Angel (Love, Daddy 1)

“Baby, we’re going to figure this out.” Faster than a man my size should move, my hands dart out, around her waist and she’s up and over my shoulder in an instant. I’m beginning to like this, carrying her around while the caveman in me thumps his chest.

Angel squeals and gives me a few good kidney shots with her balled fists, but I’ve got three times the weight on her and there is not much she can do to physically hurt me. Of course, she could tear my heart right out, and cause me pain that no one else can, but if I stick to doing everything right for her, I just have to pray to God that never happens.

I stomp down the hall and into the great room. The scent of lilies and peonies hits me and even my babygirl stops her tirade for a moment, the scent is so beautiful and strong.

After a second of standing there, I start to feel her hands soften. Instead of knocking into me like little ball peen hammers, they come around the back of my waist so she can steady herself against me.

“Put me down. Please.”

I don’t know if the scent of the thousand white flowers has worked some magic, but I feel her soften and her words lose their edge. I hear a sad little girl, a scared little girl, and I know that’s what she was trying to hide with her tantrum upstairs.

She’s shivering, and that’s when the truth hit’s me. She’s terrified. I realize it in a moment of clarity and it cuts through me sharper than a knife.

“I will never hurt you, Angel. I’d never let anyone hurt you. I’d die first.”

She’ll learn soon enough that she doesn’t need all these theatrics to get my attention, but old habits will have to be undone slowly, I understand that. So for now, I just need to know what the fuck is hurting her, so I can fix it.

I guide her feet down to touch against the wooden planks that make up the floor, catching her under her arms and pulling her forward. The wide, winding staircase is a step behind me and I bend back to take a seat, dragging her onto my lap, facing me, so we are eye to eye. I settle her legs outside of my own, my hands looping around her waist.

“I don’t like tantrums, Angel. You can and you must tell me everything. Always. Every thought, everything that bothers you or makes you happy. I want it all. Don’t hold it in. But tantrums and this kind of drama won’t be tolerated. But, we’ll deal with that another time. Right this second, you tell me what’s hurting you, okay?” I kiss her bright pink lips, still a bit swollen from their use earlier, then kiss away what’s left of her tears.

As I do I hear her breath come out around us in a long sigh, hanging in the air like a sweet mist. I can’t help but fill with pride that she’s still naked. She’s so vulnerable, and yet she doesn’t think to cover herself. It just seals our connection, tells me she truly belongs to me. I’m her shield against all the bad in the world.

“I got a text. A few. They’re about you.” The cut is back in her voice, so I tip her face back and take her lip between my teeth for a long second.

“Daddy doesn’t like that tone, baby. Just talk to me. Don’t brat, okay?”

I love how she crinkles her nose and pushes out her bottom lip, her eyes on mine as she decides how she’s going to proceed. It only takes a second. Then with a quick look up at the ceiling, she pulls her pout to the side and continues in a soft, clear voice.

“Who’s Sarah Templeton?” Her voice banks in her throat with a little hitch, and my flesh goes cold.

Her eyes are pleading for an explanation, one that will make her feel safe. I see the little tears start to form in her eyes, but she pulls her lip between her teeth and bites down, trying to stem them from flowing.

I grip her soft hips, tugging her closer as I try to figure out a way to explain.

My heart is in my throat.

“Baby.” I lean my forehead in to meet hers, trying to draw strength from her.

Her eyes drift, so I release one hand from her hip and lift my fingers to squeeze her chin, keeping her focused on me. This whole exercise is made nearly impossible because she is naked and her nipples are speaking in tongues, and there is a heat radiating from her open legs straight onto the carved wood in my lap that seems to never soften around her.

Her green eyes mesmerize me; it’s so hard to keep my breath steady as they dilate and narrow, her breath warm on my nose, our faces just inches from each other.

I drop my fingers from her chin, graze them down her neck and around the back where my hand grips, secure but soft.

“What about Sarah Templeton?”

My blood goes cold and I suck air through my teeth as I try to find my center, try to find the right words.

But it’s more than that. I used to pray that I could give my own life to bring her back. I know God wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t give me such an easy way out, but it’s still what I’ve prayed for, night after night, for the last year.

Until I met my Angel, that is, and realized that she could be a part of my life. Then I wanted so much to live.

My lungs burn as I fill them, preparing to tell her my shame. I have to come to terms with the idea that she may decide I am not safe for her. That she cannot live with a man that was responsible for someone’s death.

“We were demolishing a building.” I sit up straight, caressing the back of her neck, letting the sensation of her soft skin distract me from what I need to say. Memories I’ve tried to push away since I met her. “Angel, the short version is, I was in charge of the demolition. I was always in charge; it was nothing unusual. For weeks before it came down, we had the building secured so that I could analyze where the charges should be set, where the weak points were, how the structure would fall. I was also responsible for making sure no one would be able to get inside.” The last words crack in my throat, and time bends around me. I’m right back there in my mind, the initial thrill of the moment when the explosives go off is a rush like nothing else. I can’t explain it. Even after hundreds of jobs, that moment when it happens still feels as new as the first time.

Angel raises her hands, presses them to my cheeks. I close my eyes. I don’t deserve her love. I don’t deserve her kindness. Not right now. Maybe not ever.