Page 3 of Defender

I can’t breathe. I need air.

Why am I here? Why is he here? Where the hell is the escape button?

Chapter Two

Gunner

“Zoe?”I’m not a man who's caught off guard easily, but there she is, thick and gorgeous, her light brown eyes staring back at me. I stand in place, boots firmly planted on the front porch like a stubborn oak, trying not to shake, but my heart is hammering.

“Gunner?” Her full lips part and I’m done for. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you two know each other?” my mother asks as she rocks back and forth on the porch swing with a tray of red flowers in her weathered hands. I haven’t told anyone about Zoe. I was saving that for when we made things official, but there’s no room for waiting now, so I answer the best I can without putting anything permanent into the mix. “We met online a few months ago.”

“Oh!” Mom stands, settling the flowers beside her before turning to Zoe for a hug. “Honey, is this the first time you’re meeting?”

Zoe nods. I didn’t even know my mother knew her. What the hell is happening and why does this make me so damn happy?

“Well, you have some catching up to do, then. Why don’t you two take the back garden? I have some rose bushes that need to go in near the fishing docks. It’ll be quiet back there soyou two can catch up.” She glances toward the girl Zoe pulled up with. “You don’t mind helping me with the veggies here near the house, do you, Nora?” Turns out, Mom is the best wingman ever.

“No,” the blonde-haired girl smiles toward Zoe, “that sounds perfect. I’m an expert when it comes to tomatoes. We should plant in a spot with southern facing sun. I find they do best in this zone with six to eight hours of light.” She lifts two white buckets and continues chattering to my mother as they make their way down the front porch toward the little garden on the corner of the property, leaving Zoe and I alone.

It’s hard to believe she’s real. There’s no pixilation between us, no blurry cut of the frame. It’s her, the sweet doe eyed woman that I met online months ago. The only woman that I’ve shared my war stories with. The woman I’ve fantasized about too many times to count.

The morning sun catches her hair perfectly, and her chest rises and falls gently before her sweet smile tugs at my chest.

She’s gorgeous. Gorgeous and really young. Really, really young.

I’ve known this since we met, and it’s been something I’ve been apprehensive about since the start. It’s part of the reason I’ve held back on getting together in person. She told me she was twenty-three when we met, which I was a little standoffish about, but we had a high match score on the site, and we both figured a few conversations wouldn’t hurt. That turned into video chats every day and an addiction to her I couldn’t quit. Maybe that makes me sick. It probably does.

“Damn, I can’t believe you’re really standing right there.”

“I know. It’s kinda wild.” Her shoulders are stiff, and though I’m not sure if it’s right or not, I reach out to her for a hug.

Thankfully, she reciprocates, reaching back for me with a smile.

Given our age gap, I’m almost hoping she doesn’t fit right in my arms, that there’ll be something off about our energy when we touch, that the universe will push her out of my orbit before I do something stupid.

Instead, the hesitation in her shoulders melts when she’s against my chest and her head fits perfectly beneath my chin. I tighten the hold without meaning to, breathing in the floral scent in her hair.

Damn it. I don’t want to let go, but I have to before this whole thing turns weird.

My arms hesitate, holding her a moment longer before she pulls away and cold air rushes in between us. I stare down at her, searching for something, reassurance maybe, a reason to grab hold of her again, but I only see resolve and I’m not sure what to take of it.

“You okay?” She glances down at the ground, her dark hair spilling in front of her vision as she moves. “We don’t have to do the roses thing together. I can make myself busy cleaning up the side yard. I know Mrs. Robinson wants another garden over there. I mean… we weren’t planning to meet, so maybe this is weird for you. I don’t want to—”

“It’s not weird. You’re just…” I scrub my hand over my chin, contemplating the reality of the situation. I don’t want to lose her, but twenty-three is really young. As much as I want her, I see that now. “Look, I really like you, I just—”

“Oh my God, stop. Please.” Her gaze darts toward me wide and strong, and I gather I’ve said something wrong. “You’re good. I’ll go work the side yard.”

“Wait,” I jog after her, following the sweet scent of citrus on her skin, “you’re taking this all wrong. I really like you. I could talk to you forever. I hope you know that. It just can’t be… sexual.”

Stopping in her tracks, she snaps a gaze back up at me. “I get it. I was thinking the same thing.”

For some reason, her comment hurts, though I don’t know why, considering I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. Our age gap is too large for a relationship. Short term, from a long distance, we’re fine, but if we were to live together, we’d realize the generational gap in our lifestyle. Lord knows I’d run out of energy. I couldn’t keep her satisfied.

“You were?” I clear my throat and stare at her, trying not to notice the way her round ass jiggles as she shifts in place, or the way her breasts press together as she folds her arms over her chest. “Okay… well, that’s good then.”

“Yeah. It is.”

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