Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series

by Harlow, Melanie

  Twenty

  Cheyenne

  I was on pins and needles all night.

  My mother had gone out with friends, and Blair had asked if I wanted to come over and hang out with her and Griffin, but I’d said no. I knew I wouldn’t be good company.

  Instead I spent the evening alone, baking sugar cookies, nibbling the dough, and watching stop-motion animated Christmas specials.

  Around nine-thirty, my phone rang. It was Cole.

  “Hello?” I answered breathlessly, as if I’d been running a marathon and not buried beneath blankets on the couch.

  “Hey.”

  I sat up straight. “How did it go? Did you talk to her?”

  “I did, and it went fine.”

  “Oh my God, Cole, really? She was okay?” I clutched my heart in relief.

  “She seems okay.”

  “I’m so glad! Aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I am.” There was something odd in his voice, as if a but was coming, but he didn’t go on.

  “So you’re home now?” I asked.

  “Yes. Just put her to bed and snuck into my room to call you. How was your night?”

  “Good. I have the house to myself. My mom is out.” I changed up my tone to sound more suggestive. “She’ll be gone at least another couple hours . . .”

  “Oh yeah?” His tone changed too.

  “Yes. Can you come over?”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Frantic and excited, I ran upstairs, tore off my socks and sweatpants, took down my hair, and brushed my teeth. Two minutes later, he was knocking on my front door.

  I pulled it open wearing nothing but a short white T-shirt. “Evening, Officer Mitchell. Can I help you?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, taking in my bare legs. He came in and shut the door behind him. “You see, I’m here to arrest you.”

  “Arrest me—oh dear,” I said, backing up the stairs, a hand on my chest. “There must be some mistake. What’s my crime?”

  He followed, pursuing me as he unbuckled his belt and slipped it from the loops. “Indecent exposure. Disturbing the peace. Making me want you so fucking badly I can’t see straight.”

  I backed into my bedroom. “Oh my, that does sound like terribly deviant behavior. I think you’d better proceed with that arrest.”

  Moving fast, he shut my bedroom door and turned me roughly against it. Yanking my arms behind my back, he had my wrists in place and secured them with his belt.

  I struggled just for fun. “Really, Officer. Is this necessary? Can’t we work something out?”

  He leaned up against me and whispered in my ear. “You have the right to remain silent—but I like it better when you’re loud.”

  “Are you going to give me a reason to scream?”

  “Yeah.” He pushed his cock against my ass. “A fucking big one.”

  * * *

  Afterward, we got dressed quickly in case my mother came home.

  “Do you have to leave right away?” I asked.

  He zipped up his jeans, hesitating. “I guess I could stay a little longer.”

  I smiled and hopped onto my bed. “Good. Come lie with me.”

  We stretched out on top of the covers, Cole on his back and me tucked against his side. Outside, the wind whipped at my bedroom windows, and I shuddered at the thought of his having to go out there. “So cold tonight. I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

  “Me too.” He kissed the top of my head. “If your mom comes home, do I have to go out the window?”

  I laughed. “No, silly. You can use the door. We are grown adults, and besides, I’m pretty sure she would let you spend the night.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes. She’ll be thrilled about this—when you’re ready to tell people.”

  “You can tell her. My mom knows.”

  “She does?” I picked up my head, surprised.

  “I’m pretty sure. I went flying through the living room on my way out, and I think I yelled something like, ‘Going to Cheyenne’s for a quick fuck, don’t wait up!’ And I may have already been taking my pants off.”

  Giggling, I slapped his chest before lowering my head again. “You did not say that. Although, it’s like seventeen degrees outside and you were not wearing a coat when you got here, so that might have tipped her off that you were excited to see me.”

  “Probably. She suggested on the way home from the wedding that we might enjoy each other’s company. I could barely keep a straight face.”

  “My mother kept going on and on about how handsome you looked, and how eloquently you spoke, and did I hear the part where you quoted her?” I laughed, slipping my hand beneath his sweater and T-shirt, resting it on his warm, bare skin. “It was nothing but Cole, Cole, Cole on the drive home.”

  “Sorry.” He squeezed me.

  “You know I didn’t mind.” I stroked his chest beneath his clothing.

  “And I’m sorry we have to sneak around and rush all the time. I hate it.”

  “It’s only temporary.” I snuggled closer. “Tell me more about your talk with Mariah.”

  “There’s not much more to tell. She seemed genuinely happy and excited. It was actually kind of . . . weird.”

  “What do you mean, weird?”

  “It just seemed too easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel.” He paused. “In all honesty, I can’t shake this feeling that something was off about it.”

  “Like you think maybe she told you what she thought you wanted to hear?”

  “Maybe. I can’t put my finger on it. But I’m not convinced she’s as okay with it as she acted today.”

  I sat up again and looked down at him. “You really think she was acting?”

  “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “I was prepared for resistance, you know? Tears. A meltdown or something. I had notes in my pocket that I never even had to consult.”

  “Cole, this is a good thing.”

  “I know,” he said. “But I feel like I was prepared to slay a dragon for you, and the dragon didn’t even show.”

  I laughed. “You were going to fight for me and you didn’t get to, huh? Is that where all tonight’s aggression came from?”

  “Maybe.” He tugged me down again. “And I don’t mean to say that I’m not happy about her reaction. It is a good thing. It’s just . . . good things can be deceiving, you know?”

  Something in his voice set off the faintest alarm bell in my head. “How so?”

  “Well, it’s important never to take for granted that everything is fine. You can’t be too complacent.”

  I was completely still, letting his words sink in, trying to make sense of them. “Or else what?”

  “Or else life will bite you in the ass when you’re least expecting it.” Then he said, quieter, “I suppose, now that I’m really happy for the first time in years, I’m just . . . a little bit afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  He hesitated. “Of something I can’t see coming.”

  I curled up tighter against him, throwing my leg over his thighs and wrapping my arm around his torso, as if I could protect him from whatever it was he was scared of. I spoke fiercely. “Nothing bad is coming, Cole.”

  He chuckled. “You sound so sure of that.”

  “I am sure.”

  “How?”

  I picked up my head and looked at him. “Because I have been waiting for this moment my entire life, and the universe knows it.”

  His lips curved into a smile. “This moment right here?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “What’s so special about it?”

  “You’re here next to me.”

  “That’s it? No, no, no. Let’s make it more special than that.” He rolled over so that I lay beneath him and looked down at me. “I love you, Cheyenne. And I’m so happy you never gave up on me. I hope you know that.”

  My heart threatened to explode. “I love you too.”

  He pressed his lips to mine. “S
ay it again.”

  “I love you, Cole,” I whispered. “And everything is going to be okay. The best is yet to come.”

  Twenty-One

  Cole

  That night, I couldn’t sleep.

  I lay awake in the dark, anxious and sweaty, aware of every creak of the house, every click and whoosh of the furnace, every gust of wind whistling against my bedroom window.

  There was a fucking dragon. I was sure of it. I could sense it. I could hear it creeping up on me. I just couldn’t see it.

  It was waiting for me to drop my guard, that was all. It was waiting for the exact moment I was alone and unprotected. The moment I thought I had it all. Then it was going to attack. I felt it in every blood cell, every nerve ending, every bone in my body.

  The next morning, I called Jessalyn. I knew she had Saturday morning office hours, and even though I was technically on shift, I felt like I had to talk to her.

  “I need to see you,” I said. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Cole, is everything okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m fully booked this morning, but I could see you on my lunch hour.”

  “Fine.”

  “Be here at noon,” she said.

  At eleven-forty-five, I told the dispatcher I was going out of service and headed to Jessalyn’s office, which was on the second floor of a small office building downtown.

  Too restless to sit—probably due to the six cups of coffee I’d had this morning—I paced the floor in the waiting room, ignoring the stares of a kid about Mariah’s age and his mother, as well as the receptionist.

  “What’s wrong with that policeman?” I heard the kid ask, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  “Nothing. And don’t stare,” she whispered back, although she peered over the top of her magazine at me suspiciously before taking her own advice.

  A few minutes before noon, they were called into the office of another therapist in the practice, and I was left alone. Too agitated to sit still and tired of pacing, I started stacking all the magazines into a pile on the coffee table.

  A minute later, Jessalyn’s door opened, and a teenage girl with a nose ring and pink hair came out. She gave me an odd look before hurrying into the hallway.

  “Cole?” Jessalyn said, appearing in the doorway to her office. “Come on in.”

  I tossed the magazine in my hands aside and strode into her office.

  She shut the door behind me. “Please take a seat.”

  I did, perching stiffly on the very edge of the couch.

  She sat in her desk chair. “So what’s—”

  “You were wrong,” I blurted, jumping to my feet.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You got everything all wrong.” I paced back and forth in front of the couch. “I did everything you said, and it didn’t go like you said it would.”

  “Do you mean telling Mariah about Cheyenne?”

  “Yes,” I snapped.

  “She didn’t handle the news well?”

  “She handled it great,” I said. “Which is why you got everything all wrong.”

  She shook her head. “Cole, I’m confused.”

  “You said there would be resistance.” I pointed at her accusingly.

  “I said there might be resistance.”

  “You said it would be a tough conversation, and I might have to give her extra hugs.”

  “Okay,” she said patiently.

  “You said I’d have to explain why I want to date Cheyenne, and—and be sensitive to Mariah’s fears, and make sure she knows that my relationship with Cheyenne is not going to take me away from her.” I listed everything out, using my fingers like tick marks.

  “Right.”

  “I didn’t have to do any of that!” I exploded. “She just accepted it! With hardly any explanation and certainly no resistance.”

  Jessalyn sat back and crossed her legs. Folded her arms. “I see.”

  “You said we shouldn’t have any sleepovers because it would scare her. You said she’d worry that I was trying to replace the parent she lost. You said I would have to be careful not to give her any reason to believe I’m choosing my happiness over hers.”

  “And you didn’t have to do any of those things?”

  “No! None of them!”

  “Cole, can you please lower your voice? I can see that you’re very emotional right now, but we do need to be respectful of the other therapists and their clients.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, continuing to pace. “It just really threw me off. There was no dragon.” I whirled to face her. “Where’s the dragon, Jessalyn?”

  She blinked at me. “The what now?”

  “The dragon.” Part of me knew how insane I sounded, but I couldn’t stop. I was going on too little sleep and too much caffeine. “The thing that’s waiting for me to breathe easy before it destroys my life right in front of me.”

  She regarded me silently for a moment. “Cole, you’re not my client, but I would like to ask you about something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Will you sit down?”

  Reluctantly, I lowered myself onto the couch. Ran a hand through my hair.

  “This is the first time you’ve dated anyone seriously since losing your wife, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I ask why you’ve waited so long?”

  “Because of Mariah.”

  Jessalyn nodded. “Because of that promise you made when she was five?”

  “Yes.” I thought for a second. “Also because I didn’t like it when other people told me I should. I don’t like being told what to do. I don’t like being told I’m unhappy or stuck or that Trisha wouldn’t have wanted me to stay single.”

  “Fair enough. But Mariah is older now, Cole. And she understands that dating Cheyenne doesn’t mean she’s going to lose you.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said, jumping to my feet again. “She’s afraid. She’s very, very afraid. She just won’t admit it.”

  “I think you’re afraid, Cole,” Jessalyn said gently. “And you were looking for Mariah to give you a reason to retreat from your feelings for Cheyenne.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous! The only thing I’m looking for is the dragon!”

  She sighed. “The dragon is you. It’s your refusal to believe that happiness can last. Your fear of loss. Your anxiety about being vulnerable again.”

  “I do not have any anxiety about being vulnerable,” I informed her in a huff. “Because I’m not vulnerable. I’m a guy. I’m tough. I’m a cop.” I puffed up my chest and stood taller.

  Jessalyn arched a brow. “I can see that.”

  “So that’s not what this is about. I’m not worried for myself, I’m worried for the people I love. I want to protect them. I’m a very protective person.” I thumped a fist against my sternum on the last three words.

  “Of course you are,” she said. “But in this instance, I think—subconsciously—the person you’re most worried about protecting is yourself. I think you’re in love with Cheyenne, and it’s making you feel threatened and exposed because of the way you lost your first wife. You suffered a deep wound, Cole. It’s only natural to harbor some fear it could happen again.”

  “You’re wrong,” I informed her, moving her name to the list of people who thought they knew how I felt or what was best for me. My upper lip twitched. “I am fine. F-I-N-E fine.”

  “Have you considered therapy, Cole?”

  “I don’t need therapy.” At my sides, my hands began to tremble, and I crossed my arms, shoving them in my armpits.

  “I don’t see adults, but I’d be happy to—”

  “I said, I don’t need therapy. And I’ve taken up enough of your time,” I announced abruptly, heading for the door. “Sorry for yelling that way.”

  “Cole, please. Let me help you.”

  But I didn’t want her help. I didn’t need her help.

  What the hell was the matter with m
e, barging into her office like that?

  I was fine.

  In fact, I was more than fine. I was crazy in love with a beautiful, sweet, sexy woman I’d known almost all my life. My daughter loved her. My mother loved her. Her mother loved me. Her brother was my best friend.

  Everything was perfect.

  And just because there was nothing standing in the way of me being completely happy for the rest of my life didn’t mean something terrible was sneaking up behind me.

  That shadow was nothing.

  I could ignore it.

  Twenty-Two

  Cheyenne

  On Monday morning Mariah popped her head into my classroom before school while I was restocking the pencil trays on each kindergarten table.

  “Hi, Miss Cheyenne!”

  “Good morning, Mariah! How was your weekend?” Since Cole had worked Saturday and Sunday, we hadn’t gotten a chance to hang out, although we’d talked on the phone both nights for hours. Going to sleep after hearing him say I love you had brought the sweetest dreams I’d ever had.

  “It was good,” she said enthusiastically. “My dad took me skating on Friday and he told me about you guys.”

  I nodded, perching on the edge of a table. “That’s what he said.”

  “I told him about the kind of love you were looking for.” She sighed and shook her head. “Hopefully, he was listening.”

  “I’m sure he was,” I said, hiding a smile. “Thank you.”

  “I hope you guys get married,” she went on, her eyes lighting up. “And then you can have a baby. I told him I wanted a little sister, not a little brother, but I guess I’d be okay with a little brother too.”

  “Oh—oh my.” I put a hand over my stomach. “Well, we haven’t really talked about that yet.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “I’m just really excited.”

  Two more girls entered my classroom—I recognized them as former students, now fourth graders like Mariah. I stood up and smiled. “Good morning, girls.”

  “Good morning, Miss Dempsey,” they recited together.

  “You coming, Mariah?” one of them asked.