Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

When her grandma died, she’d struggled with her emotions. Everything had been a mess. She’d tried to shed tears when she heard about Daria, but they just hadn’t come.

But now she was paying for keeping her tears on the inside. The pain burst out of her in huge sobs. Everything she’d shut down tight came out. Fear. Anger. Hurt. Pain.

The terror she’d felt when that asshole held a gun on her.

The fear as she’d crouched in the alleyway and listened to Luther and the rat talking.

Her worry when Spike wouldn’t listen to her that night at Reaper’s bar.

The terror when Corey tried to take Tawny.

Anger when Daria left. Anger at everyone dying on her.

“Why did they all have to die? I’m all alone. They all died.”

She knew she should be feeling some pain in her shoulder. But she didn’t. At least she couldn’t separate that pain from the rest of the agony coursing through her body.

“You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

“You can’t promise that. What if something happens to you? What do I do if something happens to you?” she cried.

“Listen to me,” he said in a hard voice. “Millie, listen.”

She stared up at him, aware she must be a mess. Her eyes were almost swollen with tears, her face was likely blotchy and she really needed to blow her nose.

He carefully shifted her, then to her surprise whipped off his T-shirt. Was he trying to distract her with his muscles?

Then he held his T-shirt to her face, wiping her tears before holding it to her nose. “Blow.”

“I . . . I can’t.”

“Blow. I don’t want to leave you to get tissues. Blow.”

She blew into his T-shirt. Yes, it was gross. But she’d make sure to wash it later.

“Millie, I’ve been where you are. For years I didn’t want to love anyone because I was scared to lose them like I did my wife. Now, I realize I was just waiting for someone that was worth the risk of loving again. I was waiting for you.”

“What if you decide I’m not what you want? You could do that. Other people have.”

“Other people were idiots. Millie, listen. You have a huge heart. You’re bubbly and sweet and fun. Somehow, we fit. You and me. You’ve always taken care of everyone else. You’re worn down. You need someone to take care of you. You deserve it. Maybe I don’t deserve you. But I’m not letting you go.”

She sniffled. “Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“I feel broken.”

“I know. And I know it feels like you’ll never be whole. But you will be. And I will help. I promise.”

37

She looked down at the French toast in disinterest. She hadn’t had an appetite since Spike told her about her sister two days ago.

Afterwards, he’d held her while she’d cried. Spoken softly to her. Reassured her. Kept her safe. She’d spent all day crying off and on. He hadn’t pushed her to do anything. To talk. The only time that he’d grown bossy was when she’d refused to take her pain pills.

Every night, he held her as tight as he could without hurting her. And each time she’d had a nightmare, he’d been there. He’d wiped her tears. Spoken to her quietly until she slipped back to sleep.

Yesterday it had been much the same. She’d felt like a zombie. Numb. Only for it to hit her once more and she’d start crying all over again.