by Alexa Martin
When I reach his door, my hands move at their own accord, slamming against the door with so much force, I know they’re going to be black and blue in a few days.
“Open the door, Gavin!” My voice is unlike I have ever heard it—scratchy like I’ve swallowed glass, more frightened than a wild dog. Each second I stand there, shaking and throwing myself at his door, feels like an eternity. I had managed to keep my eyes ahead, but the thought that Gavin might not be home makes me turn to see if my attacker is still there.
Icy terror grips my throat when I see him standing on the corner. Still as can be.
Watching me.
When he sees I’ve turned to him, he waves and walks away. It’s at that moment I remember what he said earlier. He knows where I live.
He wasn’t waving to say good-bye. He was telling me he’ll see me later.
“Gavin!” My shrill voice disrupts the calm night once more. My hands, sore from the punch and fall and hitting the door, try once again and at last, it works.
The solid oak door swings open and Gavin’s large form fills the doorway. I don’t say anything before I’m inside his house, slamming the door shut and turning the deadbolts.
“Marlee?” he asks, probably confused to see me at his door at all, let alone the state I arrive in.
“The guy with James. He followed me. He knows where I live. How do I go home?” I shout a bunch of broken sentences at him. I wrap my arms around my midsection to try and comfort myself against the shaking taking over my body.
“What guy, Marlee?” I hear him, but I’m not listening.
“I knew it. I knew he was no good. But I froze and holy shit, he hit me so hard.” My hand absently touches my jaw where the pain is starting to make itself noticeable.
“Marlee. What guy? What the fuck happened?”
I’ve been so focused on myself, I didn’t even notice how his posture has changed from relaxed to tight and alert.
“The guy with James. He . . . he . . . I was listening to music and the light got crazy when I was almost out of the park. He came out of nowhere. I don’t know what he wanted. I dropped my phone while I was running, but when I got to your door, he was still standing there watching me and then—”
I don’t even finish the sentence before Gavin has the door open and is stalking down the walkway to the sidewalk.
“No! Gavin, come back!” I saw the guy walk away, but for some reason, I can’t convince myself he’s not still out there. Maybe with a weapon, ready to hurt me . . . hurt Gavin. I stumble back into the wall behind me and flinch with the painful reminder of slamming into the concrete outside. I lose the strength to hold my body up and melt down onto Gavin’s hard, cold floor.
I don’t yell for Gavin. I don’t look out of the window to make sure he’s okay. That would all take energy I no longer have. I don’t even have the strength to let out a sigh of relief when he walks back through his front door, safe and with my phone in his hand.
“I don’t know where he went, but he’s not out there.” He hands me my phone, still crack free under its rhinestone covered case.
“He’s probably waiting for me,” I whisper, unable to look Gavin in the eyes.
“Marlee.” He says my name gently as he closes the distance between the two of us. “Are you all right?”
He sits down on the floor a couple of feet away from me, watching closely, like I might snap at any second—which, if I’m honest, I think I already did—so he doesn’t miss the way I flinch and retreat when he reaches for my aching hands.
“Come sit down.” He stands and helps me off of the floor. He walks slightly in front of me, enough to where he’s close if I need him, but not so near that I feel overpowered, and guides me into the living room.
“Thank you,” I say after we’ve been sitting on his couch for minutes . . . hours? Who knows.
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I took so long to answer the door.”
“I wouldn’t have opened the door at all if somebody was banging on my door like that this late at night.” I try to reassure him, but my words come out weak and unconvincing.
“Do you want water or coffee or anything?” The change of topic is kind. “I can get something while you call the police.”
Shit. The police.
“I forgot about them.” I try to pull myself back together. “Coffee would be great.” Wine would be better, but a clear head is probably necessary for this part. I guess caffeine is going to have to do the trick.
Freaking James.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
When will I learn?
Nineteen
After Gavin mentioned the police, I called right away. I didn’t want to forget details, but mainly, I wanted it over with. And when Officer Green walked in, I wanted it even more.
Officer Green, aka Brian Green of the Denver Police Department, is a jackass. He went to high school with me and Chris. He was full of himself back then, but give him a friend in a Mustangs jersey and a badge? His asshole-ness increased at warp speed. Every time I see him, he throws out some crude comment about my ass or how much fun I must be to have kept Chris around for so long. And today’s no exception.
I mean, come on, Universe. I just got punched in the face. You can’t give me a break on this?
“Damn, Marlee. When they said your name and gave this address, I thought there had to be another Marlee Harper in Denver because why would you ever leave your golden tower in Parker,” he says with a whistle. “But now I see not much has changed since high school.”
“What are you talking about, Brian?” I’m not in the mood to engage with him tonight, so I cut straight to the point.
“Oh, you know. Still sinking your claws into any athlete you can find.” He laughs at his stupid insult. I’m used to his idiocy, but I can sense Gavin’s anger rising with each word coming out of Brian’s mouth. “I thought once Chris got to the big leagues, you’d give it a rest. But the quarterback? Even I’m impressed. I didn’t figure you’d be his type.”
You’d think being a cop, he would be more attuned to the environment around him and do his job. But he keeps going, watching me, oblivious to the storm brewing beside him.
“Be honest, did anything even happen tonight or did you make it all up in order to weasel your way in here?” He gives me the same cocky smirk he’s been aiming my way for years. He doesn’t seem to realize my opinion of him is so low, nothing he could ever say would bother me.
Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Gavin.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?” he whispers, but it somehow echoes in the room. “She was attacked an hour ago and you’re standing here accusing her of what, exactly?”
“It’s not a big deal, Gavin. Marlee and I go way back. She doesn’t mind,” he answers.
“First, you don’t know me. You can call me Mr. Pope. Second, I don’t give a flying fuck if Marlee’s your damn sister. You don’t walk into my home, imply she’s not only a liar but a groupie, and joke around after she was fucking attacked!” Gavin stops and takes a deep breath.
While good old Brian makes the first wise decision he’s made in his entire life and shuts the hell up, I stay in my spot on the couch enjoying Brian getting his ass handed to him.
“So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to ask Marlee what you need to ask her to get the report. Nothing else. No jokes. No mentions of the past. Nothing outside of the reason you’re here tonight. And if you can do that, then maybe I won’t report you to your boss. Maybe I won’t mention your name in a live broadcast on ESPN discussing the terrible experience I had with an Officer Brian Green of the DPD.”
Mic drop.
The shit-eating grin Brian walked in with has taken flight and headed south for the winter. His eyes drift between me and Gavin, while his mouth sputters like a fish out
of water. The look on his face is one I’ll treasure forever. I try to hide my laughter in a failed attempt of cough cover-up. When Brian hears it, his mouth snaps shut and he directs his angry gaze my way.
“You won’t do that shit either, Officer Green,” Gavin says, gaining his attention back. “Can you do your job and speak with a victim properly or do I need to call and request a new officer?”
“You don’t need to call, Mr. Pope. I can speak with Marl—”
“Miss Harper,” Gavin corrects him, and this time I don’t even attempt to hide my laughter.
“Of course.” Brian turns back to me, his gentle tone a stark contrast to his pursed lips and narrowed eyes. “Miss Harper, can you please tell me what happened tonight?”
“Well . . . since you asked so politely.” I smirk at him and live for Gavin’s deep chuckle next to Brian.
* * *
• • •
“I’M SORRY YOU had to go through this, Marlee.” The sincerity in Brian’s voice takes me by surprise. Sometime over the past hour, he stopped being the d-bag I knew in high school and transformed into a really good police officer. “I have your information, and I’m going to give your number to the victim’s advocate. You don’t have to use their services, but I want you to have the option.”
“Thank you, Brian. I really appreciate it.” I never would’ve thought I would say those words to him and it sucks it’s under these circumstances, but I’m happy there’s a good guy hiding underneath his douchebag exterior.
“My job.” He brushes me off as he walks to the door.
“Have a good night, Officer Green.” The formality of our meeting never faded in Gavin’s eyes . . . or his tone.
“Mr. Pope.” Brian nods and walks past him.
I think tonight made it clear Brian will never be a Gavin Pope fan. Also made clear, Gavin has about as many fucks to give as I do when it comes to people liking me.
#FreshOuttaFucks
Gavin closes and locks the door behind Brian. His walks toward me, his bare feet padding quietly across the dark hardwood floors while his gaze never leaves me, even as he stretches out beside me on the chaise part of his couch.
“Are you okay?” He was quiet as Brian questioned me, but by the way he went ramrod straight when I got to the part about the guy’s cheap shot to my face, I know he was bothered by it.
“I think so. It could’ve been so much worse. I’m glad he came out where he did and didn’t wait until I was farther from some place to run.” I don’t mention the little detail where I go out of the park the wrong way so I could look at his place.
“Me too.” He reaches for my hand, but instead of lacing our fingers the way I love so much, he traces his fingers lightly over the darkening bruises. His soft touch is the complete opposite of what I would expect from hands so large and calloused. “Do you want more ice?”
“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
It’s getting late, but there’s no way I can go home. After I described the guy’s silver tooth to Brian, he knew exactly who I was talking about—Gregory Thomas, lowlife extraordinaire.
Gregory Thomas. Such a simple, normal name. His parents probably thought he’d grow up to be an accountant, maybe dreamt of a lawyer. But instead they got a sociopath with silver teeth. Life is so weird.
I’m sure Gavin would take me to my parents’ house if I asked, but I don’t want to tell the story again tonight. I want to ask him if I can stay, but after ignoring all of his calls and texts for the last month, I’m nervous.
He’s been wonderful tonight, but that’s what sucks about him—he’s just all-around a fantastic guy. I mean, he oversteps a little bit and if my jaw wasn’t so sore and I didn’t dislike Brian so much, I would’ve told him to back up tonight. But he always means well.
“Stay the night.” He startles me out of my thoughts by speaking them out loud.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Just say yes and get this over with, Marlee!
“I’ll take you home if you want or to your parents, but I’d feel better knowing you’re safe and with me.” His fingers leave my hand and his thumb brushes under my jaw.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden.”
“Positive. You’re never a burden.” He lifts my chin and kisses me.
Soft and sweet—nothing like our last kiss. The only thing they have in common is they’re so addictive, I might need rehab.
“I’ll stay,” I whisper even though there’s no reason to be quiet . . . unless fighting the urge to moan against his mouth counts.
“Good.” He punctuates the word with a kiss and drapes his free arm across my stomach, resting his hand on my hip. Just that small gesture causes lightning to zap my core awake. “Come on, let’s get you some clothes.”
He removes his hand and my body instantly mourns the loss of his touch. I follow him up a familiar staircase, but this time, instead of turning to the right where I slept last time, I follow him to the left and into his room. He walks to his dresser and pulls out a T-shirt and boxers.
“Shit!” he says when he sees me. “I didn’t know you were there. Here are some things for you to sleep in and if you wait a second, I’ll grab some towels. Or if you want, I can bring them to your room.”
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” I throw it out there. Quick, like ripping off a bandage. “I’ll understand if you say no, I just . . . never mind. Sorry. I’ll be in the other room.” I want to turn and run, but my entire body aches and instead of being the hare, I’m for sure the tortoise.
“Where are you going?” Gavin’s hand on my shoulder causes me to stop. “Of course you can sleep with me.”
Tortoise wins again, slow and steady.
“Are you sure? I’ve already invaded your house, now I’m taking over your bed. And my nose is stuffy from crying so I’ll probably snore.”
Stop while you’re ahead, Marlee.
#TMI
“I’m positive.” He leans down and kisses my forehead before straightening and guiding me to his bathroom. “The towels are here.” He points to the bottom cabinet. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but my soap’s in the shower and my lotions are here.” He points to the top cabinet. “If you need anything else, just ask.”
“Thank you,” I say as he leaves.
I make quick work of showering. Showers aren’t much fun when the water pressure hurts your bruised back, face, and ass. When I walk back out, he’s lying in bed, staring at the empty ceiling.
With no shirt on.
Oh my god.
“Hey,” he says. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great.” I make my way toward the bed and climb in beside him. My brain shouts at me to haul my black and purple ass to the guest room, but my body puts up a pretty convincing argument to give Gavin a chance.
I know I’ve been in his bed, but this is different. When we were together before, everything we did was covered in lies. It was fun, but it wasn’t real.
But now, next to him, under his comforter, wearing his clothes and smelling of his soap, it’s different. I feel more vulnerable with him than I ever did with Chris. Maybe because with Gavin, I feel like for the first time in my life, the person across from me sees through the pretend front I put up.
The way he watches me, the way he touches me? He makes me feel beautiful in a way Chris never did. That I’m beautiful not in spite of the flaws I work so hard to hide, but because of them.
“You even manage to look gorgeous in my old clothes.” He’s so quiet, I doubt he even realizes the words came out.
“Thank you.” I almost laugh off the compliment, but I feel the bed shift and him moving closer. The only thing I manage to do is sigh.
“I’m glad you stayed.” His lips graze my ear. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him until my bac
k is flush against his chest. Each time he exhales, his breath caresses my neck, sending chills down my spine and making my thighs clench.
“I’m sorry I ignored you.” I close my eyes, thankful he can only see the back of my head. “I really like you, Gavin. It scares me how much, because I did the football thing already, and we all know how it ended. You’re this huge presence, even bigger than Chris. And I don’t want to lose myself in another person again. And every time I’m around you, I catch myself falling into the same trap. Even tonight, I could’ve stuck up for myself with Brian . . . I should’ve stuck up for myself. But with you next to me, I let you take over. You scare me.”
“I really like you too, Marlee.” He pulls the hair from my neck and moves it over my shoulder. “I know you don’t need me to fight your battles for you. Now that I know you need to, I’ll step back. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not Chris and I never will be.”
“Thank you for saying those things.”
“I only said them because they’re the truth.” He kisses the top of my head. “It’s hard enough to maintain my willpower with you pressed against me. The rasp in your voice is making it even harder.”
His words make me hyperaware of the bulge pressed against me and I unintentionally . . . intentionally? Either way, I wiggle my way closer to him.
“Marlee.” The way he says my name, I’m not sure if it’s a plea for me to keep going or stop.
“What?” I fake innocence and repeat the movement.
“Too much happened tonight and both of our emotions are running high.” It’s clear he’s hanging on to his restraint by a thread and if I really wanted to break it, I’d be able to . . . easily. “It’s not like last time. We’ll both be here in the morning. We have time.”
“Okay.” I give in but only because time with Gavin might be the only thing better than being in bed with him.
Also, because as entertaining as his reaction to my wiggling is, my whole body hurts. When I have Gavin Pope again, I’m going to want it in prime working condition.
