Singe (Guardian Protection #1)

Actually, everything about Rhion felt like home. The best thing that happened to us was my finding those books. It had springboarded our relationship to a level I hadn’t been sure we’d ever reach with the secrets of our past weighing us down. Rather than avoiding conversation about the fire any longer, we talked about it. A lot. We’d even taken a trip out to Park Hill Estate a few days after things had settled down again. She hadn’t been there since the fire, and just as I had the first time I’d visited, she’d struggled. While the house had been cleared away and never rebuilt, it still held more than enough memories to transport us back to that night.

During the hours we sat there staring at the empty lot, she told me all about waking up in that burning house. Just her. Alone. Terrified with no way out. It was all I could do to listen to her without it shredding me. But, after I’d heard her talk, I felt like maybe my being there that night had done wonders for Rhion’s fight for survival.

I still refused to take credit for saving her, but at least she hadn’t been alone.

And, if I had anything to say about it, she never would be again.

Over the last few weeks, I’d had the absolute honor of watching Rhion Park fall. Again.

But, this time, she was falling for me.

My Butterfly was beautiful. Still a little broken. Still a little scared. But weren’t we all?

Just because the truth had come out didn’t mean my guilt from that night had magically evaporated. I still dealt with it each time I felt the scars on the back of my head, but it no longer burned when she touched them. And I was starting to believe that maybe I’d been right that drunken night in her apartment, because every day that passed, Rhion was healing me in unfathomable ways.

While there had yet to be any professions of love on either side, it was an absolute fact we both knew. Love blazed in her eyes every morning when she woke up molded around me. And it blazed in my chest every minute of every day.

It was now the week before Thanksgiving, and I was sitting on her couch, drinking a beer with Leo, Devon, Braydon, Alex, and, yes, Johnson at the unofficial-official Guardian Thanksgiving Feast. We were attempting to watch the football game while the mouthwatering fragrance of turkey cooking wafted through the air, but every ten seconds, Rhion would nervously flitter by, blocking our view.

A company had been by early that morning to deliver giant tables and what had to be at least two-dozen chairs. I’d had no idea where the hell all of it was going to fit. Rhion’s apartment was big, but I’d had to climb over the back of the couch in order to get a cup of coffee while they had been setting up. When I’d attempted to voice my concern, she’d banished me to her room to get showered and dressed. Sure enough, half an hour later, I’d emerged to find a horseshoe of tables covered in tablecloths, lavish orange-and-brown-feather centerpieces, and enough place settings—including real silver—to seat the entire crew of Guardian Protection. It wasn’t until then that I’d realized overkill was a synonym for full-assing Thanksgiving.

“You gotta stop pacing, babe,” I called out as all the guys leaned to the side to keep watching the game around her. “You’re making me anxious.”

She stopped, crossing her arms over her chest, and glared at me. “Then perhaps you should get up and pace too, babe.”

I chuckled and tipped the beer up to my lips.

She’d been a mess all day. The chefs had been late, and when they’d gotten there, they’d brought the wrong size turkeys. This had resulted in Rhion shooting laser beams from her eyes and shrieking in a voice that was so high-pitched that it wasn’t even audible to the human ear. Just when I thought her head was going to explode, I wrapped her in my arms and got on the phone to order a ham. She was grateful and hugged me tight around the hips just seconds before ordering me to call back and get two.

Through all of this, I sent up thanks that Leo’s wife, Sarah, was responsible for the Christmas party. My girl did not take entertaining lightly.

“Rhion, you gotta move or I’m going upstairs to watch the game,” Johnson said. “I’ve missed every first down since I got here.”

Her glare sliced to him. “Aidan, you take one step toward that door and you’re out of this year’s secret Santa drawing.”

Devon suddenly pushed to his feet. “Shit, that’s all I gotta do to get out of that?”

Rhion’s expression turned murderous, and she used an extremely scary finger to motion for him to sit down.

He wisely obeyed.

“Okay,” I said, standing up and guiding her out of the way of the TV. “Can we have a word in private?”

“No. She should be here any minute. I want to be the one to greet her when she arrives.”

Ah, yes. Yet another reason Rhion was in a tailspin. The infamous stepsister was coming.

I’d learned a lot about Katie Spencer, but I was no closer to figuring out how I felt about her. Rhion loved her—and hated her depending on the day of the week you asked. But, even when she was complaining about Katie, it had a sibling-rivalry feel to it. However, after a long talk with Johnson, I’d found out that he was not Katie’s biggest fan. He’d informed me that the only time she appeared in Rhion’s life was when it benefited Katie. That shit was not going to fly with me. So, when Rhion had told me this morning that Katie was coming, I’d had to admit that a part of me was eager to finally meet her.

“Johnson can greet her,” I mocked. “You need a breather. You’re gonna give yourself high blood pressure if you keep this up.”

“Ooooh, no. I’m going to be the one to greet Katie. She’s avoided my calls for months. And then I get a text saying she’s coming over today.” She laughed. “I don’t think so. And, just so there is no confusion, she will also not be allowed to participate in the secret Santa drawing.”

“Lucky chick,” Devon grumbled.

Rhion flipped him off without ever tearing her gaze from mine.

“Maybe she’s coming to apologize. I thought you loved her.”

“I do love Katie! But she gave her mother, the real-world equivalent of Voldemort, my address and security card! She does not get to apologize on a day when my family gets together to give thanks for another year of life. The day I look forward to all year. I spent five hours hand-rolling three-dozen biscuits last night. You avoid me for months, you don’t get my delicious, baked-with-love biscuits.”

They really were good fucking biscuits. But she only had two dozen and ten left; I’d snagged a pair off the baking sheet while she’d been folding linen napkins. I didn’t dare mention that.

“Okay. So tell the security room not to buzz her up. You won’t have to see her. I’ll pour you a glass of wine and you can stop stressing.”

“Pssh. Yeah, right. And miss my opportunity to tell her off in person? No, thank you. Katie and I are going to chat. It may or may not end with her sitting at the dinner table, but no matter what, you make sure she does not get a biscuit.”

I gave her a teasing side-eye and asked, “No biscuits? On Thanksgiving? My girl’s a true savage.”

She cuddled in close. “You don’t know the half of it. I’m also going to rig it so Devon gets Alex for a secret Santa this year. Alex always gives socks.”

I laughed and dipped low to press a kiss to her mouth. “You’re crazy, Butterfly.”

“You like it,” she murmured against my lips

I didn’t. Not anymore.

I loved it. So. Fucking. Much.