Angel of Redemption

by J. A. Little

  “It does matter. He really does care about you, Kayla. Just give him time. Please? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you two were meant for each other, but you are. In so many ways, you are.”

  I don’t want to think about what she’s saying right now. I just want to go inside and bury my head under my pillow.

  “I’ll see you later.” I sniff and unbuckle my seat belt.

  “Call me?”

  I nod and offer a halfhearted smile. Emily waits until I’ve got the key in the lock and am opening the door before she drives away. Andy is sitting on the couch with a bottle of beer in his hand. He looks up.

  “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you home so early. What happened?”

  “Nothing. Just wasn’t feeling it. Where’s Sara?”

  “It’s Friday night, and you weren’t feeling it?” he asks, ignoring my question.

  “Yup.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “So are you. What’s up with Sara?” I toss my keys and purse down roughly.

  “How am I full of shit? I haven’t said anything.”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  “Fine. We got into a fight. She’s at her place, I’m here.”

  “What are you fighting about?”

  “Nuh-uh. Nice try, but if you want any info, you’re gonna have to spill first.”

  I growl under my breath and reach into the pantry for the bottle of Cabernet I know is hiding in there. Pouring myself a nice, full glass, I recork the bottle and leave it sitting on the counter while I take a seat across from Andy. He mutes the television.

  “Have you been crying?”

  “No,” I lie, even though I know he’s not going to buy it.

  “Okay. Then why are you not crying?”

  I frown at his sarcasm. He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for my answer.

  “Emily and I went to a pub owned by a friend of Dean and Aiden’s,” I say with a sigh. “Dean showed up.”

  “Okay? Aren’t you guys friends?”

  “We’re sleeping together, Andy,” I say flatly. I know he has his suspicions anyway—there’s no point in hiding it. “I mean—we were…or have been. I don’t know. Whatever. We were more than just friends.”

  My brother leans back and takes a deep breath followed by a giant swig of beer. “Do I want to hear the rest of this?”

  “I wanted more, but he’s…he’s complicated. I didn’t realize I was pushing him, but I guess he felt like I was. I don’t know.”

  “What did he do to you?” Andy asks, his voice low.

  I shake my head. “Nothing. That’s the problem. He walked away like I was no big deal. Like I was just a one-night stand or something.”

  I can see my brother relax slightly. “I’m sure that’s not what he meant to do, K.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “Guys don’t see things like girls do. You know that. Is that why you’ve been moping around here all week?”

  “I haven’t been moping,” I say petulantly.

  “Yes, you have. I just figured you were PMSing.”

  I wrestle a throw pillow out from behind me and throw it at my brother. “You’re an asshole.” That probably was part of it, but I’m not about to admit to it. He laughs and then stops.

  “He hurt your feelings?”

  I nod. “Yeah. You could say that. Regardless of all that, though, I just miss him.”

  “What happened tonight, then?”

  “Let’s just say he didn’t really make me feel any better. What happened with Sara?”

  Andy pauses, probably trying to figure out if he should press me any further. He must decide not to, because he answers my question instead.

  “She wants me to move in with her,” he says, taking a swig of beer.

  “When? Like now? Right away?”

  “No, not immediately. Her lease is up in August. She wants us to get a new place together.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I said I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.”

  “You did not. Why?”

  “Because…” He hesitates, his eyes flickering up to me.

  “Andrew Aaron Hanson, if you said no because of me, I’m going to help Sara kick your ass.”

  “We’re both on the title for this place.”

  “So I’ll buy you out.”

  “There’s no way you can afford the mortgage on this place by yourself.”

  “That’s what roommates are for. Next?”

  “It’s not a good idea. What happens if we break up, and you’ve found a roommate, and I have no place to go?”

  “What happens if an asteroid hits Earth and kills us all in November?”

  “What?”

  “Exactly. Stop being a pussy. You’ve got a few months to think about it, but don’t tell her no. And don’t you dare use me as an excuse.”

  Andy leans forward, taking another drink of his beer and watching me. I smile and sip my wine.

  “Why November?”

  “I don’t know,” I laugh. “It just seemed like a good month.”

  “Are you feeling better?” he asks hopefully.

  “Yeah. I think I need to go to bed, though.” I stand up and finish my wine quickly before putting the glass in the sink.

  “Good night, buttercup. Oh, hey. For what’s it’s worth, I’m pretty sure you are a big deal to him. Maybe you guys can work this out.”

  “Maybe,” I murmur, unconvinced. “Night.”

  I get ready for bed slowly, slipping into some pajama pants and a tank top, washing the crap from my face with steaming hot water, and finally brushing my teeth. I am absolutely thrilled to be going to bed. I want this night, this day, this week to be over.

  Chapter 44

  Kayla

  “Kayla?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Kayla?”

  “What?” I crack open an eye. It can’t be morning already. It’s pitch-black. The door opens wider, squeaking.

  “Are you awake?”

  “No,” I grunt.

  “You have a visitor.”

  I roll over, looking at my brother. “A what?”

  “A visitor.”

  “What are you—?” I look up just as Dean appears behind him. Oh, crap. I’m suddenly wide awake. Sitting up, I pull my knees to my chest underneath the covers.

  “Do you want to talk to him? I can send him home.”

  “Um, it’s fine.”

  “You sure?” he asks, making sure to look me directly in the eye. “Okay,” he says when I nod. Andy steps aside, allowing a space for Dean to get past. He looks even worse than he did earlier—almost like he’s going to pass out. My instinct is telling me to usher him in and take care of him. My brain is telling me that could only make things worse.

  “Thanks,” I hear him mumble to my brother.

  Andy points toward the living room, letting me know he’ll be there if I need him, before disappearing back down the hallway. Dean comes in and shuts the door. He stares at me. I glance around my room, making sure there’s nothing embarrassing like tampons, pads, or granny panties hanging around before looking back at him.

  “Hi,” he says quietly.

  “Hi.”

  “I talked to Emily.”

  “Oh, yeah? About what?” I ask, trying to feign nonchalance. It isn’t as easy as I hoped.

  “She told me you were there with her and not Brody.”

  “Well, if you had given me a chance, I would have told you that, too,” I snap.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He continues to stare at me, not getting any closer, but not retreating either.

  “What do you want, Dean? Do you even realize what you’re doing to me right now?” I breathe out. He takes a step forward, pinning me down with his fierce gaze.

  “I’m sorry, Kayla,” he says, his voice pleading. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. That morning—I just freaked out.”

  “About what?” I ask, agitated and exhausted. “A
bout being my friend? About having sex with me?”

  One fist clenches by his side and he scratches his bearded face with the other.

  “About fall—” he grits his teeth. “About the way I feel.” He takes another step forward. My heart speeds up. “It’s an adjustment for me. I don’t know how else to explain it so that you’ll understand.”

  “I understand perfectly,” I say, taking in a breath and pulling my knees into my chest a little tighter. “I told you I was afraid I was pushing you. You assured me that I wasn’t, that this was what you wanted. That I was what you wanted. I know you need time to figure things out, and that’s fine, but I can’t be collateral damage on your way to self-healing.”

  “That’s not what you are.”

  “Then what am I?”

  He sits down on the edge of my bed just beyond where my feet are planted under the covers. I’m not sure if I want him to be this close.

  “I don’t know. You’re my friend. You’re the closest friend I have. And that sounds so fucking stupid to say, because we haven’t known each other that long, but that’s what you are. I like being with you. You make me happier than I’ve been in a really long time.”

  “Then let’s go back to being just friends.”

  “I can’t do that,” he says shaking his head.

  “Why?” I plead, feeling a little bit of desperation creeping into my voice. I don’t want to go back, but if that’s what I have to do to hold onto him, then that’s what I’ll do because I have never been happier than I have the last few months. He makes me smile and laugh. He listens and cares. He understands me like no one else in my life ever has. “Because I don’t want to,” he admits quietly. “I like touching you and kissing you.” His hand runs over my foot and up my calf through the sheets. “I like tasting you. And if I could live inside you, I would. There’s nothing I want more than to have you in my arms. All the time.” The words and the way he says them, make me shiver, but it’s not that easy.

  “And what happens the next time you freak out, Dean?”

  “You tie me down and refuse to let me run away?” he deadpans.

  I chuckle unintentionally before pressing my lips together. I can just picture Dean tied up to my bed. Naked. Ink on display, muscles tensing as he struggles. Shit, I have to stop.

  “That’s not a solution.”

  “Probably not, but it sounds fun, doesn’t it?” I know he’s joking, trying to fix what’s happened to us. Part of me wants to forgive him, but another part of me is protecting my heart. It ticks me off that I let this happen—let myself fall as hard as I have.

  Dean sighs. “I want to be able to tell you that I won’t have doubts, but I can’t. And I can’t promise you that things will be perfect because I’m fucked up and probably always will be. All I can do is apologize and promise to try. I want to be better for you.” His hand is resting on my knee now, and he scoots a little closer.

  “You need to be better for you, Dean,” I say softly. “I don’t need perfection. I never have. I’ve told you several times: I just want to be with you.”

  “I know. I want to be with you, too. I just… Commitment is a scary concept for someone like me.”

  “I’m not asking you to marry me. I was kidding when I told that chick you were my fiancée.”

  He laughs through his nose, making me smile. “I realized that, but thank you.”

  I pause and then take a breath. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “I get that commitment is scary, and I’m not asking for an official title or anything, but can you please stop introducing me as your friend?” I wrinkle up my nose. “Anything else. Just not friend.”

  “How about my buddy?” he teases.

  I level him with the bitchiest expression I have. “How about just Kayla?”

  Dean smiles a cheeky grin and nods. “Okay.”

  “And something else.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah. Do you remember at Ashley’s birthday party when you made me promise not to avoid you if we ever had a problem? To come to you, and we’d work it out?” He nods, looking a little sheepish. “At the time, I figured the promise was mutual, but apparently it wasn’t.” I tsk and shake my head disapprovingly. “That doesn’t work for me.”

  “I promise,” he whispers, inching forward so that he’s sitting beside me. He bends his head, and his mouth is so close to mine that I can feel his breath against my lips. “Can I kiss you?”

  I consider what he’s asking. I don’t want to fight with him. I don’t want to make this some long, drawn out battle of wills. I’m too old for that and so is he. The fact that he’s here tells me he cares. He cares about me and he cares about us—whatever we are. I run the tip of my tongue over my bottom lip, a silent consent. He closes the distance between us quickly, pressing his mouth against mine. It’s like a huge weight is lifted, and I sigh into him. His hand reaches up, cupping the side of my face.

  We spend the next couple of minutes relishing the closeness. I’ve missed him. The week without him was exhausting and miserable.

  “Let me stay with you,” he pleads, resting his forehead against mine.

  “No,” I whimper. It’s not that I don’t want him to stay with me. I do, but I’m still a little scared.

  “Please?”

  “Andy’s home.”

  “I know that. I don’t care. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “You’ve been sick,” I protest weakly. “You need to sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep better if I’m with you.”

  I snort. “Yeah, because that’s been the case in the past.”

  “Please?”

  I look into his eyes, and I am so fucking in love with him. I’m totally screwed.

  “You can stay,” I acquiesce.

  He smiles and stands up, pulling his shirt over his head. I stare at the ink sprawled across his chest, his arms, his abs. His boxers are visible just above the waistband of his jeans.

  “Can I…?” He fingers the button on his pants. I glance down at his crotch.

  “I’m not having sex with you,” I blurt out.

  He chuckles. “Okay.”

  As he continues undressing, my eyes focus on the Indulgeo Mihi tattoo on his hip. Forgive me. It’s staring me in the face. I know it wasn’t intended for me, but it makes me realize just how much Dean needs forgiveness. My fingers itch to touch the words, but I don’t. I try to scoot over as he climbs into bed in just his underwear, but he wraps his arm around me, pulling me back to him.

  “Um, Dean?”

  “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not gonna do anything.”

  It’s difficult to relax. His dick is pressed against my ass, and he’s getting hard. He doesn’t even try to hide it. His hand rests firmly against my stomach and his lips press against my shoulder, the hair from his beard tickling my skin.

  “You’re all shaggy.” I giggle.

  “I’ll shave tomorrow,” he says through a yawn.

  “I don’t mind. It just feels funny. I almost didn’t recognize you at the bar.”

  He laughs lightly. “Sorry.” Then, a beat later, “I, uh, I should probably tell you that Gage beat the shit out of Brody after you left,” he mumbles.

  “Your friend Gage?” I ask. “He was there?”

  “Yep. He’s a good friend.” I feel his mouth curl up into a smile.

  “Why is it that we don’t seem to be able to go anywhere without some sort of confrontation?” I sigh.

  “I don’t know, baby, but I don’t think Brody will be bothering you anymore. We got our point across.”

  “Did Gage hurt him badly?”

  “Mmhmm,” he hums.

  “Good.” I hate that I’m encouraging violence. I’m not a violent person, and yet I like the idea of Brody getting a taste of his own medicine. Dean goes quiet. The only sounds are his heavy breaths against my neck.

  “Dean?”

  “Yeah?”

  I love you. “Good nig
ht.”

  “Good night, Kayla.”

  Chapter 45

  Kayla

  “What are you doing?” I giggle.

  “Shhh.”

  “I’m not gonna shhh. What are you doing?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “To what?”

  “Your heartbeat.”

  “Dean. My heartbeat is not down there.”

  “Really? I could have sworn I felt a strange pulsing from right here.” He drags his finger across my skin, making me squirm.

  “You’re so weird. Put my foot down and come back up here before I accidentally kick you in the face.”

  It’s been a week since Dean and I made up, or whatever it was we did. He’s spent every night with me that he’s not scheduled to be at Wyatt House, but we haven’t had sex. He’s teased and groped a little, but I think he’s waiting for me to give him the go-ahead for more.

  He spent the last two nights at Wyatt house but showed up on my doorstep early this morning with coffee and croissants. We’ve been lying on the couch ever since.

  He crawls up my body, pausing when his mouth is directly over the apex of my legs.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I scold. “It’s the middle of the day, and we’re on the couch. If Andy walks in here and finds you with your face buried between my thighs, he’s gonna murder you.”

  Dean grins, kisses me through the fabric of my pants, and finishes his ascent. “I feel like I’m a teenager trying not to get caught by your daddy.”

  He kisses me deeply before flipping us over so I’m on top of him. I cuddle against his body as his fingers trail through my hair. I close my eyes and relish the feeling of his heart beating against my cheek.

  I adore lazy Sunday afternoons. I like them even more when I’m wrapped in the arms of the man I’m secretly, desperately in love with.

  My phone rings.

  “Don’t answer it,” Dean says lifting his head.

  I sit up and look at my screen. “It’s Andy.”

  Dean groans.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “No! Really?”

  “Shut up. So, we’re in Fargo.”

  “Still?”

  “Yeah. We were headed back, but my car died.”