AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I glance from the movie to Jules’ innocent, sleeping form. Her breathing has evened out, and if I’m not mistaken, I think she’s snoring lightly. I’m enjoying the quiet reprieve from having to fill all her waking hours with lies. My fractured thoughts give me pause as I berate myself. You don’t deserve her, you lying son of a bitch. She’s trusted me implicitly with everything from her basic needs to her very life, and I shouldn’t have any hopes at all for a future with her. But since I’m a despicable bastard, why stop now? I have every intention of sticking to my plans come hell or high water, and absorb every bit of trust and love from her while time is still on my side.
It’s not like she has a life to go back to anyway. It’s gone—poof—all with the snap of Nick’s fingers. Even if Jules tried to go back to Adam, well...let's just say Nick had put certain systems in place even I wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.
Spending every second of every day together for the past two weeks, I feel as if we’ve bonded in ways most couples never do, and I pray to God she feels more for me than she ever could’ve felt when she was with Adam. I love her smile and the way she’s able to find joy in the little things. She’s always thinking positively, and tries to find something good to say, even in a bad situation.
The sound of car tires crushing the gravel of the cabin’s driveway pulls me from my thoughts. Glancing at my watch, it reads 10 pm now, which means it should be Stryker. Turning down the volume on the entertainment center, I listen for familiar sounds, making sure it is him. I can’t ever allow myself to let my guard down. Even though the likelihood of it being Nick and his men discovering me is very slim, I can never be too careful. I hear the metal key engage in the lock and listen as the bolt smoothly clicks over without a hitch. Letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I relax back into the sofa, resuming my tender ministrations to Jules’ hair.
A grin spreads across my face when I hear the rattling of plastic grocery bags. Damn, I hope Strike got some decent food for me to eat, plus all the gluten-free shit Jules needs. Reflecting back on my adventures regarding the gluten and dairy restrictions, the entire endeavor has struck me as being quite comical. She still doesn’t remember being gluten-free, and I have no intention on telling her either. I can’t imagine the shit people go through trying to pilfer their way through grocery store aisles day-in and day-out, having to read every damn label, only to get it home and it tastes like seasoned cardboard. No wonder she stays so skinny; she doesn’t have much to choose from.
Stryker comes into view hauling a few bags of food. Placing my index finger over my lips, I silently tell Stryker to be quiet. Nodding his head at me in acknowledgement, he continues toward the kitchen, grocery bags in hand with Ranger on his heels. Setting the bags down on the kitchen counter, he turns around to head back out the front door, whispering he has a couple more trips to the car to make.
I get up, ready to move Jules off my lap to help him, when he holds up his hand to stop me. “I’ve got it, man. Just sit and let her rest.”
I whisper “thanks” and sink back into the comfort of the sofa, turning the volume back up on the movie. Ranger, deciding to stay, comes over to say hello by licking my hand, and then begins sniffing at Jules’ hair.
“I feel the same way, Ranger. I could sniff her strawberry hair all day long,” I mumble to the old dog.
Once Stryker has finished with the groceries, he strolls back into the living room with three beers in hand. He always has two beers to start with. He says since the first one gets gone so quick he might as well grab a second bottle of brew, saving himself a trip to the kitchen. He slips in under Jules’ feet on the opposite side of the sofa and offers me a beer, but I decline. He raises his eyebrow in challenge, and then nods down at Jules to remind me she’s sleeping and I’m not going to be kissing her anytime soon.
Sighing, I damn the gluten and take the beer Stryker offers. I screw off the metal top and begin greedily knocking back half its contents in one swallow. Damn, that tastes outstandingly sinful. I’ve missed a cold beer, especially on a hot summer’s night. Pulling the bottle away from my lips, I hear Stryker unabashedly chuckling at me.
