Page 22 of Wiley A.F.

“I’ll believe that when you come to Cleveland and visit me,” I said. It sounded wild even to me that I uprooted my life to live here, but I didn’t have the strength to go back to the house. Plus, from what Wiley’s brothers had said, the FBI had ransacked the place, searching for Garrett’s coconspirator. I was more than relieved that the title was no longer one they filed me beneath.

“There isn’t anything good to do there.”

“I’ll take you to the clubhouse.”

“Well, when you put it like that, give me a week or two to line somethings out, and I’ll be by your side.”

“Dave?” Wiley asked, approaching from behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His fingers brushed my hair away from my neck, and then his lips lightly pressed against the base.

“Mmhm,” I murmured, ending the call before Dave had a chance to give Wiley the third degree about kidnapping me again.

“You know, it we might have taken a fucked up road to get us where we are, but I’m glad we are here.”

“Where? Ohio?” I asked while my eyebrows knitted together. Don’t get me wrong, Cleveland was a beautiful place with interesting people, but I didn’t understand why he would bring up his happiness about our exact location right now.

“Well, yeah.” He smiled against my skin briefly, “But I was being more specific.”

“How so?”

“I’m happy you ended up, here,” he squeezed my sizes with his forearms, “in my arms, Darlin’.”

“Nowhere else I would rather be.” The most genuine smile broadened across my face.

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