Now and Forever

A McIntyre Security Short Story

by

April Wilson

Copyright © 2020 April E. Barnswell/Wilson Publishing LLC

All rights reserved.Cover Design © 2020 April E Barnswell

Published by

April E. BarnswellWilson Publishing LLC

P.O. Box 292913Dayton, OH 45429

www.aprilwilsonauthor.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

copied, shared, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the priorwritten permission of the author. The only exception is brief quotations to be

used in book reviews. Please don’t steal e-books.This novel is entirely a work of fiction. All places and locations are used

fictitiously. The names of characters and places are figments of the author’simagination, and any resemblance to real people or real places is purely

coincidental and unintended.

Dedication

For Erin, for surviving a horrific ordealFor Mack, for not letting her give up

Books by April Wilson

McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series:VulnerableFearless

Shane – a novellaBroken

ShatteredImperfectRuined

HostageRedeemed

Marry Me – a novellaSnowbound – a novella

RegretWith This Ring – a novella

(with more coming…)

A Tyler Jamison Novel:Somebody to Love

(with more coming…)

ContentsNow and Forever

A McIntyre Security Short Story

Dedication

Books by April Wilson

Now and Forever

Books by April Wilson

Now and Forever

Erin O’Connor

Sometimes I dream that I’m trapped in the darkness. That I’m suffocating.There’s something here with me, a monster, just out of sight. Each time I’mparalyzed with fear until I’m finally able to wake up. Inevitably, I jump out ofbed, frantic, panicking, spinning in circles and completely disoriented. Myheart thunders and my lungs burn. It’s my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in,only I can’t find anything to fight.

And then a half-second later, Mack is there beside me, pulling me into hisarms, talking me down from the ledge in his low, steady voice.

“Are you all right?” he says quietly in the dead of night.“Yes.”“Did you remember something?”“Nothing specific. It’s just a feeling of dread.”My therapist told me memories from the night I was assaulted might

return. The truth is, I don’t want them to. I don’t want to remember anythingthat happened that night. We don’t know if I was conscious or not for any ofit. My mind could be blocking the memories on purpose, as a way ofprotecting me, or maybe I really don’t know what happened. Maybe I’llnever know.

“Come back to bed, honey,” he says, steering me back to our bed.And then Mack holds me to his chest and rocks me while I cry myself

back to sleep.I lost something precious six months ago, on New Year’s Eve, and I’m

afraid I’ll never get it back.

* * *

As my brain slowly comes back online, I stretch and moan. It’s Saturday,so we didn’t bother setting an alarm. Still, it’s just after seven a.m. So muchfor sleeping in.

Mack shifts beside me, pulling me close and tucking me into his side.“Good morning.” His voice is even deeper, rougher than usual this early inthe morning, before he’s fully awake.

“Good morning.”Echoes of my nightmare reverberate in my head. They’re hard to shake. I

used to have nightmares every night, but now I only have them a coupletimes a week. My therapist says I’m getting better, but it doesn’t feel thatway to me. It feels like there’s a monster lurking in my subconscious justwaiting to strike.

I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry I woke you in the night.”Mack presses his lips to the back of my head. “Don’t ever apologize to

me, honey. I’m here for you, however you need me.”I roll over to face Mack and place a kiss in the center of his chest. He’s my

lifeline. I don’t think I would have survived the assault without him.Over his shoulder, I get a glimpse out our bedroom window. The sun is

shining through the sheer curtains, and I can see a sliver of bright blue sky.“It’s nice out,” I say. This is quite an improvement after the past three days ofrain.

“What would you like to do today?” he says.“Something outside.” It’s mid-June, almost summer, and after a very wet

spring, I’m ready to go out and enjoy some nice weather for a change.“Your wish is my command,” he says, rising into a sitting position. “Why

don’t we go out for breakfast?”

“That sounds wonderful. I want blueberry pancakes with whipped cream.”He laughs. “I think that’s doable.”After we dress and get ready to go out, we decide to walk to a local

restaurant that is known for their breakfast. After a short wait, we’re seatedoutside at a sidewalk table for two behind a wrought-iron fence. It’s a lovelysetting with a white tablecloth draped over our bistro table and a glass vase offresh flowers on our table. We’re surrounded by shrubbery and pottedflowers.

Our server arrives to fill our water glasses and take our orders.“I’ll have blueberry pancakes with whipped cream, hash browns, and a

cup of English Breakfast tea,” I say. “Thank you.”“I’ll have the breakfast special,” Mack says. “With black coffee.”After our server leaves, we sit quietly for a few moments, soaking up the

sunshine and fresh air, watching pedestrians strolling by with their kids,babies in strollers, and dogs. They all seem so happy. I’m suddenly struckwith melancholy as I wonder if I’ll ever have any of those things. Sometimesit feels like my future was stolen from me.

Our server brings our food, and as we eat, I notice Mack watching me.He’s trying not to be obvious, but I can tell he’s worried.

He reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth to kiss. “If there wasanything I could do to take that sadness from your eyes, I would. I wouldgladly bear it for you.”

I squeeze his hand. “You’ve already done so much for me. I—”I freeze when I hear a tiny, breathy, plaintive cry coming from the bushes

behind us. I straighten in my seat. “Did you hear that?”Mack nods.We sit silently, listening. And then it comes again, such a sad and pathetic

cry, so faint it’s barely audible over the chatter of other diners. We both turn

to look at the shrubs behind us. When I hear the sound once more, I shoot upout of my chair and kneel down on the patio to peer beneath the bushes.

“Careful, Erin.” Mack crouches down beside me. “Here, let me.”I lean down, my ear almost touching the ground so I can look beneath the

dense shrubbery. There, huddled against the brick building, is a tiny,shivering ball of fur. “It’s a kitten!”

I’m shocked. How in the world did a kitten get here? It can’t be more thana few weeks old, if that. I search the shrubbery for more kittens, and for themother, but it’s completely alone.

“Come here, you,” I say, reaching for the kitten. I wrap my fingerssecurely around its emaciated little body and pull it out from beneath thebushes.

I return to my seat and cradle the kitten in my arms. It lies weakly in mygrasp, occasionally lifting its head and opening its mouth. Only sometimesdoes a breathy cry come out. Its body is thin, its fur greasy and matted. It’smostly white, but I see a few patches of orange and gray. “She’s a calico.”

“How do you know it’s a she?”“Most calicos are females.” My heart breaks in two as I gaze up at Mack.

“It can’t be more than a few weeks old, and it’s starving.”As I gently stroke the tiny creature with the tip of my finger, I detect a

faint little purr. The kitten nestles against my chest and closes her eyes beforegoing limp in my arms.

I can barely see through my tears. “What is a kitten doing here on thesidewalk? All alone?”

Mack stands. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.” He disappears inside therestaurant. A few minutes later, he returns. “I talked to the hostess. She saidthere was a stray cat who had kittens a few weeks ago in the alley just aroundthe corner. One of their customers took the mother cat and her kittens to a

shelter. They must have missed this one.”“Do they know how to contact the woman who took them? Or the name of

the shelter? This kitten needs to be reunited with her mother.”Mack shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. They have no contact information

on the woman who rescued the cat or the shelter they were taken to.”“Mack, this kitten is dying. It’s surely dehydrated. It’s been without food

for a couple of days, and it’s cold.”Mack studies me, frowning as his gaze goes from my face to the kitten and

back again. “Tell me what you want to do,” he says.“I can’t let this kitten die. We can at least take it to a veterinarian.”He studies the kitten, which lies completely still in my arms. Its breathing

is shallow, and it’s just skin and bones. “Honey,” he says, frowning as hebrushes back my hair. “It may already be too late.”

“I have to try, Mack. Please.”He stands, nodding. “I paid our tab when I went inside to talk to the

hostess. Let’s go.”He pulls my chair back and helps me stand, his hand on my elbow as we

head for his SUV. He opens the front passenger door and motions for me toslide in. While I hold the kitten, Mack helps me put on my seat belt before hewalks around to the driver’s door and climbs in.

Mack locates the nearest veterinarian office, which is just ten minutesaway, and plugs the address into his GPS.

“Hang in there, baby,” I whisper to the frail little creature in my arms.“Please. Just a little while longer.”

Mack frowns. “Erin.”“Please don’t.” I know what he’s about to say—that the kitten is probably

too far gone to save. “Please.”“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up only to be broken-hearted.”

I lift her up to my face and brush my cheek against her fur. “Hang in there,baby, please.”

* * *

When we walk into the animal clinic, my heart is in my throat, and I can’tspeak. The kitten lies weakly in the crook of my arm, not moving, and I haveto face the facts. It’s malnourished, dehydrated, and cold… all the things akitten should never be.

Mack looks down at me, his expression hesitant. I think he’s expecting meto say something, but I just can’t form words past the painful lump in mythroat.

He turns to the woman behind the counter, not missing a beat. “We founda stray kitten. It needs help.”

The assistant—Laurel, according to her nametag—looks at the kitten for amoment before getting up from her chair and coming around to get a closerlook. She gently touches the kitten, which doesn’t stir. When her gaze meetsmine, it’s very apologetic. “Wait here, please. I’ll be right back.” And thenshe heads through a door into the back of the clinic.

Frowning, Mack turns to face me. “Erin.”My eyes sting as tears form. “Please don’t say it.”His expression falls as he studies me. Then he pulls me into his arms,

careful not to crush the kitten nestled between us. “I’m sorry, honey. But youhave to be prepared for the possibility that it can’t be saved.”

I press my face into his shirt, taking solace from his presence, from hisscent, and from the shelter he provides simply by being here.

The door opens, and Laurel returns. “Let’s have you go into room two. Dr.Blake said she’d take a look at it.”

I nod in gratitude as Mack steers me toward the examining room. We stepinside, and Laurel places a soft towel on the examining table. “She’ll be rightin,” she says, and then she leaves us, closing the door quietly on her way out.

Inside the small examination room is a counter, a computer on a rollingcart, a sink, and a supply cabinet. Mack sits me down on one of two plasticchairs placed against one wall. I expect him to sit, too, but he paces instead.But I don’t think it’s the kitten he’s worried about. It’s me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice choked. “I know this isn’t how you expectedto spend your day.”

“Hey.” He sits in the chair next to mine and turns to face me. His thumbsare warm as they brush away my tears. “You have absolutely nothing toapologize for, Erin. If something is important to you, then it’s important tome.”

I give a watery laugh. “You don’t even like cats.” He’s told me more thanonce before that he’s more of a dog person.

He smiles. “I don’t dislike them. But that’s beside the point. This isn’tabout me. It’s about you—and that kitten matters to you. Therefore, it mattersto me.”

A young man with short pink hair and lots of tattoos comes into the room.“I’m Nick. I’m a vet tech.” Nick holds his hands out, and I hand him thekitten.

“It’s alive,” I tell him, trying to sound optimistic.Nick turns the kitten over to look at its underside. “She’s alive,” he says.“I figured it was, since it’s a calico.”He nods soberly. Then he lays the kitten on a baby scale that’s sitting out

on the counter. “Six ounces,” he says, frowning. “She’s severelyunderweight.”

Nick hands the kitten back to me and enters some data into the computer.

The door opens, and a woman with short blonde hair walks in. “I’m Dr.Blake,” she says, giving both me and Mack a smile and a nod before her gazelocks on the kitten. She’s holding a small cardboard box with a gray handtowel in it.

Nick takes the kitten from me and wraps it in the towel before laying it inthe box.

“There’s a hot water bottle in the box,” she says, “to keep the kitten warm.Two of the most important things kittens need is food and warmth.” Then sheproceeds to examine the kitten, checking her eyes, ears, mouth, fur, and belly.“Based on her teeth, I estimate she’s about three weeks old. She’s clearlydehydrated and malnourished. I can give her fluids now to address thedehydration, and if she takes to drinking kitten formula through a bottle, thatwill take care of the malnutrition. She needs to be kept warm and fed everytwo to three hours until she regains her strength. The next twenty-four hourswill be very telling. If she takes a bottle, then she should pull through.”

“What are her chances?” Mack says.Dr. Blake frowns. “To be honest, I’d say fifty-fifty at this point. She’s

very weak and severely malnourished. If she won’t take the formula, there’snot much we can do for her.”

I stare down at the tiny face peeking out from the hand towel. She has asweet, round face with a blaze of white down the center of her head. On thesides of her forehead are splotches of soft orange and muted black. Her fur isfilthy and matted.

“Fostering a kitten this young is a lot of work,” the vet says as she eyes

me. Her gaze goes from me to Mack and back to me. “She’ll need around-the-clock care and supervision. But if you can get her through the next fewdays, she should be fine. Honestly, the next twenty-four hours will be critical.Getting her to drink the formula will be your biggest challenge. The rest iseasy. I have a brochure for you that spells out what you’ll need to do for her.”

Mack lays his arm across my shoulders and pulls me close. “Where do weget the formula and the bottles?”

* * *

Mack Donovan

Erin’s quiet on the drive home from the pet shop, where I picked upeverything on the list of supplies provided by Dr. Blake. Erin waited in theSUV with the kitten, who is nestled in her heated box.

Erin hasn’t said much since we arrived at the veterinarian’s office, and I’mworried.

We pull into the underground parking garage at our apartment building,and I shut off the engine. Then I turn in my seat to face her, taking her hand

in mine. “Talk to me, honey.”Her blue eyes meet my gaze head on. “I’m worried.”“That the kitten won’t survive?”She nods. “Yes. But I’m also worried that you don’t want to do this. It’s

going to be a lot of work, and I’m afraid you’re just doing this for me.”I smile. “I am doing this for you.” I squeeze her hand. “But that’s okay.

I’d do anything for you, honey. Kitten sitting is nothing.”She smiles.“We have the rest of the weekend ahead of us, Erin. We’ll devote

ourselves to making sure this kitten survives until Monday. If we’resuccessful, then she’s sure to make it. We’ll just take it one hour at a time.”

“She needs to nurse every few hours.”I nod. “We’ll take shifts. It’ll be fine, I promise.”“Thank you, Mack, for being willing to do this with me.” She swallows

hard. “Once we get her weaned, I’ll find her a good home, I promise.”Erin carries the cardboard box holding our little foster baby inside, while I

carry all the supplies we bought: kitten formula, bottles, the smallest litterbox we could find, and kitty litter. I have a heating pad and blankets we canuse.

We end up putting the kitten in our bedroom, so we can monitor herduring the night. I cordon off a corner of the room with boxes to create a safekitten-proof area. We plug in the heating pad, set to low, and place a softblanket on it. We lay another blanket down beside the heating pad. Then I setup the kitten litter box. While I’m doing all that, Erin makes up a bottle ofkitten formula.

When the bottle is ready, we kick off our shoes and climb into bed. Erinand I sit with our backs propped against the headboard. She lays the kitten inher lap and nudges it awake. The kitten blinks her pale blue eyes and looks

around.“Please drink this,” Erin whispers as she gently touches the bottle’s nipple

to the kitten’s mouth.A few drops of the formula leak out, wetting the furry little mouth and

pale, pink lips, but the kitten doesn’t respond. “Please,” Erin says, trying tocoax the kitten to latch onto the nipple. “You have to try.”

My stomach sinks when the kitten doesn’t respond and instead closes itseyes and falls back to sleep. Shit. This isn’t going to easy. Shit. If this kittendies, Erin’s going to be heartbroken.

But failure is not an option.“Let me try,” I say, taking the bottle from her. I transfer the kitten to my

lap and touch the nipple to her mouth. A few drops of formula leak out,wetting the kitten’s lips. I feel a sense of calm urgency. This is my mission.To make sure this little thing survives. “Come on, sleeping beauty, wake upand drink.”

Half an hour later, we still haven’t made any headway. Erin’s cheeks arewet with silent tears, and her sorrow is wracking me. I’m not going to let thiskitten die on us.

I start massaging the kitten, gently stroking her face, her body, her back.She wakes, squirming and opening her mouth to complain at the disruption toher nap. No sound comes out of her mouth, but I can tell she’s annoyed at theinterruption.

“You have to eat,” I tell the kitten. “Then you can take a nice, cozy nap inyour heated bed. But first, lunch.”

The next time the kitten opens her mouth to let out a breathy, inaudiblecry, I let a single drop of formula fall onto her tiny pink tongue. She smacksher lips. Then I slip the nipple into her mouth, letting a few more drops fallonto her tongue. More lip smacking.

“I think she’s getting the picture,” I say.Erin gently strokes the kitten’s face. “There you go, little sweetie. Drink

your milk. Please.”It takes some doing, but over the next half hour we manage to get half the

bottle of formula into her before she conks out for another nap.“Do you think that was enough?” Erin says.“It’s a hell of a lot more than she was getting before, so I’d say yes. It’s a

start. Let’s let her rest for a couple of hours, and then we’ll feed her again.The calories and fluid should help her recover.”

We put the kitten on the heated blanket. Erin grabs her stuffed kitty andlays it beside the kitten so she has something to cuddle up to when she wakesup. It’s not the same as having one of her litter mates with her, but it will doin a pinch.

“She’ll need to pee eventually,” Erin says as she surveys our make-shiftnursery.

“We’ll show her the litter box when she wakes up. What now?” I ask.From her perch on the side of the bed, Erin watches the kitten sleep. “I

think I’ll just sit here and watch her in case she needs something.”I grab my phone. “I’ll set a timer for two hours.” Then I pull Erin down

beside me on the mattress, and we spoon. “I think you could use a nap too.”Before long, emotionally drained, Erin falls asleep in my arms.

* * *

The next feeding goes a lot better. The kitten actually empties the entirebottle without too much fuss, leaving Erin in tears. At least this time she’sshedding tears of joy. I figure at this point, with one and a half bottles offormula into the kitten, we’re out of the woods. Thank God. I can’t deal with

the thought of Erin’s heart being broken.After the kitten finishes eating, Erin puts her in the litter box. After IV

fluids and all that formula, the kitten should need to pee.“Here you go,” Erin says, scratching in the litter as the kitten struggles to

walk on the shifting sand. “You pee here.”It takes some doing, but finally the little kitten squats, leaving a wet spot

about the size of a quarter behind. Erin picks her up and kisses her forehead.“You did it! What a good girl!”

While Erin’s happily kitten sitting, I go make us some lunch. There’ssome lasagna in the fridge, left over from our dinner last night. I make somequick garlic bread and two salads, and then I carry everything into thebedroom on a large tray.

“Lunch is served,” I tell her.Erin’s sitting on our bed, her back against the headboard, and the kitten is

asleep in the crook of her arm. She glances up at me with a blindinglybeautiful smile, unshed tears glittering like tiny diamonds in her blue eyes. “Ithink she’s going to be okay.”

As I set the lunch tray down on the bed, two things are clear to me at thispoint.

One, the kitten is going to survive.And two, we now have a cat.There’s no way Erin is going to give up this kitten when it’s weaned. Not

without her heart breaking.And I won’t let that happen.

* * *

Erin O’Connor

While Mack sits on the sofa in the living room, feeding the kitten her thirdbottle of the day, I clean up the kitchen. It’s evening now, and we’reexpecting a couple of friends over to watch a Cubs baseball game on TV. Orrather Mack is. He’s the baseball nut.

He offered to cancel, but I insisted he have his friends over to watch thegame. After all, he’s bending over backward to accommodate me when itcomes to the kitten.

I already placed an order for hot wings and pizza, and we’re stocked up onbeer.

I hear a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” I say, crossing the living room as Ihead for the door.

The guys are here… Mack’s baseball-watching buddies—Liam McIntyreand Phillip Harrington. They certainly didn’t have to come far as they live inour building, as many employees of McIntyre Security do.

“Hey, guys!” Mack says as they file into our apartment. “Glad you couldmake it.”

As usual, the guys didn’t come empty-handed. They’re each holding acarton of bottled beer and a bag of snacks.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Phillip says as he eyes Mack feeding thekitten her bottle.

Mack nods to the tiny ball of colorful fur nestled against his chest. “Whatdoes it look like? I’m bottle-feeding a kitten.”

“We’re fostering her,” I say. “We found her this morning on the sidewalkoutside a café. She’d been accidentally abandoned.”

The guys come closer to take a look, both of them staring down at thekitten.

I gave her a sponge bath earlier this afternoon, in between her naps, andshe looks much better now. Her white fur is actually white again, and her soft

orange and black spots shine. She’s still a skinny, pathetic little thing, though.No bath is going to miraculously change that. Only food, warmth, rest, andaffection will pull her out of her downward spiral.

The guys give me a hug as they head to the kitchen to deposit their partyofferings on the table. There’s enough beer in our kitchen right now to satisfyan army. It’s a good thing everyone lives here in the building. They can drinkwithout worrying about having to drive home.

When the game starts, Liam takes a seat on the sofa, and Phillipcommandeers one of the two recliners. I bring bowls of chips and pretzelsinto the living room and set them on the coffee table. Just as I’m about tosneak away to my reading room while the guys do their male-bonding thing,there’s a knock at our door.

“Are you expecting anyone else?” I ask Mack.“No.”I rise up on my toes to take a look through the peep hole, and I’m

surprised to see Haley Donovan, Mack’s seventeen-year-old daughter. I openthe door. “Haley, come in!”

Haley steps inside, breathless and excited. “I heard you have a kitten.”Smiling, I nod toward her father. “Your dad is on bottle duty right now.”Haley’s brown eyes widen. “Oh my God, it’s so small!” She crosses the

room to sit on the sofa arm beside her dad so she can get a good look at thekitten. “Does she have a name yet?”

“No, no name,” I say. “We’re not keeping her.” As much as I want to keepthe kitten, I know it wouldn’t be fair to put Mack on the spot like that.“We’re just fostering her until she’s old enough to go to her forever home.”

I stand behind the sofa and peek over Mack’s shoulder. The kitten has justfinished her bottle and her eyelids are half-closed. “Here, I’ll take her to herbed,” I say as I reach for the kitten. “It’s nap time.”

Mack hands the kitten to me, and Haley follows me to the bedroom.She closes the bedroom door behind us. “How can you not want to keep

that adorable little fluffball?”Sighing, I sit on the bed and cradle the sleepy kitten in my lap, stroking

her soft fur. “I can’t keep her. Your dad’s not really a cat person. It wouldn’tbe fair to him.”

Haley sits beside me and gently runs her fingers through the kitten’s fur. “Ican’t imagine anyone not wanting her. She’s so tiny. How old is she?”

“About three weeks.”“Can I hold her?”“Sure.” I carefully transfer the kitten to Haley’s hands.Haley lifts the kitten to her face and places a kiss on the top of her head.

“I’ve always wanted a cat.”“Why don’t you have one?”“My step-dad is terribly allergic to cats. His face blows up like a balloon if

he’s in the same room with one.”“I’m sorry.”Haley shrugs. “We have two dogs, and I do love them, but it’s not the

same thing. Someday, when I have a place of my own, I’m getting kitties.”“Let’s let her go potty before she passes out.” I take the kitten from Haley

and set her down in the litter box. She stumbles around before finding just theright spot. When she’s done, I pick her up and set her on her warm bed, rightnext to the stuffed kitty.

Haley shakes her head. “I don’t know how you can stand to give heraway.”

My heart hurts, but I force myself to smile. “When you’re in arelationship, you have to compromise. You have to make sacrifices.”

“Not me,” Haley says, shaking her head adamantly. “I’d rather have a

kitten than a boyfriend.”“Hey, are you hungry? How about some pizza?”She nods. “Actually, I’m starved.”When we walk into the kitchen, Phillip is loading a plate with pizza and

chicken wings. He turns as we enter, his eyes locking on Haley.“Haley, have you met Phillip?” I say.Haley’s lips turn up in a self-conscious smile. “No.”“Phillip is a bodyguard for McIntyre Security. Phillip, this is Haley

Donovan, Mack’s daughter.”Phillip wipes his hand on a napkin before extending it toward Haley. “It’s

a pleasure to meet you, Haley,” he says as he shakes her hand.Mack walks into the kitchen. When he sees Phillip and Haley holding

hands, he jabs Phillip with his elbow. “Hurry up, pal. You’re missing thegame.”

Blushing, Haley releases Phillip’s hand. Phillip gives her a parting smile,grabs his food, and then he’s gone.

Haley picks up a plate and loads it with two slices of pizza.“Where do you think you’re going?” Mack asks her as she heads toward

the living room.“To watch the game,” she says, her cheeks a bit flushed.“Since when do you like baseball?” he says.Haley grins. “Since now.” And then she’s out the kitchen door.Mack gives me a pained look as he shakes his head. “She’s seventeen

years old.”“She’s a beautiful girl, Mack. You can’t blame Phillip for noticing her.”“Oh, yes I can. She’s underaged. End of story.” Mack grabs a beer out of

the fridge and heads back to the living room.I stand in the kitchen doorway to observe. Haley’s sitting on the floor

eating her pizza and pretending to watch the game. Phillip’s gaze darts fromthe TV to Haley and back again. And Mack’s fuming.

I have to bite my lip not to smile.

* * *

The baseball game is over and all our friends have gone. Haley’s step-dad,Dave, came to pick her up. I’m sitting at the kitchen table giving the kitten abottle while Mack cleans up.

“She’s only seventeen years old, for God’s sake,” he grumbles as hecollects the last of the trash. “She’s still in high school. He knows better thanto encourage her.”

“How old is Phillip? About twenty-four?”“Yes. And that means he’s too old for her.”“She’s almost an adult, you know.”“Oh hell, no.” Mack wipes his hands on a kitchen towel. “My daughter is

off-limits to those yahoos.”I laugh at the scowl on his face.“It’s not funny. I’m serious.”“I know you are,” I say, biting back a smile. “I’m sorry I laughed.”Mack stands behind my chair and studies the kitten over my shoulder.

She’s just finishing her bottle. He reaches down to gently stroke the top ofher head. “She’s doing really well. To be honest, I wasn’t sure she was goingto make it. But I’m glad I was wrong.”

In just three or four weeks, she’ll be able to eat solid food, and the thoughtbrings a lump to my throat. It’s going to hurt so badly to give her up.

As the kitten finishes the last of her bottle, Mack scoops her up in hishands and holds her to his chest. Then he takes my hand. “It’s late. Let’s put

her to bed and relax for a while.”Back in our room, Mack puts the kitten in the litter box and waits patiently

for her to do her business. Once she’s done, he picks her up, brushes theloose litter off her paws, and lays her in her warm bed.

We both head to the bathroom to brush our teeth and get ready for bed.Mack sleeps in a pair of black boxer-briefs, and I pull on a short nightgown.

As I climb into bed, Mack turns on the closet light and leaves the dooropen just a crack, letting enough light into the bedroom to alleviate thedarkness.

After he joins me in bed, he sets a timer for three hours. “I’ll give her thenext bottle,” he says. “I want you to get some sleep.” He pulls me into hisarms, tucking me close to his body. “You’ve had a very busy day, and you’reexhausted.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, but then I ruin it by yawning.He laughs. “I told you.”Turning to face him, I slip my arm around him and stroke his back. “I

forgot to ask… who won the game?”“We did. The Cubs.”“Congratulations.”“Thank you.”He dips his head down to kiss my forehead, his warm lips pressing against

my skin. It’s sort of a ritual we’ve developed. He never initiates sex. Healways waits for me to make an overture, or he asks with a single kiss. Iknow it’s because of what happened to me. He’s afraid of pressuring me sohe kisses my forehead, and what I do next determines his next move.

As my heart swells with love for this man, I press my face to his warm,bare chest and breathe in his scent. I press a kiss right over his heart. Then Itip my head up to press a kiss to his throat. His pulse beats hard beneath my

lips.His arms tighten around me as he groans. “You sure?”My smile only deepens. “Yes.”He kisses me on the lips before sitting up. “How about if we remove this?”He reaches for the hem of my nightgown and eases it up my body. I sit up

too, and he gently lifts it off me and lays it aside.He cups one of my breasts and tenderly molds it in his hand. His gaze is

hot on me when he says, “You are so beautiful.”There was a time, right after the assault, when I never thought I could have

this. I thought I’d never be able to trust a man again. But Mack has provenme wrong, time and time again.

“Hey,” he says quietly, when tears spring into my eyes. “It’s okay.Whatever you’re feeling, it’s always okay.”

I wipe my damp cheeks.“We don’t have to,” he says, lying back down and pulling me into his

arms. “Just let me hold you.”But he’s mistaking the source of my tears.“I’m not afraid,” I tell him, as I raise up onto my knees. “I’m just

overwhelmed by how much you mean to me.” Throwing caution to the wind,I take a deep breath and straddle his hips. “You give me the courage to try tobe the woman I wish I was.”

Mack tenses, his eyes widening as he grips my waist. “Erin.”“It’s okay. I want to.”We’ve forgone the use of condoms since I went on the pill, so there’s

nothing between us now. I rise up on my knees, straddling his hips, and reachfor his erection, positioning it to my opening. His hands tighten on my waistand he swallows hard as I lower myself enough that he’s touching me.

He groans, the sound low and harsh, as I press down onto him. As the

thick head of his cock pushes inside me, we both gasp.His hands slide down to my hips, his long fingers flexing on me as he

struggles not to take control away from me.He sucks in a deep breath. “You’re killing me, baby.”Encouraged by his response, I lift up and sink down again, this time

sending his erection deeper inside me. I’m already soft and wet, my bodymore than ready to accept his.

When I sink down even lower, his chest rises and he blows out a long,shaky breath. I can feel him inside me, thick, his flesh hot and throbbing. Ireach for his hands, and we link our fingers together.

I raise myself and lower once more, sinking much farther down on himthis time. I cry out as he fills me, my body stretching to accommodate him.

“Take your time,” he mutters, his teeth gritted.He’s so slick now with my arousal that it’s much easier to move on him. I

raise myself and sink down, and we both groan. My body ripples withpleasure from the feel of him inside me, filling me. Still holding his hands,our fingers linked tightly, I start to move on him. I’ve only done this a coupleof times so far, with mixed results. But this time I want it to be perfect.

As I move faster, his gaze locks onto my breasts. The scars from theassault are still visible, although they have faded a bit. Still, I’m very self-conscious of them, all over my body, and it’s all I can do to force myself toignore them.

As I move more easily on his shaft, his nostrils flare and his arm musclestighten, the tendons flexing beneath his skin. I rock myself on him, ridinghim, sinking down further each time until my sex is flush with his. I close myeyes and lose myself in the rhythm, in the slick heat and the friction. Hishands come up to cup my breasts, and he teases my nipples until they becomestiff little points of exquisite pleasure.

Pleasure blooms inside me, growing with each thrust. I angle myself sothat his erection strokes me in just the right spot. My belly and thigh musclestighten as I chase after my orgasm.

“God, baby, yes,” he groans as he throws his head back into his pillow.The tendons in his neck pull taut, and he grits his teeth as pleasure swampshim. He squeezes my hands. “That’s it, honey, come on me.”

I rock on him, relentlessly chasing my pleasure. When my body detonates,I cry out, the sound high and breathy. My body tightens on his shaft,squeezing his throbbing length. When my climax wanes, he sits up, holdingme tenderly to his body, and he rolls us so that he’s on top. I wrap my armsaround his torso and dig my nails into his back as he thrusts once, twice, andthen he comes in a hot rush, filling me.

He’s careful not to rest his weight on me. Instead, he plants his hands onthe mattress, one of each side of me, supporting his weight as he gentlythrusts in and out, milking the last of his orgasm.

Finally, he pulls out gently and sinks down beside me. He pulls me intohis arms as his lips settle on mine. “Okay?” he murmurs between soft kisses.

“Mmhmm.” Exhaustion weighs me down, and I sigh into his embrace, mybody content and replete. I can’t keep my eyes open another second. “I loveyou.”

He draws me closer. “I love you, too. Now and forever.”

* * *

Mack Donovan

I’m a light sleeper. It’s a leftover from my days in the military. When myphone vibrates to let me know it’s been three hours, I wake instantly and take

half a second to orient myself. It’s time to feed the kitten.Erin is plastered to my body, so I take a moment to carefully extricate

myself from her hold without waking her up. God knows she needs her sleep.Once I’m up, I peek in on the kitten. She’s awake, staring up at me with

big blue eyes. I pick her up and set her in the litter box a moment for her todo her business. Then I pick her up, tuck her close to my chest, and head forthe kitchen to make up her bottle.

The kitten starts mewling as I heat her formula. When it’s ready, I test thetemperature of the milk on the inside of my wrist, the way Erin showed me.

The kitten digs her sharp little claws into my forearm as she tries to get tothe bottle.

“Hang on, kitten,” I say.I don’t want to risk waking Erin, so I take a seat on the sofa in the living

room, get comfortable, and give the kitten her bottle. She latches on with astrong grip and starts sucking.

“You need a name, don’t you?” I say. “We can’t keep calling you kitten.”I know Erin wants to keep this kitten. I’ve seen the way she looks at her.

I’ve seen her eyes tear up before she turns her face away.As I stare down at this little helpless fluffball, I have to admit she’s

awfully cute. Her little paws clutch the bottle as she nurses, tiny translucentclaws extending and contracting.

Really, how much trouble can one little kitten be?We’ll have to bring her with us to the bookstore during the week, of

course, while she’s still being bottled fed. I figure we can make up a little penfor her in Beth’s office. We’ll have to get another heating pad, a litter box,and some more blankets. I’m sure the girls will be happy to take turns feedingthe kitten. Sam, too. I’m sure Luke will get a kick out of having a kitten at thebookstore.

I hear a muffled sound coming from the hallway. I look up just as Erinshuffles into the living room, her eyes blinking at the light. She put hernightgown back on.

“Did I wake you, honey?” I say. “I’m sorry.”She shakes her head. “I had a nightmare.”I hold out my hand to her, and when she takes it, I pull her down beside

me on the sofa. She leans into me, laying her head on my shoulder as shewatches the kitten nurse. “Hey, little sweetie,” she says softly as she strokesthe kitten’s head. Erin smiles up at me. “She’s getting stronger.”

“You want to keep her, don’t you?” I say.Erin tenses. “I didn’t say that.”“You don’t have to. I know you want her.”She shakes her head. “It’s okay. We’ve never talked about pets. It

wouldn’t be fair to spring this on you, and I don’t expect you to—”“Erin.”“Yes?”“Ask me.”“Ask you what?”“Ask me if I want to keep her. You haven’t asked me that.”She turns to me with wide, hopeful eyes. “Do you want to keep her?”I lean close to kiss her. “I do.”She frowns. “But you’d just be doing it for my sake. Not because you

really want to.”“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. So yeah, I want us to keep

her.”The kitten has finished her bottle, so I hand her to Erin, whose big blue

eyes are glittering with tears. She nuzzles the kitten. “Did you hear that, littlekitten? We’re keeping you.”

“She needs a proper name, though. We can’t keep calling her kitten.”Erin smiles. “Lizzie. I want to call her Lizzie.”I laugh. “That was fast.” I feel like there’s a significance to that name and

that I should know what it is.“After Lizzie Bennet in Pride and Prejudice,” she says, reading me so

easily.“Ah, yes. Jane Austen. Of course.”I rise from the sofa and scoop both Erin and Lizzie into my arms. “Back to

bed. You need your sleep.”After settling the kitten in her pen, we slip beneath the covers. I set

another timer for three hours.“I’ll take the next feeding,” Erin says, yawning.“Oh, no you won’t. You need to sleep. I’ll do the nighttime feedings.”“But that’s not fair. It should be a team effort.”I kiss the back of her head as I spoon against her. “It is a team effort. You

get to clean the litter box tomorrow. Now go to sleep.”She reaches for my hand. “Mack?”“Yes?”“Thank you.”“You’re welcome.”

The end for now…Stay tuned for more of Mack and Erin’s journey.

That’s it for now…

I hope you’ll come back for more of Erin and Mack’s journey.

Books by April Wilson

McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series:VulnerableFearless

Shane – a novellaBroken

ShatteredImperfectRuined

HostageRedeemed

Marry Me – a novellaSnowbound – a novella

RegretWith This Ring – a novella

(with more coming…)

A Tyler Jamison Novel:Somebody to Love

(with more coming…)