CHAPTER FIFTEEN MARSHALL
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARSHALL
I'd been furious most of the afternoon. The anger started low in my gut and burned through me, but I knew I had to let it go.
Instead, I'd kept watch on her place all afternoon after Brett had left, making sure he didn't return.
I'd wanted to follow him, find whatever hotel he was staying in, knock on the door and teach him a lesson.
I wanted to tell him that if he ever came within a hundred yards of Lillah again, he'd have me to answer to.
But I'd promised her, and I'd promised myself.
Lillah arrived a little before seven. I'd pulled out the lavender candle my mom had given me and lit it.
I wanted to make sure she felt warm and safe, but when I let her in, she was quieter than I'd ever seen her, which worried me.
She stood in the living room in leggings and one of my Enforcers sweatshirts that I'd left at her place, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.
Cooper stood beside her, on his leash, wagging his tail. She looked exhausted.
"Hey, have a seat." I said, dropping plates on the coffee table and two cans of soda.
She sat down, placing her bag beside the couch, and let Cooper off his leash. He flopped down in front of the couch and chewed on the toy I'd gotten for him.
"I'll get us some wine." I said, heading to the kitchen.
"No, soda is fine." She muttered, looking up at me.
She pulled her legs up under her and grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping herself in it. I sat down next to her and flipped open the pizza box, the smell of pepperoni filling the air.
"Before we dive in, I have something I want to say, and I want you to know I'm only going to say it once." I said, needing to get it off my chest.
"Okay."
"We never need to talk about things with Brett again, not about the past, or about today, but if you want to, I'm here for you."
She picked up her can of soda and opened it holding it with both hands. She stared at that can like she hoped it would tell me everything instead. Then she talked, slowly at first, then faster and faster, as if she couldn't hold things in any longer.
She told me everything she hadn't already. All about the beginning with Brett, how charming he'd been. How he'd always made her feel like she belonged.
"You already know about the abuse and the night he drove me away, but you don't know about the night I left."
I sat there, listening.
"Mila hated Brett, always had, and the feeling was mutual.
Now I know, his hate was more about control than anything else.
I called her while Brett was at a game, and we'd devised a plan.
That night I'd packed a bag while he watched TV, and once I knew he was asleep, I crept out of the bedroom and got in my car.
Mila told me to drive to her mother's house because that was the one place he'd never look for me.
Thanks to Mila calling her, her mom was waiting at the door in the middle of the night, and brought me in.
Mila had gotten a flight home the next day. "
"What happened then?" I questioned.
"Well, Mila was living in Boston, finishing her schooling, so when she arrived, she talked me into coming here.
I had nowhere else to go, so five days later, we left her mom's, and we drove all the way here.
I stayed with her a few months and worked for an interior design firm, gaining experience and saving my money.
I dumped a chunk of the savings I had from working in Texas to buy the house, and I started my business out of my living room. And now, after all of that, he's back."
She sat there staring at me, looking scared and broken.
I put my arm around her and pulled her into my chest. She didn't fight me.
She crumbled against me as if she'd been waiting for me to take her in my arms. She buried her face in my shoulder.
At first, I thought she was crying, but then I realized it was worse.
She was shaking, as if she were cold, which I figured was because of the stress she'd endured.
I pulled her against me, tighter, and let her shake.
"He will never touch you again. Not while I'm here. Not while I'm breathing." I said into her hair, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"That is what worries me. I don't want you to do anything that will ruin your career. He isn't worth that. Please promise me."
"I already did."
"No, Marshall, I mean it. If he comes back and starts with me, or if he tries to provoke you, please don't do anything.
Don't give him that kind of power. He will use it, and he will turn you into the aggressor and he will be the victim.
That is what he does and he's a master at it. " She said, her voice straining.
"I know, sweetie. I promise."
She sat there and then lifted her head and looked at me.
"Why are you like this?" she questioned.
"Like what?"
"Good. Genuinely good. You aren't looking for anything, nor are you putting on a show. You're good. Why?"
I thought for a few minutes about my upbringing and my parents, who had been married for thirty-one years.
I thought about the way my father looked at my mother each morning, like he couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten.
Then I thought about what I did, about the control and restraint I used during every game, and how I understood that power meant nothing if you couldn't choose when to use it.
"Well because the only other alternative I have is to be what your ex is, and I would rather die than treat anyone that way."
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.
"Come, let's have some food. You are probably starving."
"I am," she said, kissing me again.
We ate dinner and then we curled up together on the couch and watched one of Lillah's favorite shows.
"I love the smell of this candle." She said, when I came back from the washroom. "Where did you get it?"
"My mom threw it in one of the moving boxes."
"She has good taste. I think I like her." Lillah grinned as I curled in behind her again.
"She would love you. She would take one look at you and probably start planning the wedding and picking out baby names."
"Whoa, slow down there." Lillah laughed.
"Hey, she has been asking me every single time I talk to her if I've met anyone yet. Last week I made the mistake of mentioning you, and she spent almost an hour interrogating me."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her you are smart and stubborn. That you make better tortilla shells than I do and that your dog weighs more than our goalie."
"Stop! You did not say that about Cooper." She said, laughing.
Her laugh was music to my ears, and I pulled her closer to me kissing her. We watched the rest of the movie, and by the time the credits rolled, Lillah was looking more like herself. I'd gotten up to put the pizza away and when I came back she was sitting on the couch petting Cooper.
"Marshall."
"Yeah?"
"I've been thinking. I don't want to do this halfway. Whatever this is between us, I don't want to pretend it's casual when it isn't."
"It isn't casual, not for me, and it hasn't been that way for a while." I said, sitting down beside her.
"Okay, so what is it?"
"It's you and me together. Officially, exclusively. Whichever word you wish to use."
"How is boyfriend?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"What? Are we in high school?" I winked.
"Okay fine. Significant other, or partner, or better yet the guy who lives next door, who comes over on occasion and fucks me silly and can't stop thinking about me?"
I chuckled. "I think I will take the last one." I got up and pulled her to her feet. I cupped her cheeks with my hands and looked into her eyes, at the gold flecks in her brown eyes and at the small scar on her chin.
"I won't let anyone hurt you. Not him, not anyone. Before you tell me that is a big thing to say, and I know you've probably heard the same promise before from him, remember I'm not him and unlike him I will keep mine."
She leaned into me, kissing me softly at first. Then harder. Her hands slid under my shirt, her fingers tracing the muscles along my ribs, her nails grazing the skin on my back. I pulled her close, and she pressed against me, chest to chest, hip to hip. The kiss went from tender to frenzied.
I pulled her down onto the couch, lifting her so she could straddle my lap.
My hands settled on her hips, fingers pressing into the soft curve of them, and she rolled against me.
The friction hit me low in my stomach, a slow drag of heat that made me groan.
She did it again, harder this time, grinding down against the length of me through my jeans, and my grip on her tightened until I knew I'd leave marks.
Her mouth found my neck, my jaw, and then the spot below my ear, the one that made every coherent thought dissolve.
I could feel her smile against my skin when my breath caught.
I lifted the hoodie over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, and for a second I looked at her.
The warm light from the lamp caught her skin, and I swallowed hard, my chest tight with something that had nothing to do with want and everything to do with her.
I kissed her throat, slow, then her collarbone, then down the center of her chest, dragging my mouth across her skin.
I took my time, pressing openmouthed kisses to every inch I could reach, my tongue tracing the curve beneath each breast.
She arched into me, her fingers threading through my hair and pulling hard enough to sting.
I took one nipple into my mouth, circling it with my tongue before sucking, and she gasped—short and sharp, her whole body tightening against me.
I switched to the other, grazing my teeth over the peak, and her hips ground down against the hardness straining behind my zipper.
The sound she made—low and broken—went straight to my cock.