Morrison (Caldwell Brothers)

The mere thought of not seeing where things could lead with him has me just as scared as the thought of things falling apart.

Checks and balances—the scales are even. If I don’t give us a chance, I could lose out on having a future that fairy tales are made of. If I take the risk and it falls apart, I will fall apart, and I’m not sure I will be able to pick myself up.

Love is a gamble. It is a game where the winner takes all, and the loser is left empty.

My phone pings, alerting me to a text and snapping me out of my thoughts. Looking at the screen, I find it’s not from Morrison like I expected. It’s from Livi.

He is off to the airport. Thought you would want to know. Time is up, girlie.

Her words hit me.

Time is up.

Time is a fickle thing. It passes in a blink, in a blur, and before you know it, it’s gone. Whoosh—disappeared and never to be seen again.

My mother never got the opportunity to know real love. Morrison’s mom never felt unconditional love outside of what she had with her sons. I told myself when I got away from Monte that I was going to break the cycle for my daughter. Well, today is the day.

I look at my phone screen once more, the clock in bold print staring at me in challenge. With shaking hands, I swipe the screen and hit reply.

Pick me up?

Three simple words seal the deal. I am going to leap. The question now is, will I fall, or will we soar together?

Outside waiting, Livi’s text comes back immediately, followed by a winky face.

Without hesitation, I throw together a duffel bag of clothes, then pray I remembered panties. I don’t worry about a bag for Marisa since she’s staying around, and Livi has the spare key to my place if she needs it.

Gathering Marisa up, I rush down the stairs and out the door.

“You’re gonna stay with Miss Livi for a few days. Jagger promises to read to you, and Livi will call me every night and put you on the phone. Love you, Ris Priss.” I kiss her forehead as I buckle her into the car seat while Livi beams at me from the driver’s seat.

“It’s a ’lumber party, Mommy. Don’t worry, we’ll have fun.”

Oh, the carefree world of a three-year-old. Untouched, unharmed, and innocent. Although her father is a bad person, he sheltered her by his absence. One day I may have to address it all, but for now, she has not a single worry—while my mind races in questions. Am I really doing this? Is this smart? Again, am I really doing this?

We take off for the airport with Livi chatting up Marisa, keeping the mood light. It isn’t long before she drives up to the drop-off.

Handing me a small gift bag, Livi winks as I hug and kiss Marisa bye before taking my bag and heading inside.

The airport is overwhelming, and my emotions are running wild. In a blur, I manage to check in, get through security, and find my gate. I get to the waiting area and immediately see him leaning against the wall, and I drink him in.

His hair is a mess, like he’s been constantly running his hands through it. Long gone is the slick, suit-wearing fucker I met that first night. No, in front of me is a man who is willing to go the distance for his girls. My heart beats faster as I admit all of this to myself.

Morrison Caldwell isn’t an entitled prick like so many others. He doesn’t hold people to a crazy standard or manipulate situations to his benefit. No, he takes everyone in his life as they are. The good, the bad, the ugly—he is there, through and through. He is a man with heart, dedication, and a drive to be better than what he has been before.

As his head comes up, he meets my gaze, and his eyes dance in thoughts and emotions, but he doesn’t move. Regardless, I continue to walk toward him, and when we’re toe to toe, he still doesn’t move.

“Morrison,” I whisper.

“You’re here?” he questions as if he’s dreaming.

I nod. “I’m here.”

Without another word, without hesitation, his arms wrap around me as his mouth crashes down on mine. When he pulls away, he smirks at me while I smile.

“What?”

“My little momma isn’t afraid.”

I giggle. “I told you I’m not afraid of anything.”

“You mine?”

I bite my lip and look into his eyes. “We’re yours.”

“Fuck, yes,” he replies before kissing me breathless again.

The plane ride is nothing out of the ordinary. Morrison holds my hand or keeps his arm around me at all times. We get off, rent a car, and he takes me to a hotel. Wheels had offered us a spot, but Morrison thought that staying at his old house might remind me of Monte’s twisted play with Marisa. I’m beyond thankful for his forethought. Sometimes, I think he knows what I need even before I do.