Page 14 of Unlocked

“I don’t mind,” Shelby says softly as she looks up at me. I ease down onto the bed to lay next to her on top of the covers. “You don’t have to lay on top if you don’t want.” She giggles. “We’ve already slept in the same bed and someone wasn’t wearing any clothes.”

I chuckle in response because, although I was intoxicated and I had been confused when I woke up next to her that morning, I remember crawling into bed with her and holding her all night. I can’t remember a time when I slept so well, and I don’t think it had a thing to do with how much alcohol I’d consumed. “Someone was wearing far too many clothes,” I counter, delighting in her response. Shelby’s face flushes a deep red.

“Behave yourself or I’ll make you leave,” she sasses, but there’s no heat behind her words. I raise my eyebrows at her for a second, but I like this accepting side of Shelby. I don’t want to piss her off no matter how cute she is when she’s angry.

“Yes, sweet girl,” I murmur and snuggle onto the pillow to face her. “I’ll be on my best behavior.” She grins as if she doesn’tfully believe me, but then she snuggles onto her pillow, placing her hands under her cheek and closing her eyes. We lay this way long after her breathing has evened out, indicating she’s fast asleep. My phone pings an incoming text. I ease it out of my pocket so I don’t disturb her sleep, placing it on vibrate mode so that I won’t wake her with incoming messages. I open my phone to see Daisy has text.

Daisy:How’s Shelby? Marley is worried sick.

Me:She’s asleep, seems peaceful, no paleness, sweating, or agitation.

Daisy:Good, let me know when she wakes, and I’ll come back and test her glucose, again.

Me:Thanks, Daisy, I appreciate it, and I know Shelby does, too.

Daisy:Okay who are you, and what have you done with my brother?

Me:Har Har Hardy Har Har

Daisy:Sorry I’m just not used to you being a kind, considerate brother. It’s…weird.

Me:You think I’m incapable of kindness or thoughtfulness?

Daisy:It’s not that you aren’t capable. It’s that you haven’t ever attempted it.

Me:Ouch! Maybe I have a good reason to attempt it now?

Daisy:Oh! That’s a good thing. I’m happy for you.

Me:Don’t go getting all sappy. I’m just trying to look out for Marley’s friend.

Daisy:Uh Huh, keep telling yourself that, big boy.

I pocket my phone, once more, gazing at Shelby’s sleeping form. She looks so peaceful, so fragile and vulnerable. I know I haven’t been the best kind of man over the years. I’ve drunk too much at times and only used women to satisfy my needs. There is something about Shelby that makes me want to be more, to be a better man. While I’ve always been clear with anyone I waswith that I didn’t want any strings, I can see how that makes me look as a person unable to commit. Some women had accepted my terms and others had said no thanks, and I’d respected that. I have no idea how to make a relationship work. It scares me because, for the first time in my life, I want to have one and to be good at it.

Luke and Marley have had their ups and downs, but they seem to be finding their way together. Daisy and her man, Ace, seem to be making their relationship work, also.Is it possible that I can have one, too?I’m thirty-four-years-old. Is this dog too old to learn new tricks? I sure as hell hope not. I’m starting to see I’d do about anything for Shelby. I’ll have to consider asking Luke for some advice, if I can get Shelby to accept my desire to have a relationship. She’s been very reluctant to have anything to do with me, thus far. I need to know more about her and let her get to know more about me. I hope in time she will come to trust me.

A shrill crydrags me from sleep, but I’m instantly awake, thanks to my years in the service. Shelby is thrashing about next to me. “No! No don’t. I’ll be good, Daddy. Please don’t put me down there!” Shelby’s voice is almost childlike, and the fear it holds is palpable. Her head is tossing side to side as her arms flop against the mattress. I sit up in bed, reaching for her.

“Shelby, sweet girl, wake up!” I call out and gently shake her shoulders, hoping to wake her. She continues to thrash around. She’s mumbling, but I can’t make out most of what she’s saying, other than an occasional ‘no’ or ‘please don’t’. Every cry she makes cuts this old dried-up heart of mine a little deeper. If I’m reading this correctly, her father abused her. How could a mando that to his child? “Sweet girl!” I call a little louder, pulling her into my arms. She’s shaking all over, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes fly open moving frantically from side to side, her breathing labored as she scrambles into a sitting position.

“Oh, Bo!” Shelby sobs when I see her awareness returning. I pull her to me holding her to my chest as she cries. Her hand fists my t-shirt, holding on for dear life. I stroke my hand through her hair and down her back, hoping to calm her fears while I whisper words of comfort to her. She cries for a while before she pulls back. “I’m sorry, Bo,” Shelby apologizes. “I’ve soaked your shirt.”

“Nothing to be sorry for sweet girl,” I say as I gaze into those gorgeous blue eyes that are so full of life and emotions. I wipe the tears from under her eyes with my thumbs. “You’re safe here, with me. You know that, right?” She nods as more tears drip from her eyes.

“Yes, I know.” She takes a deep, quivering breath. “It was so real, like I was there again.” A shiver runs through her, so I tighten my hold, wanting her to feel that she isn’t in her nightmare now. She rests her head on my chest as she continues, “My dad liked to drink…a lot. When he drank, he’d get angry and take it out on me. He would tie me up in the basement and leave me for days at a time. I can’t sleep without a light on at night.” Her soft confessions anger me at a man I’ve never met, but would like to so I can choke the life out of him.

“Oh my sweet girl, I hate that you went through that,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. She buries her face against me and allows me to hold her until she’s cried herself out. She sniffs her nose, so I grab the tissues from the nightstand and wipe her face and nose. She lets out a humorless laugh.

“I’m not a two-year-old,” she half-heartedly complains as I clean her face. She looks up to meet my gaze.

“You are definitely not a two-year-old, my sweet girl,” I murmur, kissing her temple again. I gaze down at her. She swallows hard breaking my gaze. I’m making her uncomfortable. I need to change the subject. “Are you hungry? We’ve been asleep”—I glance at my watch to see we’ve been asleep for about three hours—“for three hours. I need to let Daisy know we are awake so she can come check your blood sugar again.” I pull out my phone shoot her a quick text.

“I could eat,” Shelby confesses. “But I really don’t want her sticking my finger again; that hurt!” Her bottom lip sticks out slightly, and I’m so tempted to kiss her, but I refrain. We seem to be in a good place, at the moment. I don’t want to mess this up. I like her looking at me without fear or irritation in her eyes.

“I’m sure it did, but we need to know where your blood sugar is at,” I tell her. “You really gave us a scare.”

“I know. I’m sorry I worried all of you,” Shelby says as her face flushes. “I’ve felt that way before, but it’s never been this bad. I usually eat something, but all of us were talking about the wedding, and I guess I didn’t realize how bad I was feeling.”

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