Page 39 of With Love

Marshall

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Owen shouts at me as I make my way down stairs once again.

He comes at me, throwing punches, but even with his military background, he isn’t faster or stronger than I am. I’ve had something precious to fight for these past three years. He doesn’t know what it means to have something or someone in his life like that.

“I didn’t do anything. She has a horrible case of PTSD. The slightest thing can cause her to react that way. Someone with your military background should be familiar with it. You know what it was like for her there. As much as it fucking pisses me off to admit it, you know more about it than I do. This shouldn’t be surprising to you and I’ve already told you that I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt her.”

“But you did, didn’t you? It’s your fault she was there in the first place.”

“You have no idea how much pain I feel, day after day, because of what happened. But I don’t have to prove myself to you, you little prick. If it weren’t for the fact that I love that woman so much, you would be out on your ass right now. Lock probably already would have found you and torn you to pieces. I have half a mind to drag you out of here, leave you in the middle of nowhere and call him up to let him know where to find you. You may hate me, but you’re glad you’re safe whether you want to admit it or not. You’re on thin ice with me. You get one chance here. If you value your life, don’t fucking blow it.”

By this time, Travis is standing behind Owen, waiting for him to make a move so he can take him out if need be. My gaze moves over to his and I shake my head, letting him know to stand down.

Owen’s head whips around, not realizing that anyone was standing behind him. He peers back and forth between us for a moment before taking off to the guest room.

* * *

Adrienne

I’m woken up by a light tapping on my door. I rub the sleep from my eyes and turn to see the time on my tableside clock. 7:30. It must be PM because it’s dark outside of my windows.

“Come in,” I say with a yawn. Marshall pokes his head in.

“May I come in?”

I nod my head letting him know it’s okay and his body appears a moment later. He is carrying a tray of food and stack of what appears to be papers.

“I thought you might be hungry. I whipped up some chicken noodle soup. I thought some comfort food would be nice this evening.”

My stomach rumbles as the savory aroma assaults my senses.

“Mmm… that smells good. I am hungry. Thank you.”

He sets the tray down on the table as I whip the blankets off and join him. I notice that there is only one bowl on the tray.

“Are you not eating?” I ask.

“I’m not very hungry,” he answers.

“Marshall, you need to eat.”

“I feel so terrible about what happened earlier.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong. If you don’t go get yourself a bowl of soup and bring it up here and eat with me, I am going to go down there and do it myself. Then, you’ll have something to feel bad about!”

I do my best to sound angry, even though I’m not. But my attitude isn’t a joke and he knows it. While he goes downstairs to grab himself a bowl, I quickly duck into the bathroom to tame my hair a bit and splash a little water on my face.

* * *

“Marshall, this soup was amazing! You have to make it again. All the time.”

“I’m glad you like it. It was my mom’s recipe. My dad saved it and once my sister was born, I practiced making it over and over again until I got it just right.”

“I like it when you tell me stories about your family,” I pause. “Lock told me that I didn’t have one.”

I hold a moment before looking up from my bowl and staring straight into his eyes.

“Is it true? Am I alone, or do I have family out there waiting for me?” I’ve been dreading asking him this question for a while, but it’s been eating away at me on the inside. I have to know.

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