. Next time, maybe you can join us, roomie.” His laughter continues down the hall. I pull my chair she used to block the entrance and move it back to my desk.
“Sorry, M. I just broke up with my boyfriend from high school, so I was blowing off some steam.” She’s casual about it as if this punk hadn’t suggested a threesome plus she still has not called me by my God-given name.
“This will never happen again. Understand me? I’m very funny about people in my space. I put it on my request for a roommate.” I don’t stand. I sit as her hands find passage on her hips.
