Morrison (Caldwell Brothers)

He always says I have his balls. Well, he has me. I’m just not sure he knows it. I want to tell him, but at the same time, it scares the shit out of me.

If he really knew how weak he makes me . . . The mere thought of losing him ties me up in knots.

He is my best friend. He has held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own. He has given me space when I needed to find myself. He has been my biggest supporter in everything I do. He has opened doors for me when I felt like I had nowhere to turn. He has given me a new life.

More than any of that, he has shown me what real love is. For better or worse, Morrison Caldwell has stood beside me. He’s had my back, even when I didn’t know I needed it.

He owns me—mind, body, and soul. He truly fills a part of me no one else could.

There was a time not so long ago when the thought of anyone “owning” me scared the shit out of me. Then Morrison showed me that actions speak louder than words. But the words are nice, too. Morrison owns me in the same way I own him. I belong to him because I belong with him. It isn’t a possession of power and manipulation. It’s a possession of choice.

I choose him as he chooses me.

I choose to make him a priority as he chooses to make me his.

I choose to give to him freely as he does with me.

Everything between us is an exchange. More than that, it’s done with free choice. I have choices. Consent is fucking required, and the Caldwell family has taught me just that.

We may not be some picture-perfect family, but we are family just the same. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m where I belong. I feel like I’m where we belong—Marisa and me.

Making my way into the bar, I see Jagger pacing. I stow my purse in the back, then go out to where he is right as he throws back a shot. Jagger is a wild card, sure, but he never drinks this early in the night.

“Wanna talk about it?” I greet him.

“You ever felt helpless?” He looks at me. “Well, that’s a dumb fucking question.”

“Jagger, what’s going on?”

He murmurs to himself. “Untouchable. Pushing buttons and she’s completely untouchable.”

“Who?”

“Nothing; not your concern. Just a bad situation for an innocent person. That’s the way it goes, though, right?” He pours another shot and downs it. “Bad things always happen to good people. Gotta treasure what you have when you have it because not everyone gets to have it good.”

Before I can reply, he turns and stomps away. I frown, wishing Jagger would let me in, even if it’s only to listen. But these Caldwell boys were made from the same mold, and I know that whatever he’s going through, he will sort it out and lean on family when the time comes.

“You did an amazing job, Momma Caldwell. I only hope I can be the mother to my children that you were to yours,” I whisper to myself at the back of the bar.

The rest of the night passes quickly and without incident. Then I make my way into my dark apartment, where Marisa is sound asleep in her room. I expect to find Morrison in my bed, so when he’s on the couch, it takes me off guard.

Jagger’s words about treasuring the good have been playing over and over again in my head all night. As a result, when Morrison stands and comes over to me, I don’t bother with a hello; I just wrap my arms around his neck to pull him to me for a kiss.

“You give me good, Morrison Caldwell. You give me good all the damn time.”

His hands run up and down my sides as he watches me, not understanding where I’m at in my head.

“Something happen tonight, little momma?”

“Not particularly. Something happened the night you parked your car behind mine. Morrison Caldwell, you brought me to life. You have shown me what living really is. You have made me feel. You have held me at my worst and celebrated with me at my best. I could go on and on about everything you are and everything you mean to me. Most of all, though, you have made me feel.”

“It feels good.” He smiles, and I beam up at him.

I bite my bottom lip. “It feels good.”

“Gotta say, little momma, as good as it feels, it’s late, and if I’m gonna make you feel good before you sleep, we should head to bed.”

“Morrison, I love you. I need you to know. I. Love. You.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Floored. I am floored and speechless.