Page 88 of Quiet Protector
This morning, I woke up with my leg hooked around Brandon’s waist and his fingers knitted in my hair. It honestly killed me untangling myself from the web we had weaved throughout the night, but I did it. Barely.
I didn’t have much choice. I can’t issue Brandon a no-intimacy clause to our friendship then hump his leg in the middle of the night. That’s just asking for trouble.
For me, not Brandon. He was a remarkable boy, but he’s an even more remarkable man. I can see why Phillipa has developed a crush on him. He’s impossible not to love.
I stop listening to the voice in my head telling me a true friend would give Phillipa her blessing when Grayson waves his hand in front of my face, drawing me from my somber thoughts. “You with me, Melody? You seem to have spaced out.”
“Sorry, I’m here. Long night.” When Grayson purses his lips, I backhand him in the chest. “Not like that.” I’m tempted to hit him for the second time when his smile grows at the disappointment in my tone. “Are you here for a reason, Grayson? Or just to stir me?”
“I had come for a purpose, but I’m kinda thinking I should stick to teasing. I thought BJ was the only one whose face lit up like a Christmas tree when he was embarrassed.” After tracking his fingers down my bloomed cheek, he mutters, “My bad.”
I whack him in the stomach for the second time before dragging him into the entryway. I’m in a nightie, so I don’t want Brandon’s neighbors seeing me in a state of undress.
With Brandon’s fireplace keeping his apartment super cozy, Grayson slips out of his jacket before tossing it over one of the chairs in the dining room. His face reveals he wants the details on why we’re keeping things super warm, but with the removal of his coat announcing why he’s arrived here at eight in the morning, he’s interrogation will have to wait.
“You found it?” I pace closer to the silver box Grayson placed onto the dining room table a second after removing his coat. It’s the time capsule Brandon and I buried years ago. It’s covered with red dirt and has rusted a little, but the initials my dad engraved on the top ensures it will never be mistaken.
“Yep.” The ‘P’ pops from Grayson’s mouth. “It was exactly where you said it would be. Right under the tree you got married in front of.”
As I lift one of my mom’s old jewelry boxes into my hand, tears well in my eyes. “Did you open it?”
Apfftnoise vibrates Grayson’s lips. “Do I look like a nosy-body?” When I arch my brow, he rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I didn’t snoop.” A smile stretches across my face when he mumbles under his breath, “The damn thing is locked.”
His reply is as humorous as it is disappointing. “I forgot it was locked. I don’t have the key here.”
Grayson offers to jimmy the lock at the same time a third person joins our conversation. “I do.”
When Brandon walks out of his room, drying his soaking-wet hair with a towel, my eyes drop to take in the generous ridges of his body not covered by his sweatpants. This is the exact reason my steps are sluggish and slow. It has nothing to do with the minimal sleep schedule we’ve been working the past five weeks, and everything to do with how many times I’ve pressed my thighs together. Just like when he was a teen, Brandon’s body is divine. No amount of ogling willeverhave me grow tired of eyeballing it.
Furthermore, the last time his abs contracted and released while he paced my way was the first night we slept together. That night was painful, but it was also beautiful. It has highlighted my dreams many times the past eight years.
While lifting my jaw back to its rightful spot, Grayson lets out a chuckle. “Now I understand why the fire is over-stacked.” I pout like a child when he tosses his coat to Brandon. “Put a shirt on, punk. Your girl is about to get drool on my shoes.”
I’m about to lay into him for the third time in the past five minutes, but Brandon’s laugh stops me. It’s an exquisite thing to hear even with the appreciation of its arrival being shared between Grayson and me. However, the fact he doesn’t deny that I’m his girl may be even more beautiful.
Once Brandon’s laughter settles down, he dumps Grayson’s jacket onto the dining room table, presses his lips to my temple, then paces to a safe hidden behind a torn painting. I don’t know what happened to his pricy artwork and the glass that once wrapped around his fireplace. My emotions have been too high to ask—even more so when he removes a shoebox from inside his safe. It’sourshoebox. The one we stored all the precious things we refused to bury in the ground in case they got lost.
When Grayson spots the tears welling in my eyes, he takes them as his queue to leave. “I’m out.” He throws his arm around Brandon’s shoulders to give him a quick man-hug before he makes a beeline for the door. “Call me when you’re ready to dive back in, punk. I’ve got a few cases lined up for you.”
He’s out the door before Brandon can reply. It’s for the best. Brandon’s mindset isn’t ready for the slaughtering the Bureau will hit it with. I’m sure he’ll get there one day, just not today.
When Brandon stuffs the bent key from the bottom of our shoebox of treasures into the time capsule’s lock, I curl my hand over his. “Breakfast first. You haven’t eaten since dinner.” He almost argues with me, but my quick, snapped comment stops him. “Peanut butter directly out of the jar doesn’t count as a meal, BJ.”
My steps into the kitchen wobble when he mumbles, “That’s not what you said that night in your dorm,” but I pretend not to hear him because as much as this sucks to admit, he’s not ready for that stage of our friendship yet either.
“What do you want? Pancakes, eggs…” I roll my eyes when his light up. “Peanut butter on toast it is.”
* * *
Several hours later, I snuggle into Brandon’s side before burrowing my head into his neck. I have my consumed Ring Pop candy ring on the finger where a real engagement ring once sat, my favorite scrunchie wrapped around my wrist, and the love letter I wrote Brandon is resting on his coffee table next to our ‘marriage certificate.’
Brandon read my love letter, smiled, then read it again. It’s the biggest fluff piece you could possibly imagine, but give me a break, I was ten and convinced Brandon was going to divorce me so he could marry my mom. I would have said anything to convince him to stay married to me. I even agreed to ride Socks, who, in case you’re wondering, is still at the ranch.
It wasn’t just Kwan’s dropped lip when Socks was loaded in his new owners’ horse trailer that caused my change of heart, it was remembering how Brandon pledged to help me clean the horse stall every weekend when I begged my parents to buy me a horse. I was in love with theSaddle Cluband convinced I was set to compete in dressage at the Olympics.
By the time my parents agreed to buy me a horse, I fell out of love with theSaddle Cluband realized horses’ backs aren’t as close to the ground as I thought. Brandon kept his promise, though. He was in Socks’ stall every Saturday morning at dawn. He’s never forgotten a promise he’s given, not even the one we put in writing when we thought we were more grown-up than we were.
When Samara fromThe Ringcommences crawling out of the well in the misty woods, I burrow my face even deeper into Brandon’s neck. We’re supposed to be watching the horror movies our parents wouldn’t let us watch back in the day. However, I’ve spent the majority of our day with my head buried in some region of Brandon’s body.
