Page 89 of Sheltered By Love

I’ll always have his back and he’ll have mine.

He bobs his head. “Any time brother,” he says.

Felicity

I’m so dog tired, I barely recall giving Garrett my statement, or the brief trip to Jax’s small apartment.

I do remember tumbling through the door, with a pet carrier and overnight bag thinking there’d been some mistake.

I was too tired to process what that might be. All I wanted was a long shower, to take a sleeping pill, and to fall into bed. Even if it wasn’t my own.

When I opened my eyes again, I’m in a small bedroom, modern, with a bathroom attached, and there is a glorious sunrise and the most spectacular view of the ocean I’ve ever seen.

Somehow, I manage to crawl out of bed and take a shower, checking the bathroom for anything Roger could damage, before exploring the rest of the beachside apartment.

Skillfully designed, Jaxson’s home consists of a large living area, a kitchen with a breakfast bar, and like the restaurant and bar beneath, has a panoramic view of the Bay.

It’s sparsely decorated, has an abundance of plants, and a giant flatscreen dominates one wall.

I yawn and pick up the note left on the spotless countertop.

Help yourself to anything you need.

And feel free to order from the restaurant menu.

Jaxson

If he’d been here, I would have hugged him for being so thoughtful. And probably will the second I see him again.

Zane isn’t awake yet, probably still sleeping in the larger bedroom next door to me, so I make some coffee, as the sun casts a golden glow over the water.

I find a packet of bagels, split two, push them into the toaster, and search Jaxson’s large refrigerator for something to spread on them.

I find a vegan butter replacement that tastes good, so I take my bagel, and coffee and sit as close to the window as I can get.

I thought my harbor view was incredible, but this is just stunning.

I stand gazing at the view, alternating between sipping and chewing until I could almost forget about the mess my house is probably in.

I’m so mesmerized by the ocean that the knock at the door sounds overly loud.

I ignore it in the hopes that it’s not important, but one look at the parking lot side of the apartment tells me it is.

There are a half dozen cars parked up, and I don’t recognize a single one of them.

The knock gets louder. “Felicity? It’s Nicki. Jax told me it was okay to come up.”

I leave my coffee half-drunk and hurry to the front door. Nicki rushes inside red-cheeked and screaming bloody murder.

“That bitch reporter was filming the ball! She had a hidden camera and mic or something. She was interviewing people without getting consent! Can you believe her? This town is about to undertake the closest thing to a witch hunt as I’ve ever seen!”

I shake my head, trying to make sense of what she’s talking about. “Nicki. Slow down. Who are all those people in the lot?”

She throws up her hands. “Ugh! More reporters. And they’re all here because of Jacky Wilson’s smear piece.”

“I can’t even imagine what this will do to ticket sales next year. She called the women who buy tickets pathetic, oversexed, with too much money and no brains!”

“She did?”

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