I was wrong about her being shy when I first met her. She’s not shy, not even a little bit. At least, not with me. I love that she can go toe-to-toe with me and get in my face when something is pissing her off. I like that I don’t have to play guessing games to try to figure out what’s bothering her. It’s refreshing, although her keeping that bullshit with Lisa from me still makes me see red, even if I can appreciate that she was trying to protect me.
“How are you not tired?” she asks, tipping her head back and blinking her eyes open to look at me.
“I might not have slept long, but I slept solid with you in my arms,” I tell her truthfully, and her face softens. Running the pad of my thumb along her cheek, I sigh. “I gotta get up. I need to meet Tide at the gym soon.”
“Oh,” she says, sounding disappointed.
“You wanna come?”
“Do you mean go with you to work out?” she asks, sounding horrified, and I fight back a smile.
“Yeah, baby. I mean go and work out with me.”
“No thanks. I’m not big on the whole gym experience.”
“Why’s that?”
“When I was fifteen, my stepmom made my dad force me to go to spinning classes four days a week at her gym. She would go along with me and chat with her friends about how at fifteen I was already a size eight. Everyone in the class started to get in on her jokes about my weight and endurance, which meant I left upset after every class. Once I didn’t have to go back, I vowed to never go to a gym again.”
“First, it’s doubtful that anyone would ever say something to you at my gym. But if some motherfucker ever made you feel uncomfortable, I would lay them the fuck out.” I give her a squeeze then ask, “What did your dad say when you told him about what your stepmom was doing to you?”
“Nothing, I never told him,” she admits quietly, and my jaw clenches as I picture her as a teenager, losing her mother and dealing with that bullshit afterward.
“Why the fuck not?”
“I didn’t want to upset him,” she explains.
Anger fills the pit of my stomach at the idea of her keeping that shit to herself. “So you let that bitch and other bitches treat you like shit, just so you wouldn’t upset your dad? The same way you kept the shit Lisa spewed at you to yourself to protect me?”
“I—”
“No,” I cut her off, dropping my face closer to hers. “You do not let anyone treat you in any way that makes you feel uncomfortable, and if by some fucked up chance something like that does happen again, you tell me and I’ll deal with it,” I order, and her jaw tightens.
“I can take care of myself.”
“By what, keeping everything in and trying to make shit smooth for everyone else around you in the process?”
“Well…”
“Baby.” I give her a squeeze. “I hope to God that if you would have told your father what was happening that he would’ve protected you from it happening again. That said, your dad is no longer here, but I am, so it’s my job to look out for you. So let me.”
“I’ll try,” she whispers, and my eyes close as I press my forehead to hers. Feeling her hand rest against my jaw, I open them back up and meet her gaze. She doesn’t say anything, but neither do I. Leaning in, her lips touch mine and her tongue touches my bottom lip. I don’t think as I deepen the kiss and roll her to her back. Settling myself between her legs, I spend the next half an hour making love to her, which means I’m late getting to the gym to meet Tide. Not that I give a fuck.
~**~
Stepping out onto the deck three days later, I lean against the rail with my cup of coffee in hand and watch Gia, who’s wearing jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers, attempt to get Loki to play fetch with her. He has no idea what the hell fetch is, but he does like the fact that when he runs and gets the ball, she chases him around to get it back. Shaking my head at the two of them, I smile into my mug. She’s been trying to teach him fetch for the last two days, since she learned he didn’t know how. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of it, and at this point, I don’t know if he ever will. Then again, she’s determined, so who the hell knows?
“Loki, come here, boy.” She pats her thighs, and he comes toward her but stops a few steps away with the yellow tennis ball sticking halfway out of his mouth. “Drop the ball,” she instructs. He doesn’t drop it; he backs up a step then takes off again, running away from her. Flinging her hands up into the air in frustration, she takes off after him once more, making me chuckle.