Feeling completely defeated, I look into his unwavering eyes. “I can’t repay your kindness, Morrison.”
He slams his mouth down on mine in an all-consuming kiss, and the more he kisses me, the more I feel like I’m floating. When he softens up, I moan as I melt into him. Then he pulls away.
“You. Don’t. Owe. Me. A damn thing. In the month I’ve known you, I have felt alive for the first time since Momma died. You and little chick give me a reason to get up in the morning and do something other than work the next hustle. I lie down at night wanting nothing more than to give you everything I have inside of me and lay the world at both of your feet. Don’t you get it, Hailey? You give me so much more than any money can buy. This isn’t checks and balances; it’s fucking feeling. For once in my life, I fucking feel, Hailey, and outside of worrying about keeping you two safe, it feels fucking good.”
I open and close my mouth, as I have no words that could explain what I’ve felt since Morrison came into my world.
He brushes his lips to mine. “Let the good come in, Hailey.”
On those final words, he backs away and walks down the hallway without looking back, as I slide down the wall and contemplate everything he’s just said to me.
Time passes and fatigue takes over. I go to the bathroom, wash my face, and brush my teeth—the little things moms forget to do when they fall asleep with their children. As I glance in the mirror, I can’t help hearing Morrison in my head.
“It feels fucking good.”
That it does, I admit to myself.
Have something for myself? Fear grips my heart when I think about what I want for myself.
His arms are my comfort. They are my place to regain my strength. When he holds me, it rebuilds something deep inside me. At my lowest, he wraps his arms around me, and somehow it doesn’t feel like all is lost.
“It feels fucking good.”
I keep repeating it in my head as I make my way back to bed. The last thought I have before I finally fall asleep is: Yes, Morrison Caldwell, it does feel fucking good. Too bad I don’t have it in me to tell you that.
Morning comes all too soon. I have the late shift at the bar tonight, and Sally, who is off today, is lined up to start watching Marisa for me.
After I wash up and get ready for the day, something pulls at me to find Morrison. The more rooms I go past and can’t find him in, the more dread settles in my belly.
My mind races and panic fills me as I call him yet get no answer. Did I push him too far away? Did I just lose the only good thing in my life outside of my daughter?
Jagger is in the kitchen when I round the corner to check for Morrison. He pops in and out, but always takes the time to check on me and Marisa, making me feel accepted. Still, of the three brothers, I find him the moodiest and most unpredictable.
“Mornin’, Hailey.”
“Mornin’, Jagger. You haven’t by any chance seen Morrison, have you?”
“Yup—just got back from dropping him off at the airport. He left you the Escalade with a gas card in the glove box.”
“Airport? What do you mean, ‘airport’? Where the fuck did he go?”
Jagger gives me a grin. “That sassy mouth is hot, Hailey. My brothers are lucky bastards. They got two fine-ass women with spunk.”
I brush off what Jagger is saying about me being Morrison’s woman, unable to take time for that line of thinking right now. “Jagger, where did he go?”
“Where he always goes,” he plainly states, like this is all just common knowledge. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a week, two, tops. He doesn’t stay away long.”
A week, two, tops?
Until this moment, I haven’t thought about being away from Morrison. Since he came into my life, I haven’t had to think about him not being around, because…well, because he’s always been here.
He left without saying goodbye.
The thought stings.
Numbly, I move through my morning as Jagger takes off to do whatever it is that Jagger does. I know he trains and fights, but does the man have a regular job? I’m beginning to think they all work at the bar but also have their “side pieces,” as Jagger would say.
Throughout the morning I try to reach Morrison, but get only his voice mail. By the time of my shift that evening, I’m officially on edge.
“Jared, you know what’s fun about being sober?” Hendrix calls out, humor dancing in his eyes as he chats up the older man who is a staple at the end bar stool every night.
“Nothing, Caldwell, ain’t nothing good about that,” Jared retorts grumpily before turning his attention to Olivia. “Livi, what’s a man’s idea of a balanced diet?”
She giggles before answering, “I don’t know, J. What’s a man’s idea of a balanced diet?”