I make a promise to myself to get back to Jade as fast as I can and in one piece. Before I walk out the door, I take a slight detour into the kitchen. There isn’t enough time to brew a pot of coffee, plus it’ll wake up Jade. My woman likes her coffee, and at the slightest smell of it brewing, it’ll have her up for the day. It’s bad enough I’m awake; her being up at nearly five o’clock in the morning is absolutely unnecessary. There’s a pad of paper and pen that she keeps on the counter to write a list for groceries or to doodle when she’s on the phone. It’s coming in handy for me today.
Sugar,
Got a callout. Didn’t want to wake you up, wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped around your body.
Promise I’ll be safe and I’m coming home to you, always.
Love,
Locke
I drop the pen, press a kiss to my fingers, and put it to the note. I’ve got to get going, and I do exactly that once I’ve got my boots on and the door opened. The only time I look back is to double check the front door is locked. The woman I love is inside, and keeping her safe and protected is my top fucking priority.
13
Jade
The blaring of my phone coming to life knocks me out of dreamland. It’s as loud and obnoxious as my alarm. I slap my hand on the thing, thinking I forgot to turn it off last night before crawling into bed. Only to remember I have it set to only go off on certain days of the week. Which means it’s someone calling me. I also have it set up that the only people who can get through to me are Locke, my brother, and my mom.
My hand slides across the mattress, meeting nothing but cool sheets. In no time at all, I’m sitting straight up, realization hitting all at once that Locke isn’t in bed with me and it’s not my alarm, it’s my phone going off. And while it stopped for a second, the ringing instantly picks back up. I crawl across the bed; I somehow managed to roll to Locke’s side at some point.
“Hello,” I answer groggily, never even glancing at the screen. My eyes blink in an attempt to get the sleepiness out of them and somewhat wake up. The red numbers on Locke’s alarm clock radio have my senses on high alert. Nobody calls at five thirty in the morning unless something’s wrong, like really freaking wrong.
“Honey, I’ve been trying to call you for the past twenty minutes,” Mom says with a tinge of worry.
“What’s wrong?” I prop the phone up with my shoulder and chin, kicking my feet to push the sheets down before I amblemyself out of the bed, taking the sheets with me. Apparently, I slept deep, hard, and like a tornado at some point.
“I’m on my way to pick you up. Can you be ready in ten minutes?” She doesn’t answer my question, which means it’s bad. It also means Mom obviously is okay. What it doesn’t tell me is what’s going on.
“I’m at Locke’s. What’s wrong, Mom?” I ask, trying to get to the bottom of who it could be.
“Meet me outside, ten minutes. I’m already walking to my car. Love you.” I don’t get an answer. I also don’t get to reply to her endearment.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I look down at my phone. The only notifications are the several missed calls from my mom; nothing from Locke and nothing from Jace. The gnawing worry has my stomach in knots, and tears threaten to cascade down my cheeks, but I have got to suck it up. Instead of dropping the phone on the bed, I keep it in my hand while I do everything. Getting dressed is easy. I throw a bra on, grab a tank top, and pull on a pair of leggings. I go into Locke’s closet, sliding through a few hangers until I land on what I’ve been looking for: a black hoodie, with white and gold lettering spelling Locke & Key Towing emblazoned on the back, with his name on the front upper left chest area. I pull the sweater to my nose and inhale his scent.
“Get it together. Brush your teeth, put on socks and shoes, grab your purse, and figure out what’s going on,” I tell myself. I’d only set my phone on the closet shelf to finish getting dressed, and when I look down at it again, willing it to do something, anything, it doesn’t.
My mind swirls with scenarios, and I have no control of spiraling down all of the what-ifs. Last night with Locke, there aren’t enough words to explain everything I felt. He may not have said the words, but he more than showed me he loves me inevery way possible. He’d taken control of the situation, putting plans into place, and doing more than he possibly knows. The plan to talk to Jace, the way he settled me down during my outburst of a tirade, and then the slow way he made love to me. Some may think that doing it against the wall is impersonal, rushed, and not at all treating a woman like they should.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. Our fingers were laced, my hands pressed to the wall by his, his chest against mine, my legs wrapped around his waist, and him holding my weight. Each solid plunge of Locke’s cock moving in and out of my pussy said more. Especially when his gray eyes stayed glued to mine through my orgasm and through his. It didn’t stop there. If anything, it was only the beginning. His cock was still hard after; each step he took to the master bedroom had me rocking my hips, and it wasn’t till he sat down on the bed, telling me to ride him, that I realized it was only the beginning.
Locke let me take over. He watched, he waited, and he played the entire time, his thumb pressing into my mouth for me to suck on before dragging it down my body and landing on my clit, his other hand cupping my breast, squeezing it hard enough to leave marks,his marks.
I kept at it, lifting up and dropping down, swiveling my hips, moving my hands to the tops of his thighs, arching my back, and when I came, it was long, it was explosive, and it didn’t come as a shock to me when Locke took over, hammering into my body before coming deep inside me. It also didn’t come as a surprise to me when he laid me on my back and slowly left my body, watching our combined cum leak from between my spread thighs, then thoroughly cleaned me before climbing into bed beside me.
I’m so lost in thought, I don’t remember finishing my tasks. I’m in a daze, going through the motions, and while I’m usually a coffee-before-anything morning type of person, the thought ofeating or drinking makes my stomach queasy. I slide my feet into a pair of shoes I keep near the door, not the ones I wear at the bar but a clog style. The beeping of the horn reminds me that the gate is closed, and I need to grab the extra remote Locke leaves on the small entry table.
“Shit,” I mutter, forgetting I need my purse and the keys to lock the house. I fumble with my things, nearly dropping half the shit I have in my hands, refusing to let go of my phone, which is dumb. I know it’s dumb. The person who called me, who hasn’t shared what’s going on, is waiting only two hundred feet away. I take a deep breath, hit the button on the remote, and when I hear the machine whir to life, I toss it in my big satchel. With one less thing in my hand, I’m able to close and lock the door. Still, I keep my phone in my hand, waiting for Locke to call or text me, and the longer I don’t hear from him, the more I worry.
“Mom, please tell me what’s going on.” I booked it from the front porch to her car once she pulled in. I’m barely inside when she puts the car inReverseand backs out.
“It’s Locke. He’s in the hospital. There’s was an accident. I don’t know the logistics, only that I saw on the news there was a big pile-up, Locke’s truck was struck, and when I called Vanessa, she told me he was heading into surgery. They were at the hospital and waiting for the doctor to give them an update.” Mom white-knuckles the steering wheel. I press the pretend gas pedal and stay completely silent. I don’t ask questions. I don’t cry. What I do is think about how much Locke means to me and how I haven’t said what I should have all along, what we both should have said. Fuck, this should not be happening, not to the greatest man I’ve ever known.
14
Locke
The beeping noise is the first thing I wake up to; the smell of antiseptic is the second, and it’s cluing me in on the fact that I’m in bed at the hospital.
