Forever My Angel (12 page)

Looking down at Angel takes my breath away.

There’s a bluish bruise darkening her brow, and it only serves to make her more fragile-looking, and more precious. But she also radiates strength; she’s kept amazingly calm throughout all of this.

I know the questions the doctor was asking must have brought up a lot of bad memories for her, and I’m getting the impression this isn’t the first time she’s been brought to the hospital banged and bruised. But she looked composed, and not near the edge of the cliff that she still seems so close to sometimes.

The snow has begun to cover the parked cars, and she stands and watches the flakes as they swirl around us while I clear off the truck. White flakes crown her like a halo, sticking on top of her dark hair. Watching the wonder fill her eyes as she takes it in, her first real snowfall, is magical. Suddenly, I don’t hate the snow nearly so much; instead, I remember how I loved it as a kid.

“It’s beautiful.” Angel’s voice is filled with awe as I open the passenger door for her. Before she can get in, I put out a hand to stop her.

“Not half as beautiful as you are.”

Her cheeks color, and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or my compliment. Around here, she’s going to have to get used to both.

“Can I kiss you, Angel?”

Several heartbeats pass before a small smile plays at the corner of her lips, and she nods.

I dip my head, lightly pressing my mouth to hers. Her lips are soft and yielding, and I pause, savoring her taste, nibbling lightly before pressing my tongue against her lips until she parts them, encouraging me to deepen the kiss with the way she digs the tips of her fingers into my shoulders, pulling me to her.
We're going to be all right.

I’m sorely tempted to put her up against the truck and press my length to her so she’ll know how badly I want her, but she shivers, and I pull away. We’re both breathless as I tell her to go ahead and get in the truck.

“Did you ask your mom to come?” She’s guarded again, like she doesn’t want to cross a line, or maybe it's just her anger returning. Either way, I hate that she might feel like she has to tiptoe around anything with me. I make a resolution to be less cranky when she brings up my mom.

“No. She called while I was following the ambulance, and came to make sure we were both all right.” Mom poked her head in to Angel’s room before we left and wished us well, saying she’d call me tomorrow.

I might even answer. Maybe.

—-♥—-

I
’ve got a tray held carefully in both hands, overloaded with an iced coffee, a regular coffee, a Sprite, crackers, a piece of toast, and a sorry excuse for an omelet that might as well be scrambled eggs. I attempt to open our bedroom door with my hip, being careful not to spill anything. I know what my girl likes, but I’m not sure what she needs, so I tried to cover all my bases.

Angel’s asleep in the same position she was in when I crawled out of bed an hour ago: on her side, with her knees drawn up slightly, one of her hands tucked under the pillow while her dark halo of hair fans out around her.

Depositing the tray on her nightstand, I perch on the edge of the bed beside her. This feels familiar, and the space beneath my ribs tightens, filled to overflowing with love for her. It’s so strong I can barely breathe. The night she showed up on my doorstep, I brought food up from the bar in the wee hours of the morning and she awoke terrified, nearly flitting away like a startled bird. I sat there and watched her that night for a few minutes before I woke her up, just staring at my heart, realizing it somehow existed outside of my body, in the safekeeping of a girl I’d just laid eyes on for the first time. And she still holds it. Nothing has changed, except she’s grown stronger and more confident. She’s blossoming every day. That’s not to say the darkness has left her—I’m not sure it truly ever will—but it no longer consumes her.

I touch her shoulder lightly to wake her, and smile inwardly when she doesn’t jump or startle. Instead she glares at me from beneath thick lashes and hooded eyes. “What’dya want?” she mumbles, not bothering to lift her head from the pillow.

“It’s breakfast time.”

“Later.” She closes her eyes.

I feel bad waking her, and I don’t blame her for being cranky. I’ve woken her with some excuse or another every few hours all night long. The discharge papers said that it was fine for her to sleep, contrary to popular belief about concussions, but I just have to know she’s okay. Now that the adrenaline has faded, the fear of her being taken from me has settled in. I’m trying to quell my crazy, but it’s an uphill battle in reverse.

“Don’t make me fight dirty.” My fingers ease under the covers, finding the curve of her waist, then begin skimming across her flesh to cup her ass. She shoves me away, cocking one eye open. But I see the ghost of a smile, so I flash her a teasing grin. “Okay, fine. I brought coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, both of them open now. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Her hand covers her mouth as she fails to suppress a yawn. Once she’s shifted herself upright against the pillows piled in front of the headboard, she reaches for the tray. Her hand freezes in midair. “Iced coffee and coffee-coffee?” One eyebrow lifts in mild amusement.

I shrug. “I didn’t know which you’d be in the mood for.” She usually drinks a steaming hot cup of coffee first thing every morning, and then iced coffee throughout the day, but sometimes she goes right for the iced stuff.

“And the Sprite?”

“I thought your stomach might be upset from the meds.” The doctors gave her some mild painkillers, saying she’d likely be pretty sore.

“Okay, one last question.” She gives me a somber look.

“What’s that?”

“What the hell did those eggs ever do to you?” Her seriousness dissolves into a face-splitting grin, and then she’s shaking in a futile attempt not to laugh.

Seeing her so relaxed–even at my expense–eases something inside me, and I breathe a little more freely. She’s really okay. My Angel is going to be fine, and so are we. We’re going to weather this storm and come out stronger on the other side.

“Haven’t you ever had a scramlet before?”

“Is that a Philly thing, or an Axel thing?”

“It’s a eat it and shush thing.” She’s giving me shit, and I love every minute of it. I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for her before, and the mangled omelet is a perfect example of why.

My phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out, intending to silence it.

“Answer it. Then you can talk and I can eat my scramlet without you breathing down my neck. Unless it’s Eva, in which case I'll answer it.” I’m about to protest, but Angel gives me the
look.
The one that says ‘do what you’re told if you know what’s good for you.’ It’s my mom, not Eva, so I guess I’m going to answer. Both women are thorns in my side, and both are topics Angel and I clearly need to discuss. I don’t think either conversation is going to be pleasant.

“Hello?” I press the phone to my ear. “I’ll be right back, then. Stay in bed,” I mouth to Angel.

I slip out of the bedroom as Molly slips into it. She jumps onto the bed and settles down by Angel’s side, so I know she’s in good hands. I’m also relatively sure the dog is going to eat more of the breakfast I made than Angel will.

“Is this a bad time?” Mom’s voice is tentative.

I nearly snap that any time is a bad time after eighteen years of radio silence, but I know it’s important to Angel that I make an effort with my mom. “It’s fine,” I lie through my teeth.

“Right. Well, the reason I was calling is because I’m going to be in town for another day or two, and I was wondering if you’d want to maybe have lunch?”

She sounds so hopeful that I can’t help but feel tempted to say yes. I open my mouth, but the words don’t come. I just cannot bring myself to agree.

I must be silent for too long. “It’s fine if you’re not ready. Lord knows I made you wait long enough. If you change your mind, I’ll be in town until Thursday afternoon.”

That’s sort of weird. Ware comes back into town on Friday, but Mom leaves on Thursday? I wonder why they didn’t at least come together. As far as I know, they went home Friday night, but now she’s back. Something is wonky. “How come you’re in town?”

“Because you’re here, Axel. If you decide to give me a chance, I want to be close.”

Her admission hits me like a punch to the gut. After all this time, why make an effort now? I hear Angel up and moving around in the other room. Dammit, I told her to stay in bed. From what I read about concussions, she might get dizzy, and she could fall and hurt herself. “Mom. I’ve got to go.”

Rescued by Angel, again. I wonder if that girl knows she saves me every damn day.

I’m not surprised to find Angel dressed when I return to the bedroom. “Glad to see you listen well.”

She ignores me. “So, now that breakfast is out of the way, tell me about Eva.”

—-♥—-

I
still haven’t called Mom back come Thursday. Truth be told, I’m a bit relieved knowing she’s going home today. I’m trying to wrap my head around everything, but I’m just not ready to deal with her yet. And it isn’t like I don’t have more pressing things on my plate.

I’m headed back to the scene of Angel’s accident, to the vacant warehouse that I think can be converted into the perfect nightspot. But this time Angel is in the passenger seat beside me, her hand tucked into mine on the center console. I told her everything about my dreams and plans to open another location, one that I can build from the ground up. I think she could tell how enthusiastic I am about the project, because she said she wants to see the location.

And she's still determined to meet Eva.

There’s the real kicker. She insists that to feel comfortable, she needs to meet the woman who was stupid enough to put her lips on me. I feel sort of like a fire hydrant she’s cocking a leg on to mark her territory, but that’s not to say I mind. She can mark me as hers any day of the week.

Eva is waiting for us when we park in front of the building. I have to intentionally avert my eyes from the telephone pole Angel crashed into. A shudder goes through me just thinking about it. A replacement for her Mustang has already been delivered, not that she’s had the opportunity to drive it yet. I’ve kept her by my side constantly. Her old one could have been repaired, but I feel safer with her in a car that’s never been in a wreck. The two cars look identical, so no one but Angel and I will ever know of the switch. Angel is still adamant that Chelsea not know about the crash, and I’m going along with it even if I do think she’s being a tiny bit ridiculous. I consider it practice for a happy marriage down the road.

Eva seems unsure who to look at, but Angel doesn’t give her much choice. As soon as I’ve got the truck in park, she’s got her seatbelt off, door open, and is striding toward my maybe-fired, maybe not-fired realtor. I wanted to just fire her and never have to deal with her again, but Angel said that's no longer up to me. That seems a bit extreme, but hey, whatever she wants.

I called Eva at Angel’s behest and told her I’d meet with her instead of her father, and that I wanted to show Angel the property I was trying to buy. I still haven’t done the paperwork, because making sure Angel was truly okay after her accident was my only priority.

Angel’s arms are crossed against her chest, and her shoulders are squared as she eyes Eva up and down. Eva tries to look past her and meet my eyes, but I shake my head. This is up to Angel now, and I’ll be okay with whatever she decides.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Eva begins.

“You’re right, you can’t.” Angel steps close to Eva, leaving mere inches between them. “Because I don’t want to hear it. I
know
Axel, and I know there’s no way in hell he gave you any mixed signals, which means you likely knew he was taken and didn’t give a damn. Girls like you are filth, but I will not allow you to mess this up for him. He wants this deal, and he wants this property, and you’re going to make sure he gets it. But if you so much as make goo-goo eyes in his direction I will knock them out of your pretty little head.”

This is the first I've heard Angel say she knows I didn't give Eva the wrong impression. She could have told me that a bit sooner and put me out of my misery. I have to shake my head at my girl.

Eva swallows, her eyes on her feet. When she lifts them, they’re sad, but resolved. “Okay. Just please, if we could keep this from my father.”

Angel glances back at me, and I nod. “As long as we don’t have any more trouble, I don’t see that being a problem.”

Eva gives Angel a tentative smile. “For what it’s worth, this was never about Axel. I’ve always had a hard time believing men can be faithful. My father cheated on my mother, and I preferred to believe men couldn’t be faithful in general, rather than think of my father as weak.”

Angel shakes her head. “I don’t want your excuses. If you’re going to work with him, leave your daddy issues at the door.”

I can’t help smiling. She’s something else. But suddenly I realize Angel’s never talked to me about her father. I’ve heard all about her mother, but never her father. Even when we gamed together from afar, it never came up. She’s so insistent I get to know my mom; family is obviously important to her. So where is her old man?

“Yes, Ms...?”

“Sterling.”

Not for long
, I think. I cannot wait until Angel is officially Mrs. Axel Chadwell. We’re going to share everything, even though I know that’s going to be another fight. And there won’t be any pre-nup, not that my father’s brought it up anyway. Her name is going to be on all my accounts, and we’ll make decisions together. I should put her name on Tuck’s Tap, too.

Just like that, it hits me all of a sudden how stupid I’ve been. I think I wanted to feel worthy of her by making plans for a new place that would be mine, but ‘mine’ isn’t what I want it to be. I want it to be ours
.
She had every right to get irritated about me not sharing my plans with her. Christ, how does she put up with me?