Law Of Love

1. One Freya

One: Freya

M y head shot up as my mother yanked the car door open, clambering in to shelter from the violent downpour outside. Her hair was sopping wet from the few seconds she had spent running to my vehicle, causing me to laugh.

“That was fast,” I said, turning on the heating system. “I thought you’d be a lot longer than that.”

My mom shrugged. “When you've been waiting for as long as I have to divorce your father, the papers practically sign themselves.”

Gazing at her, I sighed, partly in relief but also in sorrow. It was official. My parents had been talking about divorcing for years. However, I never truly believed they’d actually do it, secretly hoping they would work out whatever was coming between them for the sake of our family. But I knew better.

They weren't happy together, and I was no longer a child. They didn't need to put me first to give me a somewhat 'normal' childhood. Although, if going to bed and hearing your parents yell at each other every night about how much they hated each other was considered ‘normal’, they did me a favour by staying together.

“Oh, honey, come here,” she cooed, reaching over the handbrake to embrace me.

“Mom, seriously, I'm fine. I'm twenty-two years old,” I reassured her, forcing a laugh as I drove. “I can handle it.” There was nothing I could do to change the inevitable—even though I didn’t want to accept that my family was now officially broken. “Have you heard from him? I thought he was supposed to be back by now.” I briefly glanced at my phone, disappointed that my father hadn't replied to the last few texts I’d sent him—nor had he answered my calls.

My mom rolled her eyes. “You know what he's like, Freya. Working is his life. He’s likely just booked a fancy hotel somewhere and is staying an extra few nights. He'll come back soon, and then he can get moving out sorted.”

“Maybe.” I sighed, aggravated. I constantly felt as if I was out of the loop when it came to my father. His communication skills were shoddy. He hadn't been around a lot, especially as I got older. He’d often disappear on lavish business trips with colleagues and not return for weeks at a time, forgetting to update us on his whereabouts.

I hadn’t had a proper conversation with him in years, and anytime I tried to speak to him, he brushed me off like I was a major pain in his ass. His desire to spend time with us had dwindled to the point of non-existence.

“How's that new boyfriend of yours?” my mother asked once we pulled into our driveway.

My eyes widened, and I shook my head, laughing awkwardly as I waited for her to unlock the front door to the house. “Mom, he's not my boyfriend.”

She held up her hands defensively before continuing to rummage around in her bag. “Where are these damn keys?”

I cocked my head, my eyebrows furrowing once I noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. I pushed it, stepping inside the house, my soggy shoes leaving brown footprints on the elegantly tiled flooring.

“Dad? Is that you?” I called out, almost jumping out of my skin, when a bald man dressed in a tight black T-shirt and smart pants stepped into the hallway. His eyebrows raised in displeasure at our arrival; his form stood tall, his chest puffed out.

“Please don't be alarmed, ladies. My name is Officer Barkle from the Virginian R.S.A,” he said huskily, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a badge.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously, and my mom cleared her throat from behind me, folding her arms across her chest.

“What are you doing in my house?”

“Are you Mrs Henderson?” questioned Officer Barkle, to which my mother nodded in response.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” came a voice beside me, and I turned to see two men waddling out of the kitchen, their muscles contracting as they attempted to hold up our large silver fridge between their chests. They slipped past us and headed for the front door, causing my heart to skip a beat.

“What are you doing with all our stuff?” I asked with panic as another man in uniform strolled past me. He clutched a few pieces of our priceless artwork in his hands and offered me a pitiful smile before dropping eye contact.

“This house and everything in it is being repossessed.”

My face blanched. “What do you mean, repossessed? Why?”

Reaching into his back pocket, Officer Barkle pulled out multiple pieces of paper, handing them to my mother. “These are all copies of the warning letters sent to you about paying your long outstanding debt. You can see that the latest letter was dated the twenty-ninth of October, which was four weeks ago today. It states that if nothing is paid in those four weeks, then the house and the majority of your furniture in it will be repossessed to pay your balance."

My mother's face was a mask of pure shock and despair, and she shook her head fiercely. “No, there has to be a mistake. We don't have any debt.”

“I'm afraid you do, Ma'am,” he responded, pointing to the letter, my mother's mouth popping open as she read over the printed words—bold and red.

“I've never seen these before.”

“They were addressed to both you and your husband and were delivered to this address.”

“Please, just wait!” pleaded my mother as two more men lugged out our small loveseat couch—the very one I'd fallen asleep on the other night, having spent hours talking on the phone to Zach. “Let me just call my husband, please!”

“You're more than welcome to call him, Mrs Henderson. But I'm afraid we've received no payment from you after three warning letters, so we need to proceed with the repossession.”

I watched hopefully as my mother pressed her phone to her ear, her shaky hands pushing her blonde hair out of her face as she pleaded with my father to reply.

But, of course, he didn’t… like usual.

“Where are we supposed to go?” she demanded, shaking her head in disbelief.

Officer Barkle shrugged. “Unfortunately, I don't get involved with that aspect, but I'm sure you have plenty of people you could call who would be kind enough to house you temporarily.” He gazed around the house, gesturing to the high foyer and sparkling chandelier.

Our house wasn’t massive, but it was bigger than most. My father was adamant about filling it with expensive furniture and purchasing the latest TVs and computers. He earned enough to afford it and was a materialistic person—the opposite of my mother and I.

My mom glared at the officer, muttering to herself as she began typing on her phone furiously, biting harshly on her lower lip. “I'll try and sort something out.”

The next hour went by quickly. Mom and I packed our necessities and clothes in our suitcases at lightning speed, having been told that some of our belongings could remain in the house for a while—something I was thankful for, considering we didn't have the means to move everything out at such short notice.

“Why can’t we just stay at Granny’s?” I questioned with a frown as I pulled up beside my mother’s car along the road, hopping out.

“Freya, that's almost a two-hour drive,” tutted my mother, shaking her head. “How do you expect to get to college and for me to get to work every day? Besides, Jackie has been very kind in allowing us to stay until we can get this all sorted.”

Jackie was a close friend of my mother's—having met many years ago at work. They'd clicked instantly and were almost inseparable at one point but had since slightly drifted apart.

“You're here!” called Jackie from her front porch, making her way down the stairs and engulfing my mother in a hug, sending me a wink.

“Jackie, we honestly can't thank you enough for allowing us to stay,” muttered my mom, causing Jackie to dismiss her with a quick wave and a smile.

“Oh my goodness, look how grown up you are, Freya! You're so beautiful!”

I beamed, thanking her apprehensively before popping the trunk of my car open and dragging out my large suitcase.

Jackie ushered my mother and me inside, and I gazed around at the interior in curiosity—the walls a clean cream colour and the furniture following a neutral beige theme. It was cosy.

“Freya, are you okay with the room upstairs on the right? It's pretty bare, but I'm sure you could spruce it up with a few of your things. There's lots of closet space,” Jackie told me.

“Of course, thank you.” I pulled out my phone, staring at it desperately, longing for any response from my father to appear before my eyes.

Freya : Dad, where are you? Please reply. It's important.

I studied the message I’d sent mere minutes ago, looking pathetically at my other six texts, all following the same woeful thesis. My brows furrowed as I cursed under my breath.

“I've got pizza on the way.”

Jackie’s words caused my stomach to growl, and I took in my mom’s glorious grin. She hadn’t smiled that way in what seemed like forever, and I knew she was excited to have an excuse to spend more time with one of her old best friends—even if it was under dire circumstances.

My ears perked up as the doorbell sounded, and Jackie nodded at me to open the door as she hauled some plates out from the cabinet. I hesitantly pulled it open, my fingers gripping the wood tightly, my heart skipping a beat. I took in the beautiful man standing before me, his thick brows furrowed as he peered down at me in confusion.

He was one hell of a pizza delivery guy… who didn’t have pizza.

My body seized up as I studied him, my throat feeling dry, and his eyes scanned my body before he huffed, our gazes locking.

His eyes were intense—a piercing grey. So grey it looked like a deadly thunderstorm was brewing in them, waves of irritation ready to pin me to the ocean's bottom.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to let me into my house?” he complained, his voice husky and intimidating.

I felt Jackie's presence behind me, and I stepped aside, regaining the feeling in my feet once again.

“Kaleb?” she whispered, clearly shocked, suddenly engulfing the muscular man in a hug.

He smiled tiredly as he pushed his dark hair out of his face, scratching at the slight stubble on his chin. His eyes met mine for the second time, perplexity crowding them.

He was tall—extremely tall—probably around six foot four or five, and his broad shoulders almost reached both sides of the wooden doorframe. He gripped his bags in his spare hand—it looked like he was returning from a trip of some sort.

“Kaleb, I wasn't expecting you for another two weeks! You didn't tell me you were coming back so soon!” exclaimed Jackie, causing him to shrug and step into the house. His combat boots hit the flooring with loud thuds.

“We took Christmas break early.” The overhead light fixated on the wall beamed down onto his veiny and tattooed arms, the spiralling ink detailed and intricately drawn, catching my attention.

“You look exhausted.” Jackie frowned, closing the door quickly to keep the unwanted bitter evening air from entering.

“I've been driving for seven hours,” the non-pizza delivery guy, Kaleb, said, his eyes still on me questionably. He dropped his bags, his eyebrows knitting together as he took in my large suitcase by the front door. It caused his jaw to flex—so sharp it could cut ice.

“Well, you must be hungry. I've got pizza arriving soon.” Jackie gestured for him to sit at the table, his tall form doing so slowly. But even sitting down, Kaleb was almost as tall as me—or at least the intimidation oozing from him made it feel like he was.

“I'm sorry, you are? Staring is impolite.” His attention was on me, his tone blunt as he watched me with a cocked brow, seemingly agitated by my presence.

Surely I hadn’t done anything to offend him in the past thirty seconds?

“This is Sarah and her daughter, Freya. Sarah is a good friend of mine, and they ran into some trouble, so they're going to stay with us for a little while.” Jackie smiled before turning to us. “This is my son, Kaleb.”

“Trouble?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes and daring me to elaborate.

I shrugged, shifting my weight from foot to foot as he looked me over. I didn’t appreciate his passive aggressiveness. “We're sorting it.”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he hummed, giving me one last judgmental look before turning away. “Well, that sounds promising.”

The sarcastic bastard.

“Kaleb, I haven't seen you since you were about eighteen.” My mother laughed, trying to change the subject.

I knew Jackie had children, but I’d never met them personally. I was rather glad I hadn't, though—given Kaleb's intimidating and moody aura.

Despite that, I couldn't help but allow my eyes to study his well-structured face. He had naturally carved brows, high cheekbones, and plump lips. His skin was tanned and smooth, and his thick muscles bulged out of his black T-shirt.

I wasn't aware of the scowl that had formed on my face from his bitter comment and my lack of self-control when it came to ogling him until Kaleb cleared his throat.

“Something the matter?” he questioned huskily as he ran his tongue along the front of his teeth, his jaw taut and expression unimpressed.

I cleared my throat, feeling it tighten slightly. People didn’t easily frustrate me, but for some reason, my patience felt like it was collapsing under Kaleb’s blazing gaze. “I don't see see why you're–”

“So, what are you doing now, Kaleb?” my mother interrupted me, shooting me a pointed glare as Jackie made her way to the door at the sound of the doorbell, an excited intake of breath sounding from her lips at the prospect of steaming hot pizza.

“I’m a bodyguard. We work for a private company hired by the government,” Kaleb stated, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the mantelpiece, pouring himself a hefty glass, and taking a large sip. He clicked his tongue as he looked between my mother and me with indifference.

What had crawled up his asshole?

“Oh, law enforcement. Wow, that must be a lot of hard work.”

Kaleb nodded once at my mom’s comment, his suspicious eyes on me. They trailed down to my messy dark hair that lay over my shoulder—my collarbone slightly on show—and my body suddenly felt hot. Yanking my baggy sweatshirt back up, I dropped my gaze, not enjoying how attractive I found this man despite his ignorant attitude.

I twiddled my thumbs under the table as we all sat down, digging into the pizza. Jackie and my mother had already taken their seats, leaving the only spare chair beside Kaleb, causing my nostrils to flare. The irritation was pouring from him—so strong it was constricting.

I probably looked like an absolute mess, and I cursed at myself for choosing to dress in my old tattered sweatpants and sweatshirt—sporting the mentally exhausted look. Kaleb, however, looked put together in his clean and crease-free dark attire despite the fact that he’d been driving in a stuffy car for hours.

“I'm sorry that we're intruding, Kaleb,” my mom said in between bites, flashing him a small smile. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Here's hoping.” He held up his glass and jostled it, the corner of his lip curling upwards slightly before he took a sip. The comment was easy to pass off as a joke, but I knew it had an underlying dose of truth to it. It caused me to furrow my brows at him, unhappy with his standoffish behaviour.

I hadn't known Kaleb very long, but I didn't like him already. He was rude and obnoxious, so why the hell was he making my stomach flip? I needed to pull myself together. He was an attractive man—so what?

“Sarah, Freya, I forgot to say, spare blankets are in the cupboard at the top of the stairs if you need them before bed. I know it's supposed to be cold tonight,” Jackie mentioned.

“Where are you sleeping?” asked Kaleb with interest, his eyes flicking over to the couch that was definitely not big enough for the both of us.

“Sarah's in the guest bedroom, and I thought Freya could stay in Brie's old room.”

Kaleb's body tensed up at the mention of the name Brie. His face was a picture of animosity and fury as he remained frozen, his fingers digging into his pizza crust a little too harshly, grease dripping from it and splattering down onto the table.

“I thought we said we would leave the room untouched.” He ground his teeth together, suddenly dropping his pizza on his plate, pushing his chair back and standing. The metal scraped against the wooden floor, a harsh sound filling the room.

“Kaleb, I've already—“

“I've lost my appetite.” He knocked back the rest of his whisky, his knuckles white. I watched in concern as he disappeared upstairs, and Jackie released a heavy sigh as she shook her head.

I hadn't even been here an hour, but I was already dreading spending another second here with Kaleb Evans.