Page 46 of In the Grey of Dawn

“You okay?” I say, walking over to Charlie who is standing in the middle of the hall, trying to get her breathing under control.

“Yeah, I don't think I realised how much I've been on edge these past weeks. I thought I was coping with it but seeing Dante all angry then just really pissed me off. I get he's on the outside of her pregnancy but who does he think he is walking in here like that? Especially after everything she’s been through.”

Her voice is snapping each word out, the tension in her shoulders noticeable and I'm completely out of my element. A crying woman I can handle but this sort of fierce protectiveness Charlie is showing is all new to me. I knew she could handle herself, but I've never been more impressed and turned on when she was poking her finger into the chest of the largest man I have ever seen, telling him exactly what was going to happen. Dante could have physically moved her out of the way, he would have gotten my knife in his back but he still could have. He stood, listened and took everything she was saying on board, and then calmly went into his wife's room. I have never seen someone have that sort of power. To control the environment like that.She would have made a perfect queen if there was still a throne for me to sit on.

“In his defence, he's probably been worried sick, you know how protective he is of her.” Hoping she sees where he could be coming from.

“I know,” she says, rolling her eyes at me and smiling, “Can you stop being all rational when I'm worked up? Anyways, what the heck was with you and Dante?Fall on my knife, Porter, you're so dramatic.”

She laughs, leaning into my side and wrapping her arms around me. Secure against me where no one can hurt her.

But that's not what Dante meant. Even he knew I couldn't keep my Lila safe so who was I to stand in his way when he wanted to be with his wife. He knew right where to hurt me, and it did. I faltered in that moment and although Charlie pushed me away I gladly went like a coward licking my wounds.

I didn't keep Lila safe and I feel like I’m barely keeping Charlie safe. How could she want anything more with me when I can’t get through each day thinking about how much I failed in my past? How do I love Charlieandmove on from Lila and the scars she left?

“What if we figure out what Dante and Mila need and then I take you home so we can both have a bit of a break? You need some rest after this past week and I need to sink my cock deep inside your pussy.” I whisper into her ear as a nurse walks by. “It's been agony sleeping next to you each night knowing I can't take you the way I want to. Have you scream my name and watch you crumble all over me.”

I can see her eyes glaze over as she thinks about what I've been wanting, subconsciously biting her bottom lip and I can't help but push the idea a little more.

“Baby, the way your pussy drips for me, the way we taste together. I’m rock hard just thinking about how much I want you bouncing on my cock.”

She pushes her body against me, the pressure of her against my throbbing length does nothing to ease the tension I feel.

“We’ll head home soon. Mila most likely won’t need us now that Dante is back,” she says, her body moulding against mine like there’s no other place in the world it could possibly be. That ache in my chest more noticeable today than it was yesterday.

Chapter 27 - Charlie

Ifeel so flat. The energy from staying with Mila for the past few weeks took far more of a toll than I thought. Mila was able to go home a few nights ago and Dante said not to come back for at least a week. I've been checking in with him but it's been nice to take a bit of a mental break from everything.

I have yet to feel guilty about being a couch potato these last few days, but the state of Porter's small apartment, however, finally got the better of me and I’ve spent the afternoon cleaning up and putting away the groceries we got two days ago. After living off hospital food and crappy pizza, it was nice to have salad and meat that wasn't questionably grey.

Moving around the apartment, I don't think I noticed the little changes that have happened over the past few months. It's slowly become our space and not just his. There's now a decorative pillow on the bed, not to mention a cushion and a throw blanket on the small couch. I love the way we have to practically sit on top of each other if we're going to watch a movie and the way he always puts me first no matter what we're doing. If we shower together he always makes sure I’m under the warm spray of water. He serves me dinner first and waitsfor me to start eating before he takes a bite. I love that he asks about what my day will look like and thinks I haven't realised he messages Dante to check that I've arrived. I love that he didn't leave when we took Mila down to Woodman and that he's not said I'm too much or not enough for him like I've been told in the past.

I love him.

The door to the apartment opens and I'm greeted with a clumsy smile from Porter as he walks toward me, one hand hidden behind his back.

“Hey, baby,” he drawls, “I was at the store and saw these for you.” His grin widens as he pulls out a bouquet of soft pink tulips. Gasping at the sight, I don't think anyone has ever gotten me a true bouquet of flowers before. Sure, I've had the crappy bunch from the local corner store but these are stunning, thoughtful, intentional.

“Porter, they're beautiful. Thank you,” I say, as I pull him into a hug and give him a kiss. “Let me find a jar or something to put them in.”

Moving to the kitchen, I start looking through the cupboards to find anything that could remotely work as a vase, settling on an old large pickle jar. He’s standing in the middle of the small living space looking at the mantel I was cleaning.

“Where’s the jar?” he asks, his tone stern and assertive.

“The jar?” I question, “You mean this pickle jar?”

I’m taken aback by the quick switch in his behaviour. He was being so sweet and kind only moments ago and I’m not entirely sure what’s happened in the last minute to warrant this change.

“No Charlie, I don't mean the pickle jar. Where is the jar from the mantel?”

“Oh, I was just dusting. It's down on the coffee table. Is everything alright? You seem tense all of a sudden.”

He looks between the coffee table and the mantel, almost confused by the simple task of me dusting. He picks up the jar and places it gently on the mantel, the copper coins inside clinking slightly as he does. I move toward him, reaching out my hand and resting on his forearm. I'm about to ask what’s wrong again when his head snaps toward me, fury and pain in his eyes.

“It doesn't belong to you. Don't touch it again,” he barks. Each word a struggle to get out. Pulling away from my touch, he stomps out of the apartment brooding over our exchange. Leaving me just as confused and conflicted over the complete submission to my feelings only moments ago, and whether I'm alone in them.

Chapter 28 - Porter

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