by Dee Ellis
“What do you think he wants?” Lola’s voice was unsteady, the way it got only when she talked about her past.
“To scare you. To make you feel like he’s the only place you have to go.” Rage made my words icy; I’d go mad if he ever got his hands on her again.
“He…he didn’t even really love me, you know? How could you do what he did to me if you loved someone? I’m just…I’m just a pawn for him. He enjoys the power.” I nodded and pressed back against her, her arms looping around my shoulders.
“He won’t get to you, Darlin’. I promise.” I poured as much emotion into the words as I could, because I meant it.
Unlike Diggs, I had figured Seth out. The escalation of his tormenting Lola was all because of me. Because he had realized I was a legitimate threat. He didn’t want Lola back because he loved her, she was right. Seth wanted Lola back because, like she said, she was a pawn and he needed her to keep up the façade both their families were living.
A break in, then the fire, and then his showing up had shown his desperation. Because, Seth was a smart man; he knew that I was in the picture now. He realized he was losing his ability to scare Lola, to control her the way he had for so long. I was a threat. and he was fucking wise to realize it.
Because Lola was fucking mine. I would do whatever it took to prove it to the world. Lola included. The guys still gave me shit because I didn’t call us a couple. But we fucking were. It was Lola who couldn’t stand the idea of labels. But that was going to change.
“I trust you.” Lola’s voice sent a shudder of emotion down my spine. “You scare the shit out of me, Hunter. But I trust you so much.” I swung her around onto my lap, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck.
“I’m going to protect you, Lola Bear. I promise you. Whatever it fucking takes. I won’t let him, or anyone else—me included—hurt you again, baby.” Something flashed in her violet eyes before they went watery.
I crushed her to me and held her while she cried. I knew she didn’t want some pretty words or more promises. By now, I knew what Lola wanted from me. To let her be broken and scared. To prove to her that I wanted her despite that.
Fuck, did I want her. I almost couldn’t breathe if I thought about her leaving. Panic gripped me until I almost couldn’t see if I thought about that fucking fire. Losing her in any way would kill me. Which could only mean one thing, really.
I was falling recklessly in love with Lola Von.
Reckless because I didn’t know if she could trust what I was feeling. And because I wasn’t sure I could be enough for her. I’d failed at that before. But, Goddamnit, I was going to try to be. I wanted to be everything Lola could ever need.
I spent the rest of the night proving how I wanted her. First on the couch, holding her on my lap and thrusting into her deeply. I settled into her heat and didn’t move for long moments. With her limbs wound around me, I almost couldn’t bare the emotions pounding through me.
Lola had woven herself around me. Into every part of my life. She chased away my fears. Fears that I could fuck this up, that I could never feel whole again. I could fuck this up, but Lola would stay, because I was enough for her. I became whole and complete, and enough for her, because of her.
That nasty voice panic began to hum in my ear, though. About her family. About the facade they wanted to portray. Seth was part of that. The two of them together had been a business move, nothing more. One her parents had cashed in on, if Diggs’ dirt on them was accurate.
I was terrified the lengths they might go to in order to take Lola back. To take her from me, from Chicago, from Gigi and Charli. From the life she built here for herself, without them. I wasn’t about to allow it. I couldn’t.
After her favorite pasta dish and more Doogie reruns, I carried her to bed. Before I let her wind her limbs around me like she did every night, I had a question to ask. I hadn’t given her the words, and I wasn’t sure if she was ready for them yet. But I’d made a decision.
“Lola. You trust me, Darlin’?” I stripped her down to nothing, tearing the sheets back as I asked.
“More than anything.” For a moment, I watched her curl into the bed we shared, sidetracked until I saw her smile.
Staring at her in the darkness, the moonlight bathing her milky skin and the tips of her purple hair, I shook my head. I was no good at this shit, but I knew what I wanted. I was about to either make the biggest mistake ever, or get it right for once.
“Darlin’…. why don’t we get married?” For a second, I swore I could see the words fill the air between us, like the snarky comments in her Graphic Novel scenes.
It made sense to me. I could keep her for good, protect her from her past, and tie her to me just like she had asked me to. Anchor me to you, she always asked. Well, I wanted to do exactly that.
“I don’t have a ring, we haven’t said the words, and this just started, but…I want to keep you, Lola. Here in my bed, in my place, in my fucking life. I also want to protect you, and if you become my wife, I can do that the right way. I can keep him, your family, all of them, from ever hurting you.” I didn’t need her to marry me to do that, but it fucking sounded good.
“Hunter….” Lola’s eyes went dark purple, and she knelt on the bed.
My chest went tight and I started to panic. I wanted to marry her. I meant it. I loved her. I loved her more than I knew how to say. My first marriage, I said it all the time. Every day. Didn’t change how we ruined each other. I knew love was more than words.
I wanted to protect Lola, to give her fucking everything. To give her all of me, as ruined as I was. And I wanted all of her. Damaged and scared and imperfect, I wanted it all. I couldn’t imagine my life without her now, and it was fucking scary. But scary was okay as long as she let me keep her.
“I can protect you. Just…let me keep you, Lola. I fucked it up before, but I can be enough for you, because…I want it so fucking bad, Lola.” Lola pressed her hands to my chest, my heart thundering beneath them.
“I don’t need words, Hunter. We…we’re more than words, Pumpkin. I want you to keep me. Yes. Let’s do it.” Lola shrieked a laugh and leapt from the bed into my arms.
Yes. Yes. Yes! Lola fucking Von was going to marry me. I crushed her to me and whooped, making Gerdie curse me from the next room. We fell into the bed laughing. I kissed her between laughs and kisses that were as light as her bubbling laugh.
Just like she drew in her colorful comic scenes, I got to play her hero. Forever. Those giggles and feather kisses changed as if we realized what it meant at the same moment. I laced our fingers together and gazed into her eyes, both of us nodding once before I slid inside of her.
“I mean it, Lola. I mean it, baby.” I thrust again and again, pinning her to the bed, “I mean it.” I whispered harshly against her lips, driving deep.
“Me too. Oh God, me too.” For hours, I fucked her, telling her I loved her without the words.
Lola was right, we were bigger than the words. In fact, I think the words could never be enough to explain what I felt for her. By noon the next day, Lola had it all planned; just the two of us at the courthouse. I didn’t care how we did it. I just wanted it done; I wanted her anchored to me.
Somehow, just a few months into dating Lola and before two of my best friends got married to the women they’d been with for much longer, I was saying I do again. I held her hands in mine as the Justice of the Peace, her two clerks, and God watched us say our vows and promise ourselves to each other.
Lola was lit up and giggling, and I fucking loved it. Draped in a navy blue and white striped sailor type get up, complete with hat, a huge gray bird brooch and bright red boots, she was my bright and shining Lola. I knew I was a lucky fucking man, and I was going to do my damndest to prove I knew it.
“You may kiss the bride.” My hands shook in hers as I tugged her closer.
That kiss…it didn’t feel like one of the thousands we had shared so far. It didn’t feel dirty or heated or even needy.
It felt like saying the words I knew we were both too fucking scared to utter. I loved her. And that kiss? It was her telling me she loved me. It was more than words, like we always would be.
“I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Hunter Byrne. Congratulations.” The judge, a sweet older woman winked at me, and I winked back.
We both knew I had won the fucking jackpot. I scooped my new wife off of her feet and whooped so loud it echoed off the walls, along with her cute giggles. Married. To my lady. I barely got inside the house before I dropped to my knees in front of her.
“No rings,” I pressed my face into her tummy, overtaken by emotion, “But for now…” I snatched one of the markers she used for her story boards and took her hand.
Biting the end off of the cap, I brought her left hand into the light. Carefully, I placed a ring on her finger. A bright red circle, thick and heavy; no one could miss it. Beneath it, I drew a dark navy anchor, topping it with a tiny red heart. Lola was the artist, but I did pretty damn good. It looked fucking perfect, and I peered up at her, not hiding the wetness in my eyes.
“Pumpkin…” Lola fell to the floor, tears marking her creamy skin.
My chest went tight as I let her take my left hand, doing the same in return. Her circle was perfect, of course, thick and dark. The tiny red anchor felt as if she had imprinted it down to my fucking soul. Cupping her tiny jaw in my big hands, I kissed her tears away and made one more vow.
“We don’t need the words, because we’re bigger than that, baby. So much fucking bigger.” Lola nodded and pressed her forehead to mine, tangling our fingers together.
Then, Lola kissed me just as she had at the courthouse, and I knew that was better than any words. I carried my wife to our bed and consummated our marriage. Four times.
Lying in bed that night, I couldn’t stop looking at our left hands, woven together. Those red and navy circles, that damn anchor; somehow, they felt more binding than the ring I had worn for four years.
I’d anchored Lola to me because, to me, her imperfections fit with mine.
12
Married. Again. I might be hysterical if it didn’t feel so damn right. Not like the first time. Not like I expected being married to feel, even. Just like it makes sense, like we fit, with all our flaws and baggage and issues. Hunter makes sense to me. We make sense to me.
From the moment I carried a bag of my things, with Gerdie talking shit on my shoulder, to his place, I knew this was different. Hunter and I, we were different.
Despite clearly having a dose of OCD—he counted stairs, counted steps from our condo to the corner bodega, and a dozen other things—he let me blow into his life and shatter his sense of order. Hunter was muted and calm while I was colorful and brash. We shouldn’t make sense, but to each other, we did.
“I like these ones.” Hunter peered over my shoulder one night as I drew a new scene, coloring it bright and vibrant.
“Of course, you do. You’re the hero in them.” I smirked as his face turned into my neck, kissing lazily.
Hunter had become the hero indeed. The first few days I’d almost resented having to stay at his place. Not because I didn’t want to be around him. Lord knows that’s all I wanted. But because it meant he had a say in my life. Something I wasn’t ready for. Hunter, being the true hero he was, didn’t abuse it.
Instead, he let me have my coffee and my unhealthy breakfast from Yolk. Or he cooked amazing waffles, sometimes with blueberries or chocolate chips. Always with eggs and bacon. And he let me give Gerdie free roam of the apartment most evenings.
Those two seem to have struck a bond; I found her murmuring to him more than once, whistling when I walked in the room. Gerdie was a sneaky bitch.
Hunter didn’t mind when I made a mess in the bathroom or woke him in the middle of the night with nightmares. No, he made it work for us. My bathroom mess turned into towels used to bind me as he fucked me from behind, hands wrapped around my throat. I only messed it up worse the next day.
When I woke him with nightmares, he shoved my legs open and buried his face between them, making me come until I could only see, feel, taste, and sense him. Us. This thing Hunter was making work between us.
“Darlin’…. why don’t we get married…”? It might have scared someone else. Someone who didn’t see what a true fucking hero Hunter was.
Me? No, it excited me and at the same time, it soothed the fears in me like a balm his husky southern drawl had smoothed over my soul. I was in love with Hunter and I knew it, but when he asked me to let him keep me, to take care of me, I was certain.
“We’re bigger than words.” I didn’t need him to say it. In fact, I might have said no if he had said the words.
I loved him; I loved him so much it ached like a burning ember in my chest. Pulsing and growing hotter the more he saved me from myself. From my past. A past that he was determined to protect me from. I didn’t want to need him, but Goddamnit if he didn’t make needing him feel fucking good.
Tonight is our fifth day of being married, and the first of our honeymoon. I never got one before, and Hunter didn’t either. We decided to take a week off, together, and just be married. I have something in mind for tonight, and since he grants me everything else, I think he’ll let me have my way.
“Husband,” I tease when I call him on lunch, loving the husky laugh he gives me, “I made plans for tonight. Is that okay?” I watch Charli and Cage as they coo at each other.
It’s just weeks before their wedding and they’re disgustingly in love with each other. It’s cute though, I won’t lie. It strikes me that I might have found what they have. Although, what they have is fucking special, so maybe not.
But Hunter and I, we’re special too. Tonight, I had plans to make it real. Permanent. Not that marrying him didn’t make it real enough. I wanted something more significant than some paperwork and a few words repeated in front of a judge.
“Course it is, wife. Just so long as we end the night with me sleeping inside that pretty pussy, you can have whatever you want. Anything you want, Darlin’.” My thighs clench, because most nights end that way, and I fucking love it.
“You always get your way, don’t you, Pumpkin?” I laugh, twisting away from the eyes of Charli and Cage as we talk.
“Got my way a few times last night. Plan to get my way a few more tonight. In fact, I think I gave you your way multiple times too, Darlin’. Tell me what I want to hear, Lola Bear.” Hunter’s voice lowers, and I close my eyes, emotion swimming through my veins.
“I miss you.” It’s the closest we’ve come to the three words that still terrify us.
We say it every way that counts. I said it to a man for half a dozen years, and it meant nothing. I don’t know when Hunter will want the words. I’ll give them when he wants them, though. Because maybe then, I’ll need them too.
“I miss you, Darlin’.” The caress of his voice at my ear feels like he’s saying the words, and I almost shudder.
“Pick me up at four, Pumpkin?” Hunter agrees and then makes a crude comment about else happens at four, and I have to end the call.
I am lit with excitement and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Gigi and Charli have been pressing me for details since the fittings over a month ago. They know I’m staying with Hunter now, know that even Gerdie is too, and they know I saw Seth.
My girls and their Cooper men and even Levi haven’t let me out of their sight since. I feel blessed to have people like them in my life now. I don’t know if I deserve them, but I’m fucking holding onto them as tight as I can. Hunter especially.
“I am owed details. I think it’s only fair. You knew about my proposal before I did.” Charli pulls the guilt card my last day before an extended vacation I explained as needing a break. Not me taking time to let my new husband fuck me stupid.
“Touché, sister. I’ll let you ask five questions, and I will answer. Go.” Charli claps her hands as I sit atop the circulation desk, my legs swinging.
“Yesssss! First...pick
le size. Because I told you my man is a cucumber. A healthy cucumber.” Charli flushes as she talks about Cage’s dick and I have to giggle.
“Oh jeez. Okay. Well,” I smirk, taunting her as I tilt my head to consider, “I can comfortably say.... maybe…. a zucchini?” I hold my arm up, swiping my hand from wrist to elbow, and her eyes widen.
“Lola Von! Be real. The piercing is...” I make an X across my hand, indicating the piercing that makes me wet just thinking about.
“Sweet Jesus.” Charli fans herself with a book, adjusting her glasses. She’s so stinking cute.
“Next one. Do you love living with him?” Charli says it softly, leaning up against the circular mahogany desk.
Her head rests on her crossed arms and she sighs as she says it, and I feel like I’m in high school. Except, I never got to feel this way then. Never got to have something that was mine alone. My life had been chosen for me and that’s why choosing Hunter feels so good now.
“I do, surprisingly. Gerdie adores him. They conspire against me, in fact. He’s so funny and fun and... sweet and sincere and god awful sexy.” We giggle and I love this; that I can have these moments.
Charli asks more questions—about his southern accent and how it sounds in bed, and if he’s as dirty with his mouth as she suspect—but I know she’s saving the best for last. I also know she’s stalling, and once I see Gigi bounding in, I know why.
“Lola Bear. As I live and breathe, darling, you look fabulous.” Gigi shoves her long dark hair off one shoulder as she steps inside the circulation desk.
We hug quickly. I miss my sister Poppy and Gigi reminds me of her. Both are witty and sarcastic; but I think I might like Gigi more, if I’m being honest. Poppy bent to our parents wills too easily, and though she’s coming to visit next week, I’m not as happy to see her as I am being with Gigi and Charli.
“My dear Gigi, what’s shaking love?” Gigi hops up beside me and suddenly, I’m cornered.
