Thrive (Guardian Protection)

by Aly Martinez

  I flashed a smile to each of the girls as I carried them back to their mother’s car. I hadn’t seen them in a few days and I wouldn’t have minded making up for lost time even if it was nursing them back to health. But, if that meant having a yelling match with Melissa in front of them, I could wait until the following weekend.

  After I got to the car, I opened the back door and deposited Amelia into her car seat. I kissed her on her forehead, finding it still hot, therefore immediately feeling guilty that my sick baby had to get back in the car instead of curling into my lap on the couch to watch her favorite cartoon until she was feeling better.

  As I rounded the hood to put Sophie in her seat, Melissa moved in to buckle up Amelia. Once both girls were situated, I leaned into the backseat, blew countless kisses, promised I’d see them soon, and then shut the door.

  And then, and only then, did I turn back to face my ex-wife. She was still pissed as all hell, leaning against the door, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “What the fuck was that?” I whispered.

  “You tell me,” she whispered back.

  “Fine. That was you showing your ass in front of our kids the way we swore to each other we would never do when we separated.”

  “You know what else we said we wouldn’t do? Randomly move people into a home where our children sleep.”

  She was not wrong about that, and guilt momentarily curbed my anger.

  Melissa was a good woman. Strong. Borderline bitchy. Fiercely independent. Short tempered, but she had a good heart. Everything I’d told myself I’d needed after Mira had wrecked me. By the time Mel and I had met, I’d been in my late thirties and traveling through life, bouncing from woman to woman, trying to replace the one who got away. Honestly, as fucked up as it was, part of the reason Melissa and I had worked was because she was the first woman who had not one single thing in common with Mira York. She wasn’t soft or gentle. I didn’t have to take care of her or wonder what was going on in her head. If Melissa had a problem, I knew it immediately. There was no guessing or playing games. If she thought it, she said it. Good, bad, or ugly. Sure, we had good times together. She made me laugh, but it was on a surface level. It made my lips pull back and a deep sound vibrate from my throat, but the sensation of happiness didn’t travel through my entire body down to the marrow in my bones. There was only one woman who had ever given that to me.

  Then again, my marriage to Melissa had been born out of a mutual convenience, not all-consuming love, lust, or even desire. When we’d met, we were both getting older, reaching that point in our lives when you either made a family or gave up on the dream.

  Melissa had told me on our very first date that she was looking to settle down. She’d had it all planned out. Big house. Two kids. Her career. Her husband working for her dad. Summers spent in the Hamptons. Winters spent in the Keys. Eventually retiring somewhere on the beach.

  I’d also told her on our first date that all I had to offer her was the kids part.

  Apparently, that had been enough for her.

  We had great sex, became good friends, but not surprisingly, if you didn’t love someone, it was really fucking hard to commit your life to them.

  Though, short of the two angelic faces peering out at us from the backseat of her car, I hadn’t been able to commit my life to anyone since I’d been twenty-three years old.

  And she had known this. I’d told her. But she’d married me anyway.

  She’d come to regret it too.

  At some point during our three-year marriage, Melissa had fallen in love with me. Real love. True love. The kind you don’t move on from. The kind I could never return.

  The kind I had with Mira.

  So, rather than pretending for any longer or hurting her any deeper, I left. I wasn’t a dick about it. We sat down and talked. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t argue that it wasn’t for the best.

  It was still for the best, and deep down, she knew it just as well as I did. We needed to move on, and while she’d shown that her jealous streak didn’t always stay hidden, she was at least rational about it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said sans all anger.

  She accepted my apology with a nod, keeping her gaze trained on the driveway. “So she seriously lives here?” Her words were no longer packed the anger, but the hurt was evident. “After knowing her for a few days?”

  I sighed and gripped the back of my neck, suddenly very aware that I was standing in my driveway shirtless while about to drop a bomb that I knew was going to wreck my ex-wife. But it had to be done.

  “It’s Mira,” I informed.

  Her head snapped up as she sucked in a sharp breath. “W-what?”

  “She called me on Friday. She and her ex… Well, shit went down and it was bad. She came back here for a few nights, some things happened, and here we are.”

  “Just like that,” she whispered, incredulous. “She just walks back into your life after all this time and you’re standing there with open arms, ready to take her back?”

  Yes. Basically. That was exactly what’d happened.

  “No, Mel. We’ve talked. There was a lot of miscommunication back in the day. She’s been living with bruises. I’ve been living with bruises. We’ve talked through them and—”

  “In a weekend?” She pushed off the car and stopped directly in front of me. “I spent three years of my life trying to make you love me. And this woman…who you spent, what? A few months with forever ago? She comes back and, one weekend later, you’re starting a life together? How convenient.” She laughed quietly and really fucking sadly. “Next weekend, you two getting married? Starting on kids the following?”

  I stared at her. It was rare she broke down. She was always such a rock. I hated this part of my life. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my children. But staying with their mother only to repeatedly break her heart was not one of those things. She deserved the truth no matter how much it hurt.

  “No. Mel. That’s not what’s going to happen next weekend or the next. But you need to be ready for all of those things to happen eventually. Look, I’m happy for you and Brent. He seems like a nice guy, and he loves you. You can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you. But that was never the way I looked at you. And I told you that would never be the case from the day we met.” I waved a hand out to indicate the back of her car, where our twins were sitting inside, probably arguing with each other. “We made beautiful babies. That was all I ever promised you. You knew that going in. This is not, and has never been, a you-versus-Mira thing. What she and I have is different. I don’t know why. And don’t know how. But, yeah, it only took a few months when we were younger and then this past weekend to know that she’s the woman I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with.”

  She blanched, her face paling as she cut her gaze away.

  God, it fucking sucked. But I was telling her the truth. Something we’d vowed to always give each other. But, when she looked back in my direction, the tears rolling down her cheeks gutted me.

  Catching her at the back of her neck, I pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry. I swear to God I am. But I can’t change it, Mel. She’s a part of me.”

  She stood in my arms for a few beats, sniffling and doing her best to hide her face, and then, in true Melissa fashion, she stepped out of my arms, rolled her shoulders back, and took the world on with her chin held high. “I think we should sit down with the girls together before they officially meet her and explain things. Perhaps over family dinner on Wednesday. I’d also like to schedule some time to talk to her. If she’s going to be involved in the girls’ life, I’d like to lay out a few ground rules with her woman to woman.”

  I nodded. It made sense. It was going to be awkward as fuck, but I had faith Mira could handle it. “Fair enough.”

  “I’ll find someone else to keep the kids today. Since you’re…” She pursed her lips and disapprovingly raked her gaze over my chest. “Busy.”

  I shoved my hands in
my pockets and rocked up onto my toes. “I’ll be sure to put on a shirt next time you show up at my house…unannounced…on my day off.”

  She rolled her eyes and it made me chuckle.

  “Hey, why don’t you give Rhion a call? I’m sure she’d love to keep the girls. I’ll throw on some clothes and head that way. Mira can stay down at Guardian while I spend time with the kids.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “What? You don’t trust her to stay home alone?”

  I clamped my mouth shut. Nope. Nope. Nope.

  No way in hell was I getting into that conversation with Melissa.

  “She likes to hang with Johnson,” I blurted.

  A huge Cheshire-cat smile split her face. “Don’t we all.”

  I chuckled. “I’m learning that this is true. You call him Sexy Guy too?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll call him whatever he wants me to. You might want to make sure your beloved Mira doesn’t though.”

  I glowered, but it only made her smile grow.

  Turning on a toe, she tugged the car door open. Pausing halfway in, halfway out, she gave me a tight smile. “I’m sorry, too, by the way.”

  “I know,” I murmured.

  “You’ve never lied to me, Jeremy. Not even when I’d wished you would.”

  Jesus.

  I didn’t know how to reply to something like that, but thankfully, she let me off the hook before I had to try.

  “I’ll call Rhion and text you with what she says.” She turned, put her chin to her shoulder, and said, “Tell Daddy bye.”

  “Bye!” they parroted.

  “Bye, sweeties. Hopefully I’ll see you in a few.”

  They both smiled, wide and toothy.

  I gave Melissa one last chin jerk, and then she closed the door. I stood on the driveway, watching one half of my heart leaving.

  And then I put one foot in front of the other and went back inside—to the other half.

  “Are you okay?” Jeremy asked for approximately the twentieth time.

  I was sitting on the big, overstuffed couch at Guardian. The massive TV mounted over the double-sided fireplace was playing The Food Channel, but Jeremy had muted it the moment he’d sat beside me. He’d spent the last few hours down at Rhion’s, hanging out with his daughters. Meanwhile, I’d been stuck at Guardian with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. And, given my mindset, time alone in my head was a dangerous thing.

  After Jeremy had dealt with Melissa back at his house, he’d come back inside, wrapped me in a hug from behind, apologized for his ex, kissed my neck, felt me up, and then told me he loved me. All of this, I had immensely enjoyed.

  Meeting Melissa—assuming you could consider her yelling and being appalled “meeting”—had been exactly one level of discomfort above having a tooth pulled. But it was what it was. She was going to be part of Jeremy’s life for forever, and it appeared as though I was too.

  While Jeremy had waited for his pancakes to warm in the microwave, he’d given me the rundown of what they’d talked about in the driveway. I’d been shocked—okay, fine, and ecstatic—to learn that she knew who I was. This meant he’d talked about me at least once over the years. (Yay!) This also meant that I’d caused him so much heartbreak that he’d been unable to find any kind of happiness with another woman. (Not so yay.)

  Then, between heaving forkfuls of pancake, he informed me that Melissa wanted to have a one-on-one with me. Yeah, okay, fine. Whatever. I was good with people. Even, and maybe especially, the bitchy ones.

  But then, just as his fork clattered on his empty plate, he mentioned that the aforementioned one-on-one was because Melissa wanted to discuss things because I was going to be part of the girls’ lives from there on out. As in their children. Their innocent, beautiful children.

  I smiled, excused myself, trotted up the stairs, locked myself in the bathroom, and then had the panic attack of all panic attacks.

  Jeremy was an incredible man. I’d loved him with my entire heart for half of my life. It hadn’t worked out for us in the past, but over the last few days, I’d dared to hope that it could be different for us in the present. And then, just that morning, only hours earlier, that hope had transformed into a reality as Jeremy had declared that he was committing to making us work and I’d sworn to always choose us.

  It had felt like a dream.

  But, with one simple realization, I’d been forced to wake up.

  Back to the nightmare.

  Jeremy and I had no future.

  Kurt had made sure of that—again.

  Which was exactly why I was sitting on the couch at Guardian, my head a jumbled mess, my lungs aching with every breath, and my soul shriveling with the prospect of a life without him.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, finishing with a smile to really sell it.

  He blew out an exasperated breath and mumbled a not-so-stealthy, “Bullshit.”

  “Stop. Seriously. I’m fine. Go take the girls to Melissa’s. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  He eyed me warily. “Is this about Melissa?”

  I laughed, but it never made it to my heart. “No! Good lord, stop asking. I’m not upset about your ex. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

  He scooted over until our thighs became flush. “Mira, you are not fine. You weren’t fine at the house. You weren’t fine on the way over. And you sure as fuck are not fine now.”

  He was absolutely right.

  I rolled my eyes anyway. “I’m just tired. You know I didn’t sleep last night.”

  His lips thinned. “You sure?”

  I pointed to my eyes. “Have you seen the bags under my eyes?”

  He smiled—so damn beautifully that it hurt. “Now that you mention it, you do look like hell.”

  I gaped at him. “What is wrong with you? You don’t say that to a woman. The appropriate response when a woman criticizes herself is always, ‘Oh, please, you’re beautiful, blank.’”

  His lips twitched. “Blank?”

  “That is where you add the term of endearment. Always add a term of endearment. Gorgeous, sexy, love, or whatever tickles your fancy.”

  He scooped a hand behind my knees and twisted me on the couch so that my legs draped over his lap. Using the back of his hand, he brushed my hair over my shoulder and murmured, “You tickle my fancy.”

  I turned, putting my feet back on the floor and adding a much-needed few inches between us. “Your cheesiness knows no bounds.”

  He grinned, his eyes getting dark as he whispered to no one, “She’s going to make us work for it.”

  Disbelieving, I glanced around the room. “Who are you talking to?”

  He nodded, held my gaze, and then answered his own damn question. “That she is, Hyde. That she is.”

  My head jerked back. “Are you seriously having a conversation with your alter ego right now?”

  He didn’t answer—either of them.

  But, suddenly, I was in his arms, up off the couch, and then back down on the couch. My shoulder blades were to the cushion I’d just been sitting on, my legs stretching the length, and the solid wall of muscle that was Jeremy Lark came crashing down on top of me. He landed on me hard but gently, his hand going over my head to the armrest to support some of his weight. But his hips landed on mine, zipper to zipper, lining us up in the most spectacular fashion.

  “Jesus,” I breathed, cutting my gaze off to the side, lamenting how incredibly perfectly we fit together.

  “Talk,” he demanded.

  I swallowed hard and forced a smile. “You’re so crazy. Nothing is wrong.”

  He cupped my chin, squishing my lips together as he turned my head back to face him. “You know you are going to have to tell me eventually.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be taking your daughters home?” I mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “I am. And the sooner you tell me what the hell is going on in your head, I can do just that. Then I can come back here, take you home, and spend the rest of the night
soothing, arguing, or fucking whatever demon has taken hold of your head out of you.” He leaned in close, still holding my face, his lips almost touching mine. “I’ll even let you choose.”

  I swatted his hand away from my face and bucked beneath him. “If you don’t get off me, you aren’t going to be fucking anything for a long while.”

  He laughed. “You know what the bitch does to me, baby. I’m not going to be able to hold Hyde back much longer with you slinging an attitude like that.”

  I rolled my eyes so hard that it felt as though they did a full rotation. Shoving at his chest and bucking beneath him, I ordered, “Jesus Christ, go take your kids home. I’ll be fine when you get back.”

  He didn’t budge, and his already firm body turned to stone. “You got a problem with my girls?” he asked roughly.

  My eyes snapped to his. “What? No! Why would you even think that?”

  His forehead crinkled as his eyes turned to slits. “’Cause you’re acting fucking weird and you won’t tell me why, but you seem to think you’ll be fine after I drop my girls off.”

  I sighed. “Jeremy, I have no problem with your children. They are dolls. Amelia and her crooked smile, and Sophie with her penchant for dresses and tiaras. I mean, really—what’s not to love?”

  His slitted eyes somehow became slittier. “How do you know about Sophie and her dresses? Or Amelia’s smile?”

  Oh, fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I did not think that one through.

  Somehow, I guessed “Because I’ve been stalking you and your family on Facebook for the last few years” wasn’t going to be a turn-on, so I attempted to squirm out from under him and lied. “I saw them today.”

  His weight got heavier on top of me. “For two seconds. And Amelia was sick, so she wasn’t smiling, and Sophie was wearing leggings and a sweater.”

  Shit! Why had I never perfected the art of lying over the last thirty-six years?