The Baseball Card Boyfriend (Starrycard Creek Bachelors #3)

Chapter 11

Chapter

Eleven

MAGGIE

Maggie waited, watching Christian stare at the ceiling, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

He looked at her with a raw, deep ache etched on his expression. “There were days when I couldn’t see a path forward, when I couldn’t see the value of going on another day. There was pain, and the only thing that got me through was hoping that if I got drunk enough to black out, I’d get to be with you and gaze at your face and feel like a person again,” he finished and stroked her cheek.

“Christian,” she whispered, leaning into his touch.

“It’s hard to put it into words, but when I saw your face after we saved Lucky, I knew it was you. My heart knew you were the woman in my dreams.”

“As sweet and romantic as that sounds, it doesn’t make sense. There must be a reason—something besides a dream that connects us.”

His body tensed like it was fighting to accept this notion. “I know you’re right, but I also know what I feel for you is real, and nothing will convince me otherwise.”

Donning a mock-serious expression, she looked him over. “Are you sure you don’t have memory issues?” she asked, trying to lift the weight of sorrow that pressed down on him.

He chuckled, the tension draining. “Christ, who knows? Can I confess something else to you?”

“Of course.”

“I got myself into a bad place. I was at the point where I’d do anything to get to you. I’m a big guy. It takes a hell of a lot of alcohol to even get me tipsy. I started drinking nearly nonstop. When I was still at my place in Rocky Mountain City, I’d go out and get hammered. I got arrested a few times. Thank God they didn’t file charges. I went down a dark path. I fired my management team. I lost sponsors and deals. I became the epitome of a washed-up ballplayer. I moved back to the ranch to get out of the limelight and to keep drinking. My family was right to be worried. I had a lot of pills on hand and plenty of alcohol. If you hadn’t shown up when you did…”

She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Don’t talk like that. Just because you can’t play baseball doesn’t mean that part of your life is over. People turn their lives around. I’m sure there’s a place for you in it. Coaching? Commentary?”

“No, that chapter is closed. It’s not who I am anymore. I can’t be on the sidelines. I’m either in the game or out. It’s who I am, but I have a new path.”

She watched him closely. “What path are you on?”

That ghost of a grin curled the corner of his mouth. “A fresh path. I’m a superstitious guy. Most ballplayers are. We look for signs. We hold on to trinkets. You’ve been in my dreams for months. You showed up at one eleven.”

“One eleven?”

“It’s my number, and when you encounter multiple ones, it means you’re headed in the right direction. I learned that in college. You had one of my good luck charms with you and my card—my card printed on Starrycard Creek paper. Paper that brings what’s meant for you your way. But I think there’s more to it. You’re not only here because of me. I believe you’re here for me.”

“ For you ?”

“When I saw your face and learned that you were real, it was like rediscovering a part of myself I thought I’d lost forever. This feeling of solidness was how I used to feel about baseball—this unshakable certainty. Being near you, watching you sleep while you recovered, you’d become my compass, guiding me back to a life that made sense. I stopped drinking. I know it’s just a week, but it’s a start. My focus was on you. All I wanted was for you to be okay. And Christ, the freedom I’d felt when we stepped out of the hospital was like breaking free from chains that had been holding me down. It was dark out, but you were my light, my bright and constant star. I believe you’re my future, Maggie. My path led me to you, and yours to me.”

“My path,” she repeated as a shadowy inkling came over her, a feeling like there was something on the tip of her tongue, a notion just out of reach.

“The second we left the hospital, I wanted to kiss you. I’ve never wanted anything more.” He looked away and grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—all that. It’s a lot to put on you, especially when you don’t remember anything. And I’m not only about the physical stuff. I don’t want you to think?—”

“I wanted you to kiss me, too,” she said, cutting him off, needing him to know she understood.

He met her gaze. “You did?”

“I blamed my brain for feeling that way. I thought my injury might have rendered me perma-horny.”

“Perma-horny?” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s a medical term.”

“It should be,” he replied, drinking her in. “So, you feel a connection to me, TBD?”

She smiled up at him, kind of loving that he’d given her that nickname. “Yeah, I feel it.”

He glanced away, nodding bashfully with that dreamy half-grin.

His sweet reaction emboldened her. “Hey, Number Eleven?”

If he could come up with a name for her, she could come up with one for him. Was Number Eleven creative? Not really, but it felt right.

“Yeah?” he said, smile still in place.

“When your phone chimed, it ended the moment, but before that, you hesitated. What held you back?”

His brow furrowed as he pondered her question. “I guess I was sitting on the pitch.”

There was that baseball term again.

She cocked her head to the side. “You were waiting for me to throw a ball at your butt?”

Christian’s bare, muscled chest heaved with laughter. “Sitting on the pitch is when a batter passes up pitches—even ones they could get a hit off—while they wait for the one they want. It’s a strategy players use depending on several factors, one of them being the batter’s strengths. You’re waiting for a pitcher to throw a certain pitch, like waiting for the right moment. There’s risk involved. You could let something good pass you by. But if you’ve read the game right, it could mean the difference between a win and a loss.”

“I’m glad you don’t want me to chuck a ball at your butt,” she murmured.

He shrugged. “I mean, if you’re into that.”

“Stop,” she said, swatting his chest. She studied him. “I wish you would have told me how you felt after I woke up in the hospital.”

The mischievous glint in his eyes disappeared. “I probably should have. But I didn’t want to scare you, and I knew I needed to keep you close. All I could focus on was being the best version of myself and finding a way to prove that I’m the kind of man who deserves you.”

His words almost knocked the breath clean out of her. “You feel that strongly for me?”

“I do.”

“But what if I have someone in my pre-amnesia life? I don’t think I’m married. I didn’t wake up wearing a ring. But what if I’m dating someone? What if I’m in love with someone who I can’t remember?”

Color rose to his cheeks. “If you are, he’s not worthy of you,” he growled, his possessive, resolute tone sending a titillating tingle down her spine.

“How do you know that?”

His expression tightened. “He’s not looking for you.”

She flinched.

He tipped up her chin. “I didn’t say that to hurt you. I said it because, if you were mine, I wouldn’t let seven days go by without knowing you were safe. Hell, I wouldn’t let seven minutes go by. I would move heaven and earth to protect you, to make you smile, to see you blush that sweet shade of pink that I cannot get out of my head. And now you’re here with me, and I have a chance to win your heart. I promise you—I won’t waste a second of it worrying about someone who doesn’t measure up.”

Her pulse quickened under the heat of his gaze, everything else fading away. “How does this even work? How do we work? We don’t know who I am?”

A gentle calm washed over him. “That’s the best part, TBD. It’s like I said before, we make the rules.”

She looked down, her voice barely a whisper. “But I still want to know who I am. It might not be pretty. It might get complicated.”

He lifted her chin, gently forcing her to hold his gaze. “We’ll figure it out.”

“It could be really bad, Christian.” Her voice cracked, fear seeping through.

He broke out the boyish half-grin. “Why couldn’t it be really good? Why couldn’t we trust that every sign got us here and believe you were supposed to be with me? And even if it does get complicated, scary, or confusing, every storm passes.”

Every storm passes.

The words resonated deep within her.

“But what if we learn something big stands in the way? What if the storm can’t pass?” Her heart raced, and those gnawing thoughts threatened to take over again. “I understand believing in signs and trusting your gut. But how can you be so sure? What about?—”

He pressed his finger to her lips. “I’m going to stop you right there and kiss you.”

“What?” she stammered.

“I’ll kiss you and we’ll see how it feels.”

This was getting very real.

“I don’t have any memory of ever being kissed. I might not even know how to kiss. What if I’m a runaway nun?” She bit her lip, a nervous laugh escaping.

“I doubt runaway nuns wear lacy bras and panties—and that little jean skirt and those hot as hell boots. If you’re a nun, nuns have gotten way sexier since I last encountered one.”

He was trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn’t let go, not yet.

“You seem so invested. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me. And by the way, TBD, you’ve just upped the bar for this kiss. If it has the potential to be your first kiss, it’s my duty to make it memorable.”

“Do you think you can do that?” she whispered, her heart pounding.

“Is that a challenge?” he purred.

And heaven help her. That voice. Her body hummed, alive with an undeniable need to have this man’s lips pressed to hers.

Casting aside her doubts and fears, she clutched the towel wrapped around his shoulders and let her gaze wander over him, savoring every detail. This man—this beautiful man—wanted her. And he wasn’t playing games—at least, it didn’t feel like it. And that notion, that intense clarity, while certainly surprising, felt new, like perhaps even Pre-Amnesia Maggie hadn’t experienced such a display of affection. A quiet certainty set in alongside a bubbly breathlessness, like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at a sparkling lake below, and wondering if you’ll leap or back away.

She lifted her chin. She wouldn’t let her fears take over.

And she knew exactly what to say.

She tugged on the towel around Christian’s neck and brought him closer, asserting her power. “What are you waiting for, Number Eleven? Are you going to sit on the pitch or swing?”

The glint in his eyes darkened as his gaze grew positively carnal. “Don’t you worry, TBD. I’m a master at knowing when to swing, and I’ve been thinking about kissing those perfect lips of yours for months. I’ve got a plan, and I’m prepared to execute it.”

She offered him a sly grin. “You always seem prepared.”

“And I will succeed,” he continued, laser focused.

The air crackled, drawing them together. And heaven help her. The man’s intensity nearly set her aflame.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice a low, commanding rasp.

Like the good girl she might be, she did as she was told.

He held her face in his hands, and tenderly, so, so tenderly, he drew the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips.

Sweet Lord above, she loved when he took control.

She exhaled a shaky breath, her mind barely able to process the sensation of being adored. With maddeningly gentle pressure, he pressed the whisper of a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her breath hitched as he removed the towel from around her shoulders. It fell to the ground, pooling at her feet. Her wet locks dripped on her arms as he forged a trail of kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. He stilled, then gently bit her shoulder.

“That’s…wow,” she breathed as he licked the droplets of water from her skin. A move that was both erotic and gentle.

“I’m still wet from the pool,” she murmured, her hand clumsily bumping the stove dials as she searched for something to steady herself. He hadn’t even officially kissed her, and her knees were already threatening to give out.

“You’re about to get even wetter. Can I touch you here?” he asked, tracing the band of her panties.

“Yes,” she whispered, her core pulsing as the air electrified.

He nipped at her neck. “And fair warning…”

“Uh-huh,” she said on the cusp of losing the ability to string words together.

“I used to be the king of hard and fast on the diamond. I was a power hitter, and I could steal a base like a thief in the night. But that’s not how our first kiss is going down.”

“It’s not?” she replied, gasping as he grazed his teeth against her neck.

“I’m going to savor every second.” He slipped his hand into her panties and cupped her most sensitive place. “We’re going to slow it down.” He massaged her in precise circles with the same deliberate, perfect pressure he’d used when he made the motion on her hand and her back. Rhythmic and firm, like he could read her mind and anticipate her every desire.

She trembled. The buildup to this first kiss alone might be the death of her. “Christian?” she managed.

“Yes.”

“I need you to kiss me,” she pleaded, mustering the last of her brain power to form a complete sentence.

He smiled against the corner of her mouth as he continued working her with his hand. “That’s exactly what you say when I fantasize about devouring your perfect mouth. And sweet Christ, Maggie, I want to give you everything.”

What could a girl say to that?

Nothing—literally nothing. Between his touch and his voice, she was near delirious. She parted her lips and moaned a low, sensual sound.

“There’s the pitch,” he whispered.

Heat pulsing between them, he claimed her mouth. But this first kiss wasn’t demanding or overwhelming. He savored her, moving slowly, building, tasting, indulging with each unhurried roll of his tongue. He worshipped her mouth and worked her sweet bud, easing into a groove. She’d only known him for a handful of hours, but it was as if her soul had already intertwined with his. And this bond felt both profoundly timeless and thrillingly new.

Her core pulsed, tightening, pleasure mounting. She traced her fingertips down his hard, wet torso, exploring every sculpted ridge. No longer able to form a coherent thought, she tugged at the towel wrapped around his waist and let it slip free.

“Maggie,” he said against her lips, then deepened the kiss and quickened the tempo. He curled one finger and slipped it inside her hot, wet center, massaging her, teasing her.

The man was delivering a first kiss with a side of orgasm—like a slice of pie with a trailer truckload of whipped cream.

Maybe she had died when she’d hit her head, and this was heaven.

She rocked her hips, riding his hand with reckless abandon, done debating whether she was of this world or not. A fire burned inside her, accelerating, growing, consuming. “Don’t stop. It’s so good,” she moaned, a sultry mix of yearning and lust lacing her breathy words.

“I’ll never stop. You’re glorious, Maggie—the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Take it. Take every drop of pleasure and make it yours. It’s all yours. I’m yours,” he growled against her lips.

His words and the dizzying tempo tipped her over the edge. Her release washed over her in decadent waves. Ripple after ripple, pleasure coursed through her. With her lips parted, she opened her eyes and locked onto his gaze, and a sharp clarity flooded her mind.

She belonged with him, and she belonged to him.

What they had transcended time and space like he was imprinted on her heart, and she was embedded in his soul.

He kept her in a state of carnal rapture, using his hand to keep her roiling in the waves of ecstasy. She swayed and writhed, taking, feeling, grinding against him. And just when she was sure her spirit was on the brink of departing her body, he slowed, easing her back. Her limbs lightened like a feather drifting to the ground. She loosened her grip on the stove and collapsed into his arms.

He kissed the crown of her head. “You are spectacular, TBD.”

She pulled back a bit. “Yeah?”

“Hell, yes.”

She leaned against the refrigerator door and peered up at him. “I felt it—that bond. It was there like an invisible thread connecting us.”

He gathered her into his arms and held her close. “Now you know how I’ve felt from the moment I saw you, and why I was fucking terrified you wouldn’t wake up from the coma. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

She couldn’t help but smile up at him, tears welling in her eyes. Even without her memories, she felt an overwhelming sense of having missed this sort of affection—the certainty of being protected. In his embrace, she was safe. She exhaled a shaky breath as a tear trailed down her cheek.

“What is it?” he asked, brushing the tear away with his thumb.

“I’m really happy,” she whispered.

“Your happiness means everything to me, and…” He watched her, and the corners of his mouth curled upward. “It also appears I’ve found my new calling in life.”

“And what’s that?”

“Making you come on my hand as much and as often as possible.”

Oh, this naughty man.

She rested her forehead on his chest. “Sounds like a plan. Lucky for you, you don’t seem to have much else on your plate,” she teased.

“That’s true,” he said through a chuckle, his hard body vibrating with amusement.

And talk about hard. His rock-hard cock pressed against her, sparking an idea that was sure to settle the bad girl good girl question.

She lowered to her knees. “Perhaps I need a new calling, too,” she said, holding his gaze as she peeled his damp boxer briefs down his long, muscled legs. “Maybe Pre-Amnesia Maggie wasn’t a professional wrestler. She could have been a…” She winced, feeling her cheeks heat.

“You didn’t think that one through, did you, TBD?” he said, biting back a grin as he gazed down at her with so much adoration in his eyes it left her feeling irresistibly alluring.

With a coy grin, she slid down his boxer briefs and tossed them into the air. “I guess we’ll find out.” And holy moly, she’d put some power into the throw. The underwear went up with such force it hit the ceiling, then landed perfectly on the stovetop.

“Easy there, Miss Rocket Arm,” Christian teased, his voice growing husky.

“Maybe I’m a power hitter or…a power sucker .”

Lust and a flicker of surprise glinted in his eyes. “TBD, you are the perfect blend of good girl and bad girl. No, I take that back. You’re fucking perfect the way you are. Period.”

His words ignited a newfound courage within her like she could conquer the world.

She took him in her hands and swirled her tongue around the tip of his hard shaft.

He hissed a sharp inhale and tangled his hand in her hair. “Maggie,” he rasped.

She wrapped her lips around his cock—his thick, beautiful cock—and took him deep, then deeper.

“Fuck, that’s amazing,” he said, gritting out the words.

The bad girl in her seemed to outweigh the good because sweet heaven above, she loved turning this man into a growly, rasping heap of hotness.

Finding a rhythm, their rhythm, she sucked hard, grazing her teeth along his shaft, making sure he felt every curl and caress of her tongue. She worked him with her hand, admiring his velvet cock, glistening with his arousal, then looked up and saw Christian and…fire.

Fire?

She gasped and fell onto her ass.

“Maggie?” Christian said, confusion marring his features.

“Fire!” she exclaimed. “Your boxers—they’re burning! I must’ve turned the burner on during that earth-shattering orgasm.”

“Earth-shattering?” he repeated.

How was he not freaking out?

“Christian, I was giving you a you-know-what, and now there’s a fire, and you’re standing there naked and sexy and with an enormous hard-on.”

“Enormous,” he repeated, that cocky half-grin blooming.

She gestured to his manhood. “Are you not able to think with that thing fully erect? Christian, listen to me. There is a fire!”

He glanced at the smoldering underwear and waved her off. “It’s nothing. There should be a fire extinguisher close by. Turn off the burner. I’ll find it.”

She fiddled with the dial, but the dang thing wouldn’t budge. “I can’t turn off the gas.”

“What?” he said, losing the naked swagger.

She searched desperately for a safe spot to grip so she could remove the boxers from the flames, but she nearly burned her fingers trying to rescue them from the growing inferno.

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

The fire alarm sliced through the silence, jolting Lucky awake. The dog sniffed the air and bolted toward the commotion.

“No, Lucky, stay back,” Christian commanded, frantically rummaging through cabinets for a fire extinguisher.

Billowing smoke thickened, swirling around them as Christian’s boxers smoldered, sending sparks flying. In a desperate panic, she grabbed a nearby towel to smother the flames, but fire hungrily devoured it.

Lucky bounded across the room with frantic energy, leaping up to rest his front paws on a dish rag beneath a precarious stack of loose-leaf paper piled high on the counter next to the stove.

It was like watching a car crash—or fire disaster—in slow motion.

“No!” she cried as the tall tier of papers, aka tinder, fluttered onto the towel and flaming underwear, feeding the fire.

The smoke grew denser.

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

Click!

“Found the fire extinguisher!” Christian yelled, holding it up as another click sounded.

Barely two seconds later, the indoor sprinklers burst to life, unleashing a torrent of ice-cold water.

She shrieked as water doused the room. Lucky jumped, trying to catch the water droplets in his mouth, as Christian, still naked, aimed the extinguisher at the flames. A plume of white foam peppered with streams of water enveloped the stovetop.

The water cut off, and she knelt beside the barking dog as the last drops fell to the ground. “It’s okay, boy. We’re okay.”

Christian opened a window, allowing the smoke and extinguisher fumes to escape. Shivering and dripping, she looked up at him. “This is my fault. I touched the knobs. I must have jammed it. This is bad. I am a bad girl. A very, very, very bad girl.”

“Hey, TBD?” Christian said, lowering to the ground to wrap his arms around her and Lucky.

“Yes?”

“I feel like we handled that well.”

She stared at the cooktop carnage. “What about the damage?”

“I’ll take care of it. My mom’s the mayor. My brother is the town manager. We’ll work it out internally.”

“But the cost.”

“Maggie, I have plenty of money. I own a ranch and a helicopter,” Christian said calmly.

“You own a helicopter?”

“I bought it right after I got injured.”

“Where do you keep it?”

“Behind the big barn,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s inside the big barn?”

“My cars. A few snowmobiles. A plow for the roads.”

“You’re rich, rich,” she eked out, wide-eyed.

“Rich enough to take care of this. We’re okay.”

“But your underwear, that towel, and those papers caught on fire because of me,” she said, her voice cracking with guilt.

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re really living the dream, TBD. We better get you that notebook. Dr. Ironside said to try new things, and just look at you.”

“Arson?” she shot back, incredulity coating the word.

He gave her the sweetest half-shrug. “You’ve got to begin somewhere.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “How have I only known you for five hours?”

“No, it’s not five hours. You’ve been showing up in my dreams for three months.”

She surveyed the room and sighed. “And are you sure you’re not worried about what will happen when people learn we were in here and set the place on fire?”

“Full disclosure. My family will initially freak out, but that’s their default. It’s a big family. Deciding what game to play on game night entails fifteen minutes of debating. But they know what matters. They’ll know I’m okay. I’m not drunk. I’m not disorderly. Fire and water damage can be repaired. And we’ve got an ace up our sleeve.”

“And what’s that?”

“My grandma will get it. She’ll calm everyone down.”

“Why?”

“She’s a strong believer in the town folklore and trusts that fate and destiny will intervene—sometimes in the most surprising ways. She’ll calm everyone down because I know she saw something when she looked at me today. My guess is it confirmed whatever she wrote on McKenzie’s piece of Starrycard Creek wishing wall paper.”

“What could she see?”

“How much you mean to me.”

“She won’t question why we have feelings for each other? What about the rest of your family? We’ll need a better story than me hijacking your dreams and making you fall for me while you were unconscious. We need another plan.”

“That’s easy. When they see us together, they’ll know we complete each other. My family is already half in love with you, and most of them haven’t even seen you conscious. I’ll be my usual charming self. Honestly, you won’t be able to resist me. I’m loaded, devastatingly handsome, and I’ve got an enormous cock. What else could you want?”

“A little humility?” she teased.

“How about this,” he said, helping her to her feet, his gaze softening. “I want to be the reason you never stop smiling. I want to learn everything about you. Let’s get that notebook and fill it up with everything we want to do together. We’ll tell my family that I’m helping you unlock your memories while you’re working for me and keeping me accountable with my PT and mobility exercises. Nobody will be surprised when we decide it’s the right time to tell them how we feel about each other. Here’s the thing,” he paused, his eyes locking onto hers, “William Starrycard fell ass over elbow in love with Fiona Donnelly the moment he saw her.”

“Love at first sight,” she said, her voice soft with wonder.

He brushed his fingers gently against her cheek. “Yes, that’s it. I just happened to meet you in my dreams when I fell in love with you.”

“Love?” she whispered.

“What else could it be, Maggie? Love at first sight runs in my family,” he said, his voice filled with certainty and warmth.

A wave of emotion washed over her. Tears welled in her eyes. “Maybe it runs in mine, too.” She gazed down and squeezed the skin on her forearm.

He furrowed his brow, leaning in closer. “What are you doing?”

“Pinching myself because I feel like I’m the one who’s dreaming now.”

“You’re not dreaming. This is as real as it gets, and so is my love for you.”

All she could do was smile. She looked him up and down and couldn’t help but stare at his very erect cock. “You know you’re still naked, and you’re…”

“Oh, this?” he said casually, glancing at his manhood. “It’s hard not to be turned on when I’m staring at my dream girl, and you did call my cock enormous. So, he’s kind of reveling in the vibe.”

This man.

She shook her head and felt her cheeks heat.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low rasp.

“That’s what?”

“You’re blushing.”

“Of course, I’m blushing. You called me out—for the second time—for calling your penis…”

“Enormous,” he supplied, stupidly sexy, half-smile in place. He glanced around the room. “You spend your life in a locker room, you get used to letting it all hang out. Hold on.” He strode across the room, pulled a rainbow-colored crocheted blanket from a cupboard, and wrapped it around his waist. “Better?”

She was speechless, captivated by the intensity in his eyes—eyes that held unwavering certainty about her, about their connection, about his love for her.

Love.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed the corner of her mouth. “These pink cheeks are going to ruin me.”

“Speaking of ruin. Ruin seems to be my thing. I appear to love setting underwear on fire and getting off while standing. I know you think I’m a little bit good and a little bit bad, but I’d venture to say that I’m part of Team Bad Girl after tonight.”

Mischief danced in his eyes. “Why don’t we head home and find out just how bad of a bad girl you really are.”

Home? Could this place be her home? A gal could certainly do worse than shacking up with a rich and handsome former athlete who dished out orgasms and looked at her like she was the answer to his prayers. And he loved her. Sure, he believed he’d fallen in love with her in his dreams, but the doctor did encourage her to explore new interests. Activities that involved her body writhing with pleasure seemed like an excellent place to start.

She parted her lips, ready to tell him that’s exactly what she wanted, when the distant wail of sirens pierced the air, growing louder and more urgent by the second. Lucky barked and whimpered as the sound grew near deafening.

“Is that what I think it is?” she whispered, her voice tinged with alarm.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, wrapping his arm around her as a thunderous crash reverberated through the building, followed by a sharp crack and clatter of glass shattering.

“This is the Creek County Sheriff’s Department! Come out with your hands up!”