

By Mareta L. Miller
Fighting for Us

1st Edition December 2016

Copyright © 2016 by

Mareta L. Miller

Photographs by Alizabeth D. Kaminski

Editing by Prima Editing & Proofreading

This is a work of fiction. All names, locations, and characters are fictitious and are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, address the publisher at: PO Box 12573 Las Vegas, NV 89104

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Wes

Three months ago...

Three and a half years in the Colorado Department of Corrections and the only thing of value I've learned is to fight. _Fighting_ —something I used to avoid at all costs. In fact, I aided others in finding other solutions to their problems, but in there it was about survival and only the fighters survived. There was no compromise—fight or die. I never felt like I didn't belong there. The only thing I felt I deserved more, was to die, but that didn't happen and I'd be damned if that revelation was going to be brought to light by one of those convicts. The judge had wanted to make an example of me, handing me the longest sentence he could for the crime I committed. A crime almost any of us could have easily executed without purpose. But it wasn't enough that I bear the weight of blame on my chest with every single breath I take. It wasn't enough for him and it isn't enough for me. A life sentence in that hole wouldn't have been long enough for me. I wanted and deserved death.

Of course, they could smell me walking through the door—fresh white-collar meat; I was practically a delicacy served to them on a silver platter. On the inside, it's all fucked up. It's beat or be beaten, kill or be killed. I'll agree that I deserved my sentence, but I sure as hell didn't deserve what I got—being gang raped by a pack of psychotic criminals that hurt people for fun and without remorse. The kind that had nothing to lose because seeing freedom through the light of day was a thought lost long ago. It had only happened that one time and I swore it would never happen again. I would fight, I would become unstoppable, and I would kick the shit out those three cowards and anyone else that came along. I would get my ultimate castigation one day, but it wouldn't be in there. Fighting was how I made it through, how I gained respect, and how I got out of that hole in one piece.

One thousand two hundred seventy-eight and a half days I spent behind those walls. Biding my time between the gym and the library, reaching and maintaining my place near the top of the food chain. Making no friends but keeping acquaintances with an even higher social status. An incident like that night would never happen to me again.

The night before your release is treated no different than any other. You are not free until your feet hit the gravel outside the second fence. That night reality hit me once again. I'd had nightmares every night, reliving the event that changed everything and I knew that when I got out of there I wouldn't get anything back, it's gone. Every last detail of my perfect life erased.

I wouldn't wake up in the mornings and go to my office because I wasn't a doctor anymore. I wouldn't wake up to the woman I love because I didn't have a fiancée anymore. There would be no wedding, no honeymoon, and no babies that would have her smile. After I got out of there, I had no reason to care anymore, and even less reasons to live.

On my last night in that cell, my cellmate Duke handed me a piece of paper with a name and number on it. "Here, kid. If you find yourself in a tough spot needing money or just feel the need to kick the shit out of someone." That was all he said. I stuck the paper in my pocket. That piece of paper and a set of donated clothes were all I walked out of there with, which was already more than I deserved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now...

I wake up in a strange place, a room filled with hollowness. I can make out lights and sounds but everything is a complete blur. I hear beeping, the sound of shoes squeaking against a clean floor, and voices. Many different voices, voices that aren't familiar to me. I reach out to my side to find that my arm is tethered by tubes and I'm trapped by a metal railing. I'm in a hospital.

I don't know why I'm here and I can't remember anything from the night before. I haven't had a fight in a week and that fight, I won. So why am I here? My head's an aching mess and my thinking is unclear. It seems that with every effort I make to clear the fog, the ache grows stronger.

I won't allow myself to panic—I never do and that's partly why I'm so good at what I do. I need to think though; I need to remember. I close my eyes, concentrating to keep my breathing even. I see her eyes and I can hear her voice, _"Stay with me,"_ she says. I can feel the pressure of her touch on my abdomen and reach down to where her hand had been. I wince with pain. I've been hurt.

Someone walks into the room and comes to stop at my bedside. "Look who's awake. How are you feeling, Mr. Draves?" A nurse, of course. Her demeanor is a little too uplifting for how I'm feeling but better than some hard-ass that secretly hates her job.

"Honestly, I feel like I was hit by a truck but something tells me that's not quite what happened."

"Well your cognitive thinking is functioning well. You were not hit by a truck but you were beat up pretty badly and stabbed."

Beat up? Stabbed? I don't remember any of that. I don't get beat up, I serve up the beatings. "Do they know who did this to me?"

"Well, with you having been unconscious, the police haven't been able to get very far. Maybe now that you're awake you can shed some light." She's checking machines and writing down things on a clipboard, then checks the IVs inserted into my right arm. I now notice that my left arm is restrained by a cast.

"I don't remember anything from last night."

"Last night? Hon, you've been in here for almost six days."

"Six days!"

"Yup, six days. Now that you're awake, is there anyone we can call for you?"

"Has anyone been here looking for me?"

"Not that I know of. Oh, wait, there was this one really sweet girl trying to get in to see you."

"A girl? Did she say who she was?"

The nurse, who I've yet to know her name, giggles. "She didn't even know your name, so we couldn't let her see you or give her any information. But she was the one that found you that night and called the paramedics and was somehow able to ride with you in the ambulance." She shakes her head disapprovingly. "I felt bad though, she was so worried about you, so I told her that you were alive and that you would be fine."

"But did she say who she was?" Are the eyes that I see when I close mine hers? Is she the one that robbed me of peace?

"No, she didn't, but I'm sure the police have her information if you really want it. Now, just rest and I'll send the doctor in soon and we can see where we're at. You may be able to get out of here in a couple of days." She walks out with her clipboard, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Couple of days my ass. I need to figure out what the hell happened and get the hell out of here as soon as possible." I huff aloud to myself.

The doctor comes in and after looking at my chart, shining bright lights into my eyes, and checking my sutures, he says that he wants me under observation for two more days before he'll sign my release. My memory loss is only a small concern and it's likely that it'll return sooner than later because the injuries to my head were pretty minimal, considering the disarray the rest of my body was left in. Stabbed in the stomach, a few broken ribs, a broken arm, and bruising nearly everywhere. Whoever did this wasn't just out looking to pull off a textbook mugging. They were out to kill.

Reanne

Six days ago...

I finally have everything cleaned up and prepped for the morning service. Sundays are my busiest days so Saturdays are my busiest nights. It's a routine though and I find comfort in routines. And because I don't have a life outside my bakery, spending _date_ night in the solitude of my sweet sanctuary is really perfect. I sent Molly, my roommate, best friend, and employee, up to the apartment we live in above my shop about an hour or so ago. She looked so exhausted. It's been a long day and she opens with me tomorrow. Four o'clock comes real early.

It's about nine at night and it's dark outside but I still need to take Sugar for a walk. I lock up and go the two hundred feet from the front door of my bakery to the door that takes me up to my apartment. Once I've entered the stairwell I can hear that she's taken full advantage of my absence. I enter the apartment, barely able to hear anything over the music blaring. It's a song that I like so it's easy to fall into the melody as I walk in and close the door behind me. I am quickly noticed and greeted by my very excited white Pomeranian named Sugar, for obvious reasons.

I scoop up the cute little ball of fur and give her a scratching and kisses as I dance through the apartment in search of my _energy-apparently-regained_ roommate. I find her in the kitchen preparing a small tray of grapes, cheeses, and sliced salami. Not too far from that is a bottle of merlot and two glasses.

She hasn't seen me yet so I sneak up behind her and raise my voice so she'll hear me over the music. "Expecting someone?"

"Oh, hey!" She turns and leans her ear closer to me. "What?"

I motion to the spread of food and wine and ask again. "Expecting someone?"

"Yup! You!" She picks up the remote and lowers the volume so we don't have to yell our conversation any longer.

"Me? To what do I owe this well-prepared feast?"

"Well, if I must remind you—it was ten months ago today that you let me move in. You gave me a job and you trusted me. You saved me, Rea. So I thought that since neither of us had been on a real date in a while, I'd prepare a small token of my thanks. A little girlfriend date."

I cross the space between us and pull her into a hug. "Of course I didn't forget, sweetie." I didn't forget, really I didn't. I'm just not one for celebrating anniversaries. Besides the opening of my bakery and the time Molly's been with me, I've never had a good anniversary to celebrate, so I stopped. I found no sense in reminding myself yearly, or in this case monthly, of the bad things in my life.

"This really is awesome of you. I need to take Sugar for a quick walk and then we'll celebrate, okay?" I grab Sugar's leash off the hook by the door and clip it to her collar.

"Yay! You want to watch a movie too?"

"Sure, you pick it. I'll be back in a few." I'm out the door and quickly go down the stairs to the door that leads us out onto the sidewalk.

This area is pretty quiet this time of night and is always nice to walk around. I take a left out the door and head down Zuni so that I can make another left on Thirty-Third and circle around. There is no one out as I walk through the neighborhood and all I can see are living room lights and the illumination of televisions through drawn curtains. This works to my advantage because Sugar has nothing to bark at but our own shadows.

As I come down Thirty-Second Street nearing the corner where my shop is, I hear something coming from the alley to the right, behind the pizzeria. I pick up Sugar to try to keep her quiet, knowing she's going to go off any second. My effort fails and, as anticipated, she goes off like a bomb—uncontrollable yapping from a dog that has very little capability of actually protecting me if it were actually necessary.

Her noise has already made whoever it is aware of our presence and a few seconds later, two figures run out of the alley and down Thirty-Second in the opposite direction. Thankful for their fleeing and the fact that I was hidden in a spot that was not well lit, I take a couple of deep breaths and try to calm my heart that is nearly beating out of my chest. More than likely they would think the dog was in one of the yards across the street and would never have realized I was even here—I can only hope, anyway.

As I set Sugar down to finish the short distance back to the safety of our apartment and the solace of a glass of wine, I hear something coming from the alley. It sounds like someone in pain. There's moaning and it sounds horrible and desperate. My adrenaline kicks in and I start moving toward the alley without thinking, and taking out my phone to call Molly as I walk.

"Are you standing me up? Is this a dear Molly call?" She sounds sassy as she jokes with me, but now is not the time.

"No, Moll. Listen, I need you to come get Sugar, right now!"

"Rea! What's going on?" Her joking tone is no longer and worry sets into her voice.

"Please, just get down here! I'm in the alley behind the pizzeria!" I hang up because there's no time for more questions.

I walk up on a figure lying crumpled and bloody on the ground. By the looks of how badly he's beaten, whoever did this was driven but, lucky for him, was interrupted by my pint-sized alarm. I pull out my phone again to call for an ambulance. The light from the screen is bright enough for me to see that not only has this man been beaten but there is a wound in his abdomen with a fresh stream of blood coming from it and filling his shirt, leaving a large crimson circle.

Molly comes up from behind me, screaming my name. "Rea! What happened? What's going on?"

The operator answers. "911. What's your emergency?"

Somehow in this moment I find clarity and know that I can't help save him if I don't focus. "A man has been beaten and stabbed. We're in the alley behind the pizzeria on Thirty-Second and Zuni."

"Do you know the name of the victim, ma'am?"

"No. I was walking by and heard him."

"Units are on their way, ma'am. You need to apply pressure to the stab wound, a jacket or something. Please stay on the phone until units arrive. Please do not disconnect until they arrive."

"Yes, of course." I take my hand to cover the microphone on my phone. In a calm low voice, I make eye contact with Molly. "Molly, listen to me." She nods. "Take Sugar. Go to the apartment. I'll be there soon. Everything will be okay. Now go." She looks at me questioningly and scared but does as I've told her.

My focus is returned to the broken man before me. I remove my sweater and press it to his abdomen. He winces with the pressure and I'm afraid that I'm hurting him, but I know it has to be done. With the operator still on the line, I try to make eye contact with him. His eyes lock on mine and I see so many emotions in those glossed-over eyes. Fear, anger, relief, and question.

"Stay with me, okay? Help is coming. Focus on me, just keep your eyes on me and listen to my voice." My voice is calm and somehow I'm able to mask the trembling I feel. I can't let him see the same fear in my eyes that I see in his.

"Go... please... let me die." He speaks and I'm instantly saddened because those are not the words I thought I'd hear. They're sad and begging.

"You're not going to die tonight. Just hold on. Stay with me. Help is almost here. Just hold on to my eyes. Fight, for me, if not for yourself. Just a few minutes longer." I can hear the sirens and relief floods me.

"Do you hear that? Hold on just a minute more. They're coming."

I'd almost forgotten about the operator on the line. "Ma'am, services should be arriving in less than a minute."

"I hear them."

The ambulance pulls up and I'm moved out of the way so they can begin procedures. Assessing his injuries and tending to them in order to stabilize him for transport. Lifting his body onto the gurney, they roll him toward the ambulance and I see something fall from his body. No one has noticed it, so I swoop down to retrieve it. It's his phone and I thoughtlessly slip it into my pants pocket. I watch on as everyone does their jobs and figuring that my time here is done, I walk to the alley entryway, prepared to go home and explain everything to Molly and then try to sleep with the visions of this night fresh in my mind, but one of the paramedics stops me.

"Ma'am, are you going to ride with him to the hospital?"

Without a second thought I nod my head, "Yes."

"Okay, get in. We're ready to head out."

I step into the back of the ambulance and settle in next to him. His eyes are closed as the medications they've administered take effect, but I take his hand anyway and start to whisper to him. "I don't know you, but you're going to stay with me. Hold on a little while longer, we're almost there and you're going to be fine. I promise you."

The sirens are so loud they're almost deafening but I don't hear them at all. All I can hear are my pleas for this man that I don't know, to hold on. As we pull up to the hospital, the number of people attending to him doubles immediately and I try to follow them but I'm finally lost in the crowd of people focused on saving him. One woman emerges from the mass and pulls me aside to ask me questions.

"Ma'am, what is the victim's name? Are you family?"

I hesitate because I know the answer to these questions will ban me from any further contact or information about him, but in the end I have to admit that I know nothing more about him than that I found him lying in an alley fighting for his life. "I don't know his name and I'm not family. I found him like this and I called for help. That's all I can tell you."

I can see some compassion in her eyes but that doesn't change what she's about to tell me. "You know that means that this is as far as I can let you go?" I nod in affirmation. "I'm sure the officers have some questions for you, though." She gestures to the two standing by the door.

"Of course. Thank you." I nod and turn toward them knowing I'm about to relive every detail of this night, but will have no clue how the man is doing or if he'll even survive.

By eleven o'clock I'm finally walking into my apartment. Thankfully one of the officers gave me a ride back. Blood stains my clothes and I'm missing my sweater which was likely thrown away with the other biohazard trash. I'm tired but feeling that a part of me was left with a man that I don't even know. I promised him he'd live, even after he asked me to let him die and I know there's a reason our paths crossed tonight, but sadly, I've no clue if they're ever meant to cross again.

All I want right now is a shower and my bed, but as I take off my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the tile floor, something falls out of my pocket. It's his phone.

Wes

For four years now, I've had the nightmares—every night, the same subconscious reminders of the night that changed my life. The only break I've had from them was the six days I spent blissfully comatose after my attack. Now, under the influence of a steady drip of narcotics meant to ease the physical pain, the dreams, or rather reruns of the past, are more vivid than ever.

I had the night planned to the very last detail. A romantic dinner at the same place we first met.

Nothing in my life had gone any more perfect than the day I met my Kat. I was encouraged by my mother to attend one of the cooking classes hosted at the country club. She'd say, "You pay enough for that place, Wesley. Maybe you'll meet a woman at a cooking class, that wouldn't be a bad deal. After all, you'll know she can cook."

So I gave it a try and signed up to learn how to cook chicken parmesan. I am by no means a cook and Kat noticed this as I made a total mess out of my white shirt while making my marinara sauce. She came to my rescue, saving my dish and suggesting that the best thing for the shirt was a trash can and a replacement. Then she introduced herself and I was a goner.

"Hi. I'm Kat, short for Katherine, but please call me Kat." She laughed as she held her hand out. I took it and brought it to my lips.

"Wesley Draves. Nice to meet you, Kat."

"Who wears a white shirt to an Italian cooking class?" she asked laughingly while we sat at the bar in the lounge after the class.

"A guy that didn't quite realize how big of a klutz he was until tonight. A guy that was hoping the most beautiful girl in the class would see this flaw as a charming, yet hopeless attempt to not have to cook this beautiful girl a dinner, but perhaps, instead, to accept an invitation to a dinner out sometime."

"If it'll keep you out of a kitchen, unsupervised, I think that guy had a good plan."

A year later, and many cooking classes where she insisted it was safer if we worked as a team, I was completely smitten and ready to ask her to marry me. I knew that she was the only woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and I couldn't wait another moment to tell her that.

It was cool out but I had a table set up on the patio of the restaurant along the pond. Lit candles and the moon's reflection bouncing off the water were the perfect backdrop for a perfect night.

She sat across from me and I'm sure she knew all throughout dinner what my plan was but she waited patiently. I had an entire speech ready. I was going to tell her how special she was, how much I loved her, and that I would always love her and take care of her for the rest of our lives, but that speech didn't happen. When it came down to it, all of those words would take too much time, minutes more than I could wait to hear her answer. So I took the ring from my pocket and with it in one hand and taking her hand in my other, I wasted no more time.

"Katherine, be my wife." It's the only time I'd ever called her by her full name and I wasn't asking her a question. I was making a subtle demand. Because to ask would indicate the question is one I didn't already know the answer to. In this case I knew with all certainty what her answer would be.

Her response was just as subtle. "I thought you'd never ask."

I slipped the one carat princess cut solitaire on her finger and kissed it as I sealed it in place, then I rose from my seat to circle the table and pulled her into my arms.

"I love you, Kat. My heart is forever yours. You've made me so happy and I know you will for the rest of my life." Kissing her hard, I hoped that she could feel my every emotion and everything else that my impromptu speech didn't say.

We stood there on the patio, leaning against the railing and staring out over the water. We held each other, drank wine, and shared our dreams for the future. We spoke of children, trips together, and our happily ever after. Everything was perfect.

Driving home that night, the sexual energy between us was distinct. A bottle of fine wine enjoyed and the excitement of the evening building to a level of agony, we both were in need of release. I wanted to make love to my fiancée in the worst way. I imagined taking every part of her body, claiming it, and marking it as mine—mine forever.

Blinded by thoughts of the evening to be had, I never saw it coming. Suddenly there was the squealing of tires as I pressed as hard as I could on the brakes, gripping the steering with white-knuckled ferocity. Then the car was flipping over and over, and I lost all sense of direction. When we finally stopped, I was left shaken and nearly unconscious, but my only thought was to make sure she was all right. I reached for her but couldn't stretch far enough. I called for her but my loudest scream came out as a raspy whisper because of the air being knocked out of my lungs. She didn't move and she didn't cry out for help. I couldn't reach her but I could see her and I knew. I knew that on the same night she promised me the rest of her life, her life ended and I only wished I had been so lucky.

I wake with a jolt, the machines blaring with alarm. The nurse runs into the room and straight to the monitor keeping track of my heartbeat. Over the years I've learned to keep my nightmares to myself because they are a sign of weakness. But in here, hooked up to all these machines, I can only hide what's in my mind, the reaction my body has is not as easy. The nurse looks to me for an explanation.

"Nightmare." It's all I say. She doesn't want nor need details.

"After what you've been through, I'm not surprised. Do you want me to see if I can get you something to help you sleep?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything." Closing the door, she's gone, leaving me again to my darkness.

The next time I doze off, it's not Kat's lifeless body I see. I see eyes. The eyes of the woman that begged me to stay with her, to hold on. I hear her voice. _"You're not going to die tonight. Hold my eyes. I don't know you, but you're going to stay with me."_ Why did she steal my peace from me? The closest I've been to being able to let go in four years and she robbed me of it. I wanted to die and was happy someone had finally been able to do the job. Why did she have to be there? I could've finally been back with the love of my life, not living in hell every day without her.

Reanne

It's been a week since the attack. The whole experience has left me completely shaken and more than a little scared. I've been making a point to take a break while it's still light out to take Sugar for her walks. Needless to say, my confidence in how safe it is after darkness settles has been indefinitely tarnished. Not that my best friend and roommate, Molly, would let me take a step out of the door anyway. If she leaves the shop before I do, which isn't likely, she makes me call before I leave and comes to wait at the door, watching me lock up, then walks the two hundred feet home with me.

Often during the day, I find myself looking out the window toward the alley. I wonder what else happened that night besides the obvious. I wonder why he was attacked. Even more, though, why did he ask me to let him die? His plea echoes through my mind, " _Go. Please_. _Let me die._ " __ It haunts me every time I close my eyes, every time I look at the alley, every time I think of his blood on my hands.

I'd gone back to the hospital a couple of days after the attack and got all the way to the ICU. I took a guess that he'd be there. I also took a chance that they would be able to tell me anything. I approached the nurses' station and talked to an older nurse that was on duty. She had a plump face and looked friendly and as I hoped, her demeanor matched her appearance.

"I'm looking for a man that was brought in a couple of days ago."

"What's his name, dear?"

"I know it sounds weird, but I don't know that. But he came in last week, badly beaten and stabbed in the stomach."

"I'm sorry, dear, but without a name, I can't give you any information. Only family would have access to any details of his condition." She hadn't been mean about it, she just had to follow protocol.

"I understand, but can I just ask a small favor? I was the one that found him the night he was attacked. I called the ambulance and I talked to him until they came. Can you just tell me if he's going to be okay? Tell me if he's going to live?"

She picked up the clipboard that probably contained a list of patients in the department. After presumably locating his name, she looked back up at me. "He's going to be fine, dear. Not out of the woods completely yet, but he's going to live."

"Thank you." I gave her a smile full of gratitude and without asking for any more information, I had left.

Some people beg to die because the pain is just too much to bear and death would take away that burden. So the question that occupies my mind now is did he ask me to let him go based on the pain of the incident that night or was there a greater pain he wanted to escape?

Did I really save him or did I extend the sentence in his own personal hell? I think I'd actually prefer to never know the answer, especially if it's the latter.

Fourteen days later and things are starting to fall back into place. I still refrain from taking Sugar out in the dark of night but I've convinced Molly that nothing of any significance will happen to me if I stay late at the shop or walk home alone. She was just as shaken as I was and she was scared for me. She's had her problems and I was the one that helped her through them, giving her a job and a place to live. She trusts me and depends on me, perhaps sometimes, a little too much. But I love her like a little sister, and right now Molly and Sugar are all I've got besides my bakery.

Occasionally, I still look at the alley thinking—actually hoping—I'll see him there. Not as frequently anymore, but I still catch myself every now and then. I imagine that maybe he'd come in and say hi and thank me, or maybe curse me for my role that night. Right now I'd settle for anything; just to see him again and know that he's safe. I may never know and I figure that if he wanted to find me he would've by now. My name and contact information were in the police report and I'm sure he has access to it. He has to know more about me than I know about him, which is nothing at all.

I try to keep myself distracted with my work. It's more than work to me, it's my life. This bakery, _my_ bakery, is my dream. It was my grandmother's dream too. A dream that never came true for grandma, but she left everything she had to me when she died and I made it my everything to make our dream come true. So in her memory and with her legacy in mind _For the Love of Cheesecake_ was born.

We specialize in the obvious, cheesecake, but we also carry an assortment of cookies and muffins, and serve coffees and espresso. My cheesecake recipes are all my grandmother's secret recipes which are so perfect I don't dare try to improve them. But I experiment with my own ideas and have had several successes, which started my own list of secret recipes. In the end though, none of this would have been possible without her.

When I say this place is all I have, I'm not exaggerating. When my grandmother died and left her sizable fortune to her then twenty-three-year-old granddaughter, my mother had a fit. She said the old woman was obviously senile and had made a careless mistake. The lawyer took that opportunity to read a quoted passage from my grandmother's will that made everyone in the room laugh given her words—everyone but my mother that is.

"My daughter will say that I'm senile and will claim that the way I have chosen to distribute my fortune is careless. It's only because I leave her nothing. I raised her for eighteen years of her life, paid her way into good schools when she failed to work hard enough to get accepted on her own, and picked up the slack for her in her adult life more times than I care to remember. She can consider her inheritance spent. My granddaughter Reanne, the light of my life, will know what to do with what I've left her. She'll make good decisions and continue to make me proud of her. She'll be able to make her dreams come true."

That wasn't the last time I saw my mother. I was given one more opportunity while being represented by my grandmother's lawyer at a hearing where she sued me over the assets of the will. Of course, she lost, and the final wall between us was erected. Soon after, I sent her a couple of stock certificates I found in the safety deposit box. They were purchased the year she was born, obviously for her to have one day. I haven't received any other communication since. So this bakery, Molly, and Sugar are literally all I have.

It's also why I don't have a social life, and haven't been on a date in years, and why I consider my regular customers and my three employees, Nick, Molly, and Clara, to be my only friends. It's why I work so hard and how I know I've done my grandmother proud.

I've been working on something new in another attempt to keep my mind off him and have a plan to put it all together today. The Denver chapter of the Red Hat Society is planning their monthly meeting here this afternoon and I like to test my new recipes out on them when they choose my shop, as it's quite an honor. It means free treats for them and terribly honest reviews for me. My intention is to impress them, yet again, so last night I jotted down some notes and I just now realize that I left them upstairs.

"Molly, I need to run upstairs for a minute. I forgot my notes for the new cake I want to make today. Hold down the counter please."

She leans down on the counter and in a snarky tone says, "Holding it down, boss, but you better hurry as I don't know how long I'll last!" _Sarcastic little shit!_

"Ha ha! You're doing great, cupcake! I'll be back in a minute."

I run from behind the counter and out the front door, stopping to hold it open for a couple of patrons, and greeting them with a cheerful, "Good morning."

The front door to our apartment is never locked during the day. I've never seen a need. So I walk straight in and go to my bedroom where I know the notes are on my nightstand. As I blindly and hurriedly grab the paper, something falls to the ground catching my attention—his phone, the one I picked up as they rolled his stretcher away that night. I was hoping I'd be able to return it to him in person but that opportunity hasn't yet presented itself. I find myself suddenly curious. I wonder if I can learn anything about him from this. I just want to see if he's okay and I can't see how _that's_ wrong. I turn it over in my hand and press the power button. Nothing. Of course it would be dead, it's been two weeks. I think for a second that it's a sign that I shouldn't meddle any further. But I need something—anything—to make the connection that I feel I'm missing.

I look at the charging port on the phone. It's a universal one and I know I have one in my desk. I go to the other room to get it and return to my room, plugging one end into the USB plug in the wall and the other into the phone. The lightning bolt emblem appears on the screen. That's all I get, the battery is drained and it will be a while before I'll be able see anything. Setting it back down on the nightstand, I grab my notes and leave. My cellular invasion mission will just have to wait.

Wes

As promised, the doctor signed my release papers two days after I woke up. Also, as promised, my memory returned. I still can't for the life of me figure out how they did it but now I remember who they are. One very important thing I've learned in my newfound career is that not everyone loves a winner. Especially a loser.

I serve up a pretty efficient ass whooping. The secret to my success? I simply don't give a shit. I don't care about them, I don't care about the money, and I don't care much about myself, either. In the end, I have absolutely nothing to lose. But in the three months I've been in the Denver circuit, I've managed to make a lot of money and more than a few enemies.

It's kind of an unwritten rule that the fighting stays in the ring, where the money is, but when someone wants you out of the way, they won't hesitate to catch you off guard. Especially when they know it's the only chance they'll have. Randy has lived a few days of his life seeing it only through the slits of swollen eyes that I gave him. He's challenged me twice and he's lost twice. To lose once doesn't mean much but to lose twice is a mad hit to both your ego and your rank in the ring.

The two that attacked me were his guys. It figures that he'd be a fucking pussy about it and send them to blindside me. Guess it proves once again that he knows he can't beat me. He sent them to do a job and they failed, but as far as I know, no one knows that but me. Right now, I'm in no condition to fight and need some time off the grid. I'll let them think that I died. That was their goal after all, and it means shit to me to let them think they succeeded.

Besides remembering them, I also remember her. The eyes that held my focus and the voice that begged me to hold on. I used to not be able to make it through a night without the nightmare of Kat. Now I find that some nights the nightmare doesn't come, having been replaced with the voice and the eyes of an angel. I wanted her to, and I asked her to let me go. I wanted to finally be with Kat, where I should have been years ago, but she wouldn't let me go. She asked me to hold on, to stay with her, and I did. Why? Why would she want me to live? But a better question is, why would I let her convince me to stay?

I need to find her. I could make that job easy and ask the police for her information, but I don't want to spend any more time in that station. Through all of their questioning I maintained the story that I couldn't remember much about that night. I'm not a snitch and I won't rat out the ring. It's not worth it to me. I'll find her on my own. I know where I was attacked, though it was dark, and one thing I remember is a dog barking. She must have been out walking it, so she must live close.

I could barely make out her features that night, so physically I'm at a disadvantage, but I'm sure I would know her voice and those eyes anywhere. Though I have no clue who she is, where she is, or why she appeared that night, I believe there's something in this universe that's at work here. It brought us together once and I'm almost certain it will again.

Reanne

I walk in the door of the apartment and the smell of marinara sauce and garlic bread overtakes my senses. Molly came up a while ago while I finished up paperwork at the bakery. She is a good baker but she's an amazing cook. I'll say I'm lucky to have her at the shop but having her as a roommate is a bigger score. I haven't cooked a meal since she moved in.

"That smells amazing, Molly. Thanks for making me realize that I'm starving. What's your specialty tonight?"

"Stuffed shells and garlic bread. Would you like wine?"

"When eating Italian, do as the Italians do."

"Si, Signorina. It'll be ready in ten."

"Okay, I'm going to go wash up then."

I walk into my master bedroom and easily fall into my evening routine which starts with a non-ceremonial bra removal and is quickly followed by a change from tennis shoes to flip-flops. Nothing declares the end of a work day like freeing the tits and toes. I go into the en-suite bathroom and conclude my detachment from the work day by letting my hair out of the clip that holds it so sanitarily in place all day long. Brushing through my auburn locks, I close my eyes, relax, and think about my day. I make it a ritual to find at least one good thing in every day and to acknowledge it and be thankful for it. Today my new chocolate caramel raspberry cheesecake went over famously and I only looked at the alley once. I don't want to be thankful for the second, but maybe it's time to let that one go. Not every chance encounter is meant to have a future.

That thought reminds me that his phone should be charged, and that excitement causes my previous thought to become lost. I set my brush down on the counter and go to my nightstand where the phone is. I pick it up, push the button, and the screen comes to life. A picture of a woman, a very beautiful woman appears. No doubt she's his wife or girlfriend. No doubt she's the one taking care of him and just maybe the reason he hasn't sought me out. I look closer at the picture and I can tell that it wasn't taken with this phone, not in real time anyway. It's a picture of a picture.

I swipe the screen and the keypad comes up requiring a password. I shouldn't be surprised; everyone locks their phone nowadays. I shouldn't be disappointed either, knowing that he's probably okay and with this woman, a woman he probably loves. The truth is that I'm never going to know him. I'm never going to meet the man whose eyes I stared into as he teetered between life and death. I'm not looking for gratitude or recognition. So I shouldn't be disappointed, but I am.

Wes

It's been a month and I can finally move without wincing. I sprung for a weekly rental a little fancier than I usually go for. I need time to recover and didn't want to stay where I had before. Chances are that someone knew I was there and followed me that night, attacking me when the time was right. I went back just to get the few things I had and my motorcycle that, thankfully, hadn't been towed, but was a bitch to ride with my cast on. Then I found this place. There's a little market across the street so I don't have to go far for the necessities. I'm not in hiding but not brandishing myself either. I just want to keep a low profile until I know I can physically handle whatever comes at me. It's time to make some decisions.

This place I'm staying at also has a gym, which was part of its appeal. Working out is an addiction of mine, something I picked up while I was locked up. I've been able to do a little more every day and trying to build back some of the strength I've lost. I don't see myself going back to fighting, not here anyway, but working out is like a therapy on multiple levels. It requires all my focus, which keeps my mind from wandering. I used it in prison, and anything that can effectively keep you distracted while in there, has a fair shot of working on the outside as well.

I've decided that I'm going to find my angel. When I first remembered that night, I wanted to hate her. I hated that she wanted me to live and I hated even more that I listened to her and gave in to her request. I was caught between just leaving town and all of this behind me, and finding her to tell her how she fucked me out of what I've wanted most for almost four years. But I'm stronger now, and for the first time in nearly four years, I think I may have something I want to live for. I don't know yet if it's for her or if her actions were on behalf of a far greater purpose, but there is a reason I'm still here, a rationale for why I held on and I think I'm ready to find that answer.

I was jumped in the alley behind a pizza place. Across one street is a little liquor store, across the other a bakery or something like that, and kitty-corner to that are some apartments. The surrounding area is all residential. So to say I'm looking for a needle in a haystack makes it sound hopeful. What I really need is a miracle.

I'll start by using what I know. I'm pretty sure she had a dog that night and dogs need to be walked a couple of times a day. My chances of seeing her out are probably best early in the morning and in the evening. Considering the events of that night, most women would steer clear of mundane routines after dark. So I'll assume early evening would be the latest she'd be out, while it's still light outside. I look to the clock on the wall and it's almost noon. I'm going to head that way and check out the area. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky.

After a shower, I get dressed and head out on foot knowing I'm only a couple of blocks from where I need to be. The weather is beautiful. It's early spring and breathing in the fragrance of trees and flowers makes me feel alive. I get up to the corner of Thirty-Second and Zuni, and looking to my left past the pizza place, I can see the opening to the alley. My hand goes to the spot above my heart where in small Corsiva font letters, her nickname _Kat_ rests. In my heart, and now over my heart, she's with me forever. The memory of that night comes to me as though it just happened.

I was down here that night walking back from the tattoo shop a couple of blocks down when I stopped in the alley to take a piss. Then I felt something solid hit my back. It wasn't bare hands but a pipe or a piece of wood maybe. The element of surprise stunned me, knocking me off balance and they hauled me farther into the alley and threw me down. I'm not usually so easy to take down, so it was the luck they needed to assure them that I wouldn't get up and beat the fuck out of both of them, turning the tables on their plan and guaranteeing the fact that Randy would never walk out of the ring again. He still may not, but he bought himself some time. I shake my head to clear the memory; I'm here for another reason.

I look across the street and see a bakery. The sign reads, " _For the Love of Cheesecake."_ Where there are baked goods, there's coffee. I have time for coffee.

I walk in the door and I'm struck by sweetness. No man could deny hunger whether he was hungry or not once in the confines of this place. It takes me back to when I was a boy, coming in from playing, to the scents of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I can almost see my mother standing there still in her apron with the sweetest smile on her face. I'm pulled back to the here and now when it dawns on me that the "Sir" I keep faintly hearing is someone trying to get my attention.

"Sir, can I get you something? A cup of coffee and a slice of one of our specialty cheesecakes, perhaps?"

"Um... uh, a cup of coffee would be fine, thank you."

"You got it! One coffee. How do you take it?"

"Black."

"Coming right up. That'll be two dollars."

I reach into my pocket for my money while she steps away to pour my coffee.

"Reanne! We need more regular when you get a chance! I'd do it but I have a line out here!"

"Okay! I'll be out in just a minute!"

The second I hear that voice my head almost involuntarily snaps up searching for the direction of its origin. The girl that took my order is back in front of me, sliding a steaming cup toward me.

"Two dollars, sir."

I blindly set the money on the counter and reach for my coffee only to miss it and manage to knock it over on the counter, emptying its contents and bringing unwanted attention to myself.

"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..." I'm looking down at the mess I made, embarrassed to say the least, but even more so astonished. My mind is still stuck on the fact that she's here. Even before I had really started looking, I found her.

"Don't worry about it. We'll get it cleaned up and get you a new cup. Go ahead and have a seat and I'll bring it to you." This time it's my angel speaking but I can't bring myself to look up at her.

"I'm really sorry," I murmur, still looking down. How must I appear to her? Probably nothing short of being very peculiar and a klutz.

"Really it happens all the time. I'll have you a new one in a jiff."

I walk to a table near the window, looking out, and figure I have about four minutes tops to figure out what I'm going to do next. I had planned on finding her but hadn't thought very far beyond that. What am I going to say? What if she has no clue who I am and I manage to do nothing more than to freak her out? I want to look back at the counter; I want to see her but I don't dare. So I sit and wait, having absolutely no clue about what I'm doing.

"Here you go. Fresh and served to go." Surprised by the sound of her so close, I look up at her and our eyes lock. I know then that she knows who I am. She remembers me and she's beautiful. She has auburn hair and hazel eyes that have gold flecks at the edge of the irises. I hadn't noticed those flecks that night, but now, I want to memorize every one. This woman is the most beautiful I've ever laid my eyes on. She really is an angel.

Now that I've found her I have no idea what to say, but I'm helpless to break free from the connection that exists between us. She's the one that finally breaks away and I'm left feeling that, even though she's right here in front of me, I've lost her again. I look away and she must understand the reason for my withdrawal and starts to speak, but I can't listen. I've thought of nothing but this moment since I woke up in the hospital. I set out to find her, my angel, and I won't let her be the first to speak. I realize now that I owe her everything and those words or something like them should be the first between us. Without looking back up at her I grab the coffee and stand to leave muttering, "Thank you," that I'm not even sure she hears. I'll come back when I'm able to give her what she deserves; when I'm ready to say the words she deserves to hear.

Reanne

After weeks of wanting him to and wondering if he ever would, he walks into my shop, of all places, and nonchalantly orders a cup of coffee. Was he looking for me? Did he know he would find me here? I'm inclined to think not given his reaction when his eyes met mine. He may not have known that he would find me here but there was no mistaking the admission in his eyes and how quickly he left after that realization. He _was_ looking for me.

I see the loss when I break my eyes away from his. His eyes, whose color walks a fine line between a calm blue and a stormy gray, say it all. I can easily see them changing like the weather or like the sky they so closely resemble. I want so badly to say something, anything to take that defeated look away. I want him to stay holding on, just like I urged him to do that night, but he rushes out, pushing past me without looking back.

Two thoughts immediately come to my mind. The words he said that night, " _Go. Please_. _Let me die,_ " and the picture on his phone. I had worried that he meant what he asked for that night, and by keeping him with me I was sentencing him to a purgatory that I couldn't possibly understand. But how do you let someone die? How can you look into someone's eyes and not want to give them hope to hold on? I guess a better question is, how do you look into the eyes of a stranger that's asking you to stay with them and ask them to let you go?

Whether I made a choice for him that he's unhappy with or not, he's alive and for that I'm not sorry. Seeing him alive, I can't even explain how that feels. Except for the few fading bruises on his face that most people would barely notice, and the cast on his left arm, he looks good. Actually he looks more than good, he's beautiful.

I don't know how long I've been standing here when Molly comes up behind me.

"Earth to Reanne."

"Wha- what's up?"

"Maybe you should tell me? You've been standing here for at least five minutes staring out the window. Are you okay?"

"Yea, I'm fine. Uh, do you mind if I run out for a few? Just upstairs for a little bit." I look at my watch and see that it's nearing two. Most of the business for the day is over, so I have a little time.

"Of course. I can handle it here. Go!"

"Call me if you need me." And with that I walk out the door. I wonder if he's still close, if he's watching me. Oddly enough, the thought doesn't scare me; it lights me up knowing that just like I need something from him, maybe he needs something from me too. But I have no clue what that something is. I look around but see nothing, so I open the door to the stairs that will take me to my apartment.

I walk straight to my room and flop down on the bed, lying so my hair hangs over the side. Sugar joins me, happy to have the midday visit. Giving her a scratch, I cock my head up and over to the left so I can see my nightstand and his phone on its corner. I reach for it and hold it to my chest. I don't look at the screen because it's not his picture I'd see there. I just want to hold it close right now, because it may be as close to him as I'll ever get, though after our encounter today, maybe not.

I recall from memory, his every visible feature. Dark hair with loose curls hanging haphazardly over his forehead. His chest so built that it stretched the shirt appointed to cover it. His hands are hard working hands, but I can only imagine them being the softest ever. His arm in the cast, undoubtedly from that night. I have yet to see his smile but I'm sure it would be enough to make me come completely undone.

"Oh, the fantasies I shall have of you," I say as I hold it closer, knowing that fantasies are all they will ever be.

The phone starts to vibrate and I'm startled back to the here and now. I hold it up, fully aware it's none of my business and that I shouldn't look, but maybe, just maybe I'll see something that will tell me something about him. It's a text from someone named Vic.

Vic: Where have you been? Trying to get hold of you for weeks. Got a big one tomorrow night. You're the only one that...

The small box that pops up on the display has met its character limit and I can't see the rest without having the password. A big one? He's the only one that, what? He's been off the grid for weeks according to this. Alarms are going off in my head. Just the name _Vic_ accomplished that. The rest just makes them sound louder.

Maybe this guy is bad news? He's probably the kind of guy a girl doesn't want to want, but does anyway. By what I saw today, wanting him could be solely based on physical attraction without question, but for me, there's something in those eyes, whether it be blue skies or storm clouds, I'm willing to take the chance. That is, if it's ever presented to me.

I break from my thoughts and realize it's been almost an hour since I came up. I guess I was so lost in my thoughts of him that time completely escaped me. I sit up, still holding the phone. He's going to be back, somehow I just know this, so I stand up and slide his phone into my back pocket. I will have the chance to give it back to him, I'm certain.

I figure that since I'm here I'll take Sugar for her walk so that when I go back to the shop I can work straight through tomorrow's prep. I pick her up, clip her leash on, and head out the door and down the stairs. Once I hit the sidewalk I set her down but I get the feeling that I'm being watched. I shake it off to hopefulness. I hope he's watching me and can see that I'm not someone he should be afraid of. I'm quite sure I shouldn't be so careless but he doesn't scare me. Regardless of what my head tells me I should think and feel, my heart is content to disagree.

I make my normal circle and take Sugar back up to the apartment. I give her a treat, a scratch, and a kiss on the head before heading back down. Walking back into the bakery, I look around thinking maybe he'll be out here but I don't see him. This is ridiculous; I'm obsessed with a man I don't know anything about. Last night I might have been able to say that time had caused my thoughts of him to fade to a manageable level, but seeing him today threw that all out the window.

"Hey, boss! I was just going to come check on you. You okay?"

"I'm good. Better. I just needed some downtime. That's all."

"Okay. Well, Nick left, said he'd see you tomorrow. It's already four and slowing down, so if you're okay and don't have anything you need me to do, I'm going to head out."

"Yea, that's fine. Thanks, Moll, for everything. I'll be up later. I already took Sugar for her walk."

She comes in for a hug and I realize then just how much I need one and I hug her back. When we break the hug she stands back just a little to assess me.

"Are you sure you're okay. Rea?"

Knowing that as a woman she'll read the encrypted meaning of the word _fine_ , I search for a word that steers away further worry. I flip my hair over my shoulder and go for convincing.

"I'm fabulous, darling," I say in my best millionairess accent. "I'll handle what's left here. You go on home."

"Okay. See you later then."

"Yup."

I usually stay open until around seven, hoping to cater to those craving some dessert. It's hit-and-miss so I use the downtime to get things together for the next day. Even though there's a pass-through window between the counter and the kitchen, I depend on the bell hanging from the door to let me know when customers arrive, so that I'm not stuck out in the front being unproductive.

I'm in the back making a batch of chocolate croissants when I hear the ring of the bell. I grab a towel to wipe my hands and yell out an acknowledgement. "I'll be right there!"

I walk through the door from the kitchen and there's no one in sight. It was probably someone walking by who thought it would be funny to push open the door. Sometimes a pizza and a few beers from across the street make people a little ornery. I look up at the clock on the wall and see that it's a quarter to seven. I might as well lock up for the night as there hasn't been anyone in the last hour anyway. I walk to the doors and flip the chalkboard sign to say " _Sorry we're closed_ " and reach down to twist the lock clockwise. When I look up from the lock, he's there, standing just outside the door. He doesn't ask me to let him in but his eyes speak for him.

I twist the lock in reverse and open the door just enough so that if my instincts are wrong, I'll have a chance of securing it quickly. We stand there for a long moment, neither of us saying anything. I don't feel unsafe or scared at all, rather anxiousness settles in my chest like a fifty-pound weight. I can see the muscles in his face move like he's ready to speak but he doesn't. I open my mouth, ready to bring an end to this silence when he finally he speaks.

"Why did you save me? Why did you want me to live?"

His questions stun me. I expected there would be an exchange between us, but I hadn't expected him to challenge the choices I made that night. I try to think of just one reason that would make sense, but there are just too many and most aren't even specific to him, so I flip his question back on him.

"Why did you ask me to let you die?" I look into his gray eyes that look as if a storm has just blown in.

"It's complicated."

"Do you hate me for it?" As soon as the question is out of my mouth I want to take it back because if the answer is yes, I don't want to know. But before he starts to talk, the color of his eyes changes again. Like the sun has come out to shine on a perfect blue sky.

"I've come to terms with what you did for me and I don't hate you. I actually want to thank you." His words are calm and relief courses through me.

"Would you like to come in? I can make you a cup of coffee?"

The subtle surprise on his face almost brings tears to my eyes. This is a man that hasn't had anyone do anything for _him_ in a long time, at least not without expecting something in return.

"I think I'd like that."

I open the door the rest of the way, allowing him entry, and then I close and lock it behind him. He's not here to hurt me. Of that, I've never been more certain.

Wes

In all my life I've never met anyone like her. First she saves my life and now I'm here with her in her bakery. She made us a pot of coffee and sat me down with a slice of the best cheesecake I've ever had. The name of this place _For the Love of Cheesecake_ doesn't do it justice, but I suppose that _For the total obsession and complete lack of ability to say no to cheesecake_ doesn't sound as catchy.

I sit at the table in the kitchen with my cup of coffee while she finishes a batch of croissants for tomorrow's business, then she sits across from me with a cup of her own. There's a monogrammed 'R' on it, and it reminds me that I don't even know her name. I am so content to call her Angel, which I've decided she definitely is, but it might be too soon to expose my nickname for a woman I technically just met.

I point to the letter and ask, "What's the 'R' stand for?"

"Reanne. What letter would your cup have?" she asks, motioning to my cup.

"W. My name is Wes. Short for Wesley. Wesley Draves." I have nothing to hide now. A Google search could tell her way more than I'm going to just yet.

"Reanne Lacey. Nice to meet you, Wes." She extends her hand and I meet it for a casual shake. But once the contact is broken, I want it back. I remember the pressure of her hand on my stomach after I'd been stabbed. It wasn't skin on skin but just the closeness is a familiar memory.

"So, Reanne, do you make it a habit of saving strange men in alleys or am I your first?"

"You're my first." She laughs and tries to act cocky. "I've always wanted to try it, you know, playing the hero. I'd like to say it's not all it's cracked up to be, but having you sitting here alive, well that kind of makes it worth the hype."

I can't help but to smile at what she says, but I become somber again and look down at my cup as I speak. "I remember all the things you said that night. When I woke up I wasn't sure what was real or if it was all a dream. I wasn't sure if you were real. I wanted to be mad at the phantom woman that held on to me with her voice and those beautiful eyes. That night, dying wasn't what I went out looking for but it was something I would've easily accepted."

"And now?" Her voice is softer; it bears no confidence but no fear either.

I look up at her and the gold in her eyes is glistening with an overlay of tears. "Now? Now, I know it was all real. You are real. A real angel." I reach across the table with my good hand and lay it over hers and my heart quickens with the return of contact. "How could I be angry with an angel?"

Tears give way and spill from her eyes, but she still smiles. Her smile is something I haven't yet seen but I'm positive, now that I have, I never want to go another day without. She lifts her free hand to wipe her eyes and gasps. I'm immediately worried and wonder if I've said something wrong? She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out my phone. She sets it on the table and pushes it toward me.

"I picked it up that night. As they rolled you away, it fell on the ground. They wouldn't let me see you at the hospital, something about not knowing your name, you know." She rolls her eyes and cocks her head to the side like it was the most obscure thing ever but knowing the reason for it.

I was actually a little happy that the phone wasn't in my personal belongings at the hospital, but equally scared that someone, like the police, would learn things from this that they didn't need to know. Did she?

I pick it up to see that it has power and Kat's picture fills the screen. As I stare at it, she speaks nervously. "I charged it and tried to open it. I just thought that maybe with it, I could find you and return it. I didn't get very far, so I just held on to it hoping one day I'd have this chance."

If she had seen anything on here she wouldn't be so trusting. This is how Vic contacted me to inform me of fights. If she had seen any of those messages she would've never let me in tonight. There's that, and all the pictures in here are of Kat—there are half a dozen or so. I took snapshots with my phone of all the pictures I had of her, wanting to always have them with me but afraid to carry the originals. They were all I had left.

"Thank you—again. I feel like I'll be saying those words to you a lot, Ms. Lacey."

"You don't need to. Can I ask you a question?" I nod. "The girl on your phone, she's beautiful. Is she your wife?"

"No." _Please, Reanne, don't pry_.

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's none of my business." She picks up her cup and takes a sip. Whether it's to keep her from asking further questions or to hide the embarrassment from my answer, I don't know.

"Remember when I told you it's complicated?"

"Yes. Really, you don't have to explain. I was just curious, but curiosity did nothing good for the cat, did it? I shouldn't have asked." She laughs it off and looks away.

I reach for her hand again and squeeze it reassuringly. For some reason I want her to know that I'm giving her as much as I can right now. "I know I don't have to explain and I'm not going to, not yet. She's part of my past. A painful part, and the reason I asked you to let me die that night."

Her eyes go wide as if she has fit the pieces together and she knows that Kat, or in her case the woman in the picture, is dead.

"Wes, I'm sorry." Her eyes go glossy again. She's sad for me and she doesn't even know me. She doesn't know anything about me. How can she care so much for a stranger? For me?

"Don't be. She's the reason I asked you to let me go." I look at her, catching her eyes and locking them with mine. "But I'm still here because you asked me to stay."

Reanne

He insists on walking me to my door after realizing I had to walk the two hundred feet from the shop to the entrance where the stairs lead to my apartment. He lingers for a minute and then whispers good night and heads back down the street. I watch for a moment, not really wanting our time together to be over. When I finally walk into my apartment, it's a little after eleven. After beginning my day at four in the morning you'd think I'd be completely exhausted, but I'm not. My body is tired but in my mind I'm replaying all the conversations from earlier and recalling every detail about Wes so that I can commit them all to memory.

I learned that he's from Colorado Springs but left there a few years ago—he didn't say why. He mentioned that he's an only child and that his mother is still living there in the house he grew up in. His father hasn't been around since he was twelve and, furthermore, that he hasn't seen or spoken to him since. He told me how he studied to be a psychiatrist, but again, he left the end of that story hanging. He was very open about most of his past, that is, up until about four years ago.

Even after everything we talked about, I learned almost nothing about his present life. He wouldn't say where he lived or if he had a job. I even dared to ask him if he knew why he was attacked that night. I got what's become his token response, _"It's complicated, Reanne."_ So, I let it go, accepting the idea that I may never know, but not ignoring the fact that I want to, aside from knowing it's not really my business.

I took in every word he said, wanting to know all there is to know about this man. But I was also memorizing him. Every time his eyes went sad they turned that storm gray that I remember. His nose is just a little crooked as if at some point it may have been broken. His almost curly hair is just long enough that I can envision running my fingers through it while staring at those lips that are definitely kissable.

I've heard all of these increments of his life, but I still don't know him. He bounced around all the details that I want to know, but even without knowing them, I feel this attraction to him. As he told me everything tonight, he held my hand, rubbing it softly with his thumb during the happy and tender memories and squeezing it slightly during the painful ones. It made me feel like he needed me. But everything he told me was a memory, and it makes me think that, as much as I don't want to, maybe I should make him one of mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up to the sound of my alarm and surprisingly, I feel rested, contrary to what I expected. Reaching over to turn off the annoying buzzer, I immediately notice the absence of his phone. I lay my head back down on the pillow and wonder if last night is the last time I'll see him. I should probably hope so and go on with my life, but I can't hope for what I don't really want. I think he's meant to be part of it, like even though I don't feel the need for protecting, he's meant to be my guardian.

I leave that thought in bed with all the dreams I've ever had of having a man in my life, and set my focus on drowning such thoughts in a steaming hot shower.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down at the bakery it's business as usual. I'm always the first one there, but in an hour Molly will join me and Nick comes in at ten. I actually enjoy time here alone, but this morning it just makes me think of just _how_ much time I have to myself, which is too much. I've put my whole life into my business in an attempt to avoid being like my mother, but it hasn't left me any time to think about all the other things I always wanted, like having a family. But not having someone in my life has made those thoughts not worth my time anyway.

I never had a dad around. In fact, my mom finally owned up, after years of lies and claiming she didn't know who he was, to say she did know who he was but wasn't going to tell me. He was just another one of her mistakes. And with her mistake exists a father that I will never know. I don't ever expect her to reveal his name, but there's hope that maybe on her deathbed, she'll come clean. Even for that, I won't hold my breath.

I'm pouring my fifth cake when I hear the jingle of the bell out front. Looking up at the clock, I know before I hear her, that it's Molly. She's not a morning person like I am, but I've learned that a cup and a half of coffee and a chocolate croissant gives her just the right amount of sugar and caffeine to put a smile on her face. My croissants are one of my number one breakfast sellers but even if they weren't, I'd make sure she had them.

She walks into the kitchen, coffee in tow for both of us, and takes to putting on her apron. I've been training her for the last few months. She shows real promise and ambition for being a talented baker. Along with that being a triumph for her, it would also mean some relief for me. After all these years, a vacation sounds simply amazing, though going by myself doesn't carry the same appeal. Maybe it will work out that at the same time I decide she can handle it on her own, I'll find my Prince Charming. That way, everyone wins—most of all, me.

The day goes quickly and as I feared, no sign of Wes. I don't know why I thought he might come in; I guess I just hoped he would. At ten to seven I walk over to flip the sign and lock up. As I do this, I'm scanning the street for any sign of him, but it's as empty out there as it is in here. My spirit is deflated and exhaustion is staking its claim on my emotions. I remind myself that he promised me nothing and it's best that I let go of this feeling that there's a connection between us now, before I hurt myself with impossible expectations.

I check the inventory in the kitchen and find that there's nothing I need to do that can't wait until tomorrow. Right now, I just want to go home, shower, and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. There's nothing I can do otherwise about Wes, and I don't want to become another one of his _complications_. Although he's thankful to me, maybe I'm just not what he wants, but I have a feeling that the woman in the picture was.

I lock up for the night and while walking to the door that leads to my apartment, I feel that something's missing. It's the feeling that I had all day yesterday, the feeling that someone's watching me. I don't feel it now and I miss it. It means that he's not watching, that he's not here, and that the hope I had built up of seeing him again is barely holding on by a thread. A weak thread that may break at any moment.

Wes

I didn't go and see her today, not that I didn't want to. I wanted to desperately. It was all I thought about all day and the mental strength I had to exercise, to not go to her, was far stronger than any physical strength I've ever demonstrated. I have to understand that I'm not the man she needs, not the man I am now, anyway. Maybe four years ago, but then again, that man never would have met her because he had everything he wanted.

So many different thoughts are flooding my mind, and with a ferocity that literally makes my head ache. Last night when I got back to my hotel, I checked my phone, curious as to what I may have missed over the last few weeks. There were at least two dozen messages from Vic, all of which were telling me about fights that he wanted me to take on. In fact, there's a fight tonight, and Vic thinks I'm the only one with a chance of winning. It also comes with a hefty payout of ten thousand dollars. I'm getting back into shape, and a lot faster than the doctor thought, but I don't think I'm ready yet. I still have plenty of money from all the fights I'd won before. Ten grand is tempting, but if the money is that good, so is the competition.

Before, when I fought, I had nothing to lose. If I lost, even if I died, it didn't matter. All my money went into an account with my mom's name on it, and if something happened to me, she could've managed for a while on it alone. And I didn't care—dying would've been a relief. But Reanne changed that, in one night. All my anger of being denied that one simple request has turned into optimism. My angel has diluted the bitterness and resentment of my past. She made me see light again.

That light is exactly why it's so hard to stay away, but at the same time, why I have to. This life I have now is no place for her. She has dreams; she's living one right now through her bakery. I can't offer her anything and she deserves everything. I could easily fall in love with a woman like her and I don't trust myself to have the strength not to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a week since I went to the bakery. It's amazing how unyielding you can be when you care enough about someone to know that you should stay away. I actually wasn't sure I could be strong enough, so I hopped on my bike and rode up to my mom's in Colorado Springs for a few days. I don't get up there often, even though it's only a little over an hour away. It's my hometown, but I don't feel like I belong there anymore; it's no longer home.

Everyone knew me and Kat, as well as our families, and everyone also knew the accident was my fault. So, when I do go there, it's only to see my mom, and my visits are kept unseen. Once, I did go to the cemetery while I was there, in the evening, when running into anyone else would be unlikely. I went to say goodbye to Kat, to tell her that I was sorry, that I loved her, and that I would try to be with her again soon. I can still say I meant the first three, but the last is no longer true. I will be with her again one day, but I'm no longer trying to make it there _soon_. The reason for that comes back to Reanne, she's the reason I'm not in a hurry to escape anymore, even though I know I'm no good for her.

The few days with my mom will be good for me. I don't often get the opportunity to surround myself with pure goodness, so I relish in the pleasure it brings. I felt that pleasure a week ago, in the back kitchen of a bakery, with an angel, and have wanted the feeling back every day since. Being with my mom isn't exactly the same, but will serve as a suitable replacement. My mom knows everything, well almost everything, and still loves me in that unequivocal way that mothers do. She doesn't know the specifics of how I live now or the details of my time in jail that changed me into who I am now, but I'm still her son and her unconditional love has remained just that.

"Wesley! What a surprise!" She envelops me in a hug and kisses the side of my head, just like she has for as long as I can remember. I hug her back, one armed, and take in the smell of her perfume that's so familiar, so her. It's Tabu, the same perfume she's worn my whole life.

"I have a couple of days to spare and thought you might have a fresh honey-do list for me since I haven't been up in a while."

She steps back looking me over and sees the cast on my left arm. She continues her survey of me and then speaks. "What happened there?" She again eyes my arm.

"Broken arm. No big deal. The cast comes off in a couple of weeks." She just nods her head and smiles at me. I usually make it a rule not to come here when I'm all banged up so I don't have to tell her that her son, who was once a doctor of psychiatry, now makes a living beating the shit out of people. I'm sure she wouldn't find the danger as exciting as I once did. But the once or twice I did show up with the faint remnants of bruises on my face, I think she made it her rule to not want to know. Don't ask, don't tell. She knows I'm different since I got out of jail but sees past it because I'm her son.

After I finished the list of chores she had saved up for me, I was rewarded with a home-cooked meal. My mom's cooking is well worth the work that led up to it. Sitting at the table with her is worth it too. It takes me back to when I was a teenager, when it was just the two of us. We always used meal time to talk about our days and anything that bothered us. We would remind each other that my father leaving wasn't either of our faults, and by having that time, we helped each other through a lot of rough times. Those conversations planted the seed for my career.

We sit there silent for a few minutes at a stalemate for conversation when a question pops into my head. At first, I really don't have a clue why I ask it, but the answer will become clear to me soon enough.

"Mom, why didn't you ever date after Dad left?" I need some perspective on my own personal dilemma, and though death and abandonment are different, clinically I know the resolutions may be similar.

"I don't know, I guess my psyche was damaged by being discarded, though I know his leaving wasn't about me. I wasn't looking for anyone else and the opportunity never really presented itself. I was happy being focused on you."

"And why not after all this time? How are you content with being alone?"

"I've dated a few men while you were away. One of them I still see sometimes." She blushes a little at the admission and I smile knowing that someone has that effect on her.

"Was it hard to start over?"

"Wes, where is this going? Talk to me, Son."

"I met someone. She's special, she's an angel, and it's like she was sent to be _my_ angel." I look down at my hands and recall every detail about her. "She's beautiful and kind and no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about her." I look up to see her focusing on my words.

"It's been almost four years, Son, and contrary to what you may think of yourself and what a few others may think of you, you're a good man. You've blamed yourself all this time for an error that, honestly, anyone could've made."

"An error that cost lives—hers, mine, and her family's."

"True, but you have the ability to rebuild and so do they. It will always be there, it will always hurt, but punishing yourself for the rest of your life won't change anything." She reaches across the table and takes my hand exactly the way she did when I was twelve years old and much like I did to Reanne a week ago. "Kat didn't waste one minute of her life, and I know that she wouldn't want you to either. You've lost enough." _But have I?_ "If you feel that you're being given another chance, you owe it to yourself to take it." She rises from the table and stopping to leave a kiss on my head, she leaves the room.

My mom turned in for the night and I go out to the swing sitting on the back porch. The moon is full and so bright you can actually see some of the craters on its surface with the naked eye. Staring at it, I wonder what Reanne's doing now. It's a little after nine, so I figure she may actually still be at the bakery. I want to be the man she deserves and I want to think I can be. But right now, I just want to hear her voice, and before I even finish that thought, I'm pulling up Google on my phone, searching for " _For the love of Cheesecake, Denver, CO_."

Reanne

I'm doing a final clean up from tonight's prep and all I want to do is go upstairs and sink into a well-deserved bubble bath. I sent Molly up a few hours ago and she took Sugar for her walk so that I wouldn't have to. I've been moody for days now and needed to be alone with the one thing that allows me to relax, namely, my kitchen. I've been trying not to think about him, but every attempt ends in failure. Just looking at the 'R' on my cup reminds me of the coffee we had together, of him taking my hand, and seeing the hurt in his eyes turn to hope when he called me his angel.

_You have to snap out of this Reanne. It's been a week, he's gone. Get. Over. It._ Not that there was actually anything started that requires getting over.

I walk over to flip the lights off and, just then, the shop phone starts ringing. My first reaction is to ignore it and let it ring. The shop is closed, and whoever it is can call back tomorrow. But it's odd because no one ever calls this late. What if it's Molly? No, she would call my cell, but when I reach for my phone in my back pocket, I notice it's not there. Shit! I must have left it upstairs earlier. I should answer it and I run to catch it before she hangs up.

"Hello!" Silence. "Hello. Molly?"

"Reanne." That voice—his voice. I will never forget how it sounds.

"Wes." It's not a question.

"Working late, huh?"

"Yeah, just finished, actually. I was getting ready to walk out."

"I'm sorry, I'll let you go then. I... uh... I just wanted to hear your voice." My heart melts with his admission, which tells me that I have to stop this now. I can't allow him to do this to me.

"Wes, I understand that there are a lot of things I don't know about you—maybe I never will—but you can't just call, telling me you want to hear my voice, and then disappear for another week. I don't know what is or isn't happening between us, but even if it's just a friendship originating from this fateful event that brought us together, I need more. I deserve more."

"I'm sorry, Angel. You do deserve more. I just needed time to figure some things out. I'm at my mom's in Colorado Springs." Did he just call me Angel?

"Oh," I respond, eating my _tough_ words now.

"I'd like to see you when I get back."

"I'd like that."

"Are you walking home alone tonight?"

"Yes, it's only two hundred feet." Great, he's one of those overprotective men. I don't need a big brother.

"Take down this number: 303-555-0113. Call me, so I can talk to you while you walk. Please?"

"I can't. I don't have my phone with me. I left it upstairs earlier."

"Call me when you get there, okay? Five minutes." He hangs up.

What the hell! Nothing for a week, and now he's Mr. Five-Minutes. As much as it bugs me, it also makes me feel like maybe there's a chance he'll stick around this time. I grab the piece of paper with the number and my keys and leave.

When I get upstairs, I find my phone on the counter in the kitchen. I pick it up and while walking to my room, I enter his number into my contacts and send him a text.

Me: In an act of defiance, I'm not calling you. You now have my number and if you want to talk, you can call me. I waited a week for you.

Wes: Calling now.

Within a few seconds, my phone rings and his name shows on the screen. I press the accept icon and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hey."

"Is it any consolation that I've wanted to see you every single day?"

"Why didn't you? And please don't tell me it was because it's complicated. I need more than that."

"It is complicated, and not something I'm going to tell you over the phone. When I get back, I'll give you more. I promise."

"When will you be back?"

"Saturday afternoon."

"Can you tell me anything about yourself? Anything?" I feel that if he would just let me in I wouldn't be so worried that he'll disappear again.

"I know you don't want me to say this, but I can't tell you anything without telling it all. And I want to be face-to-face when I tell you everything. Please trust me? Saturday, okay?"

"Okay." Time to change the subject. "So, you're at your mom's? Can you tell me about her?"

We ended up talking until almost midnight, about everything but his present. I told him small details about my life, about my parents, and my grandmother. How I was able to start the bakery and how much I absolutely love it. Given that he won't tell me everything, I may have skipped some specifics of my own too, like how I've waited my whole life for my Prince Charming and how I think he may, in fact, be him. It's no surprise when I fall asleep thinking about him. I've never had my thoughts so monopolized by anyone I've ever met, but since that moment in the alley, not more than a minute has gone by, even when I tried not to, that I haven't thought of him.

Friday morning, I wake up to an alert on my phone—it's a text from Wes.

Wes: Have a good day, Angel.

Me: You too.

He calls me Angel. He told me that I was his angel—his reason to live. I don't know what to think about it yet nor am I sure how it makes me feel. It's sweet, but I feel it sets me up to this standard that I don't deserve. I did what I thought was right and if he wasn't going to make it that night, I didn't want him to be alone. I don't see it as the act of an angel, it was just me and however long my presence was needed, I was going to be there.

I'm in the kitchen at the bakery earlier than normal, wanting to get as much done this morning as possible. Wes will be back tomorrow, and for the next couple of days, I'd like to avoid working late nights. I want to spend some time with him, I want to know what it is that's so complicated about him.

There's something about him that intrigues me. Something that calls to me—like in some way, I'm the person that can help him. I don't know what his story is, but I can only imagine it's not a happy one, and I'm prepared for the worst. But with all the darkness in him, there's also something about him that makes me feel alive. It's in the way he looks at me and the way I felt when he touched my hand. We were brought together for a reason.

Wes

During my ride back to Denver, I mentally construct a list of reasons why I shouldn't go see her. Number one being that I promised her explanations that I'm not sure I can deliver. I've never explained that part of my life to anyone and I'm not completely sure that I can now. Secondly—fear. I know she's not actually mine to lose, but losing her wouldn't be any less painful than if she was. She's already someone special to me.

The list of pros is short, the list of cons is not at all in my favor, and in the end, it's obvious that the cons should win. I have to think of her safety and getting mixed up with me is definitely not what's safest for her. But in the end, it is neither the pros nor the cons that take me straight to her shop, but rather my pure selfishness.

When I walk in, it's just before three and the sitting area is full of people sipping coffee and indulging in her sweet homemade treats. Her talent is evident in her patrons' smiles and the line of those still waiting to be served. Manning the counter is an older woman who is dashing back and forth between the coffee and the display cooler and the younger girl that served me the first time I was here. She's a petite blonde with a bubbly personality as she takes orders, but she takes the time to offer salutations when the bell on the door rings, announcing my entrance.

"Good afternoon," she says with a smile personally directed at me. It's quick, but you can tell that it's not a robotic reaction but rather a nice welcoming touch, then she quickly returns to the customer she's helping.

I look around for Reanne, but she's nowhere in sight. She's probably in the back baking, trying to keep up with the demand. I take my place in line, as I might as well get a coffee. While I wait, I take my phone from my pocket to send her a text.

Wes: What's a guy gotta do to get a coffee around here? This place is a mad house.

She doesn't respond, but less than a minute later, I sense her presence as she emerges from what I know to be the kitchen. There's instant eye contact between us and a conversation takes place without words. She nods her head, calling me over as she goes to the coffee pot at the main counter and I leave my place in line to meet her at the far end of the counter. She returns with a cup of black coffee and pushes it across to me.

"I was wondering if you'd actually show up." She says this very honestly but not quite with the same attitude she's had before.

"I told you I would."

"I know. I guess I just needed to see you to believe it."

"You were my first stop. I'm trying to make it up to you, Reanne. Take it easy on me." I plead with my eyes for her patience.

"Okay. I'm sorry." The innocent look on her face tells me that she's just as apprehensive as I am, and it's that look that gives me the strength to take the next step.

"What time do you usually close?"

"Depending on how busy it is, around seven or so."

"I'll be back at seven. I promise." I reach across the counter to take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. I need her to know that I won't disappoint her again by disappearing.

"I'll be here."

I know it's not supposed to come off for another week, but I go from the bakery to the hospital anyway, to see if there's a chance of getting my cast removed. I'm over it. I need to start working on my strength in that arm and it'll make riding my bike easier, especially with a passenger. Luck would have it that my bone appeared to be completely healed and the attending physician approved the use of a brace for the remaining week and suggested another two weeks before any strenuous exercise. I agreed, just thankful to have it off. By the time I leave, it's five and only two hours left until I go back to meet Reanne.

I ride back to my place, needing a shower and to organize my thoughts. I promised her my story, an explanation for why I'm so complicated. On one hand I feel I should tell her everything now, just lay it all out, and if it's too much for her, she can leave before either of us become any more invested in this than we already are. That may sound smug, but I know she feels something. The other hand is telling me to only tell her what she needs to know and address the things she's already mentioned. Starting with who the woman in the picture is and what happened to her, and what it is that I do for a living.

The last one might send her running, but it will also explain the night we met. Ultimately, it was that detail that led to the event that caused our paths to cross and I'd go through it again if that same outcome was guaranteed.

As I let the hot spray cover my body in warmth, I force my mind to stop thinking. I clear my thoughts completely, hoping that only the right answers will rise to the surface. Deep breaths in and out, and eventually I fall into a meditative state. For minutes, I maintain this relaxed state of thought, and when I regain consciousness, I have my answer.

I won't lie to her, not about anything, but I'll only give her answers to the questions she asks. It's the only way I can ensure that she only knows as much as she wants to. It could still end badly, but that's a chance I have to be willing to take.

Reanne

I accomplish a lot over the course of the afternoon to make sure that when Wes comes back I can close early and have some time to spend with him. Molly helped out and I asked Clara to stay late to run the front counter. By a quarter to seven, I'm satisfied with the little that was left to do in the morning.

Clara and Molly head out right at seven, but there is still no sight of Wes. Anxiety over whether he is actually going to show or not is rearing its ugly head. He promised. He made the point to tell me he'd be here and I don't think he'll turn his back again. Not after he silently begged me to forgive him.

I make busy work around the shop, but try not to start anything that's too involved, although that's what my instinct tells me to do. _Lose yourself in work, Reanne, just in case he doesn't show_. I've just finished filling a stack of coffee filters when I hear the roar of a motorcycle pull up in front of the shop.

I swipe my hands against each other to knock off any remaining coffee grounds, then rub them on my pant legs as I walk toward the door. I can see him through the glass as he removes his helmet and sets it on the seat. Then as he turns to face me, he runs his hand through his hair. I don't know why I notice, but he does this with his left hand.

I unlock the door and open it for him to enter. He walks toward me and I take him in, every inch of him. Jeans, riding boots, and a brown leather bomber jacket. He is a sexy man. He walks through the door, and stops in front of me and faces me; then he lifts his hand to touch my chin with his thumb.

"I told you I'd be here."

"You're late," I say almost breathless at his touch.

"I promised and I'll never break a promise to you. I'm late because I had to stop so that I could get something for you."

"You didn't have to get me anything. This isn't a date. I don't need flowers." I haven't allowed my head to go there because the fear of disappointment has been lingering near the forefront of my mind.

"I know it isn't, and I didn't bring you flowers. But I do have somewhere I want to take you, and to do that I needed to get you a helmet."

"Why? Where are we going?" I've never ridden on a motorcycle before, so this is all very scary but exciting at the same time.

"Do you trust me?"

I don't know why or if I even should, but I do. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Get your jacket. It gets cold on the bike."

I go into the back and grab my jacket off the hook, and as I'm putting it on, I'm wondering if I've lost my damn mind. I don't know this guy. We only met because he was getting the shit beat out of him in an alley and I can't ignore the fact that there might have been a reason for that. But I trust him because he's had plenty of opportunities to hurt me if that's what he intended to do. I'm not afraid of physical harm, but I am a little afraid of what he could do to my heart.

I walk back out to the front and he's waiting by the door. He looks up and smiles and it's that smile that tosses every ounce of question I may have had, completely out of my mind. I smile back and walk toward him, knowing and trusting that this man is not out to hurt me.

He leads us out and I turn back to lock the door while he readies the bike. Satisfied that the door is secure, I step over to stand beside him next to the motorcycle.

"This might be a good time to mention that I've never been on one of these." I point to the bike.

"Let's give you a crash course." My eyes go wide, not at all liking his choice of words and I take one step back. He catches on quick and grabs my hand, pulling me back toward him and he rephrases his statement. "A quick lesson. Better?"

"Much." I nod in acceptance, the absence of the word _crash_ putting me a little more at ease.

"First we put this on." He takes a helmet from the seat and places it on my head, carefully buckling it under my chin. "How's it feel? Is it tight enough?"

I reach up, and placing both hands on either side, shake it to see if there's any give. "I think so. It feels pretty snug."

"Good. I'm going to get on and you get on behind me, okay?" I nod in understanding and watch as he smiles and lifts his leg over the bike to take his place.

I climb on behind him, not sure what I'm supposed to hang on to, but I'm about to find out. He reaches behind and grabs both my hands, pulling them to connect again on the other side of his waist. He turns slightly so that he can see me over his shoulder and proceeds with the instructions.

"Hold on to me, okay? Don't let go. I'm your seat belt. When I make turns, lean with me, always with me. You're going to want to go the other way, but don't. Always with me. Keep your feet on those pegs." He points to the foot peg on both sides and I lift my feet to rest on them. "Even when we stop, keep your feet up. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess." He reaches down and squeezes my thigh reassuringly, but the gesture and its intention to calm me backfires, managing only to speed my heart rate up instead of slowing it down.

"You'll do fine." He puts his helmet on and starts the bike. As it roars to life, so does an excitement deep inside of me that I've never experienced. My apprehension has waned and I'm overcome with wildness. Maybe it's the spontaneity of the evening or maybe the potential danger of the two things between my legs right now. One thing I do know is that I'm a lot less worried about the motorcycle than I am the man.

He slowly pulls away from the curb and as we move, I can feel myself gripping his waist tighter. He maneuvers the motorcycle expertly and I trust his ability, but my nerves are still at play. He rides us down Zuni toward the expressway, then makes the turn for the on-ramp. If it's even possible, I squeeze him tighter causing him to yell over his shoulder.

"It's okay, Angel. Trust me."

I don't loosen my grip on him, not because I don't trust him, but because it makes me feel safe. I guess I'd better trust him at this point because I'm with him on a motorcycle and going who knows where, in the dark. Now is a little late to evaluate this situation. I won't say I'm not a little nervous, because I am, but I'm not scared. The way I see it, being nervous is to be unsure, but curious of what's to come. Being scared means you've not the desire to find out at all.

We're driving for about twenty-five minutes when we move to exit the expressway. I haven't really been paying much attention to where we were going, but rather enjoying the ride. I never realized how much I was missing. On the bike you feel so free with the wind racing past you without having the enclosure of doors and windows. I've haven't loosened my grip from around Wes, but I'm not holding on so tight because of nerves or fear anymore. I'm holding on so tight because he makes me feel safe, and I enjoy how that feels.

After he makes the exit, he veers to the left and follows that road to the next light, then makes another left. A moment later he makes another turn into a parking area. I have a faint recollection of where we are. I think it's Berkeley Lake. He stops the bike and leans it slightly to rest it on the kickstand. For a second I'm a little sad because I have to release my hold on him, and when I do let go, I instantly miss the warmth and safeness that his closeness made me feel.

He dismounts the bike then reaches back to lend me his hand, and I grab hold of it while I do the same. Then we both take to the task of removing our helmets. I've seen helmet hair before and have no intentions of him seeing mine, so before he can, I shake my fingers through my hair, trying to avoid the embarrassment. He, on the other hand, removes his helmet and looks just as beautiful as he did before he put it on. In fact, if it's even possible, he looks even more beautiful. But when he catches me fussing with my hair he releases a small chuckle.

"You can stop messing with your hair. You look gorgeous, Angel." I stop, because I can see by the look in his eyes, that they're not just words. He means them. "Are you hungry? I brought sandwiches."

"If you hadn't mentioned it, I'd have been fine, but now that you have, I'm starving."

He smiles and reaches into a saddlebag on the bike and pulls out a bag. Then shoves his keys in his pocket and takes my hand to lead me on a short walk. Near a play area at the park, there are some picnic tables and he steers us toward the one closest to the water, where there's another path that follows the lake's edge.

He gestures for me to sit, then goes to the opposite side and does the same. He reaches into the bag and pulls out two small, paper wrapped items and pushes one toward me.

"It's turkey and provolone. I figured it was a pretty neutral choice."

"It's one of my favorites, thank you. So, do you come here often?" I ask looking out over the water. It's dark and hard to see but you know it's there by the reflection the moon leaves on its rippling surface.

"Sometimes. I like to jog around the lake. It's peaceful."

"How was the visit with your mom?"

"It was good. She saves up her list of chores for me and I try to get up there once, maybe twice a month," he laughs. "She's good though. You know, getting older, but still kicking. How was your week?"

I've been picking at my sandwich while he answers. His voice is so calm, so smooth. I could listen to him talk all night. "Same as always. I don't do much. The bakery is my life. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do. I just don't have time for much else."

"What would you do if you had time for anything else?"

"I don't know." I pause and think for a second; what would I do? What do I want? "I think about that all the time. I'd love to travel and see life outside of Colorado. I've been here my entire life. It'd be nice to go somewhere different, anywhere different. A week on a beach somewhere sounds amazing, but, then again, what's the fun in sitting on a beach alone? So I guess I don't know what I'd do."

"So, I realize it's a little late to ask, but no boyfriend, huh?" He keeps his eyes on mine while waiting for my answer.

"Nope. Not that I wouldn't make time for a boyfriend, if I had one. I just don't have time to find one. Relationships are an involved process. How about you? Do you have a girlfriend?" Do I really want to know the answer to this question? I guess it's too late to wonder being that the words have already left my mouth.

"No. I don't."

"Wife?"

"No." He answers as though it's painful.

"Then who's the girl on your phone?" I'm all in now. I won't be the other woman.

"She _was_ my fiancée." I'm taken by his use of the past tense.

"Was? What happened?" Do I really want to know this? But I don't have a choice when he answers my question very plainly.

"She died."

Wes

I made a promise to myself that I'd answer anything she asked and that I'd do so with complete honesty. Now with the one question that's emotionally the hardest for me to answer out of the way, I'm pretty sure I'll have the strength to tell her whatever else she wants to know. Her eyes turn sad at my answer, not that it's her sadness to bear, but I think she may finally understand my request from the night we met.

"I'm so sorry, Wes," her condolence is followed by a few seconds of hesitation. "How long ago?" She actually looks like she's ready to cry. She's hurting for me, again.

"Almost four years." She nods her head, taking in my answer.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but if I may ask, how?"

I don't want to answer, but she asked, so I will. "Car accident—impaired driver." I offer the last bit hoping it'll deter the questions that I fear undoubtedly will follow.

"Complicated," she says as she blows out a breath that I'm sure she didn't even realize she was holding. "I get it now. So you left Colorado Springs and moved to Denver to escape?" To escape the looks, the loss, and the blame? Yes. But she didn't ask for all of that.

"I didn't want to be there anymore. It wasn't home anymore." It's not a lie. She puts down her sandwich and reaches for my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. For a couple of minutes we sit in silence; I'm sticking to my plan of ask and tell, and Reanne is most likely carefully calculating any further questions.

"You want to take a walk? I think we need to move; release this tense energy. Come on." She takes the leftovers from the sandwiches, wraps them up and puts them back in the bag. Then she rises and walks around the table taking my hand and tugging it to get me to follow her lead.

We cross the grass to the path that'll take us along the water and follow it for a few minutes in silence. Both of us are just taking in the night. I'm also taking in how being so close to this woman is making me feel. The moon is nearly full and the way it bounces off the water creates just enough light for us to see each other's faces. I glance over at her, but quickly turn away when I see her turning to look in my direction. It happens twice more before we both start to laugh and, finally, the topmost layer of tension is shattered.

"So, what do you do in Denver? For work?" I knew this question was coming.

"I'm sort of out on disability right now, but I'm a fighter." She stops and looks at me confused and questioning.

"A fighter? What does that mean?"

"I fight underground."

"You mean illegally? Is that why you were attacked?"

"Most likely." Afraid of what she'll say next, I try to clarify what I meant by that. "Look, I understand if this is too much. I don't want you to be scared of me; I will _never_ hurt you. Fighting is just what I do or what I did until recently."

"Maybe I should be scared of myself because I'm _not_ scared of you. But, I'm not going to question why I'm not. I'm choosing to trust you instead. You've been through some pretty painful stuff and I think maybe you're still fighting through that pain. I'm not here to judge you, but I worry for you."

"Why do you worry for me?" No one but my mom has in years.

"Because if that is the reason you were attacked; I'm worried it could happen again." Her eyes have become glossed with tears. I raise my hand to her face to stop the one tear that got away.

"It won't. But, hey, you know what? I wouldn't change what happened that night. Do you know why?" She shakes her head, no. "Because that night, I met an honest to God angel."

"I'm not as special as you make me sound, Wes. I didn't save you, I'm not a hero." She looks down at the ground, as if she's defeated and believes her own words. I want to make sure she hears every word I'm about to say. I lift her chin with the same hand that, just a moment ago, caught her tear, and I draw her eyes to mine.

"Maybe not, but _you_ asked me to stay with you and I had a choice. I didn't understand it then, but I understand now. Do you know why I held on?" She shakes her head slightly. "Whether I call you a hero, my savior, or an angel, it doesn't matter—it was you." With those words, that were meant to help her understand, I understand now too. I might not have this morning when I woke up, or even five minutes ago, but I do now.

I want to kiss her and it's taking every ounce of control I have not to, but she said something a little while ago and she was right. I've been through pain, more than I've let her know of, and I'm still dealing with it. It's one of the reasons I started fighting, because beating up others was the only time I wasn't beating up myself.

I want to kiss her, but I'm not going to, not tonight. She doesn't know it, but in the short time I've known her, she's helping me through that pain and though it will never disappear completely, I think it will fade enough so that I'm not fighting it every day. Because of that night and because of her, the healing I've denied for so long, has finally begun.

We start walking again and continue along the path around the lake. For a while we're both quiet, no doubt she's processing the admissions I've made, and I guess I'm doing the same. Although I left out specific details, I told her what happened to Kat. I've never told anyone that. I also told her about the fighting. Besides the opponents, the gamblers, and the organizers, no one knows about that—not even my mom.

We've made it half way around the pond when she speaks again and although the silence was nice, her voice is like music to my ears.

"Thank you."

"For what?" What could _I_ possibly have done for her to deserve her gratitude?

"For being honest with me. For letting me into your _complicated_ life. I'm sure there's more, but you letting me in at all means a lot to me. We'll get to the rest of it eventually."

"I'd like that." She's not running. She's giving me a chance.

"Can I ask just one more question?"

"Sure."

"Are you going to go back to fighting? Now that you're practically healed?"

"I don't know. It's not the same as it was before. Before I could say that, win or lose, I didn't care. I had nothing and it was like a drug that took away both the pain of reality and the bad memories."

"And now?" It's not until she asks that I realize that it's not what I want anymore, not necessarily what I need. Now, I want more.

"Now, I think I want to embrace the present, look to the future, and deal with the memories. But I may need a little help from a friend. Maybe even from an angel."

Reanne

We finish our lap around the lake and Wes suggests it's time we head back. It's almost eleven and he knows I open the shop early in the morning, but I feel wide awake when I'm with him. Once we got through our serious conversation, we were able to lighten it up by joking and talking about everyday things.

He's actually only been in Denver for about three months and has yet to lay down any roots. He wasn't sure for how long or if he was going to stay at all. The motorcycle, though not a much safer mode of transportation, was a choice resulting from the accident he and his fiancée were in and him not really ever wanting to drive again, but realizing the inconvenience, it was a compromise. He loves Italian food and he's a sucker for chick flicks.

The ride home seemed so much shorter than the ride to the park, and I find myself wishing he'd taken a detour to make it last longer. As I did on the way there, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him to me, feeling even safer than the first time, my trust in him stronger. His past, or what I know of it, may not scare me, but the way he's making me feels does a little. He's not ready for a relationship, his wounds are not yet healed, and I've never been in one of any significance. The combination of _us_ seems impossible, but it's quickly becoming something I want so much.

My subtle way of letting him know I wasn't going anywhere was to accept the moniker he'd given me, though to him I think it means much more. Him calling me his Angel, isn't just a nickname, it's how he sees me. He truly believes that I saved him. So I've decided that if that's what he needs, that's what I'll be for him. I helped him through physical pain the night we met, and now I want to help heal his heart.

He pulls up in front of the bakery and turns off the engine. I sit there a minute cursing the fact that I have to let go, and when I do, I instantly feel the loss. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I swing my leg over to dismount. It's a clumsy attempt and I end up pivoting my foot wrong and start to fall. It's a twisted fall, leaving me disoriented, and I don't know which direction I should reach for to stop it.

But I do stop, having been caught by a strong arm and pulled close to his chest. When I open my eyes I'm embarrassed both by my lack of balance and my shallow breathing brought on by my close proximity to his mouth. I can't help but to look at his lips and wonder how they would feel against mine.

"Are you okay?"

I break my focus on his mouth and move my eyes to meet his. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Then I move to stand again but he keeps hold of me until I'm successfully in a vertical position. I grab the buckle on my helmet and try to unfasten it, but my hands are shaking and my attempt is unsuccessful. He gets off the bike quickly and moves my hands from the strap and completes the task, removing the helmet from my head and setting it on the seat of the bike.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're shaking." He grabs my hands and holds them in his, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles.

"I'm embarrassed. That's all. I'm okay." I'm embarrassed at the fact that I'm unable to function in his presence. I'm also embarrassed that I'm starting to want more than I know he can give me.

"You don't need to feel embarrassed, Angel. As long as I'm here, I'll never let you fall."

I meet his eyes again and I can see that he means what he says, but he can't promise me that. He can't because he doesn't know how I am falling. I'm falling for him and there's nothing _he_ can do to stop it. I pull my hands from his, not wanting to, but needing to bring this evening to an end. My head's all messed up by his words and the thoughts I've tried not to have.

"I really should go. It's getting late," I say trying to behave normally.

"Right. You have an early morning."

"Yeah. Thank you for tonight. For the ride." _Really?_ I just said that? I roll my eyes up in disbelief of my words. He smiles and looks away for a second, having caught the unintentional innuendo.

"Coffee tomorrow?"

"I serve the best in town." _Shit!_ I need to go. He smiles again but passes on the opportunity to comment.

"Good night, Angel."

"Good night, Wes." I turn and start walking to the door that'll lead me to my apartment, fully aware that he's watching me as I go. A thought comes to me and I stop and turn around. "Wes, what's your favorite cheesecake?"

"I don't know. I've only ever had plain old cheesecake, I guess."

"Okay, then if you could create the perfect cheesecake, what would it be? You can choose anything."

He thinks for a minute, then his face lights up to share his answer. "Dark chocolate and peppermint. Like a York Peppermint Pattie."

I think for a minute, and concluding that I have everything needed to fill his request, I respond, pointing at him while I speak. "You got it! I'll see you for coffee and York Peppermint cheesecake tomorrow morning." I smile, one of those hopelessly hooked smiles and he smiles back, then turn back around before he can say anything more, because I don't want to hear him say goodbye again. I just want to settle for knowing that I'll see him again in the morning.

Once inside the door, I turn and stand with my back to the wall, waiting for the tormenting sound of his engine as he rides away. After a few minutes I finally hear it and listen as it quiets the farther away it gets, until it's finally gone. Taking a few deep breaths, I take the stairs to the second floor.

Molly locked the door, so I reach into my pocket for my keys. The jingle of them must grab Sugar's attention, because she's at the door barking before I manage to get it open. Once I'm in, I hurry to quiet her before she can wake Molly up because I don't want to answer any of her questions tonight. I've got too many things going on in my head and I need to figure things out before I can tell her what's going on. I still haven't figured it out for myself.

It feels weird because I've never kept _anything_ from Molly, but I've also had very little to tell. Sugar covers me in kisses while I carry her quietly to my room. I shut the door, and set her down on my bed. I'm tired but wired as I recall our evening, but I need to sleep so that I can escape all these thoughts and hopefully I'll be able to wake up with a fresh perspective.

I don't bother to shower before bed, the work from the day and excitement of the evening catch up to me quickly and, thankfully, exhaustion takes control. I fall asleep almost instantly, but dreams immediately follow and seem to loop endlessly.

I'm falling. Falling... falling through a dark empty space, for what seems like forever, with no end in sight. Suddenly, the darkness changes, transitioning through all the hues of gray and finally to white. Then I land. I land in his arms. He did as he promised and what I thought was impossible. He caught me. Over and over again, he catches me, just as he said he would.

Wes

Riding home feels strange, as though something is missing. It didn't take me long to figure out that the something that was missing was actually a _someone_ , with the feel of her arms around my waist and the pressure of her body against my back. It's been years since a woman has touched me like that, and though Reanne's touch wasn't meant to be intimate, to me, it was.

I've never ridden my bike with a woman on the back. Sure, I've been asked by fight groupies to take them for a ride more times than I can count, but I couldn't. I didn't want to take someone else's life into my hands again—I didn't trust myself—not yet. So why now, all of a sudden do I trust myself with Reanne? Maybe it's because she doesn't see me like anyone else ever has. I'm not the doctor, the fighter, or the man who's faulted with taking his fiancée's life. I keep so many secrets, but all she sees is _me_ , the man she begged to live. She doesn't judge me by what she knows of my past and that leaves me feeling so exposed, which is scary but exciting.

I pull into the parking lot of the weekly and park my bike. I remove my helmet and start up the stairs to my room. I have an energy that I can't explain, it's almost like a high, and it's the thought of seeing Reanne in the morning that fuels it. I can't help myself from smiling, she just has that effect on me. I know I'll never sleep, so I figure a workout will wear me down enough to try.

The gym is usually pretty empty this late at night so my plan is to run in and change, then go hit the bag for a while in an effort to exhaust myself. I'm afraid it's the only way I'll have a chance at sleep tonight. I'm standing in front of the sink in the bathroom when I remove my shirt, and in the mirror's reflection I see Kat's name. Of course it's a reverse image, but regardless of the way it's flipped, it says the same thing. And as it does every time I see it, where it's now permanently placed over my heart, I'm overcome with guilt. But tonight I'm selfish and I don't want to feel it. I want to feel whatever it is that Reanne evokes in me, which is anything but guilt. If anything, she makes me feel purpose. I pull on my tank top, shut off the light, and leave the room.

I pick up my keys and shove them in the pocket of my sweat pants, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and walk toward the door. When I pull it open, I'm not, in any way, prepared to come face-to-face with Vic Ramone.

The surprise must register on my face and he, apparently, gets off on it because he starts to laugh. With it I can smell the stale smoke from a cigar on his breath and see his darkened yellow teeth. Both of which, make me want to gag. Vic is the organizer of the fights now, and he did time with Duke, my old cellmate, for attempted murder. He nearly killed a man with a steel pipe over a hundred-dollar bet, but was pulled off by police before he could finish the job. He's a man with no conscience and though I'm not scared of him physically, mentally is a whole different ball game. This guy is psychotic and based on my previous profession as a psychiatrist, I should know.

"Where ya been, Wes? I texted you about a couple of big fights, but you left me high and dry. We lost a lot of money. I don't like losing money, Wes."

"I've been around. Just taking a little time for myself." I don't want him to have any details about my life. I don't want him to know about the attack, my mother, or Reanne.

"Well we've missed you. Missed the money you could've made me too. I need you back in the ring, kid."

"I'm not sure I want to be in the ring anymore."

He tips his head to the side as if to blow off my statement. "Well, how about you go a couple of more fights and when you're sure, we can talk about it again."

"Actually, I'm sure _now_. I'm done, Vic."

"Well, I'm not sure we agree, Wes."

I keep my look stern so he doesn't think that he's intimidating me, but I have a feeling I know where he's going with this. "I'm not under any contract, Vic. I'm grateful to you for letting me in while I got back on my feet, but it's time I rejoin the real world. This was never meant to be permanent."

"I see," he says, cocking his head as if he's not accepting my answer but is willing to let it go for now. "You know where I am if you change your mind and I know where you are if I come up with an opportunity that you can't refuse." He winks at me the way a parent would when mockingly consenting to something that they have no intention of actually letting you get away with.

"I appreciate it, but I'm pretty sure about my decision."

"Okay, kid." It's all he says as he shrugs his shoulders and starts walking away, but then he turns around, "I hope your decision doesn't have anything to do with a certain late night attack." Of course he knows about that and by bringing it up he's going for the low blow, calling me _chicken_ , so to speak.

"What are you talking about?" I ask unbelievably, when, of course, I know what he means, but I want to hear what he knows and I want to make it look like the whole thing was a myth.

"It doesn't take a weak man long to brag about taking down a strong man. That kind of news travels fast."

"Well, it's all news to me. Like I said, it's just time for me to move on."

He nods. "See you around, Wes."

I hope not and to make the prospect a little less likely, maybe it's time for me to do just what I told him I was, and move on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, recapping my evening. After Vic left, I went to the gym and beat the hell out of a bag that I envisioned alternately bearing the faces of two people—his and Randy's. Both of them are threatening my ability to live normally, which I didn't even know I wanted to be able to do. I want to be able to explore these feelings that I'm having for Reanne, my angel, so if moving on means leaving Denver, I can't do it, not yet. I can't leave Reanne.

She brings me peace that I haven't felt in, what feels like forever. Her eyes—I don't think I'll ever have any better memory than her eyes connecting with mine the night we met. I'm sure that I could look into them a thousand times, for a thousand hours, and the feeling she conveyed in those moments could never be surmounted. Her smile—she's a woman that won't just give that beauty to anyone. I can't say that I'm the man that's worthy of that smile, but the way it starts a fire deep inside me, well, that's not something I'm going to take lightly.

Exhaustion from my workout never came, not mentally anyway, and sleep has evaded me by replaying the words Reanne and I exchanged tonight. I've been thinking about all the things she mentioned, about how I was lost and still dealing with the past. If I analyze myself, as I would a patient, I'd say that I wasn't dealing with it at all. I'd say that I'm holding on to it and using it as a way to punish myself because I still hold on to the guilt of that night. Kat's death was my fault, even the judge saw it that way. I would also tell a patient that the pain, the loss, and the guilt are all valid feelings but remind them that it wasn't intentional and their debt was paid.

I shake my head because all those words are textbook bullshit that I paid tens of thousands of dollars to learn and use medically but now can't even convince _myself_ to believe them. Through the time I served and the fighting, I thought about nothing but the punishment I deserved, that I too should be given the penalty of death, but recently I'm able to save those thoughts for when I'm alone. When I'm in the company of my angel, all those feelings find their way to the back of my mind, if only for the little while that I'm with her. As much as I feel that I _should_ pull away from her, I think she could be the key to my recovery. She saved me once, not so much from Randy's thugs, but from myself and the finality I once sought.

The last time I look at the clock, it's three o'clock and in only a few hours, I will see my angel again.

Reanne

My alarm never even had the chance to make its presence known this morning because I was up before it went off. I have a special request to fill and no doubt that its requestor will come to claim it. There was no promise made, but I just know that he won't leave me hanging again. I literally hop out of bed and head to the shower. Sugar is under protest and quickly decides that my absence from the bed is what she needs to spread out and get more comfortable, all five pounds of her.

Through all my morning rituals, there's one thing that never changes, there's a smile on my face. I get to see Wes again and I get to bake for him. Baking is the thing that makes me feel the most at ease and what I feel is the most personal part of me. So here I go, making a York Peppermint Pattie cheesecake. Peppermint and chocolate have forever been one of my favorite combinations, but I never thought to put them together in a cake, not until the request came from his lips. Is there anything I won't try for him?

That's the thought that turns the smile into a frown of apprehension. I haven't known Wes long and our meeting came under some pretty intense conditions, but already I'm wondering about _it_. The _it_ that I've held on to now for twenty-six years. I wasn't the girl that got around in high school or through my four years in college. I traded in that time for studying and spending time with my grandmother, learning all I could from both her and school, because both would be essential to all I have now.

I didn't date, never went to a school dance, and had only a couple of boys that ever came close to what I would call a boyfriend. My first and only kiss was with my best friend in high school, a boy named Anthony, who I had a crush on for two years, and who also turned out to be gay, which I kind of knew but blissfully denied. That's the extent of my romantic life.

I heard my mother say too many times that marrying my father and having a baby was where she went wrong and, though my grandmother told me that was never the truth, that it started way before my father and I came along, those words stained my heart. I never got to see my parents together, and my grandfather died before I could ever consciously meet him, so my single, widowed, happy as ever grandmother became my idol. Of course I always dreamed of the man that would come and whisk me away, but never in any of those dreams did I see that man almost die in an alleyway and show back up on a Harley. Though he has still to do any whisking, I know that not all knights come clad in shining armor and riding a white horse, but the concept of said prince still lives in the mind of every girl. Especially the virgin maidens such as myself.

I twist my hair up and secure it in a clip, allowing the ends to flip over just enough to tickle my neck. I need to take Sugar for her walk before I go down to the shop and I doubt I'll have time to come back up before Wes shows up, so I apply a little mascara and pocket my lip gloss to freshen it up later.

"Come, Sugar girl! You ready?" All protests of leaving the bed obviously over, she bounces around on the bed excitedly, then down the small set of stairs and to the bedroom door.

She's out like a bullet once I open it and sits patiently where her leash hangs to the left of the front door. I stop in the kitchen to drop a pod in the Keurig and press the button so that my coffee will be ready when I return, then take my jacket from the hanger and grab her poop bags and leash and attach it to her collar.

Down the steps and out the door, the morning air hits me and makes me forget why I feel that coffee will even be necessary when I return. It's cool, crisp, and fresh and after I inhale just once, I feel energized. So does Sugar and she pulls as hard as she can against the leash to wrench me from my trance and get me moving. Our walk takes us around the block, which is mostly homes. We see the same faces most mornings, some who are leaving for work and some who are sitting on their front porch enjoying their cup of joe and reading the paper. Mrs. Schultz is always waiting with a little treat for Sugar, which I've come to think is really the reason she gets so excited about the morning walks as opposed to the evening ones.

"Good morning, Mrs. Schultz," I say as we start up her walkway.

"Good morning, Reanne. And to you too, sweet Sugar." Sugar makes sure to give Mrs. Schultz a little dance in exchange for her treat, and Mrs. Schultz, as always, is like putty in that little dog's paws. She smiles and giggles and holds out her hand with a piece of chicken and Sugar wastes no time collecting the fee for her show. "If you ever need someone to take care of this little one, you be sure to let me know. I'll take her in a heartbeat."

"I'll keep that in mind. Will you be joining me for coffee later? I'm making a new cheesecake flavor that you must come test for me."

"Oh, Reanne, you know this old lady doesn't drink coffee. I have enough hair on my chest, dear."

I stifle a laugh because I'm not sure if she's just made a joke or an admission. "Tea then? It's on me." As it always is. She's been coming into my bakery since it opened and has only paid once. I know she adores Sugar, but I can't help but to think that Sugar's morning treats are meant to butter us both up.

"Well, this old lady isn't going to pass up a new cheesecake and a cup of tea. I'll be around later, after my nap." She's up at four every morning and naps at nine, so I'll be seeing her sometime around eleven o'clock.

"All right, I'll see you later then. We need to get going." I tug on Sugar's leash to get her moving.

"Okay, dear. Bye-bye, sweet Sugar."

We make it around the block and back up to the apartment. I unleash Sugar and go to the kitchen for my coffee and to serve the fur princess her breakfast. The clock says it's ten till five and considering that I open at seven, I need to get going if I'm to get everything done. I grab my cup from the machine and take off to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have six cakes to get in the oven as well as a batch of muffins and croissants. But the most important is the special request from Wes. Just the thought of making this cake for him makes me smile inside, as well as on the outside. If the old line, _The way to a man's heart is through his stomach_ , bears any truth at all, he'll never be able to resist me. And the more time I spend with him and thinking of him, the more I don't want him to because I'm not sure how much longer I can resist him. I wanted him to kiss me last night and I think that he wanted it too, but he had just told me about his fiancée, so I'm not surprised that he held back.

By seven, I'm placing the cooled cheesecakes into the refrigerated display, and heading back into the kitchen. I stop to flip the switch on the coffee, and to pull the muffins and croissants out so that they're nice and hot for the morning crowd. With everything ready, just as I've become accustomed to, I unlock the door and flip the sign to " _Open_." My regulars flood in, but they are all creatures of habit, so I have their orders memorized and they are leaving almost as quickly as they arrived. Choosing my location in the middle of a residential area was the best idea ever. I get a pretty steady flow of regulars which means a steady flow of profits. But even more than that, it's nice to welcome and greet so many of them by name; it makes work feel a little less like work.

After the rush is gone and the few customers left are enjoying their orders at a table, I go back into the kitchen to put in another pan of muffins then grab my coffee to refill it out front. My eyes go to the 'R' and I can't help but to think of when Wes asked me what it stood for. I have an idea. I don't know what time he's going to be here, so I waste no time grabbing a new coffee mug from a box on the shelf and a set of paint pens I keep around. Looking through the pass-through window and seeing that all the customers are content and knowing the bell will sound if anyone enters, I sit down to my project. I carefully apply the paint, choosing blue and gray to match his eyes, and when I'm happy with the design, I set it in one of the ovens to expedite the process of drying and setting the paint. As much as I would love to see him, I need thirty more minutes.

Just after eight, as I'm admiring my crafty work, I hear the roar of an engine right outside and just after it goes silent, the bell over the door rings. Trying not to seem too eager, I set down the mug and casually walk through to the front. Just this morning, I compared the morning air to coffee, but neither hold a candle to what the sight of him has just done to me. Not that I've ever had it done to me but the only comparison I can think of is going through defibrillation, which I might actually need because I'm pretty sure my heart just stopped.

Wes

She walks through the door from the kitchen and freezes. She didn't think I was going to come and seeing that in her eyes is almost enough to break me. I've made myself unbreakable for so long and in days this woman has gotten past that and found the part of me that is fragile. But fragile only with her. I smile and walk toward her.

"Don't be so surprised to see me. We had a breakfast date." The tension in her body releases and her shoulders relax.

"In my defense, your track record has only recently begun to improve."

"That's fair, but soon, it'll be nearly perfect." I wink and her shield disappears completely.

"Have a seat. I'll be right back. I have something for you." I take a seat at one of the few stools situated at the end of the counter. She vanishes though the door and when she comes back, she has a chocolate covered cheesecake in one hand and a mug in the other. She stops to fill the mug with coffee, then comes to the counter and sets both down. My mouth starts to water almost immediately.

"Have I died and gone to heaven? Coffee and cheesecake for breakfast, served by the most beautiful angel I've ever seen. This must be a dream." She blushes, then turns the mug so that I can see the writing on its side. It has a 'W' with some squiggly lines and dots on it.

"You were admiring mine, so I thought you should have your own." She's still blushing, but she can't hide the smile from her eyes.

"This might sound really bad, but I don't think anyone has ever given me anything as awesome as this." It's not a lie. Except for my mom's cooking, no one has ever made anything for me.

"It doesn't sound bad. I like to make things, hence my life as a baker," she says as she lifts her arms to embrace our surroundings. "It comes from spending so much time with my grandma."

"I think you're lucky to have had that. She left an impression on you that carries through to how you treat people. You have a beautiful heart." She looks into my eyes as I say the last part and it's then that I know I will fight to the death to protect that heart. The moment has turned very intimate and the ringing of the door's bell reminds us both that we're not alone. Reanne pulls herself back to the present and looks up to acknowledge the person who's just walked in the door.

"Hey, Nick! Good morning, sunshine." Reanne says and I turn to see a guy walking toward us. I've seen him here before.

"Hey, Reanne. Please tell me there's coffee? I'm dying!"

"Dying? Why this time?" She looks at me and winks. Obviously, Nick is a bit of a drama queen and Reanne likes messing with him.

"I have a paper due for psych class next week and it's killing me."

"Killing you because you don't know the material or because, in true perfectionist fashion, you're just not happy with it? Relax, you still have a week. You know, you should use some of the stuff you learn on yourself sometime, you could be your own subject."

"I should study you sometime," he shoots back with the look of a mocking child, then looks at the cake sitting in front of me and becomes completely distracted. "Ooh, what's that?"

"My take on a York Peppermint Pattie cheesecake. It was a special request." She winks at me again. Every time she does it, it sends a small bolt through my heart. "I should probably come up with a more creative name if it goes on the menu, I'm not sure _York_ would appreciate me using their name."

"A special request, huh? Maybe from this man sitting right here in front of us that you haven't bothered to introduce me to?" He turns his attention from Reanne to me. "Hi, I'm Nick, and you are?"

"Wes," I say while offering my hand to shake his. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I want to try that cake when you cut it, Reanne," he says very matter-of-factly.

"Yes, dear. Get your coffee and get the kitchen cleaned. Molly comes in at noon and I'm working with her in the kitchen for a couple of hours before you leave. I've got the counter for now."

"You got it, boss. See ya, Wes," he says as he disappears through the door into the kitchen.

"He's interesting," I say in a hushed voice.

"He's a good kid. A little mouthy sometimes, but a good kid." She looks at my almost empty mug and takes it to refill it and when she returns she also has two plates and a knife. "We better get ours now. Nick could tear this up and not gain an ounce but be wired for the rest of the day," she says in a hushed voice. I'd love to see what wired looks like. Right now he's in the back singing to the radio and, I assume, dancing as well because every few seconds I can see his body fly past the small window.

She cuts out two pieces and plates them, pushing one to me and then handing me a fork from under the counter. She looks on as I take the first bite and starts laughing as my eyes involuntarily roll toward the back of my head. I almost need a private moment while I drift into a full-on cheesecake induced daze. I don't know if guys are allowed to say this, so I keep it to myself, but that was nearly orgasmic.

"That good, huh?"

"You have no idea. Go ahead. I'm going to laugh my ass off when it brings you to your knees."

"Oh, yeah? Okay, here goes." She lifts the bite to her mouth and I almost lose it again, but in an entirely different way, as I watch the fork pass over her lips and as she closes them around it. Then she closes her eyes and low hums of culinary approval emerge from her. She savors it for as long as possible, then opens her eyes. "That was foodgasmic! Wow, I'm in real trouble once this one gets out." I'm in real trouble right now. I lean in close to whisper my plan.

"It could be our little secret. We could run with it now and never tell another soul." She laughs but I see the contemplation in her eyes.

"Nick would find us; he'd sniff us out." And as if the warden sent the dogs out, he pops up behind Reanne.

"Yes, I would." He grabs a fork from under the counter and helps himself to Reanne's slice. And just like that, we've discovered a way to shut Nick up, if for even a few seconds. "Foodgasmic! Oh my God! I'm going to prescribe this stuff to patients. You are a cheesecake prodigy." Reanne smiles and holds her head high and confident, completely owning the title.

"Here, take it while you finish the kitchen," she says, handing him the rest of her slice.

"Have I told you that I love you yet today?" Nick asks as he walks back toward the kitchen.

"Nope."

"I love you, Reanne," he says as his voice fades around the corner.

She just laughs and shakes her head. "He's certifiable," she says motioning to the door Nick just went through.

"Maybe, but he certainly thinks the world of you. With that alone, I think he's brilliant." Her eyes meet mine and I can feel that connection that we've had since the night we met. "Can I see you tonight? I'd like to flip the ratio on that track record you hold in such high regard."

"I usually close around seven."

"I'll be here." I wink and get up from the stool. I look down at the cake and then back at Reanne. "Hide this from Nick. I want more of that later." I wink again and walk toward the door.

Reanne

It's moments like these, and I've had very few over the last couple of years, when I wish I didn't have the sole responsibility of the bakery on my shoulders. If I were free to walk out that door right now, I'd be quick on his heels and ready for an adventure, but I have to settle for the promise of seeing him later. He didn't say the words _I promise_ , but the way he said that he'd be here and that wink, it felt like so much more than just some flirty formality. He's trying to build my trust and I need to quit giving him such a hard time.

Immediately I start to form my plan. As soon as Molly gets here, I will disappear with her into the kitchen and together we can get everything prepped for tomorrow before Nick leaves. At seven o'clock everyone will go and the door will get locked. Anyone seeking sugar after that will have to settle for a Twinkie or a Slurpee. I don't know what it is that he's doing to me, but I find myself wanting to spend as much time as I can with him. With that thought in mind, I think it might just be time to hire a manager for the bakery.

I never wanted to give someone else so much responsibility when it came to my business; it's my baby. But if I'm ever to have time to really explore this relationship with Wes, then I'll need actual _time_ off. Of course I'll still have full control over all day to day operations, but I'll also have days off, which I haven't had since I opened. To actually have _days off_ , that thought and how I'd like to spend them make my idea so much more appealing.

I imagine taking rides on the bike with Wes, holding on tight and just watching the world fly by, with no real destination in mind. We could stop at some horrible roadside hotel and... well the rest has me blushing just thinking about it. Maybe a trip to meet his mother instead, there's a much more innocent thought, and although I'd love to visit her someday, it's the time that I could spend alone with him that monopolizes my mind. I think we're getting there, to alone time, like _real_ alone time. It makes me so nervous, but a good nervous. I can hardly wait.

I hear the bell ring from the door but don't look because I know it's not him, but I call out my salutation as if I am on autopilot. I continue to wash down the counter, dreaming away until someone whispers words in my ear.

"What's got you all red, Reanne?" I hadn't even noticed that she'd gotten so close, or that it was her that had walked in for that matter. I hadn't even realized what time it was.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not red."

"Um, yes you are, Boo Boo," Nick says, joining forces with Molly. "I think it was that all kinds of sexy man that was here earlier. What was his name, Reanne? Wes?"

"Sexy man? Do tell," Molly says, raising her eyebrows. "Reanne, you know that if you don't, Nick will, and you know he'll add all kinds of shit in there for dramatic affect... Actually, maybe Nick should tell me," Molly says teasingly and turns toward Nick. He opens his mouth to talk.

"No! Nick, shut it!" I say and he closes his mouth and acts as though he's locking it with a key, but he doesn't throw the imaginary key over his shoulder, instead he sticks it in his front pocket, then he waits. I don't want this to be some big deal, so I want to tell it myself. "His name is Wes. I met him a few weeks ago and we are friends. So far, that's it." Nick's eyes light up and he actually fumbles as he removes the imaginary key from his pocket, unlocks his mouth and speaks before I can stop him.

"Friends don't look at friends the way he was looking at you, Reanne. Good thing you had that cheesecake to keep his mouth busy or he'd have been eating you. He was hot, I mean super hot, Molly, and he wanted our sweet and innocent Reanne like a farmer wants a medium rare steak."

Molly's head goes back and forth between us but eventually stops at me. "Wow!" she says. "You've been holding out on me. Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this sexy man? I'm feeling gypped." She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts.

I ignore her dramatics and go back to wiping the counter, not wanting to make eye contact with her because I know she'll see a hint of a lie in my eyes. "Because, there's really nothing to tell. We're still getting to know each other, that's all."

"Okay. If that's all, I guess there's nothing more to tell for now." She's trying her reverse psychology on me. Unfortunately for her, it's not going to work this time.

"That's all," I say, hoping to close this topic of conversation and get started on the work that needs to get done.

"She's lying, but for now I'll let it slide. If Mr. Sexy was my new boy toy, I'd want to keep him to myself too," Nick chimes in.

"No, you wouldn't! You'd be blabbing on and on for days!" Molly calls him out on his own lie.

"You're right, I would," he admits, blushing.

"Okay, you two, there's work to be done. Nick, take over the front. Molly, you're with me in the back." I grab my coffee cup off of the counter and stop to refill it on my way to the back. When I look back, Molly and Nick are huddled together whispering, no doubt about this morning's grand topic of discussion. "Molly? Are you coming?" They both jerk their heads in my direction and look at me with a classic busted look on their faces.

"Yup, I'm coming."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We work hard and quietly as we prepare mixes, prep ingredients, and start the order list for next week. Surprisingly, Molly doesn't push for any more information about Wes, and though he's completely on my mind, I don't offer anything up. I feel bad for wanting to keep him to myself, though. Ever since Molly and I met and she started living and working with me, we talk about everything. But to this point, my everything never included anything romantic or relationship wise.

Maybe a couple of times, some guy who'd come into the bakery would flirt a little and leave his number, but never for a second did I feel compelled to call, nor did I think about them for even a second after they walked out the door. And coincidently, I never saw them again. So what is it about Wes that has made him the number one thought in my mind since the moment I first saw him? What's so different about him that I want, almost _need_ , to see him every moment of the day? This is all new to me and I'm just as afraid of embracing it as I am losing it altogether.

"Hey, Moll?"

"Finally! So what's he like? On the sexy scale, how sexy are we talking?" she asks excitedly.

"That's not what I was going to talk about."

She pouts. "Well, can we talk about it first and get it out of the way? Come on, I'm dying here."

"No. Not yet, okay? You'll be the first to know when I know what's going on. Really, we're still in the introductory phase. Nothing yet to tell."

"Okay, but you can still give me the sexy scale rating. One to ten, what is he? Give me that and I'll drop the subject."

I smile because I have to admit that's something I do know. "Solid nine and a half." Really he's a twenty, but I'll retain a little modesty.

"Wow! I can't wait to see Mr. Nine-and-a-half."

"She's lying, Molly, he's at least a fifteen. Oh, and he rides a motorcycle, so actually he's a hard seventeen," Nick says through the window.

Molly starts laughing. "Sounds to me like you're making your way to a hard eight there, Nick." Nick starts to open his mouth in protest, but knows there's no point and disappears from the window, leaving Molly and I howling in laughter.

"No, but seriously, Molly, I do have something I want to talk to you about. I think it may be time for me to hire a manager. Ever since I've owned this place it's been all about this place, and I feel like maybe I'm ready to take some time off and have a little bit of a life outside the bakery." The hidden message here being that I want more time with Wes.

"Are you telling me this as a precursor to asking me to be your manager, or to tell me I'm going to have another boss?"

"Well, you are the only one who knows the ins and outs of this bakery, and you're getting so good at the actual baking part of things that I really think you could handle it. I wouldn't be gone all the time, in fact it will probably take a while to get me to stay away for an entire day. Is this something you'd be interested in?"

"No one has ever trusted me with so much, Reanne. Are you sure?"

"I am. So, if you want it, it's yours." A huge smile takes over her face and she steps over to give me a hug, careful not to get her flour covered hands all over me.

"Then, yes, I want to do it."

"Great!" Relief and excitement course through me; I never imagined that I'd feel so at ease about handing the reins over to someone else.

"Um, but there's one problem. I'm leaving to visit my mom this weekend. Remember, I asked to have it off? Am I still going to be able to go?"

"Of course! I didn't really expect to be taking weekends off anyway, it's our busiest part of the week. It'll be the break you need before you come back as the first ever manager of _For the Love of Cheesecake._ "

"You're so good to me, Reanne. I don't think I'll ever be able to really thank you for everything you've given me, for everything you've encouraged me to be. When you found me I was such a mess. No one has ever believed in me like you do. How is that, anyways? A perfect stranger has more belief in me than my own family ever did?" Her eyes begin to gloss over and I fear that this is about to turn into some mushy female moment, though I can't deny that what she's saying has me a little emotional too. I pull her in for another hug, not at all worried about our flour covered hands this time.

"You don't have to thank me, just keep growing into the woman I know you can be."

"I will."

I know she will, she's never disappointed me from the moment I met her. She just needed someone to love her and give her some direction. She was lost, kind of how I think I would have been without my grandmother. Having lived without real love from my mother, I know that the love of a parent should be strong and one of a kind, but it's not the only kind that makes us. It's the love of a person who doesn't have to give it that makes us feel like we're someone special.

Molly and I just keep working until Nick sticks his head in the door to let us know that it's two o'clock and he's on his way out. We've accomplished a lot and closing the doors on time is not going to be a problem, which I can't deny tonight makes me entirely giddy inside.

As the clock inches closer, the excitement I feel grows, becoming almost overwhelming. I must suck at containing it, because Molly won't let it go without a question.

"You're thinking about him aren't you?"

_Yes. Always. God is it that obvious?_ "I am."

"When do you get to see him again?"

_In only two more of what are bound to be the longest hours of my life._ "Tonight. He's coming by after we close."

"And are you going to shuffle me upstairs before he gets here, or will I get to meet Mr. Sexy? Where did you meet this guy anyway?"

"Promise you won't tell Nick, because he'll freak out. You know how he gets."

"I promise, but you're starting to freak me out a little, Rea."

"It's the guy from the alley that night. Remember the night I had you come get Sugar while I waited for the ambulance? He's the man that almost died that night."

"And—apparently he didn't. Oh my God, how did he find you? Aren't you creeped out by what happened that night? You have no idea why those people tried to kill him. Now I don't give a shit how high he ranks on the sexy scale, I'm worried. Are you sure this guy is safe?"

"You're sounding how I imagine Nick would, which is why I haven't told him anything either. I know it sounds reckless, and there's every chance that I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, but I feel safer with this man than I have with anyone—ever. He thinks that I saved his life, which I can't take credit for, but he said it was me asking him to hold on that kept him alive that night. I can't just walk away from something like that."

"That's deep, and crazy romantic. How many women can say that they saved a man? Maybe it was kismet, you two meeting that night, even if it was under the scariest of circumstances."

"Kismet? Yeah, maybe that's it."

He needed saving, and perhaps I needed a little saving too. Maybe we were brought together for both those reasons.

Wes

I pull up to the bakery right at seven. Looking in the windows, I can see that it's empty but the sign on the door still says " _Open_ ". I get off the bike and hang my helmet on handlebar, then walk to the door which is still unlocked. I don't think they heard the bell ring because the radio is on and I can hear female voices from the kitchen singing along. Rather than ruin this moment, I have a seat at the counter and listen, helpless to keep a smile from covering my face.

I don't know the song, but the lyrics are saying something about _the base._ I must admit it's a catchy little tune and listening to, who I assume is, Reanne and another undisclosed voice sing along is nothing short of amusing. So, I sit patiently, quietly chuckling to myself as they sing along and at the end they erupt into a fit of giggles. I see it as the perfect time to make my presence known and applaud their show.

Gasps, that's all I can hear from the kitchen as the next song starts playing on the radio. Then Reanne's head pops through the kitchen door.

"Wes? I didn't hear you come in." She blushes until her cheeks are the perfect color of rose wine. "Exactly how much did you hear?"

"Regardless of how much I heard, it was enough." I laugh and she turns a deeper shade of pink. Then I hear the other voice come from the kitchen.

"Is that him? Is that him? I want to see Mr. Hard Seventeen." I look at Reanne in question and mouth the words _hard seventeen_? She shakes her head in embarrassment.

"Wes, this is Molly. Molly, meet Wes." The little blonde crosses the threshold of the kitchen doorway and she walks straight up to me with her hand stretched out for a friendly handshake.

"It's so nice to meet you, Wes. I'd like to say that our friend Reanne here has told me so much about you, but apparently she's been holding out on me." Holding out on what exactly? I don't dare ask.

"Nice to meet you too, Molly."

"So what are your plans tonight, kids?" Molly goes on with a parental like interrogation, although she's clearly younger than both me and Reanne. I look at Reanne and she shrugs and raises her hands as to say, _she's all yours, mister_.

"I figured we'd go get something to eat, and from there, we'll see where the evening takes us."

"I just need to take Sugar for a walk first," Reanne interrupts.

"I can do that, Rea. You kids get out of here." I can tell that Molly is at least a few years younger than Reanne, but she sure is making a show of being the mother figure right now. But this is my moment to break in and be the man.

"Reanne and I can take Sugar for her walk. I really don't want you walking around by yourself in the dark any more than I want Reanne doing it."

Reanne thanks me with her eyes for running interference. "See, Moll? Wes and I got it. Why don't you walk with us up to the apartment and then you'll have the place all to yourself for a little while."

"Or, I could be the one to disappear and you could have the house to yourself for a little while." She winks suggestively, not even trying to hide her actions from me. "In fact, there's a bowl of chicken in the fridge, as well as some peppers and onions I cut up for fajitas. Do you like fajitas, Wes?"

She turns to me and I feel like the only answer that will quiet her is a yes. "I do, but really, it's up to Reanne." I look at her and connect with her eyes so that she knows how serious I am when I say the next words out of my mouth. "If you don't feel comfortable inviting me up, I won't take it personally. I don't want you to do anything you're not ready to do." Those words refer to a lot more than inviting me up for dinner.

"Actually, it sounds easier than going out. I started this day at four thirty. It would be nice to relax a little." Then without breaking the connection we've held, she asks, "Would you like to come up for dinner, Wes?"

Oh, please give me the strength to answer this question without sounding too freaky. "It would take all the pressure off of finding out where you'd like to go," I say to put the decision back on her.

"Well then, I guess that settles it," Molly says excitedly. "I'm disappearing and you guys are eating what I prepared for dinner. Are we all ready to go then?" This woman who couldn't weigh more than one hundred pounds soaking wet has managed to dictate our evening—well not entirely.

"Um, yeah, sure," Reanne says. She doesn't appear to be nervous about the change of plans. "Just let me recheck everything really quick and make sure everything's turned off."

She's gone for only a minute before she comes back out and announces that she's ready to go. She flips the sign to closed and we all file out of the front door. Reanne stops to lock it behind us, and we make our way to the door that will take us to her apartment above the bakery.

I follow the two women up the stairs and notice that when Reanne gets to the door she doesn't use a key to enter. That shall be a topic for conversation sometime soon. I don't like thinking that her apartment is unlocked the entire time she's at work, making it easy for anyone to let themselves inside. But that may not entirely be my place to say just yet, and may require a slow introduction to that conversation.

Once inside the apartment, the first thing I notice is its spaciousness. It covers the entire half of the building that houses the bakery so there's no lack of room. It's simply furnished and decorated with typical living room furniture and a television. The kitchen is what really throws me. Being as that she bakes for a living I'm surprised that the kitchen is the smallest area I've ever seen, maybe even smaller than mine at the weekly. I conclude that while she loves to bake, maybe she really doesn't like to cook. But if one has anything to do with the other, she's already won me over and I'd eat anything she prepares for me.

I don't really know where to place myself once inside. Molly heads off to what I assume is her room, and Reanne picks up Sugar and takes to giving her the attention she's missed all afternoon. Do I have a seat or do I wait to be asked if I'd like to take a seat? It's been a long while since I was a guest in someone's home, but we're leaving to take the dog for a walk soon, so I decide that I'll just stand here with my hands in my pockets and wait. I only have to wonder another few seconds before Molly comes back out with a bag in hand.

"How long are you going for, Moll?" Reanne asks, surprised to see the bag.

"Oh, it's a just in case bag. You know, just in case I don't make it back home tonight. In other words, don't wait up, babe." She scratches Sugar's head and places a kiss on Reanne's cheek. "Later, babe. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." As much as she tries to come off as a parental soldier, she's sure acting very permissible.

She gets to the door and right before she closes it, she turns back. "Good night, Rea. Good night, Wes."

And just like that we're all alone.

Reanne

We stand there for moment not sure of what we're supposed to do with this quick change of events. I've been alone with him before, but never in my apartment, never in any enclosed area besides the bakery. Surprisingly though, I'm not nervous, but the idea of this aloneness is causing a few butterflies to float around in my stomach. There's at least one minute where all is silent and we look at each other with questions in our eyes.

"I guess we should take Sugar on her walk before we cook dinner," I say to break the silence.

"I guess that would be a good place to start, wouldn't it? Since it was our initial reason for coming up here."

I've never felt this way around him before; I almost feel like I'm about to lose it at any moment. "Um, yeah." I try to clear my head of all the impure thoughts I'm having of him and walk over to the wall where Sugar's leash hangs and attach it to her collar. "You ready? We don't go that far, just around the block. She's a little dog and she has little legs. I'm sure it feels like a mile or more to her."

He walks closer, and with a ruffle to Sugar's ears, he leans into both of our personal spaces. This intrusion makes her excited, and I can't deny that it makes me equally so.

"Shall we go then? Lead the way."

Just the way he says those words, in that ever so fucking sexy way makes me want to lead him to my bedroom and not out to the street. He has no idea that he nearly has me at his whim. I've never questioned one moment with him, never feared him at all, but right now, I fear there's nothing that can make me deny him anything.

The walk around the block seems to go a lot faster than it normally does. It's probably because I'm not alone, however, there's very little conversation between us as we go. He makes small talk about how cute Sugar is, and how he never had a dog growing up. I tell him how I never had a dog growing up either, so when I got out on my own it was one of the first things I got. It was an act of rebellion that led to a long-lasting love affair, and how fitting that I named her Sugar, after the ingredient that makes all my cheesecakes so sweet.

It's as we're walking along the last street before we turn the corner back around to the bakery that he slows and I can see him stiffen a little. The alleyway. The place where we first crossed paths comes into his view and there's no doubt that other memories of that night have also risen to the surface.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think..." I reach out to touch his arm while I look at the place where his life almost ended, but instead, I think another began.

"No, Angel, it's okay. I just still have a hard time believing that I let them corner me that night. I know better and I _don't_ let things like that happen, but it did." He turns to look at me before he continues, "And I wouldn't change a single second of it."

I blush, and even in the dark I think he can see the shade of pink that covers my cheeks. That's how intensely he looks at me. I'm a girl who's not used to compliments and praise, but I am the kind that would literally give the shirt off my back for someone I care about, or in his case, someone I saw dying in an alley.

"It may never be the fondest of our memories, but no matter what happens, it's where _we_ began," he says as he gestures to the dark cold space, then he grabs hold of my hand and lightly tugs my arm for us to move on and leave it behind.

A few minutes later we're back at my apartment, Sugar's happy having had her walk, and I'm ready to settle in with a glass of wine and cook our dinner. Given the company I've got, taking off my bra is a little out of the question, but I do settle into my flip-flops, making myself more comfortable. "Would you like a glass of wine? I know that margaritas would better suit the whole fajita dinner plan, but it's all I've got."

"It's fine. I'll just have water or iced tea, something like that if you have it."

"Sure. I have iced tea. Coming right up." I go to the fridge to grab the pitcher. "You don't drink or you don't drink wine?" I ask as I fill his glass.

"I don't drink."

While one part of me is thinking _what the fuck_? the other thinks back to the conversation we had last night. His fiancée was killed by an impaired driver. I guess it all makes sense and I think of how asinine my question must have just sounded, now that I've figured out the reason for his answer.

"I'm sorry I asked. It was a stupid question. I forgot..."

"It's okay. It's not your cross to bear."

"I wish I could take it away, that it wasn't your cross either." I mean it. God, I want to take it away—every bit of pain he carries. I want to connect with him, in this way we have, that is like nothing I've ever had with anyone. It's as if we're completely synced by nothing more than a simple look.

"It'll never go away, but you have already done more to help me heal than anyone ever has."

I know I'm blushing, again, because I can feel the heat spreading over my face and I'm powerless to stop it. To give myself a minute to collect myself, I turn to the stove and start cooking the meat and vegetables, at least then the heat from the stove can be at fault for the flushed look on my face. What I didn't expect was for Wes to come up behind me.

"I took some cooking classes a while back, would you like any help?"

It was a good idea to use the stove as an excuse for my flushed appearance, because his closeness just kicked my personal temperature up about ten degrees.

"Would you like to, um, heat the tortillas or shred the cheese?" Either job is a quite simple task for a man who's taken cooking classes, but it's all I've got.

"Where's your grater?"

Now he's got me. I never do any of the cooking; Molly does that. Where would that grater be? I start digging through cabinets, no doubt looking completely inadequate, but I finally find it. "Here you go. Um, okay, a bowl or plate? Ah ha! I found a plate. That works, right?"

"A plate will do, thank you." He begins his task and although he doesn't laugh, I see that he's smiling out of the corner of my eye. I don't know if I should feel embarrassed or start smiling too.

"I don't cook much. I bake. I'm a baker. Molly does all of the cooking. If she didn't I'd probably starve to death."

"No judgment. You sold me on your baking skills with the first slice."

"Oh, yeah? You know, you'd think I'd have more confidence, owning my own bakery and all. I mean, I know my stuff is good, most of it's from my grandmother's recipes, but it still surprises me every day how many people will pay for it. The idea of a bakery that specialized in cheesecakes was a pipe dream that my grandmother and I had. It never came true for her, but she left me a small fortune when she died and I knew that it was my calling to make it happen. That's where the name came from, whenever she'd get frustrated she'd always say 'For the love of cheesecake,' so _For the Love of Cheesecake_ it was."

"She'd be really proud of you, you know?"

"I know she would, if only all that praise and affection could wash over to my mother. You know, she's never even been to my bakery, never had a piece of my cheesecake, and never so much as called to tell me she's proud of me."

"What about your dad?"

"I never really knew him. Apparently, he made my mom miserable and eventually she made him miserable enough to leave. He never looked back."

"Well, there's something that we sadly have in common. I really don't know my father either." He pauses, and then changes the subject to lighten the mood. "I'm done with the cheese. Where are the tortillas?"

I hand him the tortillas and move over to share the stovetop with him. He's so close and there's no denying that his proximity is raising my body temperature again, but it's when his arm brushes against mine that I feel like my body is about to spontaneously combust. Every part of me from my head to my toes is filled with warmth and my mind quickly wants to imagine how it'd feel if his touch was more than just a casual bump in a tight space. The scene that plays out behind my eyes is enough to make my breathing shallow, not so much that I thought it was noticeable, but I guess I was wrong.

"Reanne? Are you all right?" He looks at me concerned.

Now I'm really embarrassed. "I'm fine. You know, standing in front of hot ovens all day then standing in front of the stove? That's why Molly does all the cooking at home." I laugh it off and hope that he will too. Fortunately, he nods understandingly.

"Well, I'm ready. How's yours looking?" he asks.

"I think we're good. You want to carry the cheese and tortillas to the table? I'm right behind you." We both head over to the table and set down our plates. I run back to grab my wine and a glass of iced tea for Wes, then settle into the chairs at the end of the table. "Dig in," I say, hoping he won't be shy, as I fully intend to be.

There's dishing followed by eating, followed by sighs of approval and more eating, which means there's no room for words and I start to relax. The calmness and happiness brought about by the endorphins that good food promotes make for a much more relaxing end to our meal. I pick up the plates and take them to the sink and Wes is quick on my heels with whatever I've left behind. A quick couple of minutes to clean up and I'm again left in unknown territory. What do we do now? But with one glass of wine in me and another following its lead, I'm feeling a little less shy, my inhibitions temporarily dulled.

I grab his hand and lead him to the couch. He sits and watches closely while I take my seat, leaving only a foot or so between us. There's a moment of silence between us before things start to move fast, very fast. He moves closer, taking my glass from my hand and setting it on the table. Then he places his hand on my cheek, caressing it with his thumb. I feel the need to lean in, somehow giving consent to what I hope will come next. And just like that, he closes the distance. I close my eyes and part my lips and the next thing I feel is his mouth on mine. Thoughts of everything but us, in this moment disappear, and just as I always imagined would happen when I kissed the man of my dreams, I see stars.

Wes

There was no more holding back, no more wondering if kissing her was the right or wrong choice. I wanted to feel her, to taste her so badly that there was no more controlling the beast inside me, and when I finally made contact, I have absolutely no regrets. Her lips feel like feathers, soft and warm, and once I work my way inside, she tastes of sugar and wine. So sweet, in a way that I don't think I can ever get enough. She doesn't resist, not even a little, which makes me feel less guilty for my selfishness. Instead, she meets my tongue, stroke for stroke, in the same hungry fashion that I pursue hers, and it's not until I notice that I'm half way on top of her that my dignity and sense of being a gentleman kicks in and I slow things down.

In many small pecks on her lips, I slowly pull back until I can see her eyes, and I can't believe what I see. They're glowing, almost literally, and I'm mesmerized by them. Any thoughts I had of moving too fast are completely gone, and I find myself caught in the magic of those eyes. She doesn't break contact with me as she heaves for air, which I find myself doing as well.

I want to go in for more, but find myself in territory I haven't been in for quite some time. I don't want her to get the wrong idea either, because I loved every second of it, so I settle for giving her the _wow_ factor.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

She has no words, but looks at me with those eyes that say they want more and, God, I want to give her more; she has no idea.

"I think I do." She licks her lips and turns that perfect shade of pink that I love, then stares back up at me with those eyes.

All I can think to do is kiss her again, and I do. This time much softer and allowing her to have a little more control. My body wants to do so much more, so I have to work even harder to convince it that we're just not there yet and that I'm happy with where we are now. We're lost like teenagers, in the make out phase of a new relationship. As a man I want more, but as the man with this woman, I will wait until she's ready. She's the one to pull away this time, looking at me unsurely and I find that my ego and heart take a small hit from it.

"Wes, I have to tell you something. It's embarrassing and ridiculous, but if this is bound to go any further, you have to know."

"Are you okay? What is it?" Worry—that's the first emotion I can put together.

"I'm fine, I've just... I've never done this."

_Kissed?_ She seems pretty proficient at that, so what is she trying to say? Then it hits me... _sex_. She's a virgin. I sigh and lay back on the couch, trying to process what I've just come to understand. I could care less about her sexual inexperience but, instead, wonder if I'm the man worthy of her and everything she has to give me. I look over at her and a look of rejection covers her face. I have to bounce back and reassure her that I'm okay with this, that it's okay and that in the grand scheme of things I don't care. I place my hand under her chin and lift it so that her eyes meet mine.

"Reanne. I meant it when I said that we don't have to do anything you don't want to do, anything that you're not ready for. This doesn't change that. I... I can't describe the feelings I'm having for you; I never thought I could feel this way again. I'm in no hurry. Every step we take, no matter how quick or how slow, I'll never push you. You set the pace, okay?"

"Really?" She seems surprised by my reaction. "You're not going to run for the hills, kick me to the curb for a woman with more experience? One of your fight groupies?"

I find it imperative to have her undivided attention right now. She _has_ to hear what I say. "I _never_ found myself attracted to any fight groupie, and I'm not worried about experience or lack thereof. I'm one of those guys that thrives on emotions, and you've managed to trigger every single one of them with nothing more than your selflessness and the glow in your eyes. I'm not going anywhere, Reanne."

I can see the tension dissipate from her eyes and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. I didn't think that there was any way she could possibly look more beautiful but, right here, right now, with her heart on the line and her secret filling the air, she's absolutely ravishing. I can't help but want to kiss those lips again and I won't allow another moment to pass by before I do.

I lean in and softly press my lips to hers and this time when she opens up for me, she doesn't hold anything back. This time she's as hungry for it as I am. She brings her hands to the side of my face and then continues the motion until they're gliding through my hair, and she pulls me in deeper. I concede to her desire because I feel it too, and would like nothing more than to touch and taste every inch of her, but it won't happen tonight. I can't take anything more from her without her knowing that she can trust me completely, that when I say I'll be here, I will.

I feel other regions of my body getting excited and make a painful decision, though under protest, that this can go no further tonight. I don't want her to think it's her, so I pull away, leaving a series of small kisses on her lips, the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and finally on the tip of her nose. She releases a quiet giggle at the gesture and I can't help but to chuckle myself. I scoot so that I'm leaning against the arm of the couch and pull her to lean against me. Sugar sees this as an invitation to join us and settles in at Reanne's side.

"Your laugh is addicting you know? Almost as much as your lips, your eyes, and every other beautiful thing about you."

"There's no need for flattery, Mr. Draves. I'm not going to run away... yet."

"Yet, huh? You're getting awful formal there with the mister, and speaking of mister, do you care to explain who Mr. Hard Seventeen is?"

"Um, I think that's one of those things I'll save for when we start getting real deep and into divulging secrets."

"Fair enough. So tell me about Molly and Nick. You all seem to be pretty close. It appears that they both look up to you. Oh, and the other lady, I don't know her name."

"Clara. She's a nice lady, works part time and she's dependable, but I'm much closer to Nick and Molly. I think it's because we're closer in age. Molly, in a grand plan that most nineteen-year-olds have, moved out of her parents' house with nothing more than her car keys and a backseat full of clothes, bound to make it on her own. Once in Denver, she quickly figured out that the small nest egg she had would go fast and her plan hadn't factored that in.

"She showed up in the bakery one day, ordering only a coffee, which she paid for in coins, and sat in a booth by the window all day. At the end of the day, I walked over with a slice of cheesecake but she refused it because she couldn't afford it. I insisted she take it and sat down with her. She broke down, telling me she was out of money, lost her apartment, and hated the fact that she'd have to go home and tell her parents that she'd failed. I asked if she wanted a job and started going on about how I really needed some help and how she'd be doing me a favor. Her eyes lit right up, and that made me feel like a million dollars."

I can tell without seeing her face, just by the tone of her voice, that she means every word and I can hear both sadness and the joy in her reminiscence.

"She moved in and the rest is history."

"She's like a little sister to you?"

"She's exactly like the little sister I never had. I'd do almost anything for her. I've been teaching her my recipes and I actually asked her today if she'd like to be my new manager." She pauses.

"What happened to your old manager?" I've only ever seen Reanne, Molly, Nick, and the lady now identified as Clara at the shop.

"Nothing." She cocks her head to see me out of the corner of her eye. "I've never had one. I just think it's time and Molly's the only person I really trust to be there on my days off."

"Days off, huh? And how exactly will you be filling those days?" _Please say something like spending them with me._

She shifts so that she's facing me, then says with hopeful eyes, "I was thinking maybe you could give me a few ideas."

_God, could I!_ I've already got a few really good ones and of those, at least one of them requires nothing more than what I have right now in my arms. Just with a lot less clothes on.

Reanne

He has that hungry look in his eyes and, as nervous as I am, I'm not afraid. A part of me wishes that he'd just break, but I'm tired of wishing and tired of waiting, so I lean in for the kiss and, now completely aware of my intention, he meets me half way. I don't know what it is about his presence, this connection we have, but it takes me back, for just a second, to the dream I had last night where I was falling and he kept catching me. It all makes sense now, because here we go, and I have no doubt that I'm ready. With each swipe of his tongue and every satisfied moan that vibrates through his chest, I press myself closer. I can honestly say that I would go as far as he wants to go right now. I'd take him to my bed. I'd bare for him my body and let him do with it whatever he desires.

Growing up, I heard so many girls talk about how nervous and scared they were their first time and I vowed that I would save that part of me for someone I loved and trusted completely. I haven't given myself much of a chance to find that person, and I do think that saying I love a man that I barely know is a reckless move, but I _can_ say I'm falling for him, and fast. I won't say that I'm not nervous, because lack of that feeling would raise a flag in itself, but I'm not scared. I can say that I trust him with my life. Maybe that's because he credits me with the fact that he has his today.

I pull away from him just enough to speak, but stay close enough that my lips still brush his lightly as they move. "Shall we move this to my room?" I ask in a mere whisper. My eyes float erratically between his eyes and mouth. Then suddenly I'm frozen on his eyes. They've changed from that bright blue to the stormy gray I saw the first time we came face-to-face after that night. The same gray storm I witnessed happening every time a topic of conversation turned sad and despairing. I back up so that I can see his whole face when I ask him, "Why does my asking you that upset you? I don't understand. I thought..."

He lays a finger over my lips, inducing a silence between the two of us and he searches my eyes, my face, and my lips, while he obviously battles with how he'll explain his rejection to me. Then his eyes clear and the blue slowly returns to his irises.

"Angel, don't _ever_ think that your welcoming me to take a part of you that no one ever has, could upset me."

I turn away, unsure of what I'm supposed to think. I still don't understand.

"Reanne, please hear me out," he pleads and softly touches my face as he guides it back to where I have no other choice but to look into those eyes and listen intently to his words. "I would love nothing more than to be that man for you now, but—"

"Please don't. It's okay. I was stupid to think that..." I look away. If I wasn't in my own home, I'd leave and take my embarrassment with me.

"You are _not_ stupid. God, do you know how hard it is for me to not take what you're offering me? Do you understand how last night it took all I had _not_ to kiss you? Do you know that now that I have tasted you, I'll always want more?"

I don't know what to say to him, how to respond. What I'm offering him, he's resisting, all the while, telling me he can never get enough. Why?

"I want more too, Wes. I'm not making any decisions with haste. I'm a big girl and I know what I'm doing. I don't need you to protect me from myself." I get up from the couch and grab my empty glass from the coffee table en-route to the kitchen.

He doesn't immediately follow but I want him to. I want him to chase me. I want him to realize that this, whatever it is between us, is not something either of us will escape. Not without regret anyway. I refill my wine glass and take a large gulp, hoping that the alcohol will numb my mind and allow me to say the words I want to, but shouldn't. I want to tell him that I've waited too long to be turned away by the first man that it feels right to give myself to and that if he can't embrace that, maybe he should go.

I'm hurt and I want to hurt him in return, but quickly remember that he's been hurt before. He's suffered loss and real heartache and I'm just acting selfish and childish. I can't let him go like this; he already means too much to me.

I set my glass down and decide that I need to apologize to him. I need to explain that this is all so new to me and that I can't help how I feel. I turn to go back to the couch and I'm met by him standing less than two feet behind me. I stop and we commence upon a moment where no words are spoken, but so much is said. He breaks the silence and I want to hate myself for letting him.

"Reanne, trust me when I say that I have very little inner strength and only a gentle grasp on my dignity keeping me from carrying out what we both obviously want." He steps closer and I step back until I'm stopped by the counter. It's not that I'm afraid of him—no—it's that I can feel the boldness of the wine taking effect and I don't trust myself. "When I make love to you for the first time, it won't be impulsive." He leans in and softly kisses my cheek. "It won't be rushed." Another kiss, this one on the corner of my mouth. "It will, however, be that of what is worthy of you. Do you trust me?"

I can't speak. I'm mesmerized by his closeness, by his words, and by his scent. I can feel his heat and it forces me to suppress my own. He's not rejecting me, he's asking me to be patient, and though patience is not a strong suit for me, something inside tells me it'll be worth the wait. I shift my eyes between his eyes, his lips, and his chest where I've come to rest my hands, and then back to those baby blues and I nod.

He smiles and kisses my lips. His touch is soft as he keeps his word to not rush any aspect of what is growing between us. He leaves a few more pecks before he pulls back to look in my eyes again, and I see that the color of blue sky has fully returned.

"Can I ask you to do one thing for me?" I ask him, hoping that tonight I won't have to tell him goodbye.

"You can ask me anything, Angel." He searches my eyes, looking for any clue as to what my question is, but he won't find one because it's not as complex as he might expect.

"Will you stay with me tonight? Just lie with me; just hold me? Nothing more."

Wes

What man in his right mind could say no to that? Not this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes fly open the moment the warmth of her body vanishes from where she's lain all night and, from the corner of my eye, I watch as her silhouette disappears behind the door. It's still dark outside and the glow of the light creeping from the window and out from under the bathroom door is barely enough for me to focus. I look around for a clock, figuring she has one somewhere and find it on her nightstand. The blue indigo numbers tell me it's about twenty after four. I know she starts her days early and while she tends to her morning rituals, I rest my head back on the pillow and remember last night.

We sat on the couch for a while longer and talked. She went on to tell me more about Nick. He attends CCU and is pursuing a degree in psychology, which I had already figured out when he mentioned working on his psych paper. He's a self-proclaimed bisexual, but Reanne seems to think that he's more interested in men than women, and though she still didn't tell me what Mr. Hard Seventeen meant exactly, she did say that Nick was behind it.

Around ten o'clock, Reanne started yawning, but tried to hide it by turning away so that I wouldn't see. After asking what time she'd gotten up that morning and hearing her response, quick math told me that she was approaching an eighteen-hour day and I insisted that she turn in for the night.

When I said the word, _she_ and not _we_ , I saw in her eyes the exact reason why I wanted to stay here with her but why I wouldn't go any further than holding her. She doesn't trust me completely and I need her to before I can take something so special from her. Once I corrected my words, I saw instant relief settle over her.

Now I lie here, still fully clothed, but feeling as if I just had the most intimate night of my life. She took her place with her head on my chest and her arm across my waist as if to hold me there and I counted her breaths until they lulled me to sleep. I woke every time I felt her arm tighten against me, as though she was dreaming that I was somehow trying to escape. And every time, I kissed her head and held my arms tighter around her. When she finally rose to leave me this morning, I noticed that we had lain that way all night.

Now, she's just on the other side of that door and the part of my imagination that's controlled by the fact that I'm a man starts to kick in. I'm sure she's removing her slept in clothes as she prepares for a shower and in her nakedness, she may even spend a second to think that I'm just on the other side. Is she looking at herself in the mirror and cursing the fact that nothing more happened between us last night or is she losing herself in a fantasy by imagining that I might come to join her?

I hear the shower start and now visions of her covered in droplets of water have me stirring against the reaction such thoughts are having on my manhood. The sound of the water changes and I know that she's standing beneath the spray now. There are probably small trails of water flowing down from her shoulders, over the swell of her breasts, and continuing their descent like waterfalls over her nipples only to slide down her belly and onward.

"God!" I say with a sigh while squeezing my eyes shut. It's time to give myself a little pep talk. "She wanted you, but with your Prince Charming, knight in shining armor complex, you want her to trust you first. Work harder on building that trust, asshole, or get used to your hand if you keep up these kinds of thoughts."

Sugar thinks I'm talking to her and walks up to me, climbs on my chest, and starts licking my face. I can't help but laugh and when I do, she goes for the mouth. I'm quick to turn my head, averting tongue action from the pooch, but the advance serves well to soften certain appendages.

"It would appear that you and your mom have a common goal, Sugar. Am I that irresistible?" She licks my face again. "Yeah, well so is your mom, and I need to get my shit together for her. Let's start by making her coffee. What do you say?"

I climb out of the bed and give one last look and impure thought to the bathroom door before I shake my head and exit the room. Not giving in to her may very well be the hardest thing I've ever done and I seriously doubt that I'll have that strength again. Sugar and I leave the room and walk into the kitchen. I look around for the coffee pot, but all I can find is some weird contraption that reads _Keurig_ across the front, and there's a canister next to it with little plastic cups. I pick one out and look at it; it says it's coffee, but I continue to look at it questioningly.

" _Somehow, this_ ," looking at the little cup in my hand, " _goes in there? Fuck! I can't even make her a cup of freaking coffee_ ," I silently yell at myself. It pisses me off to be reminded again just how long I was away and out of society's reach. It also reminds me, no matter how much I fight it or chose to ignore it, why I'm no good for this woman. Why, even if it was for more respectable reasons, my denying her last night was the right thing to do.

As I stand there chastising myself for my ineptness, I don't hear her emerge from her room and allow her to sneak up behind me. She wraps her arms around me and hugs herself to my back.

"Whatcha doing?" she says before she presses her face against me to leave a kiss on my back. I turn in her arms until we're face-to-face and lean in to leave a peck on her nose.

"I was going to make you a cup of coffee, but I can't figure out how this," I hold up the cup, "goes in there. I'm a grounds and filter kind of guy."

"It's easy. I'll show you and then next time you'll know." She smiles at my ignorance but doesn't seem to mind, all the while I'm stuck on her words, _next time_. She wants there to be a next time.

We go through our lesson with the fancy coffee pot, and soon we each hold our own cup of coffee. I'm feeling completely stupid once I'm shown how simple it is.

"What time are you going down to the bakery?"

She looks at the clock on the wall which says it's almost five o'clock. "Well, I should be leaving right about now, but need to take Ms. Sugar out for her walk first."

"I can take her if you need to go. I'm not in a hurry to get anywhere. Then I can stop by for another slice of that delicious cheesecake you made me yesterday and then be off to tend to my errands for the day."

"Thank you. Can you do me another favor?"

"What's that, Angel?"

"Stop putting me on some pedestal, thinking that I deserve more, when all I want is you. Your words of being worthy and deserving aren't necessary. I don't care what or why we were brought together, we were. That means something."

I can't argue that and right now I won't. I step closer, catch her chin, and do the only thing that feels right. I smash my lips to hers.

Reanne

For a girl that was basically rejected last night, I sure have a lot of pep in my step. I find myself dancing around the bakery but still getting done everything that needs to be. I put the coffee on, get the muffins and croissants in the oven, and pull Wes' cup from the shelf. I look down at the 'W' that I drew on there with simple paint markers and trace it with my finger. Looking at the blue and gray that I chose to design it, I'm reminded of his eyes and how they behave like a mood ring. Blue like the sky when he's happy or content and gray like a storm blowing in when he's sad or flustered.

Then I think of how he said he'll never get enough of me and that when he makes love to me for the first time, it won't be rushed, it'll be our moment, our time. With that thought I feel flushed and can only hope that moment comes sooner than later. I have waited long enough and though he may disagree, I know that he's the one I want to share my first time with.

I've just set our cups of coffee, two plates, and the cake on the counter when I hear a tap on the door. I look up to see him standing there and the flushed feeling I felt not too long ago makes a comeback. I walk to the door and let him in, trying very hard to conceal the smile that's dying to break through. As soon as he comes through the door he grabs my face and kisses me as if it's been much longer than fifteen minutes since he last saw me. Something about him seems to have changed, and I like it.

"It may sound silly, but I missed you," he says as he pulls away.

"It doesn't. I like that you missed me. How was the walk?"

"Interesting."

"How so? It was just around..." _Oh, shit!_ "Mrs. S. got hold of you, didn't she?"

He starts laughing. "She told me to tell you that she'd take both me and Sugar if you ever want to get rid of us."

Now I'm laughing too. "She's been after Sugar ever since I moved here. She's a nice old lady, but I'm selfish and she can't have either of you."

"That's good to hear because I think I'd like to stick around for a while."

I raise my eyebrows in question and then turn to walk to the counter, thinking about how to say what I want, then I sit on the stool, and spin around to face him.

"If you've learned anything about me, it's that I don't beat around the bush, so here goes. What changed in the last fifteen minutes? One minute you're with me and the next I feel like you'll be gone the next time I turn around. I think you've left me hanging enough already with your disappearing acts and every time you come back, I'm here, I'm still me, and I still want you. You say that you think you want to stay, but I don't want you to _think_ you do, I want you to _know_."

He stands there looking at me and I can't read his face, but his eyes, I can. I can see them riding a fine line between the only two colors they know and that tells me that he's battling with what I've said. If I said too much and he walks out the door, I'll have to let him go, because I can't hold on to someone that doesn't want to be held on to. But if he stays, he needs to be sure and at the very least, be ready to try. The shitty end of the stick is that I've been alone this long and when I finally think I've found someone, he can't make up his mind. I'm willing to fight for him, but if he doesn't want to be fought for, what's the point?

He walks closer and stops in front of me. "Let me rephrase that. I know I want to stick around."

"I want you to be sure. I know life has dealt you some shitty cards and I can't pretend to know what that was like for you, but I can imagine how I'd feel if something happened now, to you. I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, but know that just because I begged you to stay with me once, doesn't mean I'll do it every time you threaten to leave."

"You are a bit feistier than I once thought Ms. Lacey."

"Don't mock me. I'm being serious."

"So am I." And in the same fashion that he's been ending arguments, serious conversations, and moments of oddity since the first time he kissed me last night, he presses his lips to mine and almost literally makes me forget what I was upset about to begin with. Then he breaks the kiss and gazes into my eyes. "You'll never need to beg for me to stay, because I know I couldn't stay away if I tried. But soon, you will beg, sweet angel, and you'll enjoy every moment."

For a woman that has had zero sexual experience, my body seems to have an idea, or ten, about what I want to do to him and a few more of what I'll beg him to do to me. It's becoming completely obvious to me that sex is definitely a behavior influenced and powered by nature, and that my body is tired of waiting, and it's making me say things I never thought I'd say.

"You'd better be a man who keeps his promises, Wesley." I leave it at that and turn on my stool to cut and plate our slices of cake, "But for now, just eat your cheesecake. I'll be opening the doors soon. I hope we can continue these discussions later, maybe over dinner."

"Only if I can take you out," he says very confidently. "A real date."

And just like that, I've gone from a dauntless, undersexed woman to a blushing virgin. "I'll be ready at seven thirty."

"It's a date."

I can't remember the last time I was on a date, maybe in college, or was it high school? Anyway, it wasn't as the woman I am now. The woman who's made her dream of owning a bakery come true and should now start to focus on all the other dreams she once had. Even if Wes isn't the one to help me attain those dreams, he's made me think that they're possible.

Growing up an only child with a mother who'd rather pawn me off on anyone than actually spend time with me, I knew that I wanted to be different than that one day. I want a husband and kids, lots of kids. I want everything my parents never had and never gave me, but most of all, I wanted that deep down love that anyone in the vicinity could almost literally feel when the two of you are together.

I look at Wes out of the corner of my eye and watch him as he eats and he must feel me watching him, because I catch him doing the same. I laugh and pick up my coffee and he shoves another bite of cake into his mouth. Watching him makes me laugh more and with a mouthful of sweet cheese and chocolaty goodness, he laughs too, the act threatening to cause him to expel the contents.

It's a ridiculously silly and natural moment, which doesn't end when the bell on the door rings indicating that we are no longer alone, in fact, we burst into another fit of laughter.

"Get a room you two! For the love of cheesecake, Reanne, this is a bakery!" Nick bellows from behind us, which does nothing to quiet us.

"Don't use the name of my bakery against me, Dick, I mean Nick!" I look at Wes and he smiles at me, then his face turns straight as he looks at Nick.

"Here," he says as he pushes the cake to Nick, "I saved you a piece." I think he's trying to quiet him politely. It doesn't work.

"I'm surprised you two didn't do all kinds of yummy things with this last night," Nick says as he steals my fork and digs in.

"What's that supposed to mean, Nicholas? Wait, what and how do you know anything about last night? Molly was the only..."

"Bingo!" he says as he shoves another heaping bite into his mouth. "But take it easy on her, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to detect the sexual tension between the two of you. You could cut it with a knife." He then proceeds to pick up the knife I just used to cut the cake he's devouring, and starts wielding it in the air.

"Okay, okay! Got it, future head doctor." Then I turn to Wes and whisper, "See why I haven't had a boyfriend? In fact, if you ran right now, I might not blame you, I'd probably join you."

He laughs and places his hand on my thigh under the counter and squeezes. "I've got no plan of running, and we will work on the tension issue soon."

Nick, who has the hearing ability of a bat, takes a deep swallow before he blurts out his question. "Wait! You two didn't?" He uses the fork to point between us.

"Not that it's any of your business, Nicholas, but no, we didn't."

"First of all, stop calling me Nicholas! Secondly, nothing... never mind." He takes the last bite of his cake, I'd assume so that he can't say whatever it was, he was going to say, and walks toward the kitchen.

I look at Wes, feeling like I need to explain that when I had no romantic interest in my life, my romantic life was a free topic of conversation. It may take a while to redirect the two of them and draw some boundaries. "I'm sorry about that. Single Reanne has been a staple around this place since the beginning. It may take a while to acclimate certain members of my staff, also known as my two best friends, to the new not-so-single Reanne. That is, if I'm not-so-single anymore? It's funny really, as an adult that label sounds so silly." I give a nervous laugh and wait for him to say something, anything.

"That's a lot of words—not-so-single. How about we settle for taken, spoken for, or my personal favorite—mine?" My eyes go wide as I take in his words, then without permission, they go blurry as they fill with what I fear are tears. He's staking his claim. "I'm drawn to you like a moth to a flame, Reanne, but even a moth is afraid to get burned. I'm not afraid of getting burned by you, it's life that scares me. It's life that I wanted to cease to exist, that is, until you came into it." He leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips and all I can think of is what he said to me last night and I can't help but to repeat his words back to him while I'm so close to him that I can smell the mixture of coffee, chocolate, and peppermint on his breath.

"I don't want this to be impulsive. I don't want this be rushed. But, I do want you, Wes. As much of you as you'll let me have. I've already waited this long for you to come along. I can wait little bit longer."

I lean in this time and he surprises me by placing his hand on the back of my neck and pulling me closer. This is more than the soft peck I had intended, this kiss is hard, and deep, and indulgent. I open for him and he takes my offering with no trepidation and no reserve, and when he pulls back to look at me, his eyes are the brightest blue I've seen yet. All I can think is that there's no doubt—I am falling.

Wes

I leave the bakery with a feeling of renewal. As I ride through the streets of Denver, my mind cycles through every feeling and emotion I've had since the night that stole so much from me. Four years of loss, guilt, and finally, the desire to join the only person, that up to that moment in my life, had ever held my heart. As a doctor, I've used what I know against myself before, but it failed because I had nothing else and nothing more to believe in and I hated what I had become. But that's changed. I now feel like I have something, and someone who cares and who I care about. I don't hate who I am around her, in fact, I love how she makes me feel and I want to be better for her.

She's strong and honest with herself and once she sets her mind to something, there's no stopping her. The night I met her, she exerted that strength, that power, and because she did, I can justify why I'm here today, and why she occupies nearly every corner of my mind.

I sought out to find her after the accident because I wanted to explain to her what she stole from me. I wanted to damn her. I wanted to tell her how horrible of a person I was and how, if she had known, she would've let me die, but that thought was lost as soon as her eyes met mine in the bakery. She knew who I was and the light in her eyes told me that she wasn't and would never be sorry for what she did that night. In the weeks since I've met her and the days that I've spent with her, she's been able to make me agree that I'm no longer sorry either.

I pull into my weekly, the only cares in my world are to get in a workout, shower, and take a look at my financial situation. Since I'm not fighting anymore, I'm not putting money in the bank, and eventually I'll have to take on a job. I know that I can go for a few months as long as I continue to live very simple and inexpensively. But I don't want just any job, I'm actually thinking that I want to look into whether or not I can get my license back. I don't know if it's possible now that I'm labeled a felon, but it's worth a shot. I want to feel normal again, that means a respectful means of work. But as long as normal also means having Reanne in my life, I'm willing to try.

I park, dismount, and remove my helmet, then start up the stairs. It's a little breezy today and as it blows past me, it carries with it her scent. I know it right away and I know it's because she lay on my chest all night. I grab my shirt, bring it to my nose, and inhale deeply. It's better than the smell of her bakery. It's one hundred percent her, something that can never be duplicated. Something that, if I want it, can be all mine. I do want it, in fact, I think I want it more than I've ever wanted anything.

I silently chastise myself. _Then stop fucking around, Wes. She's already told you what she wants, why torture her and yourself any longer when there's no reason to? What are you waiting for?_

"I don't know," I say aloud, ready to move this battle out of my head. "But I think the waiting is over." Instantly, I feel relieved with my decision and that relief quickly turns to excitement.

I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, smiling, but then I see that my door is cracked open. All excitement from seconds ago disappears and I go into defensive mode. _What the fuck?_ I look around to make sure that no one is waiting around and when I see that the coast is clear, I slowly walk over to the door and kick it with my foot to open it farther. The room is empty, but the little that I own is strewn all over the small space. The chairs lie on their sides, the lampshade is detached from the lamp, every drawer is open, and there's a piece of paper on the table that I'm positive was not there when I left.

I walk over to it, still alert and ready to deal with anyone lurking about, and pick it up. " _This isn't over_." That's all it says. I can only think of two people that think they have unfinished business with me, Vic and Randy. I sit down on the edge of the bed and rest my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. What am I going to do?

As I see it, I only have a couple of options. One would be to leave, just get out of Denver or Colorado altogether, but that option instantly has me shaking my head. What about Reanne? As quickly as it became an option, I toss it away because I can't and I won't leave her. The only alternative is to go to Vic and settle this once and for all. If there's one thing I learned in prison, every thug has his price and I could handle Randy at the same time. I could, in a way, buy Vic out and make sure Randy never shows his face within a hundred miles of Denver ever again.

Having a plan in mind, I look around the room and at the mess that I need to clean up. I decide that it can wait and what I really need to do is go to the gym and focus on getting myself back in fighting shape. It's inevitable that the only way I'll get out of this deal with Vic is to fight, which is something I told Reanne I wouldn't be doing anymore. But she'll have to understand, that it's the only way that I can stay here with her. I stand up and pick through the clothes on the floor until I find a pair of shorts and a tank top and start changing. This puts such a wrench in my plans of trying to live legally and happy while moving forward with an incredible woman. Now I'm afraid that once she knows the danger that could come with being with me, it will ruin everything, but even more, I'm worried about the danger I could bring to her. To me that just means that I _have_ to be there to protect her.

Down in the gym, I work my hardest. I beat the bag like I used to beat my opponents back in CDC. I have no sympathy and all I can think of is survival. I work myself up, recalling memories that cause me to see red and let it all go until I'm unstoppable. In my head I see Reanne, the person that can instantly take me to a place I never thought I could be, but on the bag I see Vic and Randy, which brings out a side of me that I hoped I'd never have to be again.

Four hours later, I'm in the shower, resting my forehead against the wall while the spray flows down my back, offering a massaging effect to my screaming muscles. I think I can easily be back in fighting shape in a few weeks. In the meantime, I just need to watch my back and make sure that Reanne doesn't get brought into this. The only way to do that is to either stay as far away as possible or never leave her side. My body cringes at the first suggestion, but pulses with the latter.

I'm going to see her tonight and that thought revives me and reminds me that at the end of this day, I have something good to look forward to. Her eyes, that smile, and that attitude that really gives me a run for my money. When I think that weeks ago I wanted to be washed from the face of this earth, I'd never have thought that today I'd be looking forward to seeing the one person who's saved me from my hell and is filling the hole in my heart with laughter, caring, and, dare I say, love.

Once out of the shower, I walk through the room in my towel and figure that there's no time like the present to clean up the mess my intruders left. I lay the clothes at the foot of the bed, pick up the chair and fix the lamp. Then I start folding the clothes neatly and placing them nicely back in their drawers. I must admit that I've always had a mild OCD when it comes to organization, which was only made worse with my time in jail. When you have so little, you take better care of it.

With the last piece returned to its proper home, I look up at the mirror where the pictures I have of Kat are wedged into the frame. I reach out to touch each one and that's when I notice that one is missing. I look around on the floor, behind and under the dresser, but it's nowhere to be found. Someone took it, no doubt the someone that was here and most likely, looking for me. I'm sure they took it thinking that they could find her and use her against me, to bend me at their will. Well, I won't be the one to tell them that their plan is futile. Instead I'll sit back and let them waste their time while I use mine a little more wisely.

Reanne

For the last two hours I've been listening to Molly and Nick go back and forth about my sex life, or lack thereof, and I'm about to kill them both. Oddly it's never come up with Molly in our wine night discussions, nor have I ever felt the need to broadcast to either of them about my celibacy. But at the risk of opening up an entirely new line of conversation, one that may very well be far worse than the ones I've already endured, I'm thinking that I just might. Maybe then they'd both give me a little bit of a break and have some compassion.

"So, Molly," Nick says as soon as I walk through the door to the kitchen. "If you had a smoking hot guy, I'm talking a hard seventeen, alone in your apartment with no worry of being walked in on by your roommate, what would you do?"

"Whoa, that's a hard one." They both start laughing at the innuendo. "Well, I think I'd start by fucking him on the couch, followed by fucking him on the floor, followed by..."

"Enough you two! Let it go already! I'm serious. Just drop it, please." I'm exasperated by now and just want them to shut up. "You want to know why nothing happened?" They both shake their head, greedy for the details I've refused to give them. "Because I told him I'm a virgin and he doesn't feel worthy of being my first." I get surprised stares from both of them and it makes me want to crawl under one of the shelves just to avoid them.

"Why in the hell would you tell him that? Wait, was this an attempt at some role-play seduction scene that backfired?" Nick asks intrigued.

"No, I told him that because it's true. I was a little nervous and figured that he'd figure it out eventually. I just wanted to be honest with him, but yes, it backfired. I was ready, but he was the one that put on the brakes. So do you get it now, and can you drop it now?"

Nick quiets, which is a miracle, and Molly walks over to me and pulls me into a hug. "I can't believe you never told me, Rea."

"Well, not every twenty-six-year-old goes around announcing that she's a virgin. It's never been a big deal until now and not something I'm incredibly proud of."

"When do you see him again?" Molly asks, a little less mockery in her tone now.

"He's taking me to dinner tonight. He wants to take me on a proper date."

"Ooh. Where are you going? Somewhere romantic?" Nick finally chimes in.

"I don't know. A part of me hopes so."

"And the other part?"

"The other part wants to hide away in a room doing and receiving very naughty things for at least two days."

"Well, I say both parts need to happen. Let him take you out and prove himself a gentleman, then give him every reason not to be. I can disappear again," Molly offers, obviously excited by my fantasy.

"No. You're leaving this weekend and I'm not going to chase you out of your home. I've been patient this long."

"First of all, it was your home first, you invited me in. Secondly, we never established a man-clause, but we should have for cases like this. Lastly, and considering that it is your apartment, you can suggest that I make myself scarce so that you can indulge in certain adult activities, and now knowing how crucial that situation is, I would gladly oblige."

"I don't even know if he would. He's got this Prince Charming hero complex that I don't know how to crack. I'm pretty sure he's dealt with some crazy shit. Hell, I found him dying in an alley! He's got baggage." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I remember that I only told that detail to Molly and when I look at Nick, I can see the fuse burning.

"What do you mean, you found him in an alley dying? Did I miss something?" He looks between us. "One of you needs to start talking."

I open my mouth to speak, but the bell from out front sounds and I leave to tend to the customer, which gives me an excuse to avoid Nick's question.

"Molly, fill him in," I say as I pretty much run to the front.

When I cross the threshold, I immediately spot the newcomer, but he doesn't walk toward the counter as if he wants to make an order. Instead, it looks like he has a picture in his hand and is comparing it to everyone in the bakery. I find this weird, and to break the vibe he's putting off, I ask if he'd like to order.

"Good afternoon. Can I help you? I have fresh coffee and cheesecake ready."

"Um, no thanks. I'm just looking for someone," he mumbles.

It's all he says before he walks out the door. It all seems so strange. If he was looking for someone, wouldn't he have been showing the picture around? Instead, it would appear that he was looking for someone he doesn't even know, like he was hunting someone down.

This makes me uneasy and instantly my mind goes to Wes and the night I found him. Was the picture of him? Is this the person who tried to kill him the first time and found out that he wasn't successful? Is he trying again?

Fear and the need to protect him overtake me and I find myself without any thought at all, dashing out the front door to see if the man is still close by. I find him at the corner and quickly walk up to him and tap on his shoulder. When he turns around I gather every ounce of courage I have to ask him my question.

"Are you looking for someone? I own the bakery and I couldn't help but notice the lost look in your eyes. Is there any way I can help?"

He's a rough looking fellow but softens a little when I offer him a smile. He sticks his hand in his pocket and I tense, not knowing what will meet me when he withdraws, but in his hand is the picture.

"I'm looking for her," he hesitates, "My sister, she's been missing for a couple of months and I heard that she might be around here."

I look at the picture of the girl and although there is something very familiar about her, I don't know who she is and I haven't seen her, but I don't believe for one second that she's his sister.

"I'm very sorry, but I haven't seen her. I hope you find her though. I can only imagine what you're going through. Are you sure I can't get you a cup of coffee or something?"

"Thanks, but no. I've... I've got to find her. There's no time to waste." There's something about the way he says those words—they don't feel honest, but I don't know this guy and I'm not going to challenge him.

"I understand. I hope you find her."

"Yeah, me too."

He turns and walks off and I turn and walk back to the bakery. That whole encounter leaves me feeling unsettled, but I can't figure out if it was him or the photograph that provoked the feeling. I shrug my shoulders and decide to blow it off. Weird things happen all the time and weird people show up and you never know if it's sincere or not, but it doesn't involve me so I won't worry about it.

The shop has been really slow today and because of this Molly and Nick's ornery behavior continues even after I'd thought that we'd gotten past it. As I walk back into the bakery the tune and lyrics of _Like a Virgin_ drown out my thoughts and their giggles. Honestly I want to giggle with them, and though I try really hard not to, my efforts fail.

"You, my friends, are assholes. Do you know that?"

"Yes we do!" They say in unison, and that's what breaks me. I give in to their laughter and realize again, as I have so many times before, just how lucky I am to have them. They could be the biggest assholes in existence and I'd still love them.

"All right, you two, we've got work to do. I have a date tonight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once my two adopted siblings were able to stop picking on me, they became quite productive and Molly and I were locking the door to the bakery at seven on the dot. We walk up to the apartment and Molly offers to feed Sugar and takes her for a quick walk while I got ready for my date with Wes. After Wes expressed his worry over me being out walking the dog after dark, I started making it a point of taking her out for walks in the early evening, but Molly, against my better judgment, insists. I make her carry a can of mace and I know that she's quick and loud as hell, so that if it really came down to it, she'd be okay. Before that night, nothing ever happened around here anyway except a couple of drunks from the pizza place every once in a while, during football season.

In my room, I strip down then go to the closet to find something to wear. I have no idea where he's taking me, but given the little I know of Wes and the fact that the bike will probably be our mode of transportation, I figure throwing on a pair of jeans will work. Now for the top. I flip through everything in my closet and come to the conclusion that I've definitely not had to dress anything close to sexy for anyone, ever. I operate most days in a T-shirt or a casual button-up, so there's nothing fancy, sexy or otherwise to be found in my closet.

I throw my hands up in the air wondering what the hell I'm going to do until I decide that I'm sure Molly's closet has something perfect, and given that she's so hell-bent on getting me laid, I'll consider that full permission to borrow whatever might get that job done.

Molly's a little smaller than me but only in the lower half of her body. If I ever thought I was going to borrow a pair of jeans I'd be shit out of luck, years of cheesecake tasting and eating, along with some very cruel genetics, have given me a full set of hips. I always thought men would see them as a turn off, and maybe some would, but the way Wes dug his fingers into them as he fought to maintain control tells me that he's not one of those men. My breasts are a little bigger than hers but I'm sure I can squeeze them into one of her shirts and still look good, maybe even great.

Her closet is a mess—absolute and pure chaos. I must admit that that's one of my OCDs because in my closet, my shirts are hung by color so that whenever I'm feeling in the mood for a particular color I can go right to it. I pick through everything, some things are hanging up properly, some things are half hanging off the hangers, and I even find a few lying in the bottom of the closet. It's in the bottom of the closet that my eyes find something blue. I pull it out and hold it up in front of me. The color itself reminds me of his eyes and the style of it, could definitely make him happy.

It's a one-shoulder top, or whatever they would call it in the fashion world. I pull it over my head and smooth it down over my waist, then turn to Molly's mirror that hangs on the door. It covers my left shoulder with a short flowing sleeve then cuts down under my right arm leaving that shoulder completely bare. It's a little tight but does manage to bring a lot of attention to my C-cups, making them look a lot bigger than they actually are. But there's one thing wrong with this picture: the bra strap going over my right shoulder. I have no idea what I'm going to do because I don't own a strapless.

I continue to stand there looking at myself in the mirror, turning to check out every angle, knowing that this is the perfect outfit for tonight and throwing a tantrum on the inside because of that freaking strap. That's it! I'll cut it off. It's not the only bra I have and, really, it's a small sacrifice for how this outfit makes me feel and how I hope it will make Wes feel.

I'm moving full speed toward the kitchen because I know that after all my contemplation I don't have much time left. I've just lifted the scissors to the front strap when Molly walks in the door and looks at me like I'm crazy.

"What the hell are you doing, Rea?"

"This strap has to go. I helped myself to your closet and this is the shirt I want to wear tonight but I don't have a strapless bra." She unhooks Sugar and starts walking toward me.

"Put the scissors down, crazy. I can fix this." I set them down on the counter and she comes over, standing behind me, and starts fidgeting with the back of my bra. "You see, Reanne, I don't know all of Victoria's secrets, but I do know that on most of their bras the straps unhook on the back so that you could turn the bra into a cross back if you want to." I feel the pressure release from my shoulder as it snaps free. "Now I'm not sure if this was meant to be one of her secrets or not, but wearing a padded bra hides a lot of stuff, including bra straps that you tuck down inside. It may feel a little weird at first, but you get used to it. And trust me, Wes will never even notice until he takes it off, and even then, he won't care." She giggles.

"Well, I don't think that will be happening tonight anyway. I can tell that he wants me, the connection is definitely there, but I don't think he's in any hurry. He's too caught up on my whole virgin virtue thing. Is that a bad sign?"

"Actually, I think it's a good sign. He's a mature man who values that part of you and I find that very respectable. I know I gave you a lot of shit today but I find you very respectable too. I don't know why or how someone could hold out for this long, but I do know that's better than giving it up when you're fifteen to some guy you had a huge crush on, just so he'd never talk to you again."

"Oh, Moll." I pull her in for a hug. "That sucks and I'm really sorry you had to go through that." Sadly, it makes me feel luckier than ever that I learned about the troubled relationship my parents had and spent so much time with my grandmother. I wasn't necessarily scared of relationships but I was in no hurry to be like them. She pulls back from me and shrugs a shoulder.

"It was long enough ago now that I can look back on it and see the error of my ways. I tried to use sex to get love, and he used what I thought was love, to get sex. It was a valuable lesson learned, but enough about that, go get that strap tucked and finish getting ready. Mr. Hard Seventeen will be here any minute."

I respond as I walk toward my room, because she's right, I don't have much time before he'll be here. "Please stop calling him that! He heard you say that yesterday and asked me about it last night."

I hear her laugh behind me. "What'd you tell him?"

"Basically that it was a Nick thing and that I was pleading the fifth."

More laughter. "Maybe after you find out if his schlong scale matches his looks scale, it won't be such an awkward conversation."

I turn to her, pretending to be affronted and holding my hand flat to my chest. "After all this time with you, I thought I was being a good role model for you and now the word schlong comes out of your mouth."

"Would you rather any of the many others I've got? I saw a movie once that had a whole rap song devoted to them. You want to hear it?"

"Definitely not." I turn to my mirror and start by freshening up my mascara.

"Fine. Your loss. I'm going to go wait in the living room so I can let Mr.—" I glare at her in the mirror. She sees my reflection and she gets the point. "Wes in when he arrives."

"Thanks, Moll."

"Just remember who loves you, baby," she says as she walks out.

I shake my head. _That girl_. I pick up my brush and drag it through my locks. Given that I'll be wearing my helmet, styling it would prove pointless. I could always offer to drive, I do have my Jeep, though I rarely use it, but he said he's taking me out, so unless he asks, on the bike it is. I make a point to put a ponytail band around my wrist and a travel brush in my small purse, which is only big enough to carry the essentials. Then I pick out a lipstick, a light plum, and glide it onto my lips. Not too much, just enough for them to look completely kissable. I step back and take in my reflection. I smooth out the fabric of the shirt, check that the strap is completely stowed out of sight, then take a deep breath and hope that Wes is dazzled by what he sees, because I always feel that way when I look at him.

I don't hear the knock on the door, but I do hear Sugar barking followed by Molly's greeting and then I hear his voice. That voice that can melt me from two rooms over and make me question why we're even leaving the house at all. I haven't dated much, but the movies have taught me that when going on a first date, which this technically is, the woman must make a grand entrance. I let out a breath, pick up my purse and hang it over my left shoulder, so the right one remains bare, and make my way out of the room.

There is conversation going on between Molly and Wes, that is, until I cross through into the living room. My approach was silent but as soon as I entered, he must feel my presence and turns to me. He doesn't say anything at first, just gazes at me, as if taking in every inch; he's definitely dazzled. I love how he's looking at me. I feel powerful in knowing that he wants me and can't take his eyes away. I'm relishing in this moment when Molly breaks it with a full and embarrassing dose of _Molliness_.

"Wes! Put her clothes back on already! Kids these days, I swear."

Wes blushes and looks down at the floor for a second and I can tell that he's laughing. Then he looks back to me, and I'm embarrassed that my friend just called him out.

"Are you ready?" I ask, needing to leave before it gets any worse.

"Sure."

"Then let's go and save ourselves from further embarrassment." I glare at Molly, who regrets nothing and makes sure I know that by showing off a big, cheesy grin.

"You might want a jacket for the ride."

"Okay." I take one that I had on the back of a chair and step over to his side. "Good night, Moll."

"Good night. Be safe." There is more than one meaning behind that statement, I just know it. And as the door closes, I hear her say, "Cover your stump before you hump." Which just proved my point.

Wes

I heard what Molly said, but act as though I didn't because the shade of red on Reanne's face tells me that she probably hopes I didn't. We get down to the sidewalk and walk toward my bike and I notice that she pulls a hairband from her wrist and starts to secure her hair back in a low ponytail. That action, though so small, reminds me why I'd be a fool to let her go from my life. She takes everything in and it's one of the many things I love about her.

"Do you like sushi?" I unbuckle the saddlebag and point to her purse, motioning for her to put it inside. She takes it from her shoulder and hands it to me, then pulls on the jacket that she grabbed on the way out.

"I've never really had it, unless you consider a California roll real sushi."

"The California roll is a nice introductory piece, but there're so many others. Would you like to try some tonight? I promise I'll coach you through the whole thing."

"I think it sounds great."

"I've heard of this place over on Pearl Street. I've never been there but it's gotten good reviews. Figured we could give it a try?"

"I'm game."

I step over to hand her the helmet, and finally I'm close enough to give her the hello I've wanted to since she walked into that living room, now that we're out of the watchful eyes of her friend. I lean in and she instantly knows what I'm going to do because she raises her chin to meet me. It's soft and sweet and I try my hardest to keep it that way because there's so much more I'd love to do, but I promised her a date and though, I can't say how this date will end, I know there will be more kissing.

Resistant, I pull back and rest my forehead against hers. Now that I'm allowing myself to give in and acknowledge these feelings I'm having for her, stopping myself from taking what I really want is so much harder. The next time she tells me she's ready I won't be so quick to pull away, in fact, I might not be able to pull away at all.

The heat that's generated between us in these open surroundings is palpable. So, I step back, allowing both of us to regather ourselves so we can move on with this evening. She puts on her helmet and I put on mine, then I get on the bike and motion for her to take her place behind me. _Her_ place, no one else's.

As soon as she's settled behind me, I feel it instantly, this is where she belongs. Her body pressed against my back and her hands wrapped around my waist is a feeling I've missed every time I've rode my bike alone since the first time she rode on it with me. There's only one other way I can imagine being so close to her that might be better than this, but if I'm going to get us anywhere safely right now, it's a thought I need to shake off.

I turn the key to bring the engine to life, and look back behind me to see her out of the corner of my eye.

"You ready?" It's a simple question that suits the moment, but has so many other meanings.

"I'm ready."

_Oh, me too, Angel, me too._ I release the kickstand, and center the weight of the motorcycle between my legs. Then I shift the bike into gear and we're on our way. I elect to go a little out-of-the-way to take the highway versus side streets and surface roads. It will get us there quicker and given the time already, I feel like that's the better idea. We arrive in about twenty minutes, and park in front of the restaurant.

I hold out my hand so that she can take it while dismounting so we don't have a repeat of the other night, although catching her was one of the highlights for me. Not too proud to acknowledge my gesture, with one hand in mine and the other on my shoulder, she steps off, successfully landing on both feet. I can see the relief in her eyes and I smile back to offer her praise.

We remove our helmets and she retrieves her purse from the saddlebag then, hand in hand, we walk into the restaurant. We request a table for two and the waitress seats me while Reanne excuses herself to go to the restroom. I pick up the menu and start to browse it. It's been a long time since I last had sushi and everything on the menu looks delicious. By the time Reanne returns, I have a few things in mind but want to ask her what her preferences are before I make any decisions. When she returns I notice that she's smoothed down her hair and applied a fresh coat of color to her lips.

"You look beautiful." She smiles and sits. "So, I assume you understand the basic concept of sushi?" She nods. "Are there any hard limits on what you're willing to try?"

"Well, the raw thing kind of freaks me out a little bit, but I'll trust whatever you choose. I'll try anything once."

"There are plenty of cooked options and to ease you into this culinary delight, we'll take it easy at first." I look up and across the table to see that she's blushing and for the life of me I can't figure out why. I was just talking about sushi. "What's got you blushing over there? Do you have a secret food fetish I don't know about?"

"God, no! It's just that your word choices in the last couple of minutes of this conversation remind me of a book I've read."

"What book would that have been? It had to have been good to make you turn such a beautiful shade of pink. A shade that I personally love."

"Ah, I think you probably know it or have heard of it."

I shake my head and give her a look to kindly indicate that I have no clue what she's talking about. First of all, she doesn't really know that I've been out of the loop for quite a while. Secondly, I'm not sure that I would've read any book that could cause her to blush so much.

"It was all the rage a few years back, you know, _Fifty Shades of Grey_?"

_Note to self, research this book_.

"All this talk of hard limits and easing me into it, it just sounds a lot like the book," she says shrugging and blushing again.

"I'm afraid I haven't heard of that one, but with your reaction I think I need to look into it," I say with a wink. She's pink again and I think the color on her cheeks may become permanent soon, so I decide to give her a rest. "So, if you're up for it, I think we'll start with the lobster tempura appetizer, then we can order a couple of rolls to share. The Japanese lasagna, which is one of my personal favorites, doesn't actually appear to be on the menu, but I'm sure they can make it and whatever you think you'd like to try."

"Hmm," she says as she looks at the menu for a couple of minutes. "How about the crispy bincho roll and the big..." she pauses and pulls her lips between her teeth, then looks at me from under her eyelashes. "The big O roll?"

"For the record, Angel, that wasn't me this time, that was all you. Was that from your book too?"

"Um, no. That was from the menu, but maybe also a little from me."

It's my turn to blush, but thankfully the waitress comes to our table and we're both saved from this conversation for the moment. I give the waitress our food order and request a glass of iced tea for myself then look to Reanne to find out what she would like to drink.

"I'll have the yuzu cosmopolitan, please." The waitress nods and says she'll be right back with our drinks and once she's gone our table is left silent.

"So what did you do today?" she asks and, still biding by my promise to answer any question she asks as honestly as I can, I tell her.

"Well, when I got back to my place this morning, I found it had been broken into last night." She gasps. "They didn't take anything." Except the picture of Kat that I'm not going to mention. "They just left a mess. So, it looks like I might need to relocate soon."

"I'm sorry about that but it makes me happy that you stayed with me last night. What if you had been there, Wes? What if it was the same people who came after you last time? What if the next time they come after you," she pauses and when she proceeds, her voice is a whisper, "I'm not there to convince you to stay?"

She's throwing out the what ifs so fast and I can tell that the prospect of all of them scare her. I don't want her to be scared. "I don't know who it was, and I don't want to jump to conclusions. I'm staying in a weekly, and unfortunately that kind of stuff happens in those places all the time. They may not have been looking for me at all. It could've been the last person that lived there that they were looking for." I reach across the table and take her hand. "But it's okay. I'm okay and I'm glad I was with you too."

"But if you hadn't been?"

"If it was them looking to finish what they failed last time, they're at a serious disadvantage, because they won't catch me off guard again. They'll be the one's who'll need angels, not me. I already have mine."

"Okay," she says just before the waitress returns with our drinks, and not that I would usually endorse alcohol as a relaxant, at this point, I think she might need it. She picks it up and takes a long sip from her glass, then swallows, and lets out a breath.

"Better?"

"I'll be okay. I just... I need to get this out before you think it's the alcohol talking, okay?"

"I'm listening."

"Setting aside all the sexual innuendos and harassment from my friends, I don't know what it is about you, but it seems as if you're the man I've been waiting for my whole life. I haven't been searching for you, but here you are, and I know you weren't searching for me, but you found me.

"I've read plenty of books that flaunt the idea of instant love, and I've always thought that was just bullshit used in storybooks, because a real love story would take way too long to tell, but I'm realizing now that maybe love, or the path to love, _can_ happen that fast. I don't think there are any rules. What I really need to know before I completely lose myself in this notion that there is something so much bigger between us is, do you feel the same thing?"

I can't deny that I do feel it. I also can't deny that with that feeling comes the guilt I still feel for the only other woman who made me feel like this and the reason it's not her sitting across from me. I didn't protect her like I should have and that failure makes me think that if I couldn't protect her, as in love with her as I was, can I love and protect Reanne any better? Am I willing to try?

Staring into those hazel eyes, I know the answer.

"I do. I denied it for a while after I met you that night, but the first day I saw you at the bakery, I knew that you already had, and would continue to change my life. Why, I'll never know, but I'm starting to think that the answer to that question never really mattered in the first place."

"Wes, I don't care why we were brought together, but I know there is a reason and if we waste it, we only have ourselves to blame. I don't want to carry that regret with me for the rest of my life and I don't think you want to either. I have a feeling you already carry enough."

I nod, but offer no further explanation. I'm allowed to keep some parts of my life to myself for now. Making a decision to explore a relationship with Reanne doesn't mean that every speck of my past must be unveiled today and if I really know her as well as I think I do, she doesn't expect that from me.

"I'm not asking you to move in, I'm not asking you spend every minute of your life with me, I'm just asking that you don't resist what could and will happen between us," she says almost imploringly.

"I promise, no more playing hard to get. I just hope that you're ready for all that this could entail." She's asked me to go all in. I just need her to know what that means to me, how serious I plan to take this.

"Wes, I've been ready since the day I met you."

Reanne

Once we got that conversation out of the way, it felt like a weight had been lifted from the entire room and the wall that existed has disappeared from between us. A wall that we already dared to let fall a couple of times, but lost our nerve and built it back up as quickly as it had come down. I don't want him to focus on my lack of experience or my virtue, I want him to do what he feels, no holding back.

Everything else over the evening flows very freely. As we eat, I decide that I definitely want to have sushi again, maybe even get a little more adventurous and try some of the raw stuff. Wes assures me that he'll walk me through it and that I'll love every bite. We discuss where he might be moving, and he says that his plan for tomorrow is to get that figured out. The thought crosses my mind to tell him that he can stay at my place until he finds somewhere else, but even though it is _my_ place, Molly lives there too, and I can't make a decision like that without her. Not yet anyway.

He also mentions finding a job. He says he has enough of a nest egg to get him by for a while, but since he doesn't plan on fighting anymore, he's going to need to establish a new plan. There's something about the way he says he's not going to fight anymore, though, that makes me feel like he's holding back. I don't want to jump to conclusions and say that he's not being honest with me, but I don't think he's telling me the whole truth, which tears me up because I don't want him to fight again. I've already seen what it almost did to him, but I don't yet feel like it's my place to make demands when it comes to how he makes his money. That's another one of those bridges that we'll cross later, if or when it becomes necessary.

We get up to leave, and with less apprehension than I've ever seen from him, he immediately takes my hand and we walk side by side out to the bike. He grabs our helmets, hands me mine, and opens the saddlebag to place my purse inside. Then he quickly turns to me, a hint of an idea glowing in his eyes.

"Is it too late for us to take a little road trip? I have somewhere I'd like to take you, but if it's too late, I understand." I look at my watch and seeing that it's already nine, I'm torn between wanting to do anything and everything he wants to do and knowing I need to maintain limits.

"How far are we going?"

"Golden." That's about thirty minutes each way and if we're going for the reasons I think, we could sit out there indefinitely. I pull him close and place a soft kiss on his lips.

"How about the first weekend I have off we go out there and stay the night? But tonight we improvise?" There's no disappointment in his eyes over my answer, but rather a boyish excitement.

"Just tell me where to go."

"Take me home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we pull up in front of my building, I point and tell him to turn down the alley to the back parking lot. Once he cuts the engine and puts down the stand, I dismount by taking his offered hand and once again have success.

"I figured this was a better place to park, you know, so that your bike isn't parked out on the road."

"I didn't even realize this was back here."

"Most people don't. I like it that way and so do the other tenants. That's mine right there." I point to a black Jeep Wrangler.

"I'm learning a lot tonight. We might take that instead of the bike when we go to Golden, especially if we're going to make a camping trip out of it."

"We can do that. Come on," I say and after getting my purse, I take his hand and pull him with me toward the back door of my building.

We climb the flights of stairs until we get to the door that has, " _TO ROOF_ ," painted on it in bold black caps.

"Are we allowed to be up here?" Wes asks from behind me. I take out my keys, hold them up, and give them a little shake, then unlock the door and pull it open for us to pass through. "Well, I guess so," he says laughingly.

Once up on the roof, I flip a switch that turns on ten strings of Christmas lights that I've strung around most of the perimeter. Wes walks out to the middle of the area where I have a double lounger, then turns back to look at me, and holds out his hand. I walk over to him and when I reach out to take his, he pulls me to him.

"How did you know about this? It's an awesome substitute for what I had planned, maybe even better."

"I did all this so that when I actually had the time to relax, I wouldn't have to go far. This is my escape. It's not far, but when I'm up here, it feels far enough."

"It's really cool that the building owner let you do this," he says as he looks around at the flowerbeds, plants, and even a small water fountain.

"I know. I am pretty cool."

His eyes go wide when he realizes what I mean by that. "You own the whole building?"

"Yeah. I figured that if I was going to buy the space for the bakery, I wanted everything that was attached to it, that way, I'd never have to worry about losing it. It works out well, because if the bakery is ever in a position where it's not pulling its own weight, which, thankfully, hasn't happened yet, I have the rent from the other tenants to carry it. The best part is that none of them even know I own the building because I have a management company that handles everything for me."

"You're a brilliant business woman. Is that what you studied in college?"

"Yes. My grandmother never hid from me the fact that everything that she had was to be mine when she was gone. And given our mutual love for baking and her dream of owning a bakery, I knew business was my best bet. After all, I already had the best baking teacher that ever existed."

"You amaze me more every day, Reanne. I don't think I've ever met a woman so strong and independent." He stares into my eyes and I see another idea brewing. "You know what would really top this moment?"

"What?" _Do I really want to know?_ I know I've said I'm ready, but am I really ready to lose what I've held on to for twenty-six years on a rooftop? He senses my insecurity and knows what I'm thinking.

"Not yet, Angel." He smiles. "Music. I'd like to dance with you."

I sigh and laugh. "Stay here." I press a figure to his chest and smile, because if that's what he wants, I can give him that. Right here, right now.

I walk over to a cabinet next to the door we came up from and open it to expose a bar, complete with a mini-fridge and a stereo with XM Radio. I choose a throwback station and walk back toward him.

"Is there anything you can't do?" he asks me, as if I have incredulous powers. I seductively remove my jacket as I walk up to him and toss it on the lounge. I place my hands behind his neck and start to sway to the music. He follows suit and sways with me as he brings his hands around to rest on my lower back.

"I'm sure there's something. Until a couple of hours ago, I thought it would be convincing you of how I feel. Now that I think that's handled," I wink at him, "I'll just wait for the next seemingly impossible thing to come along."

The song changes and _I've Been Waiting For A Girl Like You_ starts to play. He leans, in pressing his head to mine, mouthing the words to me. I want to close my eyes and get lost in this moment, but I want to be able to see him. The blue of his eyes, the smile that plays on his lips as he syncs them with the lyrics, and the expression on his face tells me this song is verbalizing what he can't.

I move in for the kiss and there is no apprehension from either of us as we meld together. He squeezes me to him and I can't help but want to get closer until not even the air can find space between us. Just minutes ago I was nervous that he wanted to make love to me on this roof, but now I think it's the only thing that could make this night more perfect. I never knew, but now I do, that I was saving myself and this moment, for him. Everything I ever wanted is wrapped up in this one man.

We break apart breathless, but it's mutually agreed that we need to move this somewhere more comfortable. We walk to the lounge and he motions for me to sit down. I do and watch as he watches me scoot to where my legs no longer hang over the side and I lie with my arms propped up under me. He sits next to me, a look in his eyes that I've seen before. He wants me and unlike the other time, when he stopped us, this time I don't think he will.

He lays his hand on my leg, just above the knee, and glides it up to my hip. He squeezes softly, then again a little harder as if testing to see just how much I can take, and when satisfied, he glides his hand back down again.

My core is on fire with needs that have never been sated and I want so badly for him to give me the release I seek. I'm so desperate that I'm willing to beg if I have to.

"Please, don't deny me again. I've never been more ready."

"Baby steps, Angel. You deserve every pleasure possible for your patience. I won't deny you, but tonight is not the night I'll take you."

I don't understand what that means.

He sinks into the cushion beside me and kisses me softly. The hand that was just on my leg is now finding its way up my side, grazing my breast and finally making contact with the bare skin of my shoulder. The trail of heat his touch leaves behind infiltrates my body, joining with and amplifying the burn that already existed within me.

I squirm beneath him as he brings that same hand to rest on my stomach, stroking the area above the top of my jeans. I want so badly for him to unbutton them, to slide his hand inside them, and bring some relief to the ache that's building there, that's nearly unbearable.

He must read my mind because he finally crosses beyond the waistband of my pants, guiding his hand between the layers of fabric and massaging the small space that contains so many nerve endings. My breath hitches as the movement does little to sate my need, but rather intensifies every other sensation my body is experiencing, as if every single spot on my body is now connected to the one place I need him to touch.

I start to move with him, seeking release, needing it desperately. Suddenly, it hits me and it's as amazing as I imagined, relief mixed with the most delightful torture. I've never felt anything like it before. I go still and so does his hand but he continues to kiss me, leaving my lips to trail down my neck, and stopping at the bare part of my chest just above my breast.

"You still with me, Angel?" He speaks into my skin and the heat of his breath instantly brings the fire back to life. I don't think I can speak so I answer him with a hum as my body recuperates and begins to make more demands. "I need to taste you," he says as he kisses my collarbone. "I've been craving you," he moans as he kisses my neck. "You're like a drug to me," he whispers as he kisses my lips and then moves away just far enough to speak. "I told you that once I tasted you, I'll never get enough." I nod. "Are you ready for that, Angel? There will be no turning back." I hum in response, but he wants more. "I need to hear you say it. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Wes. I'm ready." He moves down my body and the space he just occupied, where I could see nothing but him, is now a panoramic view of the sky above. Both literally and figuratively, there's no doubt that tonight, I will see stars.

Wes

I leave a trail of kisses as I move down her body because I'm not the kind of guy that just jumps right in. I want to make sure that she feels everything she possibly can, that she knows this is about her and her pleasure. My pleasure is a direct result of hers.

When I reach the waistband of her pants, a thought crosses my mind to look at her once more for permission, to make sure this is what she really wants. But I dismiss that thought because I know the answer. She wants this as much as I do. I undo the button and zipper and replace their weight with kisses. My mouth is watering just knowing what hides so closely beneath the fabric and my moves to remove it are driven by nothing other than compulsion. As she becomes exposed and the air hits her skin, she sighs and arches her back slightly. I know that the anticipation of what's about to happen is already working as foreplay and though I want her so intensely, this is about showing her how beautiful this can be. Tonight my only need is to satisfy her and further build the trust I need her to have in me.

As her jeans finally reach the tip of her toes and fall to the floor, I look at her. I'm taking in her beauty and mentally devouring her inch by inch. I may never feel like I deserve what she's giving me, so it works in my favor that I can no longer deny her what she wants.

I start at her foot, feathering kisses that leave my lips warm with the heat of her skin. But I want more, I want to taste her. I slip my tongue past my lips and as soon as it touches her, my own need, which I've tried to hold at bay, skyrockets. My own arousal, that ignited the moment she lay down on the lounge chair in front of me, has been undeniable, but its discomfort is nothing compared to what it does to my mind when I hear her moan.

I'm done for and I quicken my movements to get to the part of her that we both want me to be. I start with kisses at the junction of her thighs, urging her to open for me while my hands continue to skim over her skin. Without further coaxing she bares herself to me and I greedily take what she's offering. Moan after moan and climax after climax we ride the high together.

I remind myself to be gentle with her because after years of deprivation, I could easily forget that tonight is about her, not me. I work her with my mouth and with my hands until wave after wave of her release reward me and she lies spent. Then I move up to lie next to her and pull her to me. Her heart beats a million times a minute and I can feel every one of them because I'm holding her that close. I breathe in the scent of her hair and kiss the top of her head.

Her essence is the drug, I'm the addict, and she's my dealer. She has what I want, what I need, and I'll never have enough. She trusted me, which allowed her to forget any insecurities she may have had. She wanted to be here with me, to open up for me, and to fully enjoy this new and amazing experience, one that's just as new for me as it is for her.

I reach over and pull her jacket down to cover her as we lie there. No words are spoken, and they don't need to be. Under a blanket of stars, the bond we've had since the moment she looked into my eyes becomes stronger, more unbreakable, and deeper than I ever thought possible. I'm being given an incredible second chance and this time I won't fail, it's not an option. I may not be the right one for her, but she's the only one that's right for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake to the light of the sun making its way up over the horizon. For a second I welcome it and bask in the thought of knowing that, once again, I've spent the night with her. Not quite as innocently as the last time, but still, she slept in my arms. Then panic kicks in as I realize what time it must be and that she's not in my arms. Was it all just a dream? I sit up and notice that I'm covered by her jacket and that I am on the roof where I'm supposed to be. I relax and let out a deep breath, everything from last night was definitely real.

I lift the jacket to my face and inhale her scent, that beautiful mix of sugar and flowers, and I remember how that scent and the flavor of her enveloped me last night. My groin remembers too and reminds me that I was selfish with her. I hadn't intended to stay, but I don't remember wanting to leave, so here I am. I imagine that Reanne is already down in the bakery, sharing her sinful delicacies, and musing over our night. I bet that if I walked in the door right now, upon seeing me, the deepest blush that anyone's ever seen would cover her cheeks. Just thinking about it has its own effect on me.

I sit there for a few minutes soaking up the energy of the morning sun and using it to focus on other, less erotic situations that I need to deal with. I need to find a new place to live. I'm not running from anyone; I'm just buying time until I'm ready to make Vic a deal that'll free me of him and the underground forever.

I hear the door open and Reanne appears with a cup in her hand—my cup.

"Good morning, sunshine. I thought I'd save you a fight with my coffee machine," she says as she bends over to kiss me, then hands me my cup, the one she made me with the 'W' on it.

"Good morning, Angel. I didn't mean for us to fall asleep up here. I..."

She places her finger on my lips to shush me. "It was the best night's sleep I've ever had. We may have to camp out up here more often."

"I'd love that." I take a sip from my cup and take a second to appreciate this beautiful morning and the beauty sitting before me. "Did you wake up on time?"

"Yeah, I have this funny little alarm clock in my head that rarely allows me to oversleep. It's a blessing and a curse. How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in years. I can't remember the last time I slept so peacefully. I think it had something to do with you." I bring the backside of my hand down her cheek.

"And I say it's because of you, so I think that we should just agree that it was _us_ that made the difference. I think that we can make a lot of things different in each other's lives."

"I think so too." It's time to tell her all my truths. We're already deep enough that the thought of my past ruining us is devastating, but if I don't tell her, it's the dishonesty that will kill us. "Reanne, there are things you don't know about me, things I've never told you that you need to know."

Her eyes go wide and she turns to look at the sky. "Your secrets? The life you avoid talking about? You're ready to share it with me?"

"Yes." I touch her chin and guide it so that I can see her eyes. "If we are going to do this, we're going to do it right. I want to tell you everything. Some of it is intense and I'm not sure that you'll still want me after you know, but I'd rather you not want me for knowing the truth, than to stay with me living a lie."

She watches me with understanding eyes then stands up in front of me. "Tonight. Right here. Bring takeout." She smiles and kisses the top of my head, then walks back toward the door. "Wes." I look up at her. "I trust you." She blows me a kiss and disappears.

She trusts me. If only I knew that trust was enough to get me through this. I haven't put on any acts for her, how she knows me is how I am, none of that will change. I've never lied to her about my intentions and I meant it when I said that I'll protect her against anyone or anything. But will she still believe any of that when I tell her that the last woman I made those promises to died because of me?

Reanne

I told him that I trust him and I do, with every part of me, but the fact that he thinks I won't be able to handle some of what he's going to tell me, scares me. Could it really be that bad? He's such a good man, with a good heart, and he's only ever wanted to protect me. I just can't see that there'd be anything he could tell me that I can't handle or that would change how I feel. So, with that, I'm going to shift the whole topic to the back of my mind and focus on the fact that, serious conversation or not, I'll see him again tonight. That's all I really want anyway.

The morning rush has come and gone and I'm making my list of things that need to be made for tomorrow, but distractions that are completely non-related manage to steal my attention and bring back memories of the night before.

My hair brushes against my neck and I recall the way his lips felt when they touched the same spot. I rest my hand on my thigh and remember how they tingled as he brushed them with his fingertips. I pull my lips between my teeth and call to mind the many times I did this as he brought me to the edge and carried me over. I close my eyes as each vision is so vivid that I can almost feel them happening all over again.

I take a sip of my coffee and try to focus. Molly doesn't start as manager until next week, so it's up to me, and only me, to get this done, but it's nearly useless and I get up and decide to do something that requires me to be less alert for the moment.

"Good morning, Rea. How was your night? And before you try to give me the, _it was nice_ , line, keep in mind that I heard you sneak in this morning to shower and then leave, and Nick already told me you snuck out with a certain cup this morning and came back smiling."

"Are you sure you shouldn't be pursuing a career with the FBI or something? Am I being interrogated?" I tease. I am avoiding her question. There are too many parts of last night that I'm not going to share because they belong to me and Wes, no one else.

"What? I'm just asking my friend how her date went," she says, feigning innocence. "Don't leave anything out." There's the real Molly.

"We went for sushi, which I've never had, but really liked. Then he wanted to take a ride to Golden but it was getting too late, so we came back here and I took him upstairs."

"You brought him to the apartment? How did I miss that?"

"No, I took him to the _roof_." I whisper the last word because no one but Molly knows that I have access.

"Oh... and?"

I can tell that she thinks she's going to get something juicy out of this. "We talked, we danced, we lay together looking at the stars, and we fell asleep holding each other." My eyes wander off as I recall each of those moments, among others.

"That's all? No, you know?" she asks with wide eyes that are supposed to define, _you know_.

It's easy to answer honestly because I know that her, _you know_ , is sex and I don't have to lie because we didn't have sex. "Nope. Sorry to disappoint you, Moll."

She frowns but then smiles as though she just figured something out. "You know what?"

I shake my head and roll my eyes. "What?"

"I think it's sweet."

"What's sweet?" Nick walks up and jumps in.

"God, Nick. Catch up!" Molly says irritated. "What Reanne and Wes have, it's really sweet," she addresses him and then turns her focus back to me. "It's like you have this whole love story playing out. You're courting each other, getting to know one another, falling asleep together, and not rushing into sex. It's all so innocent and rare. I've never dated a guy that didn't think three hours was plenty of time before jumping in the sack. I think Wes is a real gentleman and, as much as I razz you about it, I really admire this relationship you're building."

"Ah, thanks, Moll." I pull her in for a hug.

"I want in on this too," Nick says, and then we're all tangled up in each other.

We pull apart and I look at my two best friends, who are really so much more like my little brother and sister.

"So, no more shit from the two of you, okay. This isn't a race. Wes and I are just taking our time. You'll know what I want you to know, when I want you to know it. Got it?"

"Got it," they say together.

"All I'm asking for is a little respect. Hell, I'm surprised you two haven't run him off yet."

"Would it make it any better if we claimed we were just testing him? Making sure he was good enough for you?"

I shift my weight and place my hand on my hip, as if to say, _yeah right_.

"Well, he passed! Yay! Is that better?" Nick says, trying so hard to make up for his previous behavior.

I shake my head but I can't keep up the façade of being angry at him and start laughing. "I'm glad he passed. Now leave him alone, please?"

"Because I love you, I promise, no more shenanigans," Nick says and holds out his pinky. "Pinky swear."

I entwine my pinky with his and we both kiss our little fingers to solidify the promise. "Now you." I turn to Molly and hold out my pinky. She takes it and we repeat the same ritual that Nick and I just did.

"I promise, Reanne. I really want this to work for you."

"Good, now that that's settled, we have work to do, because I'm seeing him tonight. I want to close by seven. Nick, run the front. Molly, you're in the kitchen with me."

"You got it, boss," Nick replies and Molly heads for the back.

After Nick heads out for the day and Molly is just finishing up tomorrow's prep, I take a break to send Wes a message.

Me: I'll leave the roof door unlocked and meet you up there

He doesn't immediately answer. A couple of days ago I would've begun to worry, but today I know that there's a perfectly good reason and don't think twice about it. He mentioned moving; he could be doing that or he could be napping, job hunting, riding, really the list is endless. The only thing I need to concern myself with is seven o'clock and this conversation we're going to have. That actually worries me more than his response time to my text, and it only worries me because it appeared to have worried him.

"Moll! I'm running upstairs for a few!" I need to go unlock the door for him and take a few other things up for tonight.

"Okay. I'm good here. Take your time."

"Thanks. I won't be long."

I walk out of the shop and follow the route to my apartment. I'm on a mission and after picking up Sugar to give her a minute of my attention, I deposit her on the couch and go to get what I want. Arms full, I head up to the roof. I dump my collection on the lounge and start moving things around to accommodate our dinner plans by making a table out of some crates and a piece of plywood I had lying around up here. Then I lay a cloth over my new table, a blanket over the back of the lounge, and in the center of the table, I set two candles and a pack of matches. I stand back to admire what I've done, and happy with my work, I head back down to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the afternoon drags on, I struggle with staying focused on work because I keep wanting to think about last night. Wes took me to places I've never been, places I've never allowed myself to go or anyone else to take me. But what really brings a smile to my face is that we still have so much further to go. He has so much more to teach me and I'm not scared. I'm not even nervous. I just want _him_. I want to feel everything he has and in return make him feel everything I have.

Seven rolls around and I lock up in record speed. I want to stop at the apartment to get Sugar and take her up to the roof with us. One of my initial ideas for the roof was to lay some artificial turf down and make it a run area for her; her own little yard, so to speak. I haven't gotten the turf up there yet, but I don't think she'll mind at all as long as she's with Wes and me, getting the attention she craves along with mooching off of our dinner.

As I open the door to the roof, the first thing that hits me is the music. It would seem that Wes is a bit of a romantic. I set Sugar down on the ground and she with her canine instincts takes off to where I know he'll be, and when she meets him, I hear his voice over the music.

"Well who do we have here? Hello, Ms. Sugar!" Then he turns around to see me. "And hello, Angel."

"Hi," I say blushing a little at the vision of him and then seeing that he took advantage of the candles on the table to create a very romantic dinner atmosphere, complete with Chinese take-out boxes and a bottle of wine. "It looks wonderful and so do you."

"Thanks, but I don't hold a candle to you."

I smile a shy smile that I hope conveys my gratitude for his comment, but also that I don't find it to be true.

"Come. I ordered half the menu, not sure what you'd like." He holds his hand out to me and my need to touch that hand moves me toward him and once I'm close enough to take it, he uses that need against me to pull me in close for a kiss.

I suddenly forget about the dinner, the candles, and the music and want nothing more than to fall with him to the lounge and kiss him. I want to stop time for a while and forget that, although I told him that nothing he tells me will change us, there's every chance that it might. The truth is that I'm not sure if I really want him to tell me what he's so anxious to explain. I'd like to say that there's nothing that he could tell me that would make me feel any different, but the reality is that there's always something.

He pulls back from me and places his hands on the sides of my face, then comes back in for one more soft kiss. It's as if he knows what I'm trying to do, but won't allow my tactics do derail his plan.

"Let's eat, Angel."

Wes

She hesitates and I'm sure I know why. Although I didn't use the cliché words, _we need to talk_ , what I did say meant the same thing. If I thought it'd make her feel any better, I'd tell her how nearly terrified I am to tell her, that I'm scared that not only will she not be able to handle it but, even worse, that it'll cause her to fear me.

When I got up here, I pulled up one of the patio chairs to the table, so that I could sit across from her. She settles in on the lounge and before I take my seat, I pour her a glass of wine. As a doctor, which I no longer am, I'd never advocate alcohol as a way to deal with a situation like this, but as a man who has to tell the woman he's falling in love with news that could push her away, I hope she drinks the damn wine.

"So, how was your day?" I ask as she picks up her glass and takes a sip.

"It was good but it was long. I think I finally have Molly and Nick under some sort of control when it comes to us and I don't think you need to worry about being sexually harassed by either of them anymore."

I can't help but laugh. "They are pretty immodest, but it's actually kind of funny. They're just looking out for you."

"They're insane. Immodest is too kind of a word where they're concerned, but anyway, I think they're over it."

I pick up cartons until I find one with chow mein then grab a set of chop sticks and pick up a bite.

"What did you do today?" she asks.

"Worked out, moved to a new apartment, and thought about tonight and about you." She smiles and turns my favorite shade. "You can't find that so hard to believe. Every minute I spend with you, every night that you fall asleep in my arms, creates more thoughts of you and more memories of you. It makes me want more."

"Wow! You're doing one heck of a job setting me up for all the other things you're going to tell me. The things I'm not even sure I want to know, if I may be honest. Look, I like where we are and where we're going, Wes, and if whatever you have to tell me is going to ruin that, then don't. Ignorance is bliss, right?"

"It can be and, for you, it could continue to be, but for me there's no way around this conversation."

She huffs at what I've said as if she realizes that there is no way out of it and she'll have to hear me out. Then she sets down her carton of food, picks up her glass, and takes a long gulp of the red liquid. "You're right. Unfortunately, despite your efforts to create this nice dinner for us, if this is going to happen, it has to happen now; the food can wait."

_Okay, she's going all in._ "As much as I've thought about it, I don't know where to start." I look everywhere but at her face.

"Then don't. I've already told you that I don't need to know anything more than I already do. For once in my life, I'm going to let go of the control and let my heart lead me."

"I can't let you do that. You have to know."

"Know what, Wes! What do I need to know?" she yells, obviously getting frustrated with my cowardice to just come out with it.

And I'm frustrated with the fact that this was my idea and I'm making a bigger mess out of it than I intended. I need to tell her but now that the time is here, I don't know how and I'm afraid of the outcome. But it's now or never. I stand up from the table and take a few steps until at least ten feet separates us. Then I turn back to face her, sadness and anger taking over my emotions, both for what happened years ago and for what I fear is about to happen now.

"I killed my fiancée." With those words, all that I've feared starts to become reality. I can never unsee the look on her face; it will haunt me for the rest of my life. Fear, question, and heartache. I can handle the question, because none of this came out the way it should've, but the other two are literally breaking me and I walk toward her wanting to console her. She stands and holds out her hands to stop me from coming any closer.

"What do you mean, _you killed her_? Wes, what are you saying?" She's on the verge of tears.

"That didn't come out right, it's not like that. I will never hurt you, Angel."

"Then how is it, Wes? I need you to make me understand."

"Remember when I told you she was killed by a drunk driver?" She nods. "That drunk driver was me."

She takes a moment to contemplate my words and when she looks back up at me, something changes in her face. The question is gone, the fear is slowly disappearing, and though the look of heartache remains, it's no longer her own. I think it's for me.

"Wes," she cries and instead of backing away from me as I expected, she walks toward me and takes me into her arms. We're both silent, as if both of us are relieved in our own way. I close my arms around her and hold her as tight as she holds me because I'm scared to let go. "I can't imagine how this has haunted you. It wasn't..."

I pull back to look at her face and into her eyes. "Please don't. Don't say it wasn't my fault. It was completely my fault. Maybe I didn't set out to hurt her, but no one will ever convince me that I'm not to blame. And that isn't what I'm looking for from you. You had to know the truth about me before I could let this go any further. I'm falling for you, Reanne, and if we're on the same page, we're falling together, and hard. I couldn't allow you to fall for a lie."

"Thank you for telling me. You were willing to risk it all so that I knew the truth and, you were right to think that it would change the way I feel about you. It does."

_Fuck!_ She admires my honesty but now that she knows, she can't be with me. I can feel the hammer about to fall. "Please don't say it, Angel, I understand. You..."

She stops me by placing her finger on my lips and stares so deeply into my eyes, that there's no doubt she wants me to feel her words deep within my soul. "Apparently, I do need to say it because the conclusion you're jumping to is all wrong. It changes everything, Wes. It means that you trust me. It means that you care for me. It means that when you say you'll protect me—I'll never doubt you. I'm falling too, Wes, and now, because of this and all it means, I feel myself falling faster. The only other thing I need to know is that you'll be here to catch me."

There's so much more to tell her, so much more to say, but now she's heard the worst of it. I keep thinking that maybe she hasn't had enough time to process what I've said, that once it really sinks in, she'll change her mind. I hope that I'm wrong, that it's just my insecurities keeping me from believing her words. I want to believe her when she says that it doesn't change _us_.

"Of course, I'll be here, Angel. There's nothing I'd rather do and nowhere I'd rather be, not anymore." I kiss her softly, for this is not a moment full of hunger and passion, this is stronger than that. Unfortunately, our moment is brought to a quick end by the sound of our dinner falling from the table. We both look over at a not quite so white Sugar, who is ravenously eating the spilled beef and broccoli as quickly as she can before Reanne walks over, scoops her up, and begins to scold her.

"I'm sorry. She has no manners; she doesn't get out much."

"As long as it won't hurt her, it's not a big deal. I think I got enough to feed a small army. You'll have leftovers for days."

"Don't think you're leaving all this with me. You're going to help me. I can't eat all of this!"

"Deal. Speaking of eating, now that my stomach is not one big knot, I'm starving."

"Me too." She smiles the most beautiful, most loving smile and takes her seat, then waits for me to take mine. She pours herself another glass of wine and holds it up to make a toast. I hold up my bottle of water, not letting the fact that it's not wine stop me from joining in. "From this moment on, Wesley, we're honest with each other and ourselves. I promise that if you'll catch me, I'll catch you."

I want to laugh at her use of my full first name, as no one but my mother has ever called me by it, but this is a serious moment and she's making me a promise which I fully intend to reciprocate.

"To honesty and being there to catch you—I promise." This time my promise will not be broken. I won't fail her.

Catching someone is only really necessary when they're falling and if I interpret this correctly, the equation adds up perfectly. If she's falling and I'm falling, then that means we're falling together.

Reanne

Wes fell asleep with his head on my stomach on the lounge chair. After talking for hours, Wes seemed exhausted from baring his past to me. For weeks I've wanted to know everything about him and now I understand why he didn't want me to know. As I look at his face now, there's a peace I haven't seen the last few nights and I imagine that it's because he doesn't have to hide from me anymore. I can't say that I know what he's gone through or that I'm sharing in his pain because what he's suffered is not even comparable to the worst I've ever had to endure, but I think that, for him, being able to talk about it is a courtesy he's never been allowed.

As I softly brush my fingers through his hair, careful not to wake him, I recall everything that he told me and the emotions each admission brought forth. He'd only been released from the prison, where he spent three and a half years of his life, a few months before the night we met. The night that put him there still haunts him every day. He lost the woman he loved, his career as a doctor, his freedom, and thousands of hours of sleep blaming himself for what happened. It wasn't his fault, but there's no convincing him of that. I'll just reassure him every day that it doesn't change how I feel about him, that I trust him and the man he is completely.

I understand now why he asked me to let him go that night—because of all that had happened up to that point, there's no doubt that he wanted out. He wanted to finally receive what he thought he deserved for his unintentional acts. I took his peace away from him that night, but feel that I may have replaced it with another kind. He says he stayed for me because I asked him to, and his name for me, Angel, makes so much more sense now than it did before. It's become something I'm able to accept as more than a term of heroism.

He's been fighting ever since he was released. It was the way he survived on the inside and went on to be the way he escaped on the outside. He never worried about leaving the ring. If he lived through a fight, he'd fight again—if he died, he'd have peace. Just thinking about how tortured a man must be to want and welcome death, makes me shutter. But knowing about his past, I realize that I'm beyond falling for him. The truth is I've fallen. I'm completely in love with him.

I feel myself dozing off and with the weight of his head on my stomach and his silky hair between my fingers, it's no wonder my mind floats into a dream that I can only hope will soon be real.

His hands are on me and everywhere they touch feels like fire on my skin. The sizzling feeling that each graze leaves behind only makes me want more, most of all in places that have never before felt the heat of a man's body. He doesn't rush, rather working at his own pace. which to the eager woman inside me, seems more like he's teasing me, flaunting the fact that he has what I want and will deliver it only once both of us absolutely can't take anymore.

I raise my body to him when he pulls away to look at me, letting him know that I want more; that I need more. The smile that plays on his lips and in his eyes tells me that he's delighted with the reaction he's triggered and I'm afraid that this game will continue far longer than I can take.

"Wes, please." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, my mind and body making demands without my conscious consent.

"Please what, Angel? Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I need you. You're driving me crazy. Please. I'm begging."

"Do you want this?" He runs his hand between my legs lightly skimming across my opening and like every other touch, leaving a burn in its place.

"Yes." I sigh and arch myself to give him more access.

"And how about this?" He dips in one finger just enough to wet it with my arousal, then glides it up over my clit, circling it gently and causing me to react by pressing harder into him. "No, no, Angel. You tell me what you want. I'll do anything, but I want you to say it. I have to know that you're ready enough to ask for what you need."

I whimper because I do want this, because I am ready, but for him to want me to say it aloud, I become sheepish and bring my hand to cover my face. Then I remember it's just a dream. I can say whatever I want and the only one that will hear it is me—me and the Wes in my dream.

"I want you, Wes. I want you to make love to me. I want you to fill me. I want you inside of me."

"That's my girl. I was hoping you'd say that."

He moves up to seat himself between my legs and softly kisses my lips while he moves until his body's close enough for me to feel his arousal pressing against me. Then he takes my mouth harder and then, with one smooth stroke, he enters me. As a breath rushes from me with the sensation of being so filled by him, he swallows it with his mouth. The acute awareness of my body, the first nip of pain that was immediately overrun by pleasure, the need, and the bliss—it's all more real than I ever imagined.

"Wes! Oh, Wes!" I practically scream as I feel my orgasm building until I can't control myself. I throw my head back, close my eyes, and I let go.

"Reanne? Angel, wake up. Angel?"

I open my eyes to see Wes sitting next to me on the lounge and I'm flooded by embarrassment. I close my eyes and bring my hands to my face to cover the red that must be quickly spreading. "Please tell me... Never mind, I don't really want to know." I can't believe this and feel the heat in my cheeks that is undoubtedly accompanied by a blush that covers my entire face.

"It must have been quite a dream! I only hope that I can live up to the hype." His eyes beam and he shares a bashful smile, then drops and shakes his head, most likely to hide whatever other dirty thoughts might be going through it. When he brings his eyes back to mine, he's regained his composure, but I can still see a bit of teasing in his bright blue eyes. "I brought you coffee. Made it all by myself with your weird coffee maker and I took Sugar for her walk so that I could let you sleep. Apparently, that was a good idea." He winks at me and all I can do is blush again at the reference. "Oh, and Mrs. Schultz says hi."

I laugh while taking a sip of my coffee. That silly old lady got to him again! I figure that Molly left the door unlocked for me last night, and I doubt she'd be surprised to find Wes in the apartment this morning, in fact, if she did catch him there I'm sure she'd be thrilled. I look down at my watch and see that it's almost five, putting me a little behind but not yet late.

"Thank you, that was very sweet." I'm still blushing, and not quite sure if I can make eye contact with him without losing the last of my self-respect, but he's not having any of my avoidance tactics.

He places his hand under my chin and lifts it so that he can see my eyes, and though I try to look away, I can't escape their pull. "Don't ever be ashamed of your fantasies, Angel. The most enchanting sound I've ever heard was my name on your lips just now, but I promise that the next time you speak my name that way, it won't be a dream."

God I hope not because I've never wanted anyone like I want him. I've never fantasized about a man and I've never wanted to feel their hands on me, making me feel what I only imagine is far more amazing than what I felt in my dream, and that was incredible.

"Thank you for last night," he says to change subjects, obviously feeling, as I do, the need to cut the sexual intensity of this moment.

"I don't know exactly what you're thanking me for, Wes. I didn't do anything." I don't feel like I did anything special at all, only what I needed to, which was to be there for him.

"You were here and you listened. I've never shared that part of my life with anyone. Of course there are people who know the pieces that ended up in the newspapers or assumed they knew everything based on townspeople's talk, but no one has ever heard my side. I never fought to make them listen. It feels good to tell it and to not be judged, because that's all it ever managed to get me from the moment it happened. Judgment by the law, by everyone involved, and it caused me to judge myself." He looks down and I just know that telling me still won't immediately take away the pain that he's been carrying for so long.

"I could never judge you. One moment doesn't have to define a life, in fact, when you consider the millions of moments most of us live, not even a few of them can be used to define most people." It's my turn to lift his chin so that I can see him, so that I can look directly into his eyes and make sure that he not only hears, but understands every word I have to say. "I know you will always feel guilty for what happened, and I won't try to convince you not to, because only you can decide to forgive yourself and let that guilt go, but I'll never believe that you could hurt someone you loved. Wes, I know with all the certainty in my heart that you could never hurt me." I mean every word that I say and I think he knows that and believes every word too, for there's a glint in his teary blue eyes and the corner of his mouth turns up in a smile.

"I'm glad that I almost died that night, but not for the same reasons I once thought I would be. It brought you to me, Angel. You are doing for me what I thought impossible. You've made me want to live, if it means that you're a part of that life. I also want to..." he nervously stutters over his words, so he swallows hard, thinks for a second, and then stares deep into my eyes—deep into my soul. "I want to love again, if it means I could have the love of an angel in return."

I don't know what to say. Waiting twenty-six years has made me precautious to say the words I've never said to any man, but eager to say the words to him. He's giving me all the signals and my heart is screaming, _just tell him_ , but my head is telling me that there's no way that something this real can happen this fast. Or can it? I guess the decision I have to make is, do I leap or do I keep my feet planted firmly and safely on the ground? I search his eyes, then close mine and take a long, deep breath and when I open them again it's as if our connection was never lost. One, two, three, leap.

"I think you already do."

Wes

Can I believe what my ears just heard? I search her eyes and there's no denying it as those gold flecks in her eyes glisten with the sheen of unshed tears that I know are not because of sadness but because she's opened herself up to me. She didn't say those three overrated words, but she did tell me that she loves me. There was a point in my life when I felt that I didn't deserve this, or even worse that I never wanted to feel it again because it would never be from the woman who trusted me with her life—a trust I broke, but Reanne has changed that. Somehow, she sees through my darkness and finds light in me, light I still can't see for myself but feel when I'm with her. What she doesn't know is that the light she sees only exists because of her.

_Now_ would be the right time to close the only distance that still exists between us, to make love to her, to be inside her, to meld our bodies, and connect us in a way I've been afraid to thus far because I felt that I wasn't the man that was worthy of taking her. I still don't know if I'm the right one for her, but I do know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that she is the right one for me.

I press my lips to hers and instantly feel the connection we have and the strength it's gained in the last few minutes. She opens for me and I take more, because now more than ever before, I know I will ever get enough. But while our bodies are in agreement not to stop, I force my mind to think rationally. So with regret and under protest, I tip my head to press my forehead against hers, angling us just so our lips are no longer connected but are only millimeters away.

"Angel, you have no idea how much I want you right now. My restraint is being tested like never before, but we don't have the time we need right now. Remember my promise to you?" She nods her head against mine and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. "It won't be impulsive, it won't be rushed, but I can promise you now, that it won't be long because I can't wait much longer. It's becoming a painful need to have you." I move to gently take her lip between my own teeth and pull it free from where she's held it until now, then I close my lips, releasing it and replacing the space with a soft kiss.

It's very difficult to follow my own suggestions right now, because I'm becoming more aroused every second that I'm touching her, but I pull away and stand up in front of her and offer my hand to pull her up in front of me. I will make love to her and soon, but I want to make it perfect for her. I want our first time to be what every girl imagines but never actually receives. She's my angel and I will make sure that it's nothing short of heaven.

"Come on, Angel, time for work. We'll pick this up later."

"But it's not fair. For the first time since I opened this place, I don't want to work. I'd rather spend the day with you. What are you doing to me?"

"Well, if it's making you not want to bake, then you might reconsider keeping me around," I retort jokingly. I know she's not saying that she's lost her passion for baking. She, like me, just doesn't want space between us and I completely understand as the feeling is very mutual. She rolls her eyes in that _whatever_ way she has mastered and pouts, going so far as to actually stick out her bottom lip. Being the sucker that never wants to see anything but a smile on that face, I quickly think of a resolution. "I'll tell you what, I'm going to go shower and change and then I'll come back and you can show me what you do all day, maybe even teach me a couple of things."

Her face lights up, and when that happens everything that's transpiring between us makes sense. "Really? You're going to hang out with me today?" Her smile is contagious and she's bouncing with excitement. It's really so easy to make her happy and if it makes her happy, it makes me happy.

"Is that okay with you? I mean, I'd hate to be a distraction." I wiggle my eyebrows. "Actually, maybe it's a bad idea. I'll just..."

"It's a wonderful idea! You could even hang out for a couple of days if you wanted to because Molly's going to be gone for the weekend, leaving me shorthanded. I could use the help and it'll give us time together that can be kept mostly innocent in nature."

I cock an eye at the _mostly innocent_ comment causing her to pause just long enough to smile and roll her eyes.

"Can you pour a cup of coffee?" I nod. "Can you cut a cake and put it on a plate?" I nod again. "Well, then the only other thing I need you to do is to charm the customers, which I already know you're capable of."

She smiles again and there's no way I can say no to her, but I want to tease her just a little more. "Well, what does it pay? And does the job come with benefits?"

"I can pay you the same as I pay the other employees, pay is not a problem. As for the benefits..." She pulls that lip between her teeth again, thinking before she answers me and I feel bad because I was really just joking.

"It was a joke, Angel," I say to her while raising my hand to her beautiful face and pulling her lip from between her teeth with my thumb. It's an unconscious action on her part but it drives me wild. "The only benefit I need is to be near you."

She smiles and that's all I need before I lean in and kiss her softly. I love the way this day is starting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Knowing that eventually I have to go see Vic and find a way to square up and get out of the fights, I take the time to get in a workout while I'm at my place. I know I promised to be completely honest with Reanne from here on out, but I feel that telling her what I have to do will do nothing more than scare her. More than that, I'm afraid it will make her scared of me. I hit the bag with all I've got, but this time I don't just envision the faces of the men I'll have to fight, I see my angel too. Of course, she's not the one I'm aiming for every time I pound my fist into the bag, with enough force to inflict injury on anyone in my way. She's the angel on my back, the one I'm doing this for, because until I escape the club, she's not safe.

I'm pretty sure that they're not looking for Reanne yet; they're actually looking for Kat. Why else would they have taken her picture from my mirror, and how stupid of them to think that I would never notice? They'll never find Kat _,_ which does make me feel a little better, but as soon as they find me, they'll find Reanne, and then she may become their target. Their game of cat and mouse will quickly change, making her the bait. The only two options I have of keeping her completely safe are leaving, which selfish as it may be, I won't do, and staying to protect her.

I punch the bag harder as the thought of anyone hurting my angel weighs heavily on my mind and I pity anyone who tries. With each swing, I make a silent promise that any man that causes her harm in any way won't ever see the light of day again, and I'm no exception—it goes for me as well.

I'm getting physically stronger every day and my arm is holding up even better than I had hoped. But with the good comes the bad. I never cared before. Every fight was just a possible means to the end that I desired, but now I'm fighting for my freedom and my anxiety grows with knowing that the stakes are so much higher. I need to end this and I need to do it soon. I'll give myself one week. One week before I'll go to Vic and end this game he wants to play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walk into the shop at about nine o'clock and I'm assaulted from all angles. The smell of coffee and sweetness permeates the air, and the vision of beauty that is the woman standing behind the counter takes my breath away. She's talking to a customer, passing a cup across the counter and placing their change in their hand. She smiles at them, letting them know that they matter to her and that she's happy to see them. She's by far the purest and most beautiful person I've ever known. She's the kind of person that makes you want to be a better person.

As the customer walks away from the counter to take a seat in the dining area, she acknowledges the bell that rang when I walked through the door, though not looking immediately to see that it's me and going on with her standard salutation.

"Good morning. Welcome to _For the Love of Cheesecake_. What can we get started for you?" Then she looks up, and when her eyes meet mine, they smile.

"I have a meeting with my new boss. Do you know where I can find her?" I ask, finding enjoyment with this game of role-play.

"You found her. Reanne Lacey, nice to meet you, Mister...?" She holds out her hand for a friendly handshake and let's my name hang on her tongue as though she's meeting me for the first time as well. She's playing right into this.

"Draves. Wesley Draves. But please, call me Wes." I place my hand in hers and feel that stream that passes through us every time we touch. It's not a spark like I've heard others speak of; it's more like a steady current, as if two halves of a live wire have been brought back together. A part of me can't help but think that I wish this was how I would've met her— normal and simple.

"Well, Wes, let's get started. I'll give you the tour. Nick, cover the front for a few minutes."

"You got it, boss, but if you're not back in ten minutes, I'm sending a search party for you two." She gives him a look, one that says _don't go there_ and he shrugs his shoulders. "Old habits. Sorry, Rea."

She shakes her head at him, a hint of a smile on her face, and walks me through the shop, which I've pretty much already seen. Then she starts pointing out specifics that will pertain to what I'll be doing while I'm here helping out. Making coffee, keeping counters and tables clean, and taking orders. I can't say it's anything I've actually done before, but I think I can handle it.

"Any questions? Piece of cake right?" She giggles at her line and I can't help but to laugh with her.

"Just one," I say, a little bit of menace in my tone.

"What's that?"

"Will Nick really send a search party?"

She giggles. "No, why?"

"Because I'm sure our ten minutes are up but I need a couple of more." I pull her close to me. "I haven't kissed you in hours."

"Did I forget to mention that's one of your job duties?" I look at her questioningly. "Kiss me whenever you feel the need to."

Seconds ago it was just a small need, but now it's overwhelming and I do, in fact, think that Nick may come searching for us but I couldn't care less. I crash my mouth to hers and take all I can without needing to take this somewhere much more private. When we break the kiss, we're both short of breath and know that if we aren't redirected immediately, this won't seem like such a good idea anymore. She walks to the wall, pulls down an apron, and then walks to me and places the loop over my head, followed by a very quick peck to my lips.

"Ready, Mr. Draves?"

I nod. "Yes, I am, Ms. Lacey." I think I'm really going to like this job.

Reanne

Note to self, take that apron home! I thought sexy didn't get any better than seeing him in a tight T-shirt and a worn pair of jeans on his bike but, apparently, I was wrong. Wes is manning the counter while Molly and I are in the kitchen getting some prep work and baking done, but I can't help but look through the window that connects the two areas every now and then to watch him. He's not the same man I met that fateful night, he's not even the same man from two days ago, and as I watch him I can't help but to think that I've never felt closer to anyone in my life.

"Earth to Reanne." I break my stare and turn to Molly. "You're doing it again. I know I don't officially start managing until I get back from my trip, but maybe having him here isn't such a good idea. You're having focus issues."

She's teasing, but she's right. Not about his presence being a bad idea, but my ability to focus on much more than him is definitely compromised. "I'm fine, Moll. I won't lie that when given the choice of doing anything versus looking at him, I choose looking at him, but you know as well as I do, that my shop comes first. I'm just observing how he is with the customers; they all seem to love him."

"They're all horny old ladies and you have placed the ideal of all their fantasies for the last twenty-five years right in front of them. Actually, had you been thinking from a marketing perspective, I'd call you a genius, but I know this isn't about them at all, it's all about you."

Now that she's mentioned it, I can't help but to agree. Since most of the clientele during the day are older women, I have noticed that I'm giggling almost constantly as they flirt and ogle the fresh meat behind the counter. But Wes goes right along with it, giving all the little old ladies winks and smiles, which quickly flips the tables on them and causes every single one to blush a bright glowing shade of pink. No doubt that when word gets around about the new schmexy man behind the counter of my shop, business will double.

"Hey, you're leaving me for the weekend and I found a way to even things out. It's as much about the shop as it is about me."

"Um, about that. I'm thinking about staying a few extra days. My brother will be home from school and I really miss him."

"How much longer do you need?" I'm glad she's taking this step to reconcile with her family, it's something I'll never be able to do, so whatever she needs that I can provide, she can have.

"Well, I'm going to leave in the morning and plan on coming back a week from Sunday, but only if it's okay with you."

"Of course it is. I'm proud of you for taking this step." I pull her in for a hug. She's very different from the scared girl I met almost a year ago who couldn't afford anything more than a cup of coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since the afternoons usually slow down a bit, Nick leaves for the day and Wes does a fine job of running the front on his own. Molly's little _Wes_ speech earlier encouraged me to focus and we work our asses off prepping as far in advance as we can so that I'll have less to worry about while she is gone. Now the fridge is packed with mixes, we're completely out of flour, and I have a moment to take in the sight of Wes. I walk out to the front with our cups and fill them both before walking over and pushing his in front of him where he's busy filling napkin dispensers.

"How's it going?"

"Good. I've already made thirty dollars in tips and gotten three phone numbers." I raise my eyebrows, perhaps a little jealous, and he laughs. "Of course they're all from women over sixty."

Now I'm laughing too. "You seem to be quite a hit out here. You may be all the new advertising I need." I laugh again.

"You know what I need?" His eyes go between mine and my mouth, and his look has turned intense.

"What's that?" Visions of being on my back on the counter flash in my mind—that's what _I_ need.

"I need to kiss you now."

I feel a warmth spread over me that can only be prompted by hearing the man you love and lust over, admitting that he needs you. "Well, as part of your official job duties, I think you're obligated to do what you _need_ to do."

He removes his apron. _No leave it on,_ my mind screams. He grabs my hand, guiding me along the counter to where we're partially hidden by the coffee machine and out of the line of sight of the front door, and then, placing his hands on the sides of my face, brings his mouth to mine.

It seems like it's been so long, even if it was only a couple of hours ago that I tasted him. I'm such a goner when it comes to him and we haven't even had sex yet. I can't see this infatuation I have with him weakening at all once I've had all of him. He tastes of coffee and I don't want to stop; I don't care who walks through the door. I never want to let him go. But Molly, the now surrogate adult between the two of us, begs to differ.

"Um, Rea." We're pulled from our moment and reminded where we are and that this is not the place to lose control.

"Yeah, Moll? What's up?" I answer as I straighten myself up. She looks between us and then down at Wes' pants that are barely able to hide the bulge behind his zipper. She shakes her head and doesn't even try to hide the smirk that catching us red-handed has caused. "I thought that since we really can't prep anymore today, that maybe I could head upstairs and pack, you know, since I need to pack more now?"

"Of course! There's really no need for both of us to be here now. Wes and I can close up and I'll see you later tonight. I thought I'd grab a pizza and we could hang out before you leave."

"Cool. That sounds good. You want to join us, Wes?" Molly asks him.

"I think I'm going to leave you girls to your night. I have a few things I need to do."

I hate that I want him to join us, but I know that his exclusion is probably for the best. I need to spend this time with Molly.

"Well, if you change your mind, you're welcome to come. You really must see Reanne eat pizza. She walks a fine line between impressive and ridiculous." Molly laughs and I turn red with embarrassment knowing that what she says is true. When it comes to pizza, stay out of my way.

"I'll keep that in mind." He looks at me questioningly with this little secret Molly has just divulged.

"Okay, Moll, call Joey and put in the order so I can just run over and get it when I lock up. Whatever you want, it's my treat."

"Even pineapple?"

I hate pineapple on my pizza, it's just not right, but I did tell her she could have whatever she wanted. "Half pineapple."

She claps and hugs me, then bounces out the door. I love seeing her so happy; it reminds me of the one-eighty she's made since I met her. And I'm glad she's going to see her family. She told me that she didn't want to go back until she got things together, until she could go back proud of herself and never have to speak of the mistakes she made in the beginning. Now she can go back and tell them that she's the new manager of the best cheesecake bakery in Denver. Well, I hope she says that anyway.

Now, Wes and I are all alone—no customers, no other staff—it's just us.

"What now, boss?"

I love the way he says that, _boss_. It also makes me imagine some very different, less innocent scenarios in which I could be the boss. "Well, typically we have about an hour of downtime before the dessert crowd starts coming in. I've got everything in the back handled, so we've got time to take a break. You want anything? I have sandwich makings, some chips, and a few sodas in the back."

"A sandwich sounds good."

"You got it. Turkey, okay?"

"Perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We're sitting at one of the tables and I'm watching him eat. There's just something about this man enjoying something I made for him, though it's so simple, that makes me feel like he needs me, and that makes my heart beat faster with that feeling love brings.

"I want to know more about you, Angel—the little things."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know, but you have to answer too," I bargain.

"Fair enough."

"Okay, shoot."

"What's your favorite color?" He starts easy.

"Any shade of blue. What about you?"

"Purple. I know guys don't really get into it, but it's my birthstone."

"Ah, a February baby?"

"February twenty-second. Don't think I missed that trick just now. You owe me. When is your birthday?"

"September thirteenth."

"Got it." He taps the side of his head, indicating that the information has been saved. "Favorite food if you could choose anything?"

"I love seafood, especially shellfish: crab, shrimp, and of course lobster. I can't tell you the last time I had it though. Yours?"

"At the risk of sounding unoriginal, I'm going to copy yours. We'll have to make sure we do that soon. Your favorite flower?"

"I love tulips, every color of them. They remind me of my grandmother. When I was little, I used to call them surprise flowers. She had them planted around the perimeter of her yard and every year I'd forget they were even there until spring came and the stems would break the dirt. Within days there'd be all these beautiful flowers that always seemed to appear just when I needed something to make me smile. Those planter boxes up on the roof? That's what I'm going to plant in them. Every color I can find." I lost myself a little in that one, but it is such a small and important thing to me. "Now, since you asked, what's yours? We had a deal."

"Yes, we did. Orchids, for similar reasons. My mom raised them after my father left us. They are really needy for a flower, but my mom needed that. She felt so lost and out of control and they gave her that control. She won awards for them at fairs and stuff. She loved them and they loved her."

"That's really touching. Does she still grow them?"

"Yes. She has an entire green house full of them. Now that I'm not around, it's what she does and she loves it."

"I hope to meet her some day and be able to see them."

"You will, Angel. There's no way I'll get away much longer without introducing you to her. It's bad enough that after my last visit, I kind of left her wondering."

"How is that?" My mind is marveling over what he could've said to leave her that way.

"I needed advice. I had questions about starting over again. That's all."

He's being so vague and I should leave well enough alone, but something inside me wants to hear what his questions were or for him to reveal the reason behind them. "Like what?"

He looks down and picks at his sandwich. "Like how long I was expected to wait before I could feel for a woman, again. I couldn't get you out of my mind, but I felt that I wasn't allowed to be moving on—that enough time hadn't passed since the accident."

"And what did she say?" I figure that his being with me now and for the last two nights is an indication of her response. He reaches across the table to grab my hand, making that connection that I crave. I've learned in the short time that we've been together that when he's telling me how he feels, he always touches me, as though he wants me to feel what he's saying.

"She told me that I was only expected to wait until I found someone who made me feel again and that if that woman was you, I was being given a second chance and I'd be an absolute fool to waste it."

Wes

I finished out the day with Reanne, closing down the shop and walking her to the pizza place to get her dinner and then walking her back home. I parked out in the back lot anyway; cutting through the building was the quickest way there. Honestly, I didn't want to leave her; I've gotten used to being with her the last few nights and our goodbye kiss just couldn't last long enough. I'm not looking forward to a lonely bed in a strange place, but it does give me some time to think about and sort through the things that she still doesn't know.

I can't tell her what has to be done with Vic. I don't want to see the look on her face when I tell her that I have to step into the ring one more time in order to free myself of it forever, but to free us, I will. I will do whatever it takes for us to be together, because every moment longer that I spend with her tells me that with her is exactly where I'm meant to be.

That mentioned, brings up another thought, one that I'd much rather think about. Molly is leaving town for a week and a half, which means ten days that Reanne and I will spend together at the shop and ten nights that we'll be alone after. The things I want to do to her and the things I want to teach her cause a stirring in my pants that can't be denied. But this is her first time, and like I promised myself, she'll receive nothing less than an angel deserves. It will be as magical as I can make it, as beautiful as she'd ever imagined, as much as I can give her.

Beating the bag tonight, I'm more confident than ever that I can defeat any obstacle that stands in my way. I have hope and a woman that loves me, though she's yet to say those exact words. What else does a man need to live for? I know from personal experience that most fighters have nothing else but their arrogance, but I never was like most fighters—I fell in that _nothing else_ category. Arrogance was never my thing, and because I gained nothing but money from winning, it never mattered. At the end of the day, I went back to my weekly and stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep—the pain only a speed bump on the road to what I really deserved.

I only hope that when I go to Vic, he'll give me an out, though I don't expect that out to come without contingencies. I'm not a stupid man, I've seen blackmail and betrayal at their worst, but the idealist in me hopes that a means to an end is in sight. I'm intelligent, though, and I know that guys like Vic will work by any means necessary to get what they want and the last time I talked to him, he wasn't happy that I was bringing an end to my fighting career. No doubt he'll see a drop in his profits and that's not exactly what he wants. For the first time in years I'm scared. I'm scared for myself and those associated with me, namely Reanne.

All the more reason to stay close to her, as close as I can, which brings a sting of tears to my eyes because I can never expose that truth to her. As much as I want to be close to her, there are a handful of reasons why I _need_ to be, in order to protect her. I am walking tightropes I never have before in order to keep this woman safe—the woman that, once upon a time, kept me safe and made me choose to live.

I punch the bag harder and with more anger and with more contempt than I've ever felt in my life. Vic, Randy, or anyone else they might put me up against, I'll be ready for them. I fought for three and a half years and that was for survival, real survival, because there was nowhere to run. True, I could just leave now, and chances are that they'd never find me, but now there's a price for that decision and, selfish or not, I don't want to pay that fee. It would mean never seeing her again, my angel, and I'm not willing to give her up, not when I can beat them at their own game. I've never needed to win anything so much in my life and the stakes couldn't be higher.

Reanne

"Moll?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?" I ask as we are both shoving pizza in our mouths and drinking wine, because let's face it, both are the epitome of Italian girls. Sugar begs in front of me and I give her a piece of crust, which she takes to her bed to chew on.

"Of course, Rea. Better get all your sex questions in tonight because starting tomorrow you're on your own."

"How do you know they're sex questions?" I feign ignorance but she gives me that _really?_ look, because let's be honest, what else would I be asking her? "Fine! It's just that I think _it's_ getting close and I'm afraid that instincts can only take me so far. I'm nervous."

"Rea, first of all, there's no wrong way to do it. It's a fact that a woman is far more likely to be disappointed than a man is. Secondly, I can't say I've ever experienced a chemistry like it's obvious you two have, but I can't imagine that with as much passion as I see between the two of you, it could be anything short of amazing. Just please, don't make me look at the couch differently and draw the line at my room." She laughs but gives me the look that says once we've started we may be unstoppable, so boundaries need to be set.

"I would never have sex in your bed! Do people really do that?"

She nods while taking another bite of her pineapple pizza.

"I promise, but really, any advice for the inexperienced? I want him so badly, I even had a dream this morning and he caught me moaning his name." I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed.

"No way! What did he do?" She picks up her wine, all eyes and ears on me.

"He told me that the next time I call out his name that way, it won't be a dream."

"Oh my God! I think he just made me cum. Go ahead and do it on my bed, leave me some good sex mojo."

We both break out in laughter. My nervousness remains, but it's not about the possibility of what will happen, because I want it to, but rather that I'm a twenty-six-year-old whose only experience consists of being felt up and finger fucked by one guy back in college and most recently what has happened between me and Wes.

"Rea, if he's what you want, just let it happen, however it happens. I've never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you and I can only hope that one day I see that same look directed at me. You deserve to be loved."

I lean in for a hug, not caring that pizza sauce may leave a mark on my clothes. "Thank you, Molly. I love you."

"I love you too, Rea. But don't think that I won't ask for details."

"Don't think that I'll give you any," I respond laughingly.

"It's worth a shot."

Once the wine is gone and we've eaten all the pizza we can muster, I hug Molly good night, knowing that I'll be up early enough to see her off in the morning. Her plan is to leave at about the same time I leave for the shop and from that moment on, I'll be alone for the first time in almost a year. Well, I'll only be alone if I choose to be, and I'm sure that convincing a certain someone to keep me company won't be the hardest thing I'll ever have to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up in the morning reaching across the bed to find it empty and I panic. Where is he? Then relief washes over me when I realize that he's not missing; he was never here. My mind's border between dreaming and reality was just momentarily blurred. I dreamt of him again, this one was much more intense than the last. My body actually feeling like every touch, every kiss, every thrust that connected us was real, so that I could swear it really happened. What is he doing to me?

One might wonder how I'd even begin to know how any of it would feel. Well, I won't deny the fact that, though I've never actually had sex with a man, I've occasionally given myself pleasure. You don't make it to be a twenty-six-year-old virgin without certain provisions hiding in your nightstand drawer. But I don't think my little battery-operated friend will be able to quench the need I have now. No, I think there's only one man who can do that.

Thank goodness, a knock on my door pulls my mind from my sex-dream-induced coma and prompts Sugar to expel a few barks.

"Come in, Moll!"

"I made you coffee. I'm about to head out, but wanted to see you before I left."

"Well, I'm glad you did, and thank you for the coffee. Are you all ready?"

"I think so. I've got my stuff in the car, the tank is full, and I'm ready to get this drive out of the way. I have about six and a half hours ahead of me if I keep my piss stops to a minimum."

"Drive save and call me when you get there." I sit up to give her a hug and she kisses me on my cheek, then stands and walks toward the door, but turns back before she's out of sight.

"I'll call you and, Rea? I can't say don't do anything I wouldn't do because there's very little I wouldn't do, but just don't do everything I would, okay? And remember, I'll want details."

"A lady doesn't tell," I say, turning my nose up in silence, which gets me the middle finger and a giggle.

"Bye!" she yells as she walks down the hall and then finally I hear the front door shut.

"I guess it's just you and me now, Sugar. You ready for your walk?" She bounces on the bed, clearly excited by the W-word. "Okay, okay! I need a quick shower and then we'll go." I give her a dental treat to buy me a few minutes and make quick work of getting myself together.

Twenty-five minutes later, we're walking our normal circle around the block, and on the final stretch we're met by Mrs. Schultz.

"Well, well. Not that I mind seeing you, dear, but I had secretly hoped that handsome young man that took Ms. Sugar for her walk yesterday would be bringing her around again."

I laugh at hearing Mrs. Schultz admit that she is just as affected by Wes' charm and sex appeal as everyone else. "He was just doing me a favor yesterday." I unhook Sugar's leash and she runs up the walk to do her dance and receive her treat.

"Well, dear, do an old lady a favor and send that man around a couple of days a week, or at least bring him with you."

I laugh again and consider mentioning that he's helping out at the shop for the next week and a half, but I'm afraid she may take up residence there if she knew. No doubt word will get around and she'll know soon enough. "I'll work on that. Have a good day, Mrs. Schultz."

"See you later, sweetie. Bye, Ms. Sugar." She waves as she takes her seat back on her porch.

I head home to drop Sugar off and nearly jump out of my skin when I open the door to my apartment to find Wes leaning against the counter waiting while his coffee brews. I don't care that he's here, I just hadn't expected to see him this early. My schedule is nowhere near conventional and I've never expected anyone else to keep up with me.

"Hey, you."

"Hey, Angel." He says as the coffee finishes and he blows over the top and takes a sip. I'm now used to his name for me and don't think twice to answer to it. I also like how it makes me feel. It's for me and me alone.

"You're early. I didn't expect to see you for a couple of hours," I say as I hang up Sugar's leash and walk toward him. As soon as I'm within arm's reach, he's pulling me to him and planting a kiss on my lips. I can taste the coffee on his lips and quickly decide that this may be my new favorite way to get my morning java fix.

He pulls his head away and looks down at me, an ornery smile playing on his lips. "I'd offer to leave, but I don't want to; I don't think you really want me to either."

"No, honestly I don't, but I do want you to know that you don't have to be on my schedule. I work long and crazy hours sometimes, but that's because it's my shop and I know that I wouldn't have gotten this far without putting in the work. I'm not holding you to any of my personal expectations."

"Honestly, I just want to be wherever you are. I love to see you do what makes you happy, and I've got nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you."

"Prove it."

He looks at me quizzically and for just a second I wish I could swallow back my words, but I can't, and instantly decide that I wouldn't. I've made a demand and not because I need actual proof, but because I have a request, and that request requires him to say yes.

"How do I do that, Angel? How can I prove that to you?"

He's up for the challenge, not a sign of backing down, so before I lose my courage to answer his question, I will the words to spill from my mouth. "Stay here with me tonight?"

Wes

Over the course of the day, I hear a lot of questions. _Do you have decaf? Can I get that to go? Do you have any blueberry muffins left? Can I get your number?_ But not one of those questions hits me as hard as the one Reanne asked me this morning. She wants me to stay with her and I can't think of anything I want more, well maybe one thing, but that puts us back at square one—staying with her.

She stays busy in the back most of the morning while Nick and I cover the front, and I find out that Fridays are busy. I figure that since most people can't afford to stop and get coffee and pastries every day, Friday is the day they indulge in those pleasures. Blueberry muffins and cinnamon croissants are very popular and keep Reanne busy all morning.

The few times she'd come out to fill the displays, I'd catch her eyes and flash her a smile that left her no alternative but to reciprocate by showing me her pearly whites. As a bonus and to my delight, every smile was accompanied by that glow of pink she wears so beautifully, and would make her roll her eyes and laugh as she'd hurry to the back. I would laugh to myself and return to my customers or my task at hand, knowing that she loved every second of our innocent flirting as much as I did.

Nick left in the early afternoon, leaving Reanne and I alone for the remainder of the day. Once we were alone, we were both very much aware of each other's presence. It was as if I could see every movement of her body, every rise of her chest, and every blink of her eye. I could hear every breath she took, every sigh she made, and I swear I could even hear her heart beating. The only sensation I didn't get was touch. I wanted to touch her so badly that it was killing me.

I wanted to touch her, I wanted to kiss her, but I didn't trust myself to be able to stop once I did. I had to keep talking myself down. _Only a few more hours, Wes, then there are no more rules._

The closer we get to closing for the day, time goes by slower, with every minute feeling like an hour. Thoughts of what lies ahead this evening are taking over me. I picture her lying under me when I slide into her and finally feel her around me, all the while showing her what she's been waiting for all these years. There's another thought that brings me more pleasure than I'd ever thought possible. I'll be the first to touch her in that way, the first to see her face when she just can't take it anymore, and to feel her body when it finds that place of euphoria. Yes, as a gentleman, I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, but as a man, how could I not?

The truth is, I love her. I haven't said those words to her yet, but that doesn't make them any less true. Part of me is still scared of that one admission, but I've already come a long way and know that if any woman can take away that fear, it's my angel. She's already found a way to open my heart and let herself in. She came to me on one of my darkest nights, and though I resisted at first, she's shed light on me ever since.

By six o'clock the shop is empty, not a soul in the place except Reanne and me. She's been in the back for the last half hour loading all of tomorrow's cakes into the cooler, while I've been up front prepping coffee filters and sugar shakers, along with other odds and ends. Anything to work this last hour away.

Figuring anyone else that came in would be ordering to go, I started picking up the chairs on the far side of the dining area to sweep and mop. I'm nearly halfway done when I hear Reanne come in and turn to see her out of the corner of my eye. She walks over to the door and I hear the click as she locks it. I start to mop faster. Then I hear as she turns the sign to show that we're closed and I stop mopping altogether. She just stands there watching me. The look on her face makes me feel as though she's undressing me right here, right now.

"I think we're done here for tonight," she says as she walks toward me.

I look away for only a second to put the mop back in the bucket then I bring my eyes back to hers. My hands are free to touch her when she gets close enough and I waste no time pulling her into my arms, because a few stolen kisses throughout the day just weren't enough.

"You're the boss," I say, and she smiles for a second, then pulls her lip between her teeth as she thinks of her next words, then releases it to speak.

"Here, in this place, I'm the boss, but once we get up to my apartment, it's your turn."

The space in my pants has become too small. Between that thing she does with her lip and her intensions to submit, I'm hanging on a ledge. I bring my hand to her face and trace her lips with my thumb. "I don't want to be the boss. I just want you. I want everything to be perfect for you. _I_ want to be perfect for you," I whisper as I inch closer to her mouth, needing so badly to kiss her.

"Wes," she says with a sigh, obviously affected the same way I am by our closeness and where this is going next. "I don't need you to be any more perfect for me than you already are."

And I'm a goner. I press my lips to hers and she opens for me without apprehension. There's a hunger in both of us and no more reasons to hold back. She moans into my mouth and it's like gasoline on an open flame, causing this desire that's been building inside me to blaze to uncontrollable levels. Remembering that we are still standing in the middle of the shop, I pull back slowly, but don't let go. Space is not something I want to create between us tonight. I want to close that space until there is none. That seems to be a much more appealing idea.

"I think we should take this elsewhere, Angel. I have no intension of sharing you, not even with the passersby." I lean in for one more kiss and then let go so she can turn out the back lights and grab her keys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we walk into the apartment, Sugar is more than happy to see us and it's obvious that there is one more thing that needs to happen before we can settle in for the evening. I offer to take her for her walk so that Reanne can relax and freshen up. I haven't been with a woman in years, but I remember how important it is for them to feel beautiful. Though if you ask me, there's nothing more that she can do to be any more beautiful than she already is.

By the time I return, she's sitting on the couch in a cut off T-shirt that hangs off her shoulder and a pair of shorts, which is only a guess. I can't actually see shorts but I can see her bare legs extending to the coffee table. She's cradling a glass of wine in her hands and the bottle sits next to a plate on the table with sliced cheeses, meats, and grapes. I also notice that she's lit a couple of candles and has music playing low in the background. I couldn't have set the scene any better myself and there's no doubt in my mind that she wants tonight to happen as much as I do.

I hang up Sugar's leash, kick my shoes off by the door, and move across the room to join her. Sinking into the couch next to her, I pull her to rest against me, then I make a move I never expected to make. I grab the glass from her hands, bring it to my mouth, and take a sip. A merlot, the flavor lingers on my tongue and brings on a memory that I quickly push away, and I hand her back her glass.

"I thought you said you didn't drink."

"I haven't in years, but I have nothing to worry about tonight because I'm not going anywhere." She turns so that she can see me and studies my eyes.

"No, you're not. You are where you're supposed to be and I'm not letting you go."

I grab her glass again but not to drink from it. I set it on the table and pull her to me. She moves to straddle my lap and wastes no time crushing her mouth to mine. Her fingers are laced in my hair and her hips are moving against me, causing my body to react quickly. I want her to have the upper hand, to control the pace so that I know she's with me every step of the way, but there are things I want too. I want to feel her skin, I want to graze it with my hands, with my mouth. I want to feel its burn.

I reach under her shirt, following the contour of her waist up her rib cage and finally, I feel the swell of her breasts—no bra. I cup them with my hands, both at the same time. Then, one at a time, I take her nipples between my thumb and finger and roll them lightly. She gasps and moans into my mouth but never breaks our kiss, rather kissing me harder, pulling me closer, and closing the distance where our lower halves meet. With every move I feel her brushing against me, making me harder.

One more assault on her nipples and she breaks our bond, throwing her head back and crying out. I take full advantage, moving quickly to remove her shirt and bringing my mouth to take the place of my hands, now using them to cup her ass. She brings her hands back to my hair and holds me to her, willing me not to stop, which I have no intentions of.

I need her so much. I need to feel her around me, but the promise I made myself forces me to remember that it's not about my needs tonight, this is about her and making it perfect for her. As hot as her assault is, and as much as I'm enjoying her body, this isn't good enough for her. I will not make love to her for the first time on a couch.

I pull my mouth from her breast and look up into eyes that question why I've stopped. Whatever must be going through her mind, she has to know that I'm not rejecting her, but I can see that is exactly what she's thinking. She shies away and moves to get off my lap, but I dig my fingers into her hips and hold her there in front of me.

"I want this. I want you. But we can't do this here; this is not good enough for you. It's not what you deserve. Please allow me give you a night worthy of you. Come with me." The look of rejection turns to understanding and I can see that the trust I was afraid had made an instant exit as she misconceived my intentions, is still there. "Just wrap a blanket around yourself. We're not going far."

I lead her up to the roof, a place that was special to her before I ever came along, but it's about to become special for both of us in an entirely different way. Once through the door, I scoop her up and carry her to the lounge, then lay her gently in the center of it and peel away the blanket to reveal her beautifully bare chest. Now, we're where we should be and where I will make love to her for the first time. I lean in and trail kisses up her stomach, following the center up between her breasts, and she arches for me. I bring myself to hover over her and stare down at her face.

"Now, this is perfect. What better place to make love to an angel for the first time, than under a sky full of stars and the heavens within her view?"

Reanne

I can't wait any longer and I pull him to me and kiss him as hard as I can, needing to make the space between us disappear and make us one. I want to express just how much I want him, how much I need him. I've waited my whole life for this moment and this man, and though I want to savor them both, I need them now.

He doesn't give in to my haste, making every touch linger and every kiss, no matter where it is, feel like fire on my skin. I want to feel that fire everywhere and I moan quietly to let him know that he's driving me wild. He has my breasts aching for his touch and there's an ache between my legs that can only be dulled by him inside me—I'm sure of it.

"I want to see you. All of you, Angel. I want to touch every inch of your body, to kiss every inch of your skin, and watch you react to each one, over and over. I want to hear you say my name like you did in your dream."

"Wes, please don't make me wait any longer," I say breathlessly.

He slides down and sits back on his knees, then takes hold of my shorts and pulls them down my legs until they are free and sets them at the foot of the lounge. I lie there completely naked and bared for him and I'm turned on even more by the way he looks at me. It's a combination of hunger and lust, but I also see a hint of nerves. Is he nervous about taking this step with me, a twenty-six-year-old virgin that has undoubtedly fallen in love with him? Or is he nervous because, from what he's told me, this is his first time with a woman since her? _Reanne, don't think about that now. This is our moment together._

Before I can scold myself further for letting those thoughts into my mind, he softly grips my legs and urges them open, he can see all of me and I'm not the least bit embarrassed. All signs of reluctance are gone from his face, the hunger and lust having won that fight. He scoots down more, kissing me on my belly button and working his way down. Finally, he lowers his head and as soon as his mouth touches me, it's like a heat wave has settled itself within me. I can feel the muscles inside of me clenching as he sucks and licks me into a frenzy, and I feel my first orgasm rising to the surface. I'm conscious not to scream his name, not yet. If he wants to hear it, he'll have to wait until he's inside me, until he's taken me, all of me.

Involuntarily, moans of pleasure escape my lips and I reach down to touch him, weaving my fingers into his hair and tugging it gently. He rises and moves up until his length is even with mine and presses his lips to mine. I open for him and when his tongue slides against mine, I can taste myself on him. I never imagined this could be so erotic, sending every part of my body on sensory overload and amplifying the ache I already feel for him.

A whimper overpowers our kiss and he pulls back to look at me, concern on his face and his brow furrowed. He searches my face, thinking he's done something wrong but I can't let him think that. Now is not the time to hold back.

"I can't wait any longer, Wes. My body is literally aching for you. Please, please make love to me." _I've waited long enough!_

He smiles and leaves a soft kiss on my mouth before he stands to remove his clothes. First his shirt, which allows me to see how muscular and toned he is, the sight making my mouth water and other parts of me spasm with want. Then he lowers his pants and I'm pushed to the edge. I have nothing to compare it to but _hard eight, maybe nine,_ quickly comes to mind and his desire for me is quite clear. I nearly come undone just seeing him in all his naked glory. He pulls something out of his pocket before dropping them to the ground and joins me, sliding up beside me and gliding his hand over my skin.

He starts to speak and I place my finger over his mouth. I know what he's going to ask me and there's no need. I'm sure. I'm as sure as I'll ever be. "Don't ask," I whisper.

"I wasn't going to ask you anything, Angel. I just wanted to tell you that you're beautiful."

I smile and he smiles back then takes the small package he pulled from his pocket and takes it between his teeth. I can't help but watch as he readies himself and then takes his place between my legs. I can feel him nestled right at my entrance, and though I'm ready, _so_ ready for this, I hold my breath, prepared for the pain I've heard about, but entirely ready for the pleasure I know I'm about to experience.

He must sense this and lowers his mouth to mine, and because I'm incapable of resisting his kisses, I release my breath and kiss him back. Then in one slow movement, he slides into me, and I kiss him harder, holding him to me as close as I possibly can. It doesn't hurt. In fact, it feels amazing. He feels amazing. He sets a rhythm and I meet him with every thrust. I'm blissfully climbing to a place I've never been and I have this beautiful man to thank for it.

My orgasm hits me with a brutal force and I feel myself tighten around him, intensifying the feeling of every movement he makes. It's not long before I hear myself screaming his name, and his reaction is to thrust harder and deeper, bringing on a second wave. He ends with a series of short, quick thrusts before he collapses on top of me, his head falling to my shoulder.

As he lies there, breathing into my neck, I feel his kisses, and they send tingles through me. I move my hands over his back, making swirls with the tips of my fingers, while looking up at the stars. I've heard so many girls talk of how they wished they had waited, how if they could go back, they'd have saved themselves for a man that truly deserved them and the gift of their body. I was never one of those girls and now I'm a woman that has no regrets for the choices I've made.

I just made love for the first time, under the stars, to a man who thinks I'm an angel. A man who, hours ago, I already knew I loved, but now I know that I'm completely and undeniably _in_ love with. I have a feeling that with him in my life, it will never be the same.

Wes

I awoke this morning cuddled up close to her; our skin pressed so close to each other that there was no space between us. As I listen to her breathe, I know that I'm a goner because as I made love to her, I felt something. And for the first time in years it wasn't guilt or hatred—it was love.

I never imagined that it could happen this fast or at all, but it has, and I can't let go. She was sent to me, that's the only way of explaining it that makes any sense. Guys like me don't just find women like her, and women like her don't fall in love with men like me. But I'm fine not knowing the why's and how's of our pairing. I've needed a miracle for a long time, knowing that a miracle was the only thing that could save me. _She_ is my miracle and now that she's here, I'm never going to let her go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We easily fall into a routine together that feeds this new hunger we have for each other. Coffee is no longer the first thing we go for in the mornings, having found that taking in each other does a better job of waking us up than coffee ever could. I no longer have to imagine how erotic it is to watch the water trail down her body as she stands below the spray of the shower, because I've joined her and saw every drop with my own eyes. Every moment with her is amazing and my addiction with her grows stronger every day.

"Are you ready, Angel? It's almost six."

"Well if _someone_ wouldn't have insisted on round two this morning, I wouldn't be running late." She winks and giggles as she twists her hair up into a messy bun, leaving her neck exposed and causing my mind to think about a third round.

" _I_ insisted? And you were so quick to shoot the idea down, weren't you?" I tease back, pointing out that I'm not the only guilty party here.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well then, I'll just have to show you what I'm talking about later."

"That might help to jog my memory," she says slyly as she walks up to me and places her hands on my chest.

"Oh, I'm sure it will. But right now, it's time to go before I throw you on the couch and do very bad things to you."

She fakes surprise. "You wouldn't! Molly would kill us if she knew we had sex on the couch."

"So don't tell her," I say as she walks toward the door, grabbing Sugar's leash and clipping it to her collar. She then motions for us to walk as we talk. "So what happens when Molly gets back? I don't want her to feel like I'm trying to move in. I don't want her to be uncomfortable," I ask as we make our way downstairs.

"I've been thinking about that too and I think I have a plan. I'm not assuming that you'll move in, but I will say that I like it when you're here."

"I like being here with you." She smiles, still flattered when I say things like that.

"Well, one of the units in my building is coming available at the end of the month. It's yours, if you want it. Or— I know that it may be too soon to mention, it almost seems crazy to me to ask, but if you don't want the apartment, I may have another option for you," she says as we stop in front of the shop.

"What's that?" What is she thinking?

"You move in with me and Molly can have the apartment." She's blushing at her suggestion and waiting for my response.

I'm caught off guard and don't know what to say. "Wow! I wasn't expecting that." I'm in shock by her offer because it means she wants me around, every day. I want to be around every day—every morning and every night. "I'll think about it."

"You do that. Take your time, okay? I don't need an answer right away. I'll see you in a while." She smiles and hands the leash off to me. I wink and lean in to kiss her lips and she unlocks and enters the shop. I know what she wants my answer to be, which doesn't differ much from I want it to be.

"Come on, Sugar. Let's talk. What would you prefer? Having me as a neighbor or a roommate?"

Reanne

For four days now, getting out of bed has been the hardest thing ever, nearly as hard as Wes wakes up every morning. Our appetite for each other is insatiable and I've become completely addicted to what he does to me. I'm glad that I waited to give in to my sexual desires and even more so, that all of these experiences are happening with him.

Every moment with him is near perfection. Every touch, every squeeze, every kiss, and every time he takes my body, I'm left feeling nothing short of complete. Waking up with his hands on me, caressing me, and knowing that he wakes up wanting me as much as I want him, just sets my insides on fire and makes me want to blow off the day's responsibilities almost as much as I want to blow him, which I've found I really love doing. But we do finally get out of bed, Wes reminding me that I have a shop that I love; he also makes promises of what he'll do to me later in exchange for my cooperation. _Later_ used to be such an overused and meaningless word, but now it's one of my favorites.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm standing at the front counter while Wes takes the trash out through the back door. It's just me, Clara, and Wes here today and it's pretty quiet for a Monday now that the morning rush has passed through. This morning Wes watched as I baked and even helped a little. He's really not too bad in the kitchen and credited that to those cooking classes he took years back. When it's slow like this I usually experiment with new recipes, and thinking of such, I decide to ask Wes for a fresh idea because his last one was a big hit.

Clara's on her break, settled down with a cup of coffee and her newest smut novel in the corner booth, hence why I'm covering the counter. With no one else in the shop and the radio turned up just loud enough to create background noise, it's very quiet at the moment, so I'm a little startled when I hear a buzzing sound. After looking around, I realize it's Wes' phone that's sitting on the shelf below the register. I think about picking it up, but don't. Though we have crossed many bridges in our relationship over the last few days, answering his phone is still a line that I don't feel comfortable crossing. But I stare at it, curious as to who is calling and I suck in a sharp breath when I see that it's Vic.

I've seen that name before and I know it's not a good thing. In fact, my reaction is the same it was the last time I saw it, a shudder runs through me. I thought Wes was done with him but what if he's not? He leaves for a couple of hours each morning, even though he's brought changes of clothes to my place for the week. I never ask where he goes, but now I wonder if he's still working with that man. Finally, the buzzing stops and the missed call message shows on the screen. I can't explain what comes over me at this exact moment but I don't want Wes to see this call now and I don't want him to call Vic back. His association with this man almost killed him and I can't sit back and watch it happen again. I swipe the screen, surprised to find that it no longer prompts for the passcode and successfully erase any evidence of the missed call, but with its disappearance I see something else.

It's her. The woman he's told me about. The one whose death he still blames himself for every day and the one whose name sits permanently over his heart. I've seen this picture before, after the night in the alley when I tried to access his phone thinking that it may help me find him. My first thought was that it was his wife, which had me slightly devastated, but eventually I found out she was even more than that. This woman didn't have a physical hold on him any longer; she had an emotional hold on him, which is so much deeper. But staring at her picture now, there's familiarity, like I've seen her somewhere else before.

I hear Wes come back in and move away from where I was, trying to create distance between me and my guilt for what I've just done. It may have been wrong, but I don't bear an ounce of shame. If he was telling me the truth when he said that he didn't want that to be part of his life anymore, what just happened won't matter. Regardless, I don't want it to be part of _our_ life. He comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and nuzzles his head in the crook of my neck.

"What's up?" I ask as he squeezes me tighter, grazes his teeth against my skin, and then closes his lips to end with a kiss.

"If I need to tell you, we have a problem." He presses himself closer against me and I know exactly what's _up_.

"You know we can't do that here; especially not in the middle of the day," I say teasingly. I won't say it aloud, but I secretly want the same thing he does, and I have to admit that bakery sex has recently become a fantasy of mine. Setting aside the fact that I'd have to double sanitize everything, one day I want him to do me right here in my shop.

"I know, but that doesn't mean I can't want it. I can't wait for Molly to take over as manager so that we can escape every now and then. I just want to do whatever I can to keep the boss happy. Until then though, I think we should have a private meeting in your office every now and then."

I can feel him growing harder, and his idea sounds more appealing than ever. "Let Clara finish her lunch and I think we can arrange that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll never look at my desk the same way again, and I'm afraid that Clara may never look at me the same way again either. I gave her some story about how I had paperwork to do and that I'd be in my office for a while. I also left specific instructions not to interrupt me. Well, when I walked back out, knowing that her shift was ending soon, she gave me that look—the one that says _paperwork my ass_ , especially when I'm sure she noticed that Wes also disappeared around the same time I did. For a second, and I mean just one, I felt like I should be ashamed, but that second passed and I decided that there was nothing to be ashamed of. I have a man that craves me as much as I crave him and if we _could_ get enough of each other after only a few days, then I'd say we have a problem. _Sorry, Clara, I'm the boss, and if the boss wants to get laid in her office, she will._

Wes

I leave for a few hours every day to take care of things, things being defined as getting in my workout, checking to see if I've been found again, and attending classes with the hopes of getting my license back eventually. I've kept the classes a secret in hopes of surprising Reanne when I complete them. So far, it doesn't appear that Vic or his guys know where I am, but there's no doubt they're still looking for me. Vic wasn't threatening me that day, he'd meant every word he'd said and I know that he won't stop until he gets what he wants. It never really dawned on me until I told him I wanted out of the ring, just exactly what I've gotten myself into. I'm afraid that this isn't much different than you see in the movies—the only way out is for someone to die. Unfortunately, in the beginning, that was the appeal for me, but not so much anymore.

Throughout my workout, I keep seeing his face and I just keep hitting it over and over. If it were really him, he'd be dead and then this nightmare could be over, but it's not really him and it's far from over. It's barely just begun, and while I put it off, I fear that doing so is just going to make it worse. I'm giving them too much time to plan how to take me down instead of taking them by surprise, which would definitely throw a guy like Vic off-kilter because he's a planner and he's always in charge.

Whatever happens, Reanne is my top priority. I can't say I don't care what happens to me anymore, because I want nothing more than to spend my life with my angel, but if I have to make a choice between her life and mine, I choose hers.

As I'm heading out the door my phone rings and I check the screen to see who it is; not many people have my number. It's Vic. _Dammit!_ I know the time to deal with all of this is quickly approaching, but I don't want to deal with it now. But I also know that he won't stop and I'd rather do this over the phone than in person. I hit the accept icon and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hello," I say curtly.

"Wes! I haven't heard from you. I've been calling and waiting patiently for you to call back." He laughs and I can practically smell the cigar on his breath through the phone. "Don't tell me we're not friends anymore?"

_I shouldn't have to tell you, because we were_ never _friends._ "I haven't had anything new to report. My decision stands, I want out, Vic." _Stay stern, give him no emotion._

"Wes... Wes, a man with your talent? I can't say that your decision makes me very happy. You make me a lot of money; you make yourself a lot of money."

"It's not about the money anymore, it was never meant to be permanent."

He sighs, no doubt calculating his next move. I have a feeling not many people tell him no. "How about I send one of my guys to pick you up and we can talk about it."

_Not a fucking chance._ "Today's not good for me."

"I understand. You probably have plans with your beauty." As soon as the comment clears his lips, I clench my teeth and involuntarily ball my free hand into a fist. "I don't blame you for declining my company; I'd pick her over me too. She's quite a beauty. You should introduce us sometime."

_Fuck!_ He just proved what I already knew—he has people looking for me and I know he was behind the burglary. What pisses me off now is that I'm not one hundred percent sure which beauty he's referring to. Does he know about Reanne or is he talking about the woman in the picture that his thug stole from my apartment, the picture of Kat?

"I don't think that will be necessary, Vic. I like to keep my personal life just that, personal."

"Well, I tried. I'll be in touch, Wes."

I try to respond, again telling him that it's a waste of time, but he hangs up before I can speak. It takes all I've got to not send my phone sailing across the room. I'm fucking furious and I swear that if I was faced with him right now, it would be the last time anyone would ever see him again. It's time to finish this once and for all. In order for me to move on with my life and keep Reanne safe, I have to eliminate him by any means possible. As much as it would kill me, if I was absolutely sure that Vic wasn't referring to Reanne, I might consider leaving. As much as I don't want to, I could walk out of her life just as quickly as I walked in and spare her the pain I may possibly bring upon her. But I'm not sure that she's safe and that means I have to stay to make sure that she is. I'm willing to die to protect her.

The room is paid up for the month, but I'm taking all of my stuff with me this time. Even if Vic thinks he knows where I am, I'm leaving no crumbs as a trail. I know I can stay at Reanne's through the rest of the week, and by then I'll have a plan. Right now though, I need to get back to the shop; I need to make sure that nothing happens to my angel.

Reanne

"So are you going to tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?" Nick drama—it's too early for this.

"And what exactly would you be referring to?"

"I heard that the boss, namely, you, and a certain _Hard Seventeen_ had a private meeting yesterday. The closed doors kind, and I also heard that when the two of you emerged from said meeting, shit-eating grins adorned both of your beautiful faces." I can't bite back the smile that I feel forming on my face now and the heat that accompanies it. "You did, didn't you?"

"I'm not going to answer you," I say as I grab the tub of dishes from the morning rush and walk back to the kitchen. Of course, Nick is quick on my heels. "A lady doesn't tell."

"Oh, come on! You only became a lady within the last few days. You can't know and follow all of the rules yet."

"And every detail of my sex life is not your business."

"Ha, so there is a sex life! You fell into that one." I look at him with that, _you're such a jerk,_ look then go back to my task of loading the dishwasher. "Just one question and I swear I'm done."

"What?" I answer, already annoyed by this conversation.

"My guess for Mr. Hard Seventeen, was that his junior was a hard seven, maybe eight. Were we even close?"

"Out! Get back to work," I say pointing to the door. He pouts as he walks out, then laughs as he makes it around the corner. I laugh too because he was right on the money, hard eight is about right.

I walk back out front and I'm a little surprised when I see the man from last week in the shop again. And again, he's got the picture in his hand and he's looking around at the customers and comparing them. If I remember right, it's his _sister_ he's looking for. I try to remember the picture he showed me and it hits me. The woman in the picture, and the woman on Wes' phone, they're the same. This man is looking for Kat. Which also means one more thing, he's lying. He told me she'd been missing for a couple of months, but I know the story and she's been gone for around four years.

I want to see the picture again; I need to make sure that my memory isn't playing tricks on me.

"Excuse me." He looks up at me. "I remember you. You're looking for your sister, right? Have you had any luck?"

He looks down at the picture then back up at me, obviously making a comparison. I tense for just a second, but relax when he's able to discount me as a possibility. "No. No leads."

He tries to leave but I stop him. "Can I see it one more time, just to make sure she doesn't look familiar?" He holds out the picture and as soon as I look at it, I know it's her and I know that this man is definitely not looking for his sister. But why is he looking for Kat? "No. I wish I could help, but I haven't seen her. I'm sorry."

"Thanks anyway." He turns to leave and it's at that moment that Wes walks through the front door.

I watch his eyes as they fall on the man and they don't have that old friends look. Wes knows this man and I can already tell that he doesn't like him. I wish I could see the man's face but his back is to me and all I can do is stand there and wait to see if they exchange words. They don't and the man leaves hurriedly, pushing past Wes. Wes walks over to me and grabs my hand, leading me back into the kitchen so that we're out of sight.

When he speaks, his words are harsh. "What was he doing here? Was he giving you trouble?" He paces and runs his fingers through his hair. He's obviously upset by the man's presence.

"No, it's not like that. He's looking for someone. He's been here once before; he has a picture." I'm nervous to tell him who the woman in the picture is but I know I have to.

"He has a picture?" There's recognition in his eyes, like he's putting something together in his head.

"Wes, it's a picture of Kat." I speak fast, trying to get it all out before he questions me further. "The last time I saw it, I didn't make the connection, but this time I'm sure it's her." Rage. That's what I see in his eyes, but it's not directed toward me. There's got to be more to this than I know.

"What did he say to you? I need to know everything." His voice is calmer, but still laced with fury.

"Last time he was here I thought he was acting weird. He was holding the picture and looking at my customers, so I asked if I could help him. He said she was his sister and that she'd been missing for a couple of months. She looked familiar but I couldn't place her, but when I saw the photo again today, it clicked. I know it was her. I know it couldn't be his sister, because she's been gone..." I cut the last of my sentence off because he knows how long she's been gone; I needn't remind him now. He's fuming and though I know this had everything to do with Vic and the fighting, there's got to be a side to this story that he's not telling me. "Wes? What's going on?"

"It's complicated, Angel," he says as he pulls me to him and holds me close.

I hug him hard, hoping that somehow I can make this better and I soften when I feel him kiss the top of my head. But something still isn't right. "That answer is not enough anymore; I'd like to think that we're past that."

"I know, Angel. I know." He pulls back and looks down at me, directly into my eyes. "Please just trust me."

"I do, but you can't leave me in the dark. This is about Vic, isn't it?"

He's surprised to hear me say that name. "What do you know about him?"

"I don't really know anything, except what little you've told me about the fights, but when I had your phone after the night of the attack, he texted you. He..." I swallow back my fear as I'm about to admit what I've done. "He called yesterday, while you were out back. I didn't want him getting to you. I don't want that part of your life to be any part of us, so I swiped the alert off of your screen. I'm sorry, I just..."

He pulls me back in and holds me even tighter than the last time. "It's okay, Angel, you don't have to explain, I understand. But unfortunately, he's not going to go away that easy."

Those words go straight through me and instantly a pit grows in my stomach. What exactly does that mean? I look up at him because I want him to see me when I say this to him. He has to know that I mean every word. "Wes, please tell me you're not going back to that life. You don't have to, you're better than that. They _tried_ to kill you. Next time they'll try harder and I can't lose you like that. I love you."

The words are out. The look on his face that was stressed and angry just seconds ago, softens and his eyes shine the brightest blue I've ever seen. I wait for him to speak, not afraid that I've said the wrong thing and not expecting him to say it back, but waiting for him to say anything, if even just to tell me that he's not leaving me for the fights.

"Angel." He kisses my forehead then lifts my chin so that our eyes meet. A tear breaks free from my eye and he's quick to catch it with his thumb, he then kisses my cheek where it just lay. "I love you. You are the most amazing thing to happen to me, dare I say, ever. I'm not going anywhere." His lips touch mine in the softest, most sensual way—the way you'd imagine to be kissed after you say those words to someone and exactly how he promised me he'd take me. Only this time, it's not my body he's taking, it's my heart—not impulsive, not rushed, but our perfect moment in time.

Wes

Last night, I was able to shut off the outside world; I had to for her. I wasn't going to let anything come between me and Reanne. Our proclamations to each other opened another door and I stepped through without any reluctance because she has stolen my heart. The night we met was supposed to happen. Every aspect was carefully calculated by a force that I refused to believe existed, but there is no refusing that night changed my life forever.

Last night, I made love to her—real, undeniable, and mind-shattering love. Bringing us both to our peak and sharing those moments of orgasm that only exist when your bodies are in perfect tune with each other. Then I held her, promising myself over and over that no matter what happens, she will never be harmed. I will lay my own life down to make sure of it.

I have no choice now; I have to get rid of Vic. A part of me wishes I was the cold-blooded killer I've been accused of being, when in reality I'm nothing close to that. It took an angel to get me to see that for myself. Yes, my time in prison hardened me. It made me do things I never thought I'd do, but it also forced me to endure things I never thought I'd have to, things that change a person and force them to act on survival instinct. No, I don't plan to kill Vic, but he needs to be erased.

It's only a matter of time before he knows where to find me. Yesterday, there was recognition written all over that guy's face when he saw me. He knew who I was, and though I couldn't tell you his name, I've seen him before too. He's one of Vic's dogs and he was out hunting me, using my picture of Kat to find me. No doubt he's the one that took the picture to begin with. Unfortunately, this does very little to settle the question over which beauty Vic was referring to. Did that guy just happen to wander into Reanne's shop, not once but twice, or was it on purpose? I just have to assume the worst and not take any chances.

I don't want Reanne going anywhere without me. When I told her as much, she threw my words back at me, but until we get this handled, I can't take any chances, most of all with her. I got up and took Sugar for her walk this morning, then walked Reanne to the shop, staying until Nick showed up. Before I left, I gave him my number and told him that if anything at all seemed off, he needed to call me. I could tell by the look on his face that I caught him off guard but I didn't waste any time explaining. I'm sure he asked Reanne what it's all about within seconds of my departure.

I've thought about going to the cops, taking the straight and narrow way, but I'd have to be able to guarantee I'd receive full immunity in exchange for my help. Since there's the possibility that I'm being watched, I can't be seen going to the police station, and there's the possibility that Vic's expecting that, he's probably always expecting that. Either way, I need a foolproof plan and I have to be able to get close to him; I have to make him think that I want to get back into the ring. It's the only way he'll trust me.

I need to beat something; I need to get out my frustrations so I can get all of this figured out and have a plan in place before I make any big moves. I can hear the words of my grandfather echoing in my head, _"Every move has a countermove,"_ and I have to be in charge of this game. I go to the recreation center not far from the shop, figuring that no one would expect me to be there, and push myself until clarity takes over. I am not like them and the only way to prove that is to do this the right way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings twice before he answers and just the sound of his voice unleashes a rage inside me. How dare this bastard think that he owns me, but for the time being I'll continue to let him think he does.

"Wes! What a surprise!"

"I've had a change of heart."

"I'm glad to hear that. I have the perfect matchup for you. No doubt you'll see it as child's play, being a man of your talent."

"One more, Vic, then I'm out. I don't even want the money. You keep it as a separation gift."

"Well, that's awfully generous of you, but I think you should reconsider. The payout is a hundred thousand. That's no chump change."

"All the more reason for you to keep it as my buyout. Do we have a deal?"

"It pains me to know this is the last time we'll work together, but yes, we have a deal. I'd give up this life for that sweet thing you have too. You really can't have both, now can you?"

I don't know how he knows, but there's no doubt he's talking about Reanne now. The term _sweet thing_ gave that away; he's referencing the bakery. "Great. Just tell me when and where."

"I'll be in touch, Wes."

This time I don't wait for him to be the first to hang up, I steal that opportunity away from him—today his power and soon his freedom. This is my chance to prove to myself and Reanne that I am the man worthy of her—worthy of her love. I'm not the man I was when I came out of prison. I don't have a death wish and I don't want to lower myself to the likes of him. How many years will he rot in jail for this? Nowhere near enough.

My next call will be a little more complicated. Vic was an easy one because he's fueled by greed and is an all-around fucked-up excuse for a human being, but now I know that he's not going to stop with me. No, now Reanne is involved and I have to keep her safe, and to do that I have to convince the other side that I can help them to take Vic, and the ring, out.

Reanne

I trust Wes, I trust him with my life, but I'm scared for both of us. He left this morning telling me not to leave the shop for anything and then I saw him talking to Nick. Nick, who usually has the biggest mouth ever, didn't say a word to me but looked freaked out over the exchange. I want to talk to him about it but the shop has been busy and I haven't had the chance.

I can't lie; all of this has me really worried. I'm constantly looking out the windows, watching for any sign that something's off. Things catch my eye that normally wouldn't, like people looking in the windows or loitering in front of the shop. I'm on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, which right now, feels like everything. Suddenly everyone is a target of my suspicion and I don't like how this feels. I also don't like that he's not here and that I have no clue where he is or when he'll be back. He told me that he was going to figure this out and I believe him, but I find it hard to believe that all of this will just go away so easily. But part of loving him means accepting him and all that comes with him. I know that he won't let anything happen to me, or to us.

Wes

When I walk into the shop, Reanne's expression turns to one of pure relief. This entire situation has her fearing that every time I walk out the door, I may never return, and knowing that kills me. My silent vow to myself to never cause this woman pain has already been broken before it's even been declared.

What I want to tell her is that things are finally looking up and soon this will all be over. Vic will get what he deserves and I will be free to live my life, and be able to embrace the second chance at love I've been given, with a woman that has given me hers unconditionally. The decision that's been plaguing me for the last hour now is: how much do I actually tell her? I've learned a lot in the last few years, one lesson being that the fewer people that know the plan, the better. I also already know that she's not going to like it.

For this plan to work, I have to get back into the ring one more time and I have to play this thing out and make it look as legitimate as possible. Nothing can be off or Vic will smell it from a mile away. I have to be the person I was before that night in the alley, the man with nothing to lose, regardless of the fact that now, I have everything to lose once again. But, as long as Reanne's not harmed, it doesn't matter what happens to me, I'll consider it a win.

She rushes for me and I lead her to the back before taking her face in my hands and bringing my lips to hers, kissing her as if the last time was days ago. Her kiss comes with a different set of emotions, it's full of thankfulness and relief, and when she pulls away she searches my eyes. As always, she can read them. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

"Nothing's wrong, Angel, it's just complicated, as usual."

"I hate when you say that." She slides her arms around my torso and hugs me close. I instinctively wrap my arms around her and do the same, wishing that just this gesture could do so much more. I wish it could not only put her at ease, but also protect her and guarantee her safety. If only it were that easy.

"We'll talk about it later, okay? Please just trust me and don't worry that beautiful head of yours for even a minute. Everything's going to be just fine."

I'm saying these words for both of us. I need to believe them as much as I need her to believe them. In theory, the plan is set and should go down flawlessly, but theories are not fact, only a guess based on limited information. If the variables change, so can the outcome.

The rest of the afternoon, I encourage Reanne to spend time in the back baking, hoping that being in her happy place will help her relax a little, but my hidden agenda is that I want to keep her out of view from any eyes that could possibly be watching us. I am almost positive that Vic's earlier reference was to her, the words he chose an uncanny coincidence. My ultimate goal is to keep her out of this. If he has any plan at all of acting out of turn, I will make sure that I'm the only casualty, or die trying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the day is done, we sit up on the roof, comfortable on the lounge, wrapped up in each other after some amazing but very emotional lovemaking. I think we both needed to make that connection, the one that can only be made when you're together in a moment and the world around you ceases to exist.

"I feel so safe up here," she says softly as she hugs herself to me, her head resting on my chest and her finger twirling in the hair of my happy trail. "Everything below us disappears, like it's only us and the stars."

"I must admit that this has definitely become one of my favorite places." I reach to tickle her and she giggles. "And you're definitely the only person I want to disappear with. In fact, you're my favorite person in the world, aside from my mother, of course."

"Of course." She wiggles in closer. "But can we _not_ mention your mom while we lie here naked? It just seems wrong. I haven't even met the woman yet."

"She's going to love you," I say with all the confidence in the world. My mom and I are so much alike, that there's very little we disagree on.

"I'm sure I'll love her too."

A thought comes to mind and I know it's a long shot, but it's worth a try. "Maybe you should go stay with her for a while, just until this all blows over, that way I'll know that you're safe."

She raises herself up to meet my eyes and looks straight into them as she speaks. "I'm safest here with you. You need to tell me what's going on, Wes, because your suggestion tells me that there's more to this than I know. You can't keep things from me and then make comments like that. I can't just shut down the shop, you know that. There's obviously something you need to tell me that you're not!"

"Angel, please just hear me out." She continues to look at me, waiting for the truth and I can't give her anything less. "I have to fight again."

Her eyes go wide and instantly fill with fear. "I don't understand. You said..."

"I don't want to, but it's the only way to get out. One more fight, with a hundred grand payout."

"This can't be about money, Wes. I have plenty of money. You don't have to—"

I cut her off. "I'm using it to buy my freedom. To buy _our_ freedom. My only other option is to leave Denver and I can't do that." She rises from the lounge and starts picking up her clothes and getting dressed, all the while avoiding eye contact with me. "Angel, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to my apartment."

"Why? You wanted to know the truth and I told you." She finally looks at me and her expression is one that I haven't seen before. I can't describe it, it's as if she knows something I don't or has thought of something I haven't.

"And you think they're going to just let you go? Do you really believe that? He makes you a deal now to get one more out of you, then he'll make you another and another until you're either broken or dead. I'm not stupid, I know how these people can be. They don't give a shit about you, Wes, but _I_ do." She chokes back a sob, then looks straight into my eyes, and in the calmest voice asks me a question that's meant to gut me. "You've watched someone that you loved die before your very eyes, why would you ever wish that on me?" And with that she scoops up Sugar from her pillow and vanishes from my sight.

Her words hit their target. All this time I've promised that I wouldn't let her get hurt, but I missed the point completely. My safety is just as important to her as hers is to me. If I don't make it out of this, I've still failed. When I found her, my first instinct was to stay away from her, but my heart got involved and I fell in love with her. Then I decided that keeping her close to me while I cleaned up this mess was the only way to protect her. It was selfish and I didn't see that having her close means she might witness my failure in turn causing her pain.

But everything she said is right. Vic won't stop taking from me until I'm dead or he's stopped. I want to tell her that stopping him is the ultimate plan, but I can't risk her knowing; I can't let that knowledge make her a bigger target. So, I'm walking away. Until the outcome of my plan is achieved, I can't expect her to invest any more of herself in me without knowing there's a future with me to look forward to.

Reanne

When I get to my apartment, I go straight to my room, collapse on my bed and start to cry. I cry because I know that what I said is right, Vic will never let him go on with his life. I also cry because I love him so much and I can't bring myself to stay and watch him die. I should be there for him and the fact that I'm too scared to do so kills every part of me.

I hear the door to my apartment open and wish that for once I had locked it. There's no more to say right now, he's made his choice, and I can't trust myself not to break completely if he were to come to me now. Walking away was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I had to—not to hurt him but to save myself.

I feel him step into the room and hear the shuffling as he collects his things. I want to cry out for him to stop and stay with me, but a clean break will hurt less and heal faster, so they say, and I bite the inside of my cheek to maintain my silence. After only a couple of minutes, he walks to my bedside and leans down to kiss my head.

"I'm so sorry, Angel, but I have to do this for us. I'm _fighting for us_." He's probably hoping that I'll turn and embrace him, his plan all of a sudden making sense, but I can't give in and I don't move, because if I do take him in my arms, I may not let him go. Finally realizing that, he walks away but stops somewhere near the door. "I love you, Angel," he whispers and without another word, he leaves. A couple of minutes later I hear the front door shut and know that he's gone.

I hear the roar of his motorcycle through the window and that's all it takes for me to break. There's no use in holding in the pain any longer. I finally let go of the cries that I held in so that he wouldn't hear, because now he's really gone. I let him go. I could've chosen to hold on, to ride this out and hope that I'd never have to lose him, but the thought that I would eventually lose him anyway triggered my defense mechanism and almost instantly, the wall went up. I want to regret it, but I can't. I can't see past the fog to see that the sun is shining on the other side and I'm not willing to wait for it to clear only to see my worst fear come true.

I feel the cries quake throughout my entire body from deep within me, leaving an ache behind to fill the empty space in my heart. So this is what it feels like? This is what it feels like to lose the man you love? I've never had my heart broken because I never took the time to let anyone get close enough to have that power over me. So now, it makes complete sense and absolutely no sense at all that my first love would be able to break my heart so thoroughly.

The clock ticks as minutes, then hours go by that he doesn't come back, and my cries become quiet as my energy depletes and exhaustion takes its place. Sugar nuzzles my hand and wiggles underneath it, sensing that I'm not okay, and being a loyal friend, she wants to console me.

I wander off to sleep and the same dream I've had before starts to play. Somehow, with all the pain I'm in, I'm able to feel a sliver of hope because I know how this dream ends and it makes me feel that maybe everything will be okay, but this won't turn out to be the dream I usually have and it won't have a happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm falling. Falling again through a dark and empty space. I've been falling for what seems like forever with no end in sight but I know Wes waits for me, that as soon as I land I'll be safe in his arms. But when the darkness changes, transitioning through all the hues of gray, and finally to white, I land in the middle of a room. It's not just a room, it's a ring, a fighting ring, and when I look at the floor I can see blood stains from men who have fought here before. I look around for Wes and find him standing in the corner and it's as if he doesn't see me at all.

"Wes," I yell over and over again and finally he looks at me. I connect with his eyes, but when I look into them all I see is a steely gray like I've never seen before. He's not the same, he's not my Wes. He's beaten and bruised and I can't even describe the hard look in his eyes. This is not the same man I fell in love with. I want to go to him, to pull him closer to me, but for the first time since the night I met him, I'm afraid of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I jerk myself awake and the light of the sun that has already started to rise blinds me; it also tells me that I'm running late. I roll onto my back and throw my arm over my eyes, not caring that the shop will open late and not wanting to be an adult today. Regardless of how much I love my job, I just don't have the energy and I don't want to face the day without him. That admission brings with it all that happened last night. He told me he was going to fight again, that it was going to be the last time, that he was buying his freedom, and then we could be together and safe. I was stupid and walked away from him knowing that the plan would not unfold so easily. He's being naïve and I'm not brave enough to deal with it when his plan doesn't work.

Desperate and wanting to think that everything from last night was just a bad dream, I sit up and turn slowly to glance at the other side of my bed. As I expected, it's empty and I let go of the breath I was holding, but can feel the sting of tears in my eyes and a knot forming in my throat. Of course, it's empty. If he was here, there's no way that I'd have been curled up alone, there wouldn't have been any space between us; I wouldn't have been able to get close enough to him.

I throw my head back down and stare at the ceiling. I want to cry but can't because I cried myself dry when I shed all my tears last night and I realize that at whatever point that I fell asleep last night, I did so in my clothes. I need to get up. I have responsibilities. I have to shower and walk Sugar and open my shop. I can miss him but I can't let his absence cost me all that I've worked so hard for. I'm going to be stronger than that. I'm also going to hope that his plan, whatever it is, works and that all of this is just a bridge to cross over troubled water.

I get myself out of bed, have a quick shower and go to get Sugar's leash off the hook, but it's not there. I always hang it there; I have for the four years I've lived here. _This_ is not what I fucking need right now! I start looking for it, poor Sugar dancing around after me, probably about to piss all over the floor despite the fact that she has a pee pad in the bathroom. Is it not enough that I'm already late for her walk and would much rather not leave the house at all today? Now I have to find something that has been in the same place for four years? _Mother fucker!_

I'm flustered and tired and need to, but lack the ability to calm down. Nothing ever gets found while you're flipping the house looking for it. Coffee—I need coffee and to take a few breaths. It's as I walk to the coffee machine that I see her leash sitting in front of it and as I get closer, I see that it's sitting on a folded piece of paper with the word _"Angel"_ written across it.

I can't do this right now. I grab the leash, hook it to Sugar's collar, and walk out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick called in sick today, which is both a good and a bad thing. Good because I know as soon as he saw me he'd be able to tell that something was wrong and he wouldn't stop asking about it until I told him. I'm not even sure how to understand it all myself, let alone explain it to someone else. It's bad because I'm jealous that he can blow off a day of work and I can't, but also because I just need a hug and his hugs really hit the spot. So, it's just Clara and me today, which works because she doesn't ask questions and can run the front without me, meaning I can stay hidden in the back and out of sight.

I have my earbuds in today with the music a little louder than I usually would so I don't have to hear that stupid bell ringing all day. I just know that every time I hear it, I'd want to see if it was him and my heart would break a little more each time it wasn't. I'm just trying to stay focused on baking—relying on my lifelong coping mechanism to keep me from thinking about all that is going on, and to keep me from feeling sorry for myself.

Why should I feel sorry for myself anyway? In what way am I the one who deserves pity? I'm the one who walked away. He told me he was doing what he needed to do for me, for us, and I decided to do the same, minus the _us_. The fact that I can't look into the other room and see him flirting with one of the little old ladies, or that he can't steal a kiss as he passes by is all on me. He made a decision, and though I still don't understand it and I don't like it, he says that what he's doing is for us. I made a decision too, it was for me, and me alone.

Wes

Three days have passed now and I'm still asking myself the same thing. What the fuck are you doing? Go back to her. I've repeated it to myself at least a thousand times, and I haven't broken down yet, but I'm getting weaker; I can feel it with every day that passes. I still don't know why I reacted the way I did. What's worse is that I can't believe I didn't try to change her mind. I didn't fight for her at all. I just left her thinking I didn't care, but I do care and I hope that the few words I left her in my note help her see that.

In hindsight, I know that leaving is what I should have done before it all came to this; before I fell in love with her and put her in danger, but I did fall in love with her and now losing her is not an option. I have to finish what I started, which means getting rid of Vic, so that I can get back to her. Every minute that I'm not with her feels like forever.

But now it's a waiting game—waiting to get the call that'll tell me when and where I will end this, and hoping that Vic doesn't figure out what my real intentions are before that call comes. He already knows that I want out, but if he thinks for a second that I'm trying to take him down, he'll end _me_ without regret. Why I ever got involved in something like this is a question I don't care to answer; I was a different man then. When I was released from jail, I'd given up on anything and everything I'd ever wanted. I had it all and because of my actions, I had lost it all. It was a blame game I played with myself to justify the punishment I pursued through the fights. I was seeking the ultimate end.

But Reanne saw something different in me and because of her I started to see something different in myself. I was the one behind the wheel that night, and there's no doubt that I shouldn't have been, but I never intentionally set out to hurt Kat. I will always carry the guilt of that night deep in the depths of my heart, but I know that my surviving is not meant to be my punishment, it's my chance at redemption. It's a chance to save myself.

So for three days, I've waited, filling my days with nothingness to suppress the pain in my heart. I spend time in the gym, I spend a lot of time riding, and going to my counseling sessions. I also spend time stalking Reanne. It really sounds horrible to say it that way, because really, I'm just making sure that no one else is stalking her. I suspect that if Vic knows about her, he may try to use her, or even worse, hurt her to make sure I do what he wants. That thought alone makes my body tense and fills me with a rage I've never felt. I swear, if he touches her, I will kill him.

But today, I just miss her so much that I need to see her. I park my bike down the street and walk down to the shop, careful to stay on the other side of the street and in the shadows so that I'm not seen. The shop looks busy, filled with some of regulars indulging in sugar and caffeine. Clara is running the front and I don't see Nick. At first, I don't see Reanne either, but then she comes up from the back, a tray of muffins in her hands. It's like a dagger to my heart when I see that she's missing that smile I love so much and the knife goes just a little deeper knowing that it's all my fault. She has her earbuds in again, which is something I've never seen her do; not until the day after I left.

She loves to hear the customers' chatter, the oohs and aahs, as they devour her creations, and she's always the first to greet them every time she hears the bell ring. But right now, she can't hear any of that—she's almost completely closed off from it all. Once the tray is empty, she looks up, and as if she felt me watching her, she looks right at me. She doesn't smile. She doesn't light up like she used to, she just stands there, her eyes fixed on mine. The hurt in them is so obvious and it takes all I've got not to go to her, to take her in my arms and tell her it's all over, that I'm not willing to sacrifice her for anything—that nothing is worth losing her—but I can't. Every part of this plan is designed so that I don't have to lose her. I wish I could explain it all so that she could understand that.

I hate that I left her crying the last night we were together and that I couldn't comfort her. The redness around her eyes is proof that she's continued to cry since. I can see that she's tired and hurt; she's basically running on empty. What kills me the most, though, is that the golden sparkle is missing from her eyes. I hate that I had the power to take that from her. I'm not being fair to either of us and I can't bear it any longer; my being here is only causing both of us more pain. But I can't leave without her knowing one thing, and I say the words, knowing she can't hear them, _"I love you, Angel_ , _"_ and I turn and walk away.

I can't do this to either of us again. It's unnecessary and it isn't fair. It's been three days since I last touched her, since I did the hardest thing I've ever had to do when it comes to her. I have to stay focused and believe that everything I'm doing is for the right reasons. If I can't believe that then everything I'm doing is for nothing.

Just as I get around the corner, I swear I hear my name. I hear _her_ call my name, but I only hear it once and I force myself to write it off as a figment of my imagination. I hop onto my motorcycle, quickly putting on my helmet, and riding away as fast as I can. If I don't put distance between us, I might just turn around and go back to her.

As I ride, I become infatuated with the idea of finding Vic. I'm tired of him being the one calling the shots, because right now, it's costing me more than money, it's costing me the woman I love. Unfortunately, scum like him tend to stay out of the mainstream. He hides behind bodyguards and undisclosed locations because there's no doubt there're more than a handful of people that would love to see him dead. Right now, I'm one of those people.

I want to call him and tell him to quit fucking with me and set up this fight so I can be rid of him, but doing so may tip him off to the idea that I have other plans for him. Then I may not live long enough to see a fight at all. So, I'll keep waiting, and while I'm waiting, I'm losing everything that means anything to me.

Reanne

I stand there for a minute wondering if it was really him that I saw or if it was my mind playing tricks on me—cruel tricks. Did I really just see him say the words I thought? Amidst all that is happening, I still love him so much, and I could swear he just told me that he loved me, like he did the other night right before he left and so many other times before that. I've never questioned his love for me because I could feel it every time he touched me, every time he held me, every time he kissed me, and I'm so desperate and longing to feel that love again. I tear my earbuds from my ears and run to the door, pushing it open and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

"Wes!" I yell, looking in the direction I saw him walking, but he's no longer in sight. "Wes!" I yell again, but I know I took too long; I thought about it too long and I missed my chance. He's gone again and I'm reliving the pain once again. The sting of tears, the thump of my heart in my chest, and the emptiness inside are all I can feel as I stand there looking after what I thought was real, but what I fear was only a ghost. Maybe it was nothing more than my desperate mind showing me what I wanted to see.

Reluctantly, I decide to go back into the shop, not sure that I can even function for the rest of the day and damning Nick for his absence for the third day in a row; he better be really sick dammit. That moment, the one that did or didn't just occur, has me disoriented and the little energy I had is depleted.

Not at all aware of my surroundings, I turn around to go back inside and come to a dead stop as I crash into a man on the sidewalk. I'm completely embarrassed by my actions, so I step back quickly and start rattling apologies.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I... I wasn't paying attention. It's been a rough day." I sigh deeply.

"It's all right, there's no need for apologies. Are you okay?" I nod. He's being very polite, but I can't help but be disgusted by him. His smile shows off teeth that are stained and his breath is a stench of old cigars. "Are you going in?" he asks and motions toward the door. I can't find my words and only nod in response. "Then allow me." He opens the door for me, and as I look back to return his smile, I notice two men standing at the corner watching us attentively. Then I see him give them some sort of hand signal and he follows me in.

Something about this guy feels wrong and I need to put distance between us, so I walk behind the counter and grab the empty tray that I left when I ran out. My intention is to return to the kitchen, but as I walk that way, Clara catches me.

"Hey, is it okay if I take my break now? Are you good to cover?" Am I? Not exactly, but I don't have much of a choice, now do I? What I really want is to go hide for so many different reasons, and now becoming scarce until this guy leaves, has been added to that list. I can't pinpoint why, but his presence is making me more uncomfortable by the second.

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." My answer is reluctant, but there's no need for her to have to suffer because my mind is a mess right now. She's left me alone all morning; I already owe her for that.

Once I'm alone, the man approaches the counter and gives me another smile that causes my already knotted stomach to cringe. _Just get his order and get him out of here, Reanne._

"I hear you've got the best cheesecake in Denver."

"I'd like to think so. How about I get you a slice and a coffee on the house for nearly running you over out there?" I won't even ask; I'll just pack it to go.

"You hardly ran me over, sweet thing, and I'm more than willing to pay for the best of anything."

"Pick a flavor, they're all fresh."

"You choose for me. I have a feeling I won't be disappointed." He's trying to make his words sound smooth, but I'm only made more uncomfortable with every word he says and the way he says it. I don't know who he is, but I get the feeling that somehow, he knows who I am, and I'm curious to know how.

"How do you take your coffee? Um... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Black, please." I pack up a slice of strawberry swirl and a black coffee, to go. Hopefully he'll pick up on my theme and _go_. "And I'm Vic. It's nice to meet you, Reanne."

It's a good thing that I'm looking down to put the lid on the cup when he says his name because my eyes go big as it falls from his disgusting lips. This is Vic? What is he doing here? _He doesn't know that you know anything about him Reanne. Just stay calm._

"Well, I hope you enjoy, it's one of my personal favorites. It was nice to meet you and as promised, it's on me."

"Well, thank you. A tip then?" He doesn't wait for me to answer and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a twenty and putting it in the tip jar next to the register. "I'm sure you haven't seen the last of me, I bet this will taste like heaven." He gestures to the cake box.

"Stop in any time." I force a smile and he returns it before turning to leave.

Once he's gone, I sit down on the stool behind the counter and bring my hands to my face. That had to be purely coincidental right? He doesn't know who I am or that Wes and I... Wait, what if he does know? Is this what Wes was trying to protect me from? My mind is reeling with everything and fear begins to surface.

I lose track of time and Clara comes back from her break, but I don't notice. It's not until she places her hand on my shoulder that I jump and see the look of worry on her face.

"Reanne, are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you. You weren't answering when I said your name."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I stand up and walk toward the kitchen, but she stops me.

"Are you sure? Reanne, you're so pale. It's like you've just seen a ghost."

I don't respond and continue my route to the kitchen and once I'm completely out of sight, I stand with my back against the wall. I take in a few deep breaths and let them out, trying to ground myself. "I think I have seen a ghost, for the second time in one day."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I finish out the day constantly on watch and one question keeps swirling in my mind. I didn't tell Vic my name and I'm not wearing a name tag. How did he know who I was? The weight of what I said to Wes the other night feels heavier than ever. They're never going to let him go and they'll use whatever they must to make sure he has no choice, including me. I already know that they are looking for Kat. I also know they'll never find her. But it's no coincidence that Vic showed up in my shop today and now, more than ever, I regret pushing away the only man that I know can protect me.

Wes

I received a text from Reanne last night that changed every aspect of the control I thought I had. Certain elements of what I'm planning can still work but others have taken a crazy turn, bringing with it my worst fear—that Reanne's safety is at risk.

Reanne: Vic came to the shop today. Do you think he was looking for me?

In an instant I was throwing my bag on the bike and going to her. _How fucking stupid could I be?_ I was wrong to think that being with her was what was best for her, but it was just as asinine to think that staying away would keep her off the radar; he was already a step ahead of me. I was careless and gave him something to use against me and he took it, like candy from a baby.

I get to her apartment and I'm surprised to find the door is locked; she never locks it. This proves to me that she's scared. I knock lightly and hear Sugar alerting her that someone's at the door. It seems crazy, but I can actually feel the moment she's only inches away on the other side.

"Angel. It's me." I hear the lock click, and the instant I see her, I can see that she's shaken. I pull her into my arms and as soon as I feel her body pressed to mine, I regret ever walking out the door, but know that I'm back where I belong.

"What did he say to you, Angel?" I ask as I kiss the top of her head.

"Nothing really, but I don't think it was a chance meeting. He knew where he was and who he was looking for. He knew my name, Wes. How does he know that?"

"I don't know, Angel, but I'm here now and I swear I'm not going anywhere again. I won't let him hurt you."

I held her in my arms all night while she slept, but I barely slept at all. My mind was too busy sifting through ideas. I have to convince her to leave Denver, just until this is over. Last night I nearly begged her but she wouldn't budge. Instead she threw my own words back at me.

"Angel, I need you to listen to me. This could quickly get out of control. Hell, even I'm in over my head now. I have my demons and I learned how to deal with bastards like him when I was locked away, but I'm not sure that I have as much control over this as I once thought. I need to know that you're safe and the only way to know that is for you to go. You can stay with my mom, just until it's over." I'm begging and pleading for her to listen.

"And what about you? You're no safer at this point than I am. You said it yourself—you're in over your head. Why can't we just go to the police and put an end to this? I'm not leaving you behind, Wes, because the last three days were the worst of my life." And just when I think she's done and that I might still have a chance of winning this argument, she delivers the final blow. "I'll tell you what—I'm willing to shut down the shop, sell the building, and start again somewhere else, but only if you come with me."

No one in my life has ever offered to sacrifice so much for me and it would be the easy thing to do, but it's not the right thing. I still haven't told her that the police are already involved; if she knew that and Vic did get hold of her, neither of us would make it out alive. My goal is to not let it get that far, to take care of this without her getting any more involved. But Vic is not a man of compassion. I also know that the encounter at the shop was done on purpose. He's testing the waters. She's made it clear that we're in this together, but as a man, it's my instinct to make her see that I know what's best—even if I'm not so sure I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This morning, I let Reanne sleep. She was exhausted and there's no doubt that she's survived the last few days on as little of sleep as I have. The last thing I want to do is let go of her, but I can't sleep. I can't just lie here knowing that Vic has found a way to raise the stakes against me, against us.

I'm tired and frustrated and find myself pacing in the room, for I don't even know how many minutes, which does nothing to help me relax. I check my watch for the fourth or fifth time, to be honest I've lost track, and look out the window to see that the sun hasn't yet made its full appearance. With my exhaustion and everything else going on inside my head, I barely notice Sugar pawing at my leg.

I figure that since I'm up, I'll take Sugar for her walk and though it's god-awful early, I need to contact Hatfield. He's the investigator that I'm working with to take care of Vic, and I have to make him aware of what's going on and I don't really want Reanne to hear what's said. I grab the leash, Reanne's keys, then lock the door and close it quietly behind me. Once I've exited the building and have cleared the corner, I dial his number. It rings half a dozen times before he answers.

"Hatfield here," he answers with a sleep-filled voice.

"It's Wes Draves." At hearing my name, he's suddenly awake and a hint of excitement laces his voice.

"Any word from Ramone?"

"Not exactly, but I think he's watching my girlfriend. He came into her shop yesterday."

"Did he say anything specific?" There's sarcasm in his voice that I attribute to him thinking I'm being paranoid.

"He knew her name and that may not sound like a big deal, but she wasn't wearing a name tag and she told me he had his men watching the street." He huffs, as if I woke him up for nothing and I'm wasting his time. "Look, I wouldn't think it was more than coincidence if I hadn't been there when one of his other guys came in looking for my dead fiancée last week. I came face-to-face with the guy and I knew who he was. If he went back to Vic with that, which I suspect he did, his stopping by was full of purpose."

"Okay, okay. You could be right; I wouldn't put it past that bastard. So what do you want? What's your plan?"

"I want her kept safe. I've tried to get her to disappear until this is over, but she refuses. I plan on calling Vic and convincing him to get this match set. I just need to know that you've got my back and until this is over, I want Reanne protected."

"I'll make some calls. I have a couple of under covers that owe me favors and I'll have one keep an eye on your girl. You and I are focused on Ramone. Just the thought of taking him out gives me a hard-on, but don't push him too much. If you come off too eager he'll suspect something's up. Unfortunately, we have to be patient and you have to tell me as soon as you know when and where."

"As soon as I know, you'll know. You just make sure Reanne doesn't become collateral damage."

"I'll do all that I can."

That conversation didn't put me any more at ease. His telling me that he'll do all that he can isn't enough for me, but what else have I got? When you're dealing with a woman who's as headstrong as my angel is, who swears that we are stronger together than we are apart, no matter the danger we face, you do what any man in love would do. You dig deep down and decide to trust yourself and those willing to help you. I've got no other choice.

Because I left so early, I take Sugar around the block a second time. I know this is far from over, but I feel like I can breathe for the first time in days. I know exactly where Reanne is and that she's as safe as she can be. I still wish I could convince her to go stay with my mother, but we're a team now. We're going to get through this and we're going to do it together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slip the key in the lock and push the door open, an excited Sugar managing to slip through the door before I can even pull the key back out. Reanne is standing in the kitchen in front of the coffee maker. She looks beautiful and, thankfully, rested. When I saw her yesterday and when I got here last night, it was obvious the toll that these last few days have taken on her and how the most recent event with Vic has affected her.

"Good morning, Angel." I hang up the leash and walk up behind her, pulling her close to me and wrapping my arms around her, then burying my face in the crook of her neck. I take in her scent before kissing her skin, easily remembering what her essence does to me. I realize how much I missed the pleasure of her being the first thing I see in the morning and how right it feels. I'm not meant to be without her, she completes me. She's the stitches that hold my wounded heart together.

"Good morning." She places her hands over mine and moans when my lips touch her skin. "Coffee?" She doesn't wait for me to answer as she pulls a cup—my cup—down from the cabinet while I continue to hold her. My eyes wander to the counter where my note still sits, folded just like I left it days ago.

"Did you read it?" I ask. She knows what I'm referring to.

"No. I wanted to but I was too afraid of what it would say. I refused to accept that whatever you wrote in that note would be your last words to me."

"They were never intended to be my last words to you. Will you read them now?"

"I don't think I need to, because you're here." She pushes the button on the coffee machine and turns to face me, concern washing over her as she takes me in, then she places her hand on my jaw. "Did you sleep at all?"

"A little. I have a lot on my mind." A lot to _worry_ about, but I can't say that.

"Wes, I think you should go to the police. Last night you said that this has gotten to be more than you can handle. So don't handle it by yourself anymore, especially if you're worried about me. You can't always be here and you can't protect yourself if you're always protecting me." She's genuinely concerned and I have to give her something, some bit of hope and a little reassurance.

"You don't need all the details but, I'm already working with them. Please know that I'm doing everything I can to keep us both safe. I can't lose you, Angel."

"And I can't lose you."

Reanne

It's been two days since the run in with Vic, and the reality of everything came crashing down. It took Wes less than ten minutes to get here after I texted him and with him to hold me, I was finally able to get a good nights rest. I can't explain how it feels to have him back and I'll never let him go again. Last night we just held each other, finding the peace that we had both missed while we were apart. This morning we made love as the sun rose, making it all profoundly symbolic. In more ways than one, we were escaping the darkness of our time apart and welcoming the new day's light together.

He grilled me on all the precautions I'm to take, since I won't do what he asks and leave until this is over. My response was the same as when he mentioned it last night, _"Come with me and I'll go."_ He dropped the subject but insisted on laying down some rules. No leaving the shop or apartment alone, I am to have my phone with me at all times, and lock my apartment whether I'm home or not. He also told me that if anything doesn't seem right, to go to the roof, my safe place, and lock the door. I understand that I'm making it difficult, but I'm scared for both of us. As long as he's not asking me to leave, I'll concede to do whatever else he wants. He's fighting for me, so I'm willing to fight for him.

He walks me to the shop and sticks around until Nick shows up. He pulls Nick aside and talks to him for a few minutes and I try my hardest to hear what he says but can't make out much more than my name said a couple of times.

He doesn't completely trust me to do as he's asked and, no doubt, he's assigning Nick the task of being his eyes while he's gone. What I'd like to know is where does he go when he leaves here? Why does he have to leave at all? Despite all that's happening, I am a woman, and my imagination is running wild with questions like, _does he have another life that he hasn't told me about_?

When he finishes talking to Nick, he walks over to me and pulls me into a tight hug and kisses the top of my head.

"I have to leave for a while, Angel. Will you be okay while I'm gone?"

"If I say no, will you stay?" I ask, figuring there's as much of a chance that he'll say yes as there is that he'll say no.

"I wish I could stay, but there are things that I have to do. I won't be gone long, a few hours, tops."

"What is it that you do when you're gone?" It's hard to keep the insecurity from my voice.

"To the gym. My workouts are an obsession and the only real routine I've had for more than three and a half years. I need that routine to keep me sane and it used to be that it also kept me alive. It is for me what baking is for you."

I do understand the comparison. "That accounts for maybe an hour, two, tops. What else do you do?"

"What's this really about, Angel? I'm starting to feel like this is an interrogation."

I sigh at his accusation because that's exactly what it sounds like, when really I'm just curious. And, I don't want him to leave. I look away while I search for my words. "I'm sorry it sounds that way. I'm just curious. I feel like there are things you still keep from me and, in the end, I'm a woman and not knowing where you are or who you're with... it's just... my mind wanders." I hug him close, pressing my head to his chest and listen to his heart beat inside it.

"There's no one else, Angel." How did he know what I was thinking? I didn't say those words exactly, but they were lingering in the depths of my mind. "I was a psychologist, remember? That doesn't make me psychic, but your questions and your body language give you away."

"That obvious, huh?"

"Yes, but I understand. Trust me, Angel, that's all I've ever asked of you. I'm working on something and I can't tell you just yet what it is because it's something _I_ need to do. It's something I have to do for myself before I can share it with you."

I look up at him and see it in his eyes; he's working to make it over another hurdle in his life. I was there to help him with the last one, but this one is his and he has to do it without me.

"There's been so much on my mind with Vic and for the first time in a long time, I'm not the only one I have to look out for. It's a little overwhelming and, every once in a while, I feel like I'm losing focus and what I'm doing gives me what I need to get that focus back. It's how I keep it together while we wait."

I hate the waiting and the wondering of when he'll be called to fight. I also hate that he has to look out for me and that it weighs on him so much. "With the exception of leaving, I'll do whatever you want me to. I'm in this with you, Wes. It's you and me now. You've saved me as much as you seem to think I've saved you."

Wes

More than a week has passed without any word from, or sight of Vic. Still, I keep reminding Reanne that we can never let our guard down. We need to always be alert and follow the rules we agreed upon to stay safe. Molly called a few days ago telling Reanne that her father had suffered a heart attack and was in the hospital. Reanne told her to stay, that between the rest of us, we could handle the bakery. She'd been worried about Molly coming back and somehow getting caught up in all of this anyway, so it's a bittersweet relief to know that she's out of the line of danger.

I left today, like I always do, to go to the gym and to my counseling session. Today's topic of discussion for me was how I'm feeling helpless and frustrated while I wait for something that I can't control. Of course I can't be specific, but I'm able to vent and, through the words of the group counselor, remind myself that helpless doesn't have to mean hopeless.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach in to grab it. It's Nick. My heart threatens to stop, knowing that something isn't right. Hoping I'm wrong, I press the button to take the call.

"Nick, what's up?"

Reanne

"Nick, I have to run upstairs for a minute."

"Need I remind you that you're not supposed to leave alone? What do you need, I'll go get it for you?" he asks, obviously sworn to Wes to make sure I honor his requests.

"I'll only be a minute. I'll be fine. But please don't tell Wes, he'll freak out."

"He'll freak out on me if something happens to you!"

_Oh, these men of mine._ "Nothing's going to happen. I'll be right back." I run out before he can say another word.

I run up to my apartment to grab a recipe. I unlock the door and leave the keys hanging in it, knowing that I will only be a minute or two. I go to my recipe box and flip through it until I find what I want. It's one of my grandmother's favorites and I want to make it for Wes. As I turn away from the counter, I see Wes' note still folded and unread in front of the coffee maker. I'm no longer afraid that whatever it says will be the last I'll ever hear from him, so I pick it up and read it.

Angel, Please, don't give up on me.

Seven words, pleading for me to hold on, and they go straight to my heart. I grab a pen from the drawer to reply. There are so many things I could say, but only one that comes to mind that can say it all.

Never.

Just one word. Then I draw a heart and I leave it open on the counter so that he'll see it the next time he's here. When I turn to leave, I'm startled by a man standing just inside my doorway. I don't know who he is, but I get a bad feeling. Wes told me that if I felt threatened, to get to the roof, but it's impossible with this man blocking the doorway—I'll never get past him.

Sugar starts barking and I begin to move back as far as I can until I'm stopped by the counter. A grin flashes across his face as we both realize I'm cornered. My only choice is to run to my room, but from there, there's no way out. But it's my only option and it'll give me time to call for help.

I cut quickly into the hall and straight into my room, hurriedly grabbing the door and pushing it closed, but an arm stops that from happening. He growls as the door hits his bicep instead and he throws the door open, causing me to fly back and the doorknob to lodge into the wall behind it. I jump onto the bed and over to the far side, but it's no obstacle for him, and I've put myself right where he wants me.

Sugar attempts to protect me, but he flings her to the side, a yelp erupting from her as she makes contact with the wall. I look at where she lies, my stomach wrenching at the sound of her pain. I want to go to her, but I can't—he's blocking my path.

"You're making this much more difficult a job than I thought, you fucking bitch." The malice in his voice has me terrified. This man has every intention of, and no regrets about hurting me. "I have half the mind to teach you a lesson, but I know that boyfriend of yours will be back soon and I don't really want to stay and visit. That means no time for fun. Make this easy or hard, the choice is yours."

"If you hurt me he'll fucking kill you and you know it!" I yell seething. I need to either stall long enough for someone to find us here or lure him farther into the room so I can run out. He thinks this will be easy and comes closer, making my decision clear.

I jump back onto the bed and off the other side and make my getaway down the hall, but just as I reach the opening to the living room, where I can clearly see my exit route, he's grabs me by the hair, bringing me to a stop, and takes hold of my arms. He doesn't care that he's hurting me, his fingers digging into my arms and creating more pain the more I fight. He pushes me hard against the wall, slamming my face against it and knocking the wind out of me. Then he brings his mouth to my ear. "The hard way it is."

He holds me in place while he fumbles behind me and my mind struggles for a plan, but before I can come up with one, he covers my mouth and I'm fighting to breathe. I fight until my fight is gone.

Wes

"It's Reanne. She said she was running up to the apartment to get something. I told her I'd go, but she said she'd only be gone a few minutes. I watched her walk to the door and everything was fine." He sounds panicked. "Wes, she hasn't come back." My heart is racing so fast that I can't tell the difference between the beats. A rush fills my ears and I can't hear what he says next. He wasn't supposed to let her leave alone, and she promised me that she wouldn't. I feel the rage building inside me but don't know whether to direct it at a kid who Reanne convinced she'd be okay or at myself for not being there.

"How long has she been gone?" I try to sound calm despite how out of control I actually feel.

"More than an hour." I hang up and hop on my bike and head back to the shop.

Why did he wait so fucking long to call me? I drive straight to her apartment and when I get to the top of the stairs, I see that her door is wide open and the keys are still hanging in the lock. Did she leave them there thinking she was only going to be a minute or was she interrupted? I walk in slowly, taking in every detail and checking all the rooms all while calling her name.

"Reanne!" Nothing. Again, "Reanne!" But all I get in response is silence.

When I get to her room, the door is open, her bed is tousled, and Sugar is curled up in the corner of the room shaking and scared. There's no doubt that the last time she was in here, she wasn't alone. I walk over to Sugar, petting her softly and wishing she could tell me what happened. But a glimmer of hope flashes through my mind as I think that maybe she was able to get to her safe place. I run out the door and up to the roof. I'm grasping at the last shred of hope that she's here before I have to face the reality of this situation and the beginning of a nightmare. I throw open the door and run to where I'd find her if she was here, but she's not. She's nowhere to be found.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I pull my phone out of my pocket, not knowing who I should call first. Either way the person on the other end of the line will feel my wrath. Hatfield failed me by not keeping her safe, when that's all I fucking asked him to do! And Vic, I swear I'll fucking kill him if he hurts her.

My choice is taken from me when my phone starts to ring and an unknown number flashes across my screen. I answer it, not taking any chances now that I'm sure Vic has Reanne.

"Hello."

"Wes!" he says boisterously, as if he's just heard the voice of an old friend. "How are you?"

"How do you think I am, Vic? I'm sure you already know the answer to that question." I try to keep my voice flat and void of any of the emotions I'm feeling right now.

"Ah, you're upset. I understand, but I assure you that she's in good hands. She's being treated like a princess, I promise you."

"What do you want? I already told you I'd fight. What more do I have to do?"

"You don't have to do anything more, Wes. I have put together something very special for you. I admit this is low, even for me, but I didn't want you to be able to say no." He's using her as leverage just like I knew he would.

"Just tell me when and where, but I swear if you fucking touch her—"

"Now, now, Wes." He clicks his tongue at me and I swear if it was possible I'd reach through this phone and choke the shit out of him right now. "There's no need for threats. Hold up your end of the deal and you have my word she won't be harmed. But I will warn you that if you fail—"

"That is not an option. When? Where? That's all I need to know."

"In two days I'll call you. Just make sure you answer."

_Two fucking days?_ "I can't wait that long. I need to know that she's okay."

The other end goes silent for a second and I think that he's hung up, then without warning I hear her voice. "Wes?" she asks, her voice scared and weak, almost lethargic.

"Angel, I'm here. Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

"Wes?" There's a pause. "Wes, I'm, I—" Her voice is a whisper and her words are slurred. What has he done to her? She's cut off and Vic's voice replaces hers.

"Two days, Wes." He hangs up.

I sit down on the edge of the lounge and look out over the city. How did I let this happen? We got too relaxed and he knew it. He was watching this whole time and knew when to strike. Reanne is always so strong but she didn't sound it just now. I could hear the fear in her voice. She doesn't deserve to be a pawn in this. I walked into her life and now hers is in danger and it's all my fault. I didn't deserve her to begin with and now I could be the reason she'll never be the same, why she'll never be able to trust me again—because I failed her.

Two days and two nights. I'll do whatever I have to do to save my angel, to repay her for saving me even if it means I take the chance of losing her. When she realizes that I can never be the man she needs, when she sees that I'll always be broken, she may never be able to love me again. But her life is worth that to me. I stand up from the lounge and leave the roof, walking back down to the shop.

Right now, I need to pray and ask for the help of another angel, my guardian angel, Kat. The one that for so long, I couldn't wait to be reunited with. But she knew it wasn't my time and kept me alive when I wanted to give up and brought Reanne to me the night I almost did. She's going to get us through this and then I'm going to set her free.

Reanne

When I come to, I'm lying on a bed in a room I don't recognize, with no recollection of how I got there. I'm groggy, and there's pain coursing through the right side of my face. Anger and fear rise in me, causing my breathing to become shallow and my pulse to race as I remember the man in my apartment. My eyes dart around the room and I'm oddly relieved to find that I'm alone.

I push myself to sit up and take in my surroundings. There's a lamp on a table in the far corner and it dimly lights the room just enough to see that it's sparsely decorated. There's a window to my right, but no light comes through it, as if it's been boarded from the outside. There are three doors. I assume the one on the wall in front of me is the way out, which of course is closed, and there's another which probably is to a closet, but the one to my left is open and I can see the transition from carpet to tile and assume that it's a bathroom. I listen closely for any sounds but I'm met with pure silence—no voices, no music, nothing.

I make my way off of the bed, my legs a little unsteady at first, and go to the door I guess to be an exit. I grip the knob and try to turn it, but as I thought, it doesn't budge. I try the other, to find an empty closet and just for shits, I attempt to open the boarded window just to find it's been nailed shut. There's no way out.

I start to pace. I have no idea what time of day it is or even what day it is now, for that matter. I think back and try to remember what happened and how I got here. I remember he pushed me against the wall and he had hurt Sugar. I remember him covering my face and I was trying to breathe, but then it all goes black. I swear that at some point I heard Wes' voice, but that can't be possible because if he was there or here, I wouldn't be. He told me not to let down my guard and I didn't listen. This is all my fault.

My eyes fill with tears and my head starts to throb, no doubt a combination of my own guilt and an aftereffect of whatever was used to knock me out. I don't want to lie down; I need to stay alert, but I can't fight it. I lie back down and blackness takes me again.

Wes

Nick looks up when I walk into the shop. His hair is a mess from running his hands through it and his eyes are swollen from crying. He makes a weak attempt to wipe away his tears as I approach him and I know that he's taking responsibility for all of this.

"Did you find her?" he asks hopeful, but of course the look on my face gave him the answer before his question was ever asked.

"Yes and no. She's not there, but I know where she is, or rather, who has her."

"What's going to happen, Wes? I swear I tried to get her to let me go, but she said she'd be okay. It's my fault." Nick, who is usually full of smart-ass comments, and has an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude, is crumbling. Reanne means as much to him as she does me, just in a very different way, and I want to comfort him, but he's not my only focus right now. I do know that it was never his intention for this to happen and I can't let the guilt fall on him alone.

"Nick, if anyone is to blame, it's me. I should have been here, but believe me, nothing will happen to her because I'm going to do whatever I have to do to save her. Unfortunately, until I met her, I was a lot like the people I'm now up against. I know how they think and I'm already ahead of them." I want him to believe my words as much as I want to believe them myself. To be honest, I'm scared. Scared I'll fail this one time when the stakes are higher than they've ever been—when losing is not an option.

I give Nick her keys and tell him to do what he needs to do with the shop and ask him to take care of Sugar until this is over, and then I turn and walk out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I made my call to Hatfield to make sure that all his resources are being pulled to make sure that this all goes as planned. First priority being that Reanne gets rescued, and second that Vic goes down. I've also made it very clear that as long as Reanne is saved, I am expendable.

Exactly fifty-one and a half hours since the last time we talked, my phone rings. Of course, it's from an unknown number, but the voice I hear on the other end of the line is no stranger.

"Wes! I'm so glad you answered. I'm so excited for tonight and was worried you wouldn't want to come to the party I'm throwing for you." He goes on like a man with no conscience. It's just another sick and twisted day for him.

"You know better than that. This time it's not about the money for me," I say through gritted teeth, because I know that lashing out at him will only fuel him and right now that's not my best choice.

"Ah," he sighs. "So true. Maybe the most important fight of your life, Wes? Money is nothing compared to her beauty. In fact, it was hard keeping my hands to myself these last couple of days."

I can literally hear the snap as my patience breaks. "I swear, Vic, if you or any of your goons—"

He starts laughing, cutting me off with his obnoxious cackling. "Save it for the ring, kid. You're going to need all that energy."

"When? Where?"

"Take Outer Marker Road to the end, then follow the dirt road out to the abandoned candle factory. Tonight at ten. Don't be late."

"I'll be there."

"No funny stuff, Wes, or, win or lose, you'll never see her again. Got it?" I don't want to agree to his terms, but if I don't, there's no telling what his fucked-up mind may come up with. Until I have Reanne back, that's a chance I can't take.

"Got it." I hang up. This is it, the night I've been planning for but the ante has been raised and my incentive to win is greater than I ever imagined. I went from fighting for my life in jail, to fighting as a means to an end, but tonight it's not about _my_ life at all, I'm fighting for her life. I'm fighting for my angel and as long as I can save her, I win.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hatfield has all the details and gives me his word that he'll be there, but in order to protect me and Reanne, he promises he won't be seen. I warned him that a new face sticks out like a four carat diamond in a place like that; my advice is for him to blend in and stay quiet. I just have to go with the flow and appear undistracted, so that no one catches on. If anyone does, I'm a dead man and I can't bear to think of how Reanne will pay. In retrospect, protecting her up to this point was an easy feat, now there are more variables and any error could be a means to an end.

As I pull up to the warehouse, it's dark, which is a common practice when a fight is going to happen. Usually the building is abandoned or condemned, meaning it gets little or no attention from the locals, but this one is also far enough out that you're only here if you're meant to be. Tonight you're one of two kinds of people; you're either a fighter or the kind of sicko that gets off on watching this shit. I've never been a watcher, which, right now, I'm not sure makes me the lesser of the two evils.

I cut my lights and slow down as I pull around the back where there are about thirty other cars parked. One of them should be Hatfield or one of his men. As promised, there is no sign of anything out of place now, but by the end, this place will be lit up like the Fourth of July. That gets me pumped, just thinking that I'll be free, Reanne will be safe, and Vic will be locked far away to rot in a cell and with any luck, never to be seen or heard from again.

I park right up alongside the building and take a look around. There are ladders leading to the roof, meaning it's accessible and I make note of it so that I can further assess it once inside. I look at my watch, which reads nine forty-five. I'm not usually one to go in early and sit around waiting, but tonight is different. I want to check out the inside and make a mental checklist of all the escape routes, so that when the time comes, I'll be ready.

If ever I wanted a shot of good whiskey, which I swore off after the accident, it's right now. But I need to keep my head clear. This isn't one of my many death wishes. I'm on a mission to save the woman I love and to earn redemption for every shitty thing I've put her through. She's worth so much more than I can give her, but she chose me and she loves me. I'd be a fool to let someone like her get away. And I am a fool most days, but not today. Today, I'll save an angel, and just maybe, I'll even earn my own wings.

I climb off my bike and remove my helmet, making sure to stay aware and look for the outline of the door, which is barely illuminated from the inside. One step in and I'm met by Tank, which is a cliché name for a big, fat fucker that acts as one of Vic's bodyguards. He nods his head at me and motions to the door leading to the next room, where I can hear mindless yelling as bets are being placed. I listen for a minute and can easily hear that I'm the favorite to win. Though tonight is where this career officially ends, I like knowing that in my absence, I wasn't forgotten. That also means that my competitor either has no reputation or a shitty one. Either way, I'm here to win. Favorite or underdog, I have a drive much stronger than anyone in the ring with me tonight. Losing is not an option.

Reanne

It's been two days, maybe three, depending on how long I slept, but judging by the number of meals that have been delivered, I'd say two days have passed. Vic came to see me once; he sat on the end of the bed and tried to have a conversation with me. Of course, I ignored him completely. I wanted to tell him to live it up, enjoy this while it lasts because Wes will gladly kill him if he hurts me and take whatever punishment he would get in return. But being that they already have me, I don't want to make him any more of a target. I know that they're only using me to get to him, to make him their puppet; it was something we both saw coming, we just didn't know when.

I'm pacing laps back and forth in the small room, unable to sleep and unwilling to just sit here going crazy with all my thoughts, which is exactly what I'm doing anyway. I'm scared of what's going to happen to me, but I'm even more scared of what they're using me to get Wes to do for them. It's absolutely no time for an _I told you so_ moment, but that's what I keep thinking. I told Wes that they wouldn't stop, that one thing would lead to the next and now they have me. With me as bait, he'll do whatever they want. He has told me on more than one occasion that I'm the best thing to happen to him in a long time, but now I wonder.

If they didn't have me to use against him, to lure him in, would he give in to their demands? The answer is easy, but sad. He wouldn't be able to say yes or no, because he'd probably be dead. I've never wanted to accept responsibility for that night, but if I hadn't been there, for no other reason than to scare those men away, he wouldn't be here; he wouldn't be fighting for us now.

The door opens and the man that kidnapped me and brought me here steps inside. He eyes me up and down, practically drooling like I'm a steak and he's nothing more than a hungry dog. He's disgusting and I quickly look around for something to defend myself with if he attacks.

"So, we meet again, this time under more favorable circumstances." He shuts the door behind him and there's no doubt that his intentions are to make the threats he made earlier come true. He rounds the bed and my eyes dart to the lamp. It's the only light in the room, but the only thing I can lift with one hand to use as a weapon against him. But he's quicker than me, anticipating my move and rushing me, knocking me to the bed. He pins my hands above my head and holds my body in place with the weight of his own.

His breath is sickening as he places his mouth on my cheek, then my neck. I scream for help, not sure if anyone would help even if they knew what was happening, but I scream anyway. He reaches between us, tearing at my pants and I scream louder, wiggling and kicking beneath him, knowing it only takes one hard hit in the right place to drop him, but my efforts are wasted and it's then that I feel his hand on my bare skin.

I fight harder and yell as loud as I can; he tries to quiet me by placing his hand over my mouth, but I bite down as hard as I can. He pulls it away, yelling profanities and I scream louder. His attempt to quiet me tells me that this is likely a solo mission. He's about to have his way when the door bursts open and I hear Vic's voice, a voice I never thought I'd be so happy to hear.

"What the hell are you doing?" Vic comes over and in one swift move tosses my attacker across the room, kicking him again and again after he hits the floor in the corner. I'm shaking uncontrollably, trying to fix my clothes and curl up near the head of the bed, watching as the man becomes more lifeless with every blow. Vic turns to me, a sliver of concern in the way he looks at me. "I didn't order that. I'm a lot of things, but that's not why you're here."

I hate this man, everything he stands for, and everything he's trying to take from me, but for some reason, I believe him. Still shaken by what almost happened and what I just watched him do to my assailant, I don't trust my voice, and instead only nod in acceptance of his words. A small show of gratitude for arriving before the unthinkable happened.

"Take a minute to collect yourself. Clean up a little and make yourself pretty." He just told me I wasn't here for _that_ , so for what reason would he then tell me to make myself pretty? From out of nowhere, I find my voice and ask just before he's able to make his exit.

"Why? Where are you taking me?" I'm scared to hear his answer. He may not advocate rape, but what if he's handing me over to someone that does?

"Don't worry, sweet thing. I just thought you'd want to look nice for Wes." The sound of his name is like seeing light at the end of a long tunnel and Vic must see that because he chuckles to himself softly. "You'll either serve to be encouragement or a distraction. Quite simply, the reason he'll win or the reason he'll die."

Wes

Vic always makes a show of his entrance and tonight is no different, only tonight he has someone in tow—Reanne. She walks close to him, surrounded by his men, with no chance of escaping, which also means no chance of rescuing without a major distraction. Until she walked in, I was observing the room, devising a plan for when Hatfield and his men make their move. I can't have Reanne getting caught in the crossfire and I'll be damned if Vic will use her as a shield. I need to talk to her. All I need is a minute; Vic can give me that.

I set down the tape I've been using to wrap my knuckles, the only prep that we're allowed to use, and walk toward them. When I'm a few feet away Vic puts up a hand to stop me. One of his men takes a step closer to me, and another steps closer to Reanne. He's not taking any chances and knows that his choices, though despicable, have worked in his favor thus far.

I'm looking at Reanne, taking every inch of her in, checking to see that she hasn't been hurt, and my fury grows when I see that she has. There's a bruise on her right cheek and she stands with her arms wrapped around herself in a protective way, as if to cover herself. I'm seeing red and could end this right here, right now if I wasn't outnumbered.

"Angel, are you all right?" It's instinctual and I don't catch it until it's off my lips. Calling her that in front of Vic was something I hadn't planned to do. That name is for me and me only.

"Wes! Beautiful night isn't it?" Vic butts in but I ignore him and ask her again.

"Reanne, has he hurt you?" She shakes her head, but I don't believe her and think she's just too scared to tell me in front of him. She knows how I'll react.

"She's fine, Wes. You worry way too much. But don't, I've been taking very good care of her and I hope to hand that responsibility back to you soon. You two lovebirds can live happily ever after and I walk out up a hundred grand. It's a win, win." He twirls his hands in the air as he spins his _happily ever after_ bullshit.

"Then let's get this started, but first I want to talk to her. Just give me one minute."

"One minute, then we get this going. I don't have all night." He waves his hand and I walk closer to Reanne. His men have stepped away, just out of earshot, but close enough to stop any attempts at escape.

"Listen, Angel," I say in a hushed voice, barely above a whisper, knowing that the roar of the crowd around us will drown me out. "Look at me, look in my eyes. It's going to be okay. Do you trust me?" She nods. "Try to keep me in your sights at all times and when I tell you to go, you go to your safe place, okay? Do you understand what I'm saying?" I glance to the far left corner of the warehouse, where there are stairs leading to the roof. She follows my eyes, then looking back at me, nods in understanding. "This is going to work, Angel, it has to. I love you. No matter what happens, never forget that."

"I love you too," she says and a tear falls down her cheek. I cup her face in my hands brushing the tear away and I softly kiss her lips. I silently vow that this will not be the last time I kiss her, and it's this promise that'll get us through this.

"Enough you two!" Vic's voice interrupts our moment and his goon steps between us, pushing her back and making it to so I can't see her. "Wes, my boy! Are you ready?"

"Ready," I say and he walks us to the middle of the makeshift ring and starts his announcements.

"Tonight we have a special match. In this corner, we have a local favorite with a twelve and O record, Wes the Annihilator." He holds my arm up and the crowd roars in excitement. I've made a lot of these guys a lot of money and no doubt their money is on me tonight. Vic walks to the other side. "And in this corner, here by personal invitation for the rematch to end all rematches, Ruthless Randy!"

The crowd boos, probably because they've seen me beat him before, twice. But I must say that getting to kick the shit out of him after he sent his guys to kill me brings with it a small amount of satisfaction. It was ultimately what brought Reanne and me together, but it just as easily could have taken that chance away. Vic works to hush the crowd and continues on with his speech.

"Now, now. I know some of you think this is a waste of your time, but I wouldn't bring you out here to waste your time. This match is special and will come down to who is willing to push their strength the extra mile. Who has the guts to take it all the way? Tonight's match will be a fight to the death!" He raises his voice victoriously and lifts his hands to get a louder rise out of the crowd.

I look to Reanne and she looks at me; all the color has drained from her face. This is quite a twist in my plan, but not a deal breaker. No one has to die here tonight; I just have to keep it going long enough for the cops to break it up. I can do that. I nod to her and hope that she can see that I'm not panicking. This is all going to work.

"That's right, tonight one man walks out a murderer, and the other doesn't walk out." Vic knows I can win and this is his way to take me out without taking me out. He thinks that if I kill this man, he'll own me. "So, let's get this started! The only rule is no weapons, other than that, the last man breathing wins!"

Vic raises his hands again to rile up the crowd and walks back over to stand by Reanne. Her eyes are on mine, pleading for me to not go through with this, but she knows that's not an option. I mouth the words _I love you_ , but before she can mouth back _I_ , the bell rings. The fight is on.

Reanne

I swear my heart has stopped and I'm feeling all my blood drain from my body. A death match? This can't be real. I've seen things like this happen in the movies but never thought they really existed. But here I am, with a front row seat as everyone cheers on a man's death. The idea of fighting until someone loses their life is an absurd concept that is abruptly being brought to life.

Wes catches my eyes and he must see the fear in them; fear that this may be the last time this connection will exist between us. But he winks at me, wanting me to trust him and he says _I love you_ , but before I can say the words back, the bell rings. Wes' head snaps away and I start to panic, I need him to know that I love him too. I understand that he has to keep his focus now, but all I need is one second and I will him to glance my way but he doesn't—he can't. One second could cost him his life and our future.

The ring is nothing more than a circle outlined on the floor with what looks like duct tape, and the spectators are standing so close that, in some areas, _they_ actually become the boundaries of the ring. Wes starts to move, his hands balling into fists and taking position in front of his body just below his face. Randy is posed much the same, but acts more aggressively and with much less caution. Randy throws the first punch and my insides coil, but he misses his target as Wes twists just slightly and comes back with two hard hits to Randy's side, causing his body to jerk with the power of Wes' punches. Finally, Randy manages to step back, evading the next blow, but the look that follows is full of pure rage. He stares at Wes and I swear I heard a growl escape his lips.

He rushes toward Wes, ready to kill, but he's so controlled by his hatred that his calculations are off, giving Wes the opportunity to land a jab to his face, causing it to jerk to the side and blood to spatter from his mouth. He shakes his head, spitting on the ground before looking back at Wes. They start to circle each other again and Randy starts to speak.

"You think you have this don't you? Well, this time I didn't send two fucking idiots to do what I should've done the first time."

"Yeah, well if you think you're the one who's going to finish it, then you did send a fucking idiot. I hate to be the one to tell you that."

"You're a fucking dead man."

"Not yet. Not tonight." Wes sweeps out a leg and Randy falls flat on his back. Wes watches and waits while he gets back to his feet, ready to attack again once he's up, but Randy's ready too and delivers a punch to Wes' face, dead center. Blood starts to gush from his nose and I cover my mouth trying to keep down the bile that wants to escape. Wes doesn't let it stop him, though, quickly returning three quick knocks to Randy's face—left, right, left. Randy stumbles backward and Wes uses the opportunity to swipe the blood from his face and takes a quick glance my way.

That's all the time Randy needs to come at him, clenching him around the waist and sending him into the wall of spectators and starting a round of hits that seem to go on without end. I can't see Wes' face and I'm afraid that Randy's threat is becoming reality. Until now I've remained silent, not wanting my voice to distract him, but right now, I think it may be the only thing that'll remind him of why we're here and what we're fighting for.

"Wes! Come on, baby! Keep fighting! Keep fighting for me!" I don't know if I can even be heard over the yelling and chaos that fills the room, but suddenly Randy staggers back and Wes appears to be the force that propels him.

He starts wailing on Randy, relentlessly and unstopping. Randy continues to stumble back with each hit and though I'm happy that Wes isn't on the receiving end of each blow, I fear I'm seeing Wes in a way I never have before and I'm even more afraid that he's not going to stop.

"Now this is what I expected from him," Vic says as he leans in just a little too close to my ear. "Didn't know he was a murderer, did you?"

I think about his words and my heart, which has missed every two beats since this fight started, kicks into overdrive as my adrenalin reaches record levels. "He's not a murderer! You've given him no choice! You're a coward and a disgrace and you should be the one beaten to death right now." I turn back to the fight and see that Randy is now on the floor and Wes is kicking him mercilessly.

"Wes, stop!" I look at Vic and in a quick motion, weave myself through the crowd to make my way to him. "Wes!"

He turns toward me when I'm only steps away and I can see that his eyes have a storm brewing in them unlike I've ever seen, steely gray, like in my dream. As he looks at me it starts to clear, and there's recognition of what he's done. He looks to Randy, who lies nearly lifeless on the floor; the only sign that he's still alive is the faint rise and fall of his chest and I realize that if I had waited, even one more minute, he'd probably be dead.

"Angel? Look at what I've done. No matter how hard I try, he'll never let me escape the person I've become." But before I can reassure him that he has already escaped and that I know who he truly is, Vic steps up beside me.

"This isn't done, Wes. To win, he has to die."

"I can't, Vic. I'm not a murderer."

"Ah, I see. You need incentive." The next thing I know, I have the barrel of a gun pressing hard into my rib cage. I look down at it and back up at Wes who has just come to comprehend what that incentive is. "His life or hers? Either way, the blood will be on your hands."

Wes

I've been called a murderer before, though the term wasn't completely warranted, but this time I'll earn it. He's giving me an ultimatum and though he's giving me two options, in my eyes, there's only one. Randy will die today and if it must be by my hands to save Reanne, so be it. Hatfield failed me, so to rely on him now is futile. I've been given a decision and I've made my choice.

"Angel, I need your love like I need air to breathe, but to have that love, I have to keep you alive. I have to finish this."

"Wes, no," she whispers, as tears fill her eyes. "You don't have to do this; you're not that man. Don't let him make you something you're not and have never been."

"He's not making me anything. I'm making this choice for myself—for us." I place my hands on each side of her face and lay a soft kiss on her lips. "Don't watch this, Angel, and please don't hate me for the choice I've made."

Vic jerks her arm, still holding the gun in place, and turns her away. Then over his shoulder, nods for me to finish the job, to win this fight by killing the man who is already as close to death as he left me the night I saw an angel for the very first time. I look up to see Reanne with her head in her hands and Vic smiling on while I am about to end a life. The crowd is going crazy, people yelling _do it_ and _kill him_ and it's with those words that I know I can't do this without stepping outside of myself, so that it feels as though I'm one of them, watching on and not the one in action.

I pull back my leg, deciding that one last blow to the head will do it, and then both of us will be put out of our misery, though it's likely I'll be taking the first step into another form of it. I bring it forward once, but stop just short and the room fills with _boos_ from the crowd. I bring my foot back again and promise myself that this time I'll have so much momentum behind me that I won't be able to stop myself; this nightmare will be over.

Suddenly, every set of doors on the building blast open, bodies dressed in tactical gear enter the warehouse, and shouting starts to come from the outer areas of the room. _Hands up_ and _don't move_. They're here. They're finally fucking here. All the people that were just cheering me on scatter, looking for a way out.

I look up to see Reanne as she searches for me and as soon as she sees me, I yell, "Go!" In a swift move, she pushes Vic, giving her the seconds she needs to get lost in the crowd of scurrying bodies and moves toward the stairway to the roof.

I'm going to follow her, but first I need to make sure I didn't succeed in this sick plan I played part in. I kneel where I just stood and place two fingers to Randy's neck to check his pulse. I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel a beat. He's still alive. Though I hate this man for what he tried to do to me, I'm glad he did not die today, and I would stay to protect him from getting trampled, but I need to get to Reanne.

I look up to see her making her way up the stairs, but not far behind her is Vic. I push up from the ground and start running in that direction. I feel the pain in my face as my breaths become more labored but push it all to the back of my mind. Right now there is no time for weakness.

By the time I push through the people and find the bottom of the stairs, Reanne is near the top and Vic is a little more than half way up. I need to make up some time and catch him before he makes it to the top. Taking two steps at a time, I gain on him and hear the moment the door at the top opens, meaning Reanne is through.

"Lock it, Angel!" I yell, and the door shuts, but I've also alerted Vic to the fact that I'm heavy on his trail.

His adrenalin kicks in and he speeds to the top of the stairs and I pray that Reanne was able to lock the door and that he won't get through, but I'm wrong and he pulls it open and disappears through it. I don't know what clicks inside me but in less than twenty seconds I'm able to make my way to the top and with the same ease, open the door and step out onto the roof.

At first I hear nothing, and with only the light of the moon, I can't see much more. As my eyes adjust, I move slowly over the graveled roof and, as if remembering how cautious you become in prison, I'm constantly sweeping my eyes in all directions and willing my hearing to be the more dominant of my senses.

As I come around one of the smoke stacks, I hear shuffling and look to my right where, about twenty feet away, I can see his silhouette standing a few feet from the edge of the roof. At first I think it's just Vic, but I'm wrong. I hear a whimper, immediately followed by a _hush_ sound and know then that he has her. I will my eyes to adjust and second by second, my vision becomes clearer. The first things I'm able to see is the glint of the ring on his hand while it's crossed over her chest and the steel barrel of a gun pointed at her head. I move forward with my hands out in front of me, to show that I have no weapon.

"Let her go, Vic, she has nothing to do with any of this. You used her to get to me and I'm here. You don't need her anymore."

"Actually you're wrong, Wes." He drags out my name so that the S hisses at the end. "I do still need her. You betrayed me and for your mistake, she will pay. I'm no fool, Wes. I know you brought the cops here and I also know nothing could break you more than losing her." He's absolutely correct about that and I could lie about the cops but, at this point, there's no use. But he's wrong about one thing, she will not be a casualty in this sick game he's playing and I need to get closer if I'm to have any shot of getting Reanne out of his hold. If it's even possible, I need him to get pissed enough to point the gun at me instead.

"All I wanted was to be free, but you couldn't give me that. You got greedy and if it was even possible, more baneful than I'd come to know. Come on, Vic, if you want to take me out, do it, but be a man about it. Fight me."

"Very, very tempting, but I think I can hurt you more by taking away what you love the most." He's right about that, but it's not going to happen. "I can inflict so much more pain on your mind than I can to your body."

"Fucking coward! She doesn't stand a chance against you and you know it. By hurting her, you sign your own death certificate. You know there's no way I'll let you make it off this roof alive. Now fight like a fucking man and maybe you'll be as lucky as Randy, left crippled but breathing." This does it and if I could see every detail of what's in front of me now, I'm positive I'd be looking straight down the barrel of his gun.

I'm about to make a move that could cost both Reanne and me, but I'm all out of choices, so with one last silent prayer, I ask a favor of the one I couldn't save. _Kat, please make sure she lives._

I count down in my head and on _one_ , I take two huge steps toward him, then lunge. I hear gun fire and fear that he's shot her until I feel the heat of the bullet graze my shoulder and I welcome its burn, knowing that my redirection technique worked. I crash into his body and he manages to stay on his feet, but Reanne is free, and to me, that's all that mattered.

"Angel, get out of here!" I yell to her as we struggle and out of the corner of my eye, I see her figure move.

The struggle continues and I try to get the gun from his hand, but he defeats my attempts, so I change my focus to making sure he doesn't get a shot. I punch him, knocking him back toward the edge and with some distance between us, he tries again to shoot me, this time the bullet going high and into the air. I waste no time rushing at him again but he's wise to me and manages to push me back and again points the gun at me. I grab for the gun with all my strength and push his arm up so that it's pointed straight up in the air. In one last effort to gain control, he head-butts me, sending a sharp shot of pain through my already broken nose, causing me to stumble backwards, and lands me flat on the gravel.

He steps over me pointing the gun down at me, and all I can hear is his laugh. The thought that I could kick him crosses my mind, but the margin for error is small, very small, as the gun hovers less than eighteen inches from my chest. A moment of clarity comes to me as I realize he's going to kill me and the only thing I can think is that Reanne got away, and inside I feel peace. This time I did what I couldn't do last time—I saved the woman I loved.

"Just do it. You must know that if you kill me, your time is not far behind." I don't want to die but I no longer believe that I don't deserve to live. An angel, _my_ angel, made me see that.

"I love to see you beg, Wes. For life or death, it doesn't matter because, either way, it proves to me that you're weak."

"I may be weak, but I'm not a monster like you."

"A monster that will haunt your soul, for mine is the last face you'll ever see. Goodbye, Wes."

I hear two shots, I feel the impact, and I see the light.

Reanne

I run to him, unstoppable as I push past the officers who try to block me from him. He's lying on the ground lifeless, and blood is quickly covering his shirt at his left shoulder. Instinctively I press my hand over it, and with my other, I check for a pulse, then start screaming for help.

"Get an ambulance! Now! He's still alive!" Then in a tone more hushed, so that only he can hear, I say the same words that made him choose to stay with me that night, not so long ago. "Stay with me, Wes. Listen to my voice, concentrate on my words. You're not going to die tonight. Fight for me, baby. Keep fighting to stay with me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wes was rushed straight into surgery the moment we arrived at the hospital and I'm sure I'm starting to wear a hole in the carpet as I pace back and forth, waiting for the doctor to come out with an update. This time I wouldn't be left in the dark. I refused to be left wondering if he would make it through; I'm not leaving here until I know.

After the events of the night, I could claim it was a mistake or clouded judgment, but in the end, it was neither. When they asked me, "Ma'am, are you his wife?" I answered confidently, "Yes. Yes, I am." They went on without question, offering me comfort and promising I'd be updated if there were any changes. Tonight, I was his wife, meaning they wouldn't make me leave. Of course having his name made it easier than the last time I was left waiting to know his fate.

Investigator Hatfield left just a little while ago. He asked me some questions and explained the deal and the plan that he and Wes had devised to get Vic. The plan that Wes couldn't tell me about for fear that if I knew, and Vic got hold of me, it might ruin the entire mission. He left me with his card saying that he'd be back to talk to Wes in a couple of days, once he's had some time to heal.

Vic died, and as terrible as I may be to say it, he deserved it. He was a monster, a monster that almost stole Wes from me, both mentally and physically. Vic meant to kill him; he actually had the gun pointed a mere foot from his chest when the cops and I got to the roof. The shot that hit Vic threw him off balance enough so that when he did pull the trigger, the bullet hit Wes in the shoulder instead of in the heart. It's a move that will have me forever indebted to the man who made that quick decision, because it saved Wes' life.

Now I'm left alone to wait, pray, and drink my fifth cup of coffee, which tastes better and better with each cup. To kill time, I text Nick and Molly, just to let them know I'm okay, ask about Sugar, and to tell them that I'll explain everything when I see them, but only after I know that Wes is okay and I get some sleep. Of course, that is unacceptable and after a dozen or more messages from both of them came through, I resorted to turning my phone off.

At around two thirty in the morning, while I'm dozing on one of the couches, I hear the doors of the surgical unit open and a doctor emerges from them. I jump to my feet, meeting him before he can make it half way across the room. The look on his face is tired but otherwise unreadable. I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak.

"He's going to be fine, Mrs. Draves." I let out my breath with a force fueled by pure relief and smile at the doctor in thanks for the good news. "There was some tissue and tendon damage in his shoulder, which will require some therapy, but he will heal. We reset his nose and the worst of that is some swelling and pain. But in the end, I expect a full recovery."

"Thank you so much, Doctor. When can I see him?"

"He's still out right now, but I'll have a nurse come get you once he's situated."

I thank him again and watch as he makes his way back through the doors. He's alive and he's going to be okay. Tears fill my eyes and I start to shake while the events of the night replay. Now that I finally have a moment that isn't tainted with worry, I allow myself to break down.

Never in my life did I think I'd see the things I saw. Wes almost killed a man to save my life and threw himself in front of a gun to save me a second time. I should think he's a monster, but I know the man he was, the man he had to be, and the man he really is, and I love every one of them. I just thank God that we both made it out tonight and that we're alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been sitting next to his bed for a few hours, nodding off now and then, but always aware of every beep, of every footstep, and of every deep breath he takes. The nurse said he'd be out for a while and that I had plenty of time to go home, eat, and shower, but I want to stay. I want to be here when he wakes up because if I'm not, I'm afraid he'll think the worst. His first thought will either be that I died tonight or that I left him. He has to know that I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.

I stand at the window in the early hours of the morning, watching the sun make its appearance for the day when he starts to stir. I step to his bedside, taking his hand in mine, and brushing my other hand over his forehead, I whisper his name. "Wes. Wes baby, it's me." His eyes open just a little then snap shut as the light from the window assaults them. "Take it slow. Nice and slow."

"Angel?" His voice is a raspy whisper. "You're alive?" I see tears escaping through his half closed eyes and it's not two seconds before I join him by shedding my own.

"I am and so are you. We're here together." Being able to say those words makes it real and finally after days of fear, we are free.

Reanne

I hear the bell on the front door and look through the pass-through window to see Wes coming toward the kitchen. He's smiling ear to ear and has a bounce in his step, like that of an excited little boy.

"Hey, babe. What's got you so happy?"

He comes in for a kiss and wraps his arms around me, placing his hands firmly on my ass. "You and the surprise I have for you."

He definitely has my attention now. He probably thinks that I forgot, but I know today is a special day for us. "A surprise?"

"Yup. Come on, I'll show you." He removes his hands from my rear and starts untying my apron. Then he lays it on the counter, grabs my hand, and pulls me along. "Molly, I'm borrowing your boss for the rest of the evening," he says as we pass her at the counter.

"Hey, as long as you're not borrowing her in the office again, it's fine with me." We both giggle and make our exit.

He pulls me through the entryway and up the stairs that lead us to the apartment, but we don't stop there, and it's no longer a secret where we're going. He swore me off from the roof almost two weeks ago and though I've thought about sneaking up to see what he's been up to, I didn't. After all that we went through, I knew whatever it was that he was doing was for us and that I would love it.

When we make it to the top of the stairs, he stops and turns to face me. "Close your eyes, Angel."

I do as he says and smile as he takes my hand. He guides me through the door and across the roof, then steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and bringing his mouth close to my ear.

"Open them, Angel," he whispers, and as I do, I'm overwhelmed by color. Every color of tulip I've ever seen, and some I never have, fill the flower boxes I had reserved for them.

"Wes!" I manage to whisper, otherwise, I'm speechless.

Slowly I look around, taking in all the additions he's made. He laid the artificial grass I wanted for Sugar, and she lies comfortably in the middle of it chewing on a bone. An open top cabana surrounds the lounge with sheer drapes hanging around its sides. Finally, there's small table for two set up for a romantic meal, complete with a bottle of champagne on ice, champagne flutes, two red lobsters beautifully plated, and a taper candle just waiting to be lit. Every detail is just as I would've done it myself.

"I don't know what to say," I say as I turn to face him. "It's perfect. How did you do all of this?"

"It's what you dreamed of and I want to make every dream you have come true."

"You're amazing. Do you know that?"

"If you think so now, just wait. There's more."

Wes

I look down at her face and see the eyes that once begged for me to hold on. And when she speaks, I hear the voice that begged me to do the same. Before I met this woman I wasn't living, only making my way through each day with hopes that the day would finally come that would be my last. I blamed myself for things that weren't my fault and wished for the punishment I thought I deserved.

But because of her, this angel in my arms, I've done the exact opposite. Now, I can't wait for each day to see what it has in store. I'm working through the guilt that haunted me for so long, and I accept the chance I've been given.

"Angel, one year ago today, you saved me. You saved my life. You saved my soul. You saved my heart."

"Wes, I—"

I place a finger on her lips. "Please, let me finish." She nods. "I got this today." I reach into my back pocket to pull out an envelope and I hand it to her. She opens it and reads it.

"Wes! You're getting your license back! I'm so proud of you."

"I couldn't have done it without you. Because of you, I'm finally allowing myself to take back some of the things I've lost and I'm finally ready to accept that I deserve a happy ending—that _we_ deserve a happily ever after."

"What are you saying?" she asks softly as questions flood her hopeful eyes.

I reach into my other pocket and pull out a small box. "I know better than anyone that everything and everyone you ever loved can be gone in an instant. I also know that the only thing you can do is make sure that they know every day just how much you love them. I love you, Angel, and I won't ever let a day go by that you don't know that." I take the ring from the box, but because it's not my style, I don't ask the cliché question that usually follows. I can already see the answer in her eyes, and I slip the ring on her finger. She looks at it for a second then brings her tear-filled eyes back to mine.

"You fought for me, Angel," I say, knowing more than ever, that she's the only reason I'm here today, and is the woman I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with.

"You fought for me," she says back, a lonely tear rolling down her cheek.

All this time we were both fighting, we fought for ourselves—we fought for each other.

"No, Angel, we were fighting for us."

The End

When I started this story, I had no more confidence that it would grow into what it has, any more than any other story I idealized. I have so many started and so many more unfinished, so when one takes hold of me, takes control of me—I'm completely at its whim.

_Fighting for Us_ , has so much of me in it. Reanne is a name I once thought I would give to one of my daughters, but never did. Her bakery is another dream I once had that never materialized. But the love that she and Wes share, a love worth literally fighting for, is something I do know and wanted Wes and Reanne to know as well. With every word I wrote, I fell more in love with each of them as they fell in love with each other. It was like living out the greatest of fantasies and creating relationships that will live forever. In fact, there are moments I wish the two of them actually existed.

To all of my Betas, a thank you as big as a galaxy is due. My mother-in-law Patricia, you may very well be my biggest fan. Kristy, who I met at a signing, you're awesome. Patricia, for twelve years we've worked together, but who would've thought we'd work together on my book? Amy, you my dear, were brought to me for a reason, and will always be my gift for the best free book I ever gave away. Carole, we did it again. To my daughter and cover photographer, Alizabeth, I'm so glad to be sharing this world with you. You all did a marvelous job in helping me to make this story as perfect as I knew it could be. For many of you, it was your first time, but I would've never known. Your insight was invaluable and you helped me to see things that, as the writer, I couldn't. You all are amazing, and no amount of praise I could give would ever do you justice. I can't wait to work with you all again.

To my editor Daniela Prima of Prima Editing & Proofreading. Once again, you have polished me and made me shine. Thank you so much for the hours upon hours you spent on my book to make sure it was perfect. It was chance that brought us together, but trust that keeps us together. I trust everything I write to your keen eye.

<http://primaeditingproofreading.weebly.com/>

To my favorite PR girl, Jen of Just One More Page, who does a blog page and promotions. When I was just starting off as a lost little indie author, you took me under your wing and I've loved you ever since. Thank you for treating everyone as though they are your number one. People like you are rare, which makes me feel very special to have crossed paths with you. <https://justonemorepage5.wordpress.com/>

To my favorite aunt, Aunt Barbara. True I only have two aunts, and I had to marry the greatest man ever to get you, but you are, by far, my favorite. You are a very special woman. This book didn't require any of your Massachusetts knowledge, but it did need your eye. Thank you again for lending your time to make another one of my dreams possible.

My family endures a lot while I take the voices from my head to form another life. Late nights, weekends when I'm locked in my office, conversations about people who only exist in my mind, plot changes, middle of the night ramblings, and moments of deadpan stares, while my next moves pop in, and sometimes out of my head. The words may come from me, but the inspiration comes from you. My husband is the most romantic man I've ever known, my children the most understanding, and my dogs don't really care as long as they get a scratch on the head between chapters. If it weren't for the love I receive from all of you every day, my characters would have no hope of knowing love at all.

Casey Touche, you fine thing. Thanks for gracing my cover with your beauty. Here's to the beginning of an amazing professional relationship.

Finally, I'd like to thank the Gods and Goddesses for giving me the gifts of imagination and creativity. I admit that too many times in my life, these gifts have been used for nothing more than to conjure the worst, but I'm thankful to have finally figured out how to wield these gifts into something beautiful and comforting. I want to share all of my stories with the world and believe that if I can help even one person to believe in the power of real love, my job is done.

Hi! I'm Mareta L. Miller, a Las Vegas native who still lives in "Sin City" with my husband, my two youngest children, three dogs, two cats, and a turtle named for my hometown. By day, I'm an employee of the State of Nevada for twelve years running and by night, as well as every other free moment I have, I'm an aspiring artist. I've always found comfort in the arts. I started in choir when I was in grade school and band in middle school playing the flute. Singing has always been my real passion and there was a time when I practically lived in Karaoke bars, but I've also always had a love for writing. It all began with poetry I'd write for my mom, letters that bore my soul but would never be delivered, and a three-page short story in my senior English class.

As life goes, marriage, children, divorce, single parenting, another marriage, and more children placed all my ambitions of becoming a writer on hold. But now, in my late thirties and with two of my four kids out on their own, I finally have time to pursue those dreams.

I love the love stories and I'm a sucker for second chances, so I write them, one broken heart at a time. Building hope, conquering fear, and mending hearts is what my writing does. I know that writing these stories is what I'm meant to do and with the support of my family and friends, I think that no matter what happens, as long as I'm writing, I can't go wrong.

It's not every day that you are blessed enough to make your dream come true. For me, that dream was to write and publish my first book. I only needed one to make it come true, to prove that with a lot of work and a lot of passion, I could do it. Now, I'm celebrating my fourth book, and I couldn't be more amazed by this experience, the people I've met, and the things I learn every day because I took this leap.

But, it wasn't all me that made this possible. I'm just a writer with an over-active imagination. I thank the people who stood by me, knowing I could do it. I thank the people who were against me, who made me work harder than ever to make it happen. I thank the readers who gave me a chance and, last but not least, I thank the voices in my head that would not quiet until they were heard.

Other books by Mareta L. Miller

The Ninety-Nine Roses Series

Telling Me with Roses

Stemming from Secrets

Blooming with Love

All available in e-book and paperback.

Visit Maretalmiller.com for links.

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