Page 79 of Falcon

“I love you, kid.”

She gives me the smallest smile. “I love you too, jerk.”

***

Forty-five minutes later, I trudge up the front steps on Faith’s house and knock on the door, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

I stand there for a few minutes, letting the warm, salty air blow over my face, taking the time to really let the aura of Savannah wash over me, before the door swings open, and it’s not the petite blonde that I’m expecting.

“You,” Rose says, pointing at me.

“Um, me?” I respond.

She steps outside with me and closes the door behind her. “Faith is packing, so you and I are going to have a conversation.”

“Should I be afraid?” I ask, mostly in jest.

“You should always be afraid of me.” She places her hands on her hips.

“I have no doubt about that. All right. Let’s talk.”

“I’ll be the first to push Faith to make decisions like this. She has been through so much, and I want her to live her life to the fullest now and move forward as a happy, healthy person.”

“We both want that for her.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that, but Falcon Masen, I swear, I’ll end you right where you stand if you hurt her in any way. I’m an attorney. I know many police officers, judges; you name it. I’ll get away with it. I’m not afraid.”

I toss my head back and laugh, but the look on her face tells me she probably isn’t joking.

“Faith is going to be in good hands with me, Rose, that’s a promise. I know I haven’t known her very long, but she already means more to me than I would have ever thought she could. The last thing I want to happen is something bad for her. Everyone in her life is clearly fiercely protective of her, and I’m no different.”

“She is the strongest person I know. Don’t do anything to change that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.” She shifts on her feet a bit. “She’s down in her room. I need to make a couple phone calls, so I’ll just be right out here. Don’t leave before I can tell her goodbye.”

“Never.”

“You’re not so bad, for a California boy.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I dated one of you once. Didn’t end well. Left a sour taste. It’s a long story.”

“Yikes. Duly noted.”

I leave her to her call and step into the house. There’s some pop song playing low on the Bluetooth speakers, much like the first time I saw her in the doorway. Was that really only a few weeks ago? It feels like a lifetime.

I make my way down the hallway toward her bedroom and when I move into the doorway, she’s facing away from me, folding some clothes and tucking them into a suitcase, swaying her ass and body to the music. I can just make out that she’s softly singing the words to herself as she continues on with her task.

She is wearing blue jean shorts and a basic purple tank top. She has her hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head, giving me a clear view of her neck and the cluster of freckles that resides on the back. I have to physically stop myself from marching straight over to her, curling my fingers around her hair, and sliding my tongue over each freckle.

This is Faith in her purest form.

The music picks up as the chorus takes over and she raises her hands above her head and dances even more.

I lean my shoulder into the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest, and just watch with a shit-eating grin plastered all over my face.

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