Page 72 of My Always One

“Sign the damn paper.”

Once she does, he comes close to me, pushing the paper my direction. “We’re done.”

As I take the paper, I can’t help but laugh.

Before I can say anything, Marshal reaches for my hand and tugs me toward the door. Speaking to me, he says, “You’re right, he is quick.”

“I was talking about something else, but yes.”

“Wait,” Ellen calls as Marshal is closing their door.

We stop.

“Could I get a ride back to Grand Rapids?”

“No,” we say in unison.

As we step outside into the warm summer air, I lift my face to the sun and inhale. Marshal’s arm comes around me and he pulls me to his chest. “I’m so in awe of you, Sami.”

“It feels good, liberating.” I lift the sheet of paper. “And my mom will be relieved.”

“I heard there’s a cute town with a windmill. Would you like to join me?”

“I would.”

Marshal

Isee Miss Tits and Ass move to the treadmill next to mine. She’s hard to miss with her giant XL fake tits squeezed into a top that is probably a size too small. Hell, the way they’re bouncing, I’m half expecting them to spill out.

Instead of focusing on her, I concentrate on the music blaring through my earbuds, the increase of the incline on my course, and way the speed is picking up. My mind goes to Sami and the way she handled tiny-dick in Holland last weekend and the look of relief on Jean’s face when we went to their house for Sunday dinner.

Damn, Sami was kick-ass.

I know through the years there have been times I wanted to protect her, to save her from assholes like him. A grin comes to my lips as I recall one time in college that I was so certain this arrogant asshole—I can’t recall his name—was going to try to get to her, I kept guard all night.

In reality, I slept, but I did it while keeping her beside me.

It was the first time I willingly slept next to a woman. It was also the time I did it with no thoughts of sex on my mind. I was too consumed with kicking the guy’s ass if he showed up.

Times have changed.

It would have been easy for me to take care of Jackson the way I handled that guy in college. After I woke to Sami’s tears as she looked at his photo collection, I was willing. I’m definitely able. And I’d do jail time for her.

That isn’t what she wants or needs.

One of the parts of friendship that can be difficult is not stepping in, not taking care of shit for her, and allowing her to handle it in her own way. Yes, I encouraged her. Yes, I was beside her and ready to be her muscle if needed. And it worked. By simply being at her side, I had a ringside view of her knockout punch.

As we walked around Holland, going to the shops, eating ice cream, and having dinner, I kept watching her, wondering if she would be upset that tiny-dick was with Ellen or about the photographs. She had been, but Saturday afternoon she looked and acted exactly as she said.

She was liberated.

I adore seeing her happy and carefree.

After dinner, we drove west until we reached the shore of Lake Michigan, and sitting on the light-colored sand, we watched the sun set.

There’s no doubt that I’m getting too used to waking next to her. It’s not only waking. I’m getting used to the whole package.

Crawling into bed beside her and enticing her to put away the Kindle and concentrate on something a bit more strenuous and much more fulfilling.

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