“Mr. Ernest, put the newspaper away!”
The man pushing his late seventies looked at me over the top of his newspaper and dramatically licked his finger before turning the page. In his defense, hiring a fitness trainer was his wife’s idea.
For three months, he sat at the tricycle in the corner of the gym, reading his newspaper while I tried to encourage him to work out—obviously, with no luck.
The florescent lighting reflected off his balding head while his only movement, besides turning the paper, was to push up his tiny framed glasses on his crooked nose.
I leaned against the floor to ceiling mirror surrounding us and took a drink of my bottled water. At least his reluctant attitude gave me extra time to work out for myself.
“Dude is relentless,” Corey said.
Corey, another trainer leaned beside me, offering me one of his mini pretzels. I snagged one, laughing to myself at his choice in snacks. With three young kids at home, he brought the most nostalgic snacks to work.
“How are things going with Marcus?” he asked.
I sighed. I’d broken things off with Marcus, my recent ex, several days before and things hadn’t gone as planned. Marcus leaned more toward the obsessive side of life and threatened me.
“Not good. He’s been texting and calling nonstop. I’m going to change my number today after work.”
Corey frowned, running his palm over his five ’o clock shadow. Corey reminded me a bit of a skinny Seth Rogen but without the jokes.
“Be careful,” he said. “Marcus is a little—,”
“Psychotic?” I asked.
He shrugged his big shoulders. “Something like that, yeah.”
I leaned onto my right foot, looking down at my prosthetic leg compared to my normal one. I lost my leg in a car wreck that killed my grandmother when I was ten.
To be honest, it didn’t bother me much. Sure, I would prefer two legs, but people didn’t poke fun at me much, maybe it was my older brother threatening anyone who stared too long in school.
Being a tomboy growing up, I liked to think I was part cyborg and taunt the people in my class. It didn’t stop me from working out or playing sports. I owned it.
“Is that your dad?” Corey asked.
I glanced toward the door at my dad standing in the doorframe, head almost touching the top. Daddy was an active marine and looked like a life-size G.I Joe.
He spotted me quickly, his eyes shifted across the room as he walked toward me. I could tell by the grim look on his face that something was wrong.
I shoved from the wall and met him halfway, noticing my brother followed several feet behind him, dressed in his uniform—he followed in Daddy’s footsteps.
“We need to talk,” Daddy said in his deep Louisiana twang. “Come on outside.”
Something happened. I followed behind him, giving Mr. Ernest a finger that he ignored. My heart hammered against my chest. The only person I could imagine dying would be my mother’s mother that I hadn’t seen in years, and for some reason, I figured it was something else.
Daddy stopped underneath the black awning above the gym, and pressed his palm against the outside brick wall. I watched his handsome face, with crow’s feet surrounding his dark eyes and his jaw work underneath a five o’clock shadow.
“God, what is it?” I asked after a few awkward seconds of silence. “Spit it out.”
Daddy straightened and cleared his throat. I watched him bring a piece of paper from his pocket and hand it to me. I knew the handwriting instantly.
Marcus.
It was a definite threat.
Daddy tapped his finger against the paper. “What is this?”
“Looks like a threat,” I said, letting the paper fall with my palm toward my thigh.
His jaw tightened. “You don’t seem surprised. I assume this isn’t the first threat?”
I shrugged. “No. I broke it off a week ago and he hasn’t taken it well.”
My brother, Sammy, snorted. “I’d say. He said to watch your back, Ansley. You weren’t gonna tell us?”
I looked back into the gym at Mr. Ernest sitting on his bike. “Not unless I felt like I had to.”
Dad cursed beneath his breath. “A threat didn’t seem like an appropriate time to tell us? We went to the police but—,”
“You what?” I barked.
“Told you,” Sammy mumbled.
“Told him what?” I asked.
“That you’d freak out. You’re not some badass as you think you are. This guy threatened you, Ans.”
I ground my teeth. “Marcus isn’t going to kill me.”
“You don’t know that!” Sammy said, running his palm over his dark buzzed hair. He looked a lot like Daddy but with light blue eyes like Momma.
“Ugh, so what now? What did they say?”
“Unfortunately nothing,” he said. “You can file a restraining order but that won’t help. I’m sure he won’t care if you wave a paper in his face. So …” he glanced over at Sammy. “Why don’t you go back to work? When is your classes?”
I huffed and stared at myself in the glass of the window. Daddy had always been overprotective, even though this was more serious, I didn’t think Marcus would actually hurt me.
My brown hair blew in the growing wind, and brushed across my face. A replica of my mother that ditched us shortly after I was born stared back at me.
Hazel eyes with high cheekbones. It wasn’t that I felt ugly, but I felt like her. I wouldn’t be her … ever.
“I don’t have classes on Tuesday or Thursdays,” I said.
“Okay, come back to your apartment after work and we’ll talk,” Daddy said, bending down to kiss my cheek. I waited until they left before heading back inside.
Mr. Ernest’s bicycle sat empty.
I glanced at Corey standing by the dumbbells. “Where did he go?” I asked.
He pointed toward the lounge chairs in the lobby.
“Seriously, Mr. Ernest?” I asked. “At least pretend for your wife.”
***
Daddy’ F250 sat in the parking lot of my cheap apartment building. The rundown siding and broken staircase didn’t really bother me much, it was all I could afford and it would do until graduation.
I pulled out my key but stopped when I heard laughter from the inside. Someone was with them. Who? I groaned, and walked into my apartment.
The small kitchen opened up into a living room and balcony. Silence grew over the house, as I got closer. Daddy stood up from the loveseat in the corner. He always felt the need to claim it when he visited.
My brother sat in a lone chair pressed against the opposite wall.
I noticed the tip of a combat boot sticking out from the recliner facing away from me. I followed the camouflage leg up to a pair of thick thighs, and as the swivel recliner turned to me, I noticed a taunt stomach covered in a black t-shirt.
Dog tags hung around his neck and by the time I got to his face, I knew who sat in my chair. My childhood fantasies flashed in my brain and I prayed it didn’t show on my face.
I’d fawned over him for years in high school from the comfort of my room, while he and my brother played football in my back yard. Good Gracious, age played in his favor. He had the same deep-set, dark eyes, accompanying his distinct lips, settled cheeks, and cut jawline.
Madden James stood up slowly, his tall frame easily coming to a full six-four height. My bottom lip trembled a bit from that familiar rush of heat in my lower stomach.
It’d been years since I saw him last.
Why is he here?
He looked bigger than I remembered his piercing dark eyes steady and content on my face.
His dirty blond hair was buzzed from the military but I noticed it looked a bit grown out unlike my dad’s and brothers. I felt myself grow uncomfortable at his stare and the way his tongue ran across a full bottom lip.
That lip ring was definitely new.
“Ansley,” Daddy said. “You remember Madden?”
“Yeah,” I said carefully, leaning onto my good leg. “Why is he here?”
Daddy gave me a look that said don’t be rude.
Madden chuckled, and the deep octave settled against my skin like velvet. “I was invited,” he said.
“By who?” I asked, suddenly irritated at his presence. “This is my apartment.”
“Ansley,” Dad said. “Knock it off. We need to talk to you about this situation with Marcus.”
I raked my head for something to make sense. What did Madden James have to do with Marcus? “Come on over here and pop a squat,” Daddy said.
I didn’t budge. I needed to stand to keep myself grounded. Madden’s presence made me feel like a fifteen-year-old girl again and I didn’t like it at all.
He sighed. “We hired Madden to watch over you.”
Watch over me … I waited for anything to make sense or Daddy to elaborate. When he didn’t, I laughed. “You’re serious? I’m twenty-one, I don’t need a babysitter.”
Daddy pressed his lips into a thin line.
Having grown up with a prosthetic leg, I spent a lot of my time proving to my dad that I could do like other kids. Like Sammy. Like my friends. Especially growing up in a military family. We were proud, and I didn’t want to be the exception to that rule.
I thought those days were over and now here I am, trying to persuade my dad I didn’t need a babysitter.
“I can’t have a grown man follow me around? I have classes and a job. This isn’t going to work.”
“Yeah, it will,” Sammy said. “We already asked your professors and they are okay with it. Plus, Madden knows how to spot people, he was an interrogator.”
I waved my index finger around as if it wasn’t a big deal, even though I was secretly impressed.
The corner of Madden’s mouth pulled into a grin.
“It doesn’t matter,” Daddy said. “He is going to stay with you until this is over with. Your brother and I can’t leave work, and Madden was honored with a purple heart and was honorably discharged.”
“So basically you have everything already set up and ready to go, huh? You didn’t ask me? How do you think that makes me feel?”
Dad crossed his arms over his chest. “Safe.”
Tugging at the bottom of my shirt, I glared at him. “I have to use the bathroom, unless he’ll need to assist me with that, too.”
Dad narrowed his dark eyes. “Don’t be a smart ass, Ansley. This is for your own good.”
I glanced over at Madden, who lifted a dark brow at me. I didn’t see anything potentially good that would come out of this. My heart thumped wildly when his smile widened. Definitely nothing good.
I walked toward my room and dropped my gym bag. I pressed my palms against my eyes and took a deep breath.
Daddy’s heavy footsteps stopped at my door. “Baby Girl,” he said. “This isn’t up for debate. This person threatened you and I can’t risk the chance of him hurting you. I wish I could just knock this prick off, but I can’t. Madden will stay here—,”
“Here?” I asked. “With me? No! This is a one bedroom apartment—,”
“With a hideabed,” he replied.
Oh my God.
I closed my eyes knowing that I wouldn’t win this fight with him. Daddy walked over and bent down to kiss my forehead. “Baby, I love you and I just want him to stay until things die down.”
I breathed in deep and let it out slow. “Okay, Daddy.”
He nodded. “Your brother and I have to go. Madden will get with you on your schedule and the rules.”
“Rules, Dad, really?”
“Rules,” he said. “And don’t give him a hard time, Ansley Grace. You’re already a lot to handle.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I mumbled.
I followed him to the living room and waited awkwardly as Dad and Sammy spoke to Madden in the corner of the room. I never wanted to admit it but I had the biggest crush on Madden growing up. Him being six years older than me axed the idea of anything ever happening—not that he’d want me, but oh, how I wanted him.
When the door to my apartment shut, I felt nerves slither down my spine to my toes. Madden walked to the center of the kitchen, shoved his palms into his pants and stared at me.
“Look who’s all grown up,” he said, his deep southern twang hit my stomach. “It’s been a long time.”
Nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Yeah,” I said. “This is stupid, you know that, right?”
Madden didn’t look bothered. “Yeah, how so?”
I shrugged. “Marcus isn’t going to kill me. He’s possessive and angry but not a murderer.”
Madden shrugged and looked around my small dining room table and back to me. “Those can be signs of a murderer. Anger and aggressive. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about him?”
I took a seat across from him at the dining table. Madden opened a manila folder from the center of the table and took a pen from his pocket.
“His name is Marcus—,”
“I’ve done a complete background check on him,” he said. “I don’t need those details. I need his personality. His schedule. Does he know yours?”
I bit my bottom lip and began to gnaw on it.
Madden’s dark eyes flickered up to mine. “No need to be nervous, Legs. I’ve got you.”
“Did you just call me Legs?” I asked. I’d been around Madden for years and he’d never called me that. Hurt slammed me.
Madden read my face and realization hit him. “That’s not what I meant by that.”
“Yeah?” I asked, crossing my arms to keep myself together. “I’ve been made fun of before but never by someone close to my family.”
I stood up and he did followed to grab my elbow. Despite the situation, the rough feeling of his fingers sent me into a world wind. “Ansley,” he said. “I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.”
“What else could that have meant?” I asked.
His fingers tightened for a brief second before releasing me. “Not that.”
He sat back down and furrowed his brow. “I wasn’t making fun of you,” he said. “Sit down. I’m sorry. Tell me about Marcus.”
I wanted to pry and force him to tell me what it meant but I didn’t. “Marcus knows everything about my life. He knows my class schedule, my work schedule, my softball schedule. Everything about me, he knows. I want to get my number changed today at the store, but besides that,” I shrugged, “I don’t know how we can avoid him.”
Madden leaned back in his chair and scratched underneath his chin. “Does he work?”
“No, his parents pay for his bills.”
“Sports?”
“No.”
Madden looked up at me. “What a guy. So, he basically has nothing to do besides school and every free moment will be turned toward you. What did you see in him?”
What kind of question was that? “What does that matter?”
Madden smirked. “It doesn’t, just curious that you saw something in this,” he gestured toward the folder, “that I didn’t.” He stood up. “Let’s go change your number. You’ll ride with me.”
He waited on me to grab my stuff and ushered me out of the door, keeping on my heels like a toddler. I felt the heat from his body behind me as I descended the stairs toward his pickup.
Something in the back of my mind screamed this wasn’t a good idea.
I shamelessly watched Ansley watch down the stairs in front of me and toward the passenger seat of my pickup. It’d been years since I’d seen her, and time had been good to her. Mr. Sanders mentioned she worked part-time as a fitness trainer and seeing her, I understood. She looked good enough to eat. But, that was one meal I’d have to skip if I wanted to keep my balls. Her Dad wasn’t going for that, and it wasn’t the reason I was hired. I needed to get this prick off her back and make it safe. What a coward, threatening a woman. She hopped into the passenger seat and pointed us in the direction of the cell phone store. I could remember when Ansley and her grandmother had the wreck that took her leg. The tears in her eyes lying in that hospital bed would break anyone’s heart. I also remembered her dad giving her a pep talk and the way it soared her confidence. Ansley never took shit from anyone, which it didn’t surprise me, that she broke it of
The screwdriver incident followed me around like a bad day. To know Marcus would do something so petty pissed me off and embarrassed me. Madden was right … what did I see in him? The rest of the day flew by and I felt myself relax when softball practice neared. Madden plopped down in the passenger seat of my car. “Any more surprises in store for today?” “Just softball and my shift at the restaurant.” Madden sighed. “Damn girl, do you ever sleep?” I smiled. I liked to keep busy for many reasons. Paying the bills being the biggest one. My apartment was small and crappy but a lot when I had other expenses. I couldn’t ask my dad for pride reasons, so I did what any college-aged girl needed to. The softball field sat in the back corner of the campus surrounded by woods and bleachers. It was my time to relax, other than the gym and I loved every minute of it. My practice partner, Sarah, waited for me by the fence, noticing Ma
“Push it.”Ansley spotted the middle-aged woman on the weight bench while motivating her. She looked in her element. After the night before I wasn’t sure how she’d be this morning. When I heard her in the kitchen, and noticed the time, I knew she wouldn’t let this Marcus kid get to her.I was glad. I didn't always know the right thing to say to someone, especially a hurt female.Seeing those tears in her eyes really pissed me off. I could have crushed his trachea the night before. When I pressed my boot against his chest, I felt the fear in him. I liked it. It wasn’t normal to find pleasure in someone’s fear, and I recognized it as dangerous early on in my time overseas. I shoved it aside, the excitement of hurting our enemy, and crammed it down so deep I thought I’d gotten rid of it.Guess not.Mr. Ernest, Ansley’s favorite trainee, dramatically turned the page of his newspaper and sho
Rays of morning light streaked through the crack in my bedroom blinds, waking me. I groaned, rubbing my eyes with my fists. It felt like someone hit me in the head with a hammer, or ran over me with a truck. I kicked my leg and swung my arms to get out of my blankets because a thick layer of sweat covered my skin. What time is it? What’s the day? I rolled my leg over, noticing a glass of water and aspirin sitting on my nightstand. I tried to remember what happened the night before, only gathering bits and pieces. Oh yeah, the barn party. I grabbed my leg, slipped the sleeve over my thigh and tossed the aspirin into the back of my throat. A headache danced around my vision, promising me a fun-filled day of torture—crap. It’s Friday. My clock on my nightstand read seven-fifty-five. I bounded up in a hurry, grabbing clothes and tossing them until I looked somewhat presentable. My door crashed against the opposite wall as I barreled through the barrier. Madden was up before I made
The morning sun woke me. It felt unreal to wake up naturally compared to Ansley turning on the shower or rushing around late. I groaned, stretching my arms above my head and staring at the tiled ceiling.I didn’t check my phone to see what time it was, because I figured it was early, since I’d been used to getting up at the crack of dawn while on active duty. The sheets clung to my sweaty skin as I peeled them away and walked toward the bathroom.Ansley kept the thermostat too high for my taste, but it was her apartment, I was the guest. I made it to the doorjamb of the hallway when her door opened and she walked into the hallway with me.She wore a pair of bright pink pajama short and a tank top. My gaze dropped to her tits, unable to stop myself from looking at the soft outline of her nipples through her shirt.If my morning wood hadn’t already been at attention, her soft curves would have drew him out.Get it together, Madd
I rolled over in my bed, and buried my head into my pillow. The memories from the night before assaulted my brain, shaming me further into my covers. As if Madden getting into a fight because of me wasn't embarrassing enough, I called him out about not kissing me. It was depravity to ask him about it. I knew my dad would crap bricks if he found out Madden laid a finger on me, not to mention Sammy. But that little girl inside still looked up at him with wide lustful eyes. I groaned, and kicked my leg in a way a toddler threw a tantrum. My nightstand clock read seven on a Sunday, which sucked, but I would never go back to sleep now that I'd woken up. I swung my leg down, and grabbed my prosthetic one, while putting it on, I debated on going for a run. It would definitely calm my nerves, and hopefully, make me forget the embarrassment from the night before. I grabbed my clothes, and put on my tennis shoes. The living room was silent, besides the very soft sound of Madden's breathi
Ansley's mouth tasted like sin, the kind that consumed you from the inside, demanding your attention whenever it neared. I felt wound tightly before my mouth met hers, and I slowly began to unravel. Everything about her—her taste, the soft feeling of her lips, the slight moans and the way she tugged on my shirt—it formed molten lava in my veins. I'd been so wrapped up in her that if I hadn't hit the door out of frustration of wanting to rip her clothes off, I wouldn't have noticed that it was left opened. Ansley's eyes opened wide, her mouth puffy from the pressure of kissing me. I tugged her behind me, grabbing the knife from my boot, I kicked the door opened, causing it to swing inward. "Stay behind me," I whispered, feeling her wrap my T-shirt into her fist. I tip-toed into the door, the hair on the back of my neck stood up at the sight of the living room. The couch had been turned over, my duffle bag riffled through, my clothes scattered around the floor. It didn't take lon
"Mrs. Sanders, I need to see you. Alone," Mr. Heckles said from his office, which was located across the hallway from his human sexuality class, in a little alcove beside a small IT room. Reluctantly, I glanced at Madden, who'd been distant the entire morning. As if our kiss from the day before hadn't clouded my mind from studying like I needed to, or his freaky nightmare hadn't scared the pee out of me, his pissy attitude during our run really put me in a mood. "I'll be right back," I mumbled, hiking the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder as I walked into the room. His office was small, with bookcases filled to the brim with every book known to man. I had no idea what he wanted from me, and it made my skin crawl with nerves, and my stomach fall to my butt. "Close the door," he said, waving his pen around, not looking up from his laptop. Madden's gaze lingered on mine, from across the hallway where he waited, as I shut the door and sat down in front of him. He typed something