Page 105 of Catcher's Lock

“I’m gonna let yousleep, Quill.”

I’m not convinced, but after a moment of lying there, caught by our connection, my body starts to grow heavy, and my brain fuzzes out. Like some sort of wizard, he not only stays hard, keeping me full, but also senses every time an intrusive thought claws at me and lulls me back to lethargy with a leisurely rockof his hips.

Safe.

Loved.

His.

Cocooned in his embrace—both inside and out—I drift away to the low timbre of sad country love songs whispered in the dark.

34

Protect

Josha

Age 24 (Now)

Sometime in the middle of the night, my dick softens and slips free. I startle awake at dawn to the sense of something out of place, instinctively reaching to check the bed beside me.

When did that start happening?

My hand bumps against a warm stomach, and I turn to find Zombie being little-spooned by Gem and staring at me through slitted yellow eyes. When I attempt to pet him, the ungrateful cat flattens his ears.

“Okay, okay,” I whisper. “I’m glad he’s home too.” Rolling onto my back, I cock my head, straining for whatever jolted me from sleep.

Then it comes—an insistent knock at the kitchen door. Cursing softly, I sidle out from between the sheets and snag a clean pair of basketball shorts from the shelf in the closet. The knocking comes again as I shuffle down the hallway, fumbling with the drawstring waist.

“I’m coming,” I hiss, mostly to myself, since whoever’s at the door is unlikely to hear me, even through the thin trailer walls. It better not be Cheyenne again. Gem has enough riding on today, and I’m not waking him up until he’s good and ready. Which, to be fair, might be never.

“What?” I demand, throwing open the door.

A tall woman with a messy topknot of silver-streaked curls blinks back at me. “Hi, Josha.”

Shilo.

I should be prepared for this. Hell, this is the reunion I’ve been pushing for since I showed up in Bakersfield. It’s supposed to be my redemption—I found him; I brought him back to you; I didn’t destroy your family with my selfish risk after all.

Beyond my own reasons,Gemneeds this. Reconciling with his family is a necessary step in any recovery he can hope to have. I can’t protect him from it, and I shouldn’t want to.

So why do I feel like I’m not ready to share him?

Bracing an arm on the doorframe, I narrow my eyes. “You’re back.”Early.

“We got in about two o’clock this morning. Didn’t want to waste another night in a hotel.” She shifts her feet, peeking past me into the kitchen like Gem might somehow be awake at this hour, sitting at the table with a mug of his almost-coffee.

Be nice.

When I continue to block the door, she asks, “Are you going to let me in?”

“He’s sleeping.” I don’t move. She sighs but backs up to lean against the railing, hugging her arms around herself.

Do not think about bending her son over that exact spot.

“Cheyenne told us he’s been staying here instead of at the Airstream. How is he?”

Beautifully broken and beginning to heal.