59. Garrison

Chapter 59

Garrison

L ucas Security is closed.

But not forever. We all love what we do too much to give it up.

But we're closed until we re-order our priorities.

Standing in the gym doorway and watching Vaughn and Blaine sparring again made me realize our priorities shifted over the years. Resa's absence has opened my eyes in a monumental way.

I made my business more important than my life. Which is ironic, given the person who saved my life is who I named my business after.

"We starting on the computer room tomorrow?" Vaughn asks, yawning. "Cause, I'd kind of prefer it if we left it the way it is."

Every time I step foot into the computer room, I get hit by memories of Resa hunched over at the computer, determined to find Dexter Pieter.

"No," I decide. "We'll leave it the way it is."

Just in case she comes back and wants to use it again.

Those few minutes on the park bench with Resa was a slice of heaven. I spent more time trying not to stare at Resa, accidentally hitting a swan in the head with a seed. Not my finest moment, but Resa was sitting next to me. Her scent was teasing my nose, and she was giving me all the hallmarks that she wanted me to stay.

Luckily, she didn't notice my attack on the swan. I'd like to think it was because she was trying just as hard not to stare at me.

"We could stop by Resa's house," Vaughn casually suggests.

I shoot Vaughn a warning look. "Resa needs time to figure out what she wants. She can't do that with us breathing down the back of her neck. Frost and Roman are watching over her while we get things ready for her."

If she comes back.

I fucking hope she comes back.

Meanwhile, Lucas Security headquarters is shrinking. Our home, however, is growing.

This morning, the room we're standing in was a meeting room. It's on its way to being a home theater. We've painted the walls a deep midnight blue. We have drapes arriving tomorrow, marshmallow like couches Vaughn found online, and we'll be setting up a projector. Maybe even getting a popcorn maker.

Vaughn puts his paintbrush down on the tray beside the empty tin of paint. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind if?—"

"Vaughn." I set down my roller. "I know you miss her. I miss her too. But she needs to choose us ."

"And if she doesn't?" Blaine says, finishing up painting the white trim. He's still in turtlenecks, and as far as I know, he hasn't made an appointment for his annual checkup. But a step forward is a step forward, and sparring with Vaughn is a monumental step in the right direction.

He's doing better. Not great. But I've stopped counting down to initiating an intervention.

"Then that will be her choice to make. And it's one will have to learn to accept." Vaughn opens his mouth, probably to argue, and I level a hard look at him. "Or we bulldoze over her wants and prove to her we are just as controlling as the alphas who spent the last two years abusing her."

He snaps his mouth shut, his expression falling.

He's always worn his heart on his sleeve, and had it bruised and battered more times than I would ever want to see, but that's Vaughn.

I squeeze his shoulder, softening my voice. "You care, and she knows that. But we have to let her come to us. We choose her. She has to choose us."

She might not and we will have to accept that being with her parents, even though her fiancé has moved on, is a life preferable to one with us.

I blink and Resa is on her knees beside my armchair in a pretty blue linen dress with one sleeve sliding down.

She's smiling, and I feel an answering smile lift the corners of my lips.

There is nothing about this woman I would change. She's perfect. Utterly perfect. Her lush rosy lips tempt me to lean in for a kiss. I fight the urge. For now.

"You are so beautiful," I say, delaying the kiss that will end this dream. "I don't think I will ever get used to how much."

Her face softens in response and she blushes. "You're just saying that because I'm your scent match."

"I'm saying that because it's true." I stretch a hand toward her, taking my time stroking her satiny skin. If this was real, she would retreat from my extended caress. She trusts me now, likes me, and is on the way to loving me, but alphas hurt her, and if I tried to touch her like this in anything other than my dream, she would pull away.

She leans into my caress with a soft sigh of pleasure. "That feels good."

It's further confirmation that I'm dreaming this, even if I don't recall falling asleep in my armchair.

Blaine predicted it before he and Vaughn went up to bed. After hours of painting, I should have known I'd fall asleep before I could make much progress on my puzzle. That's okay. As far as dreams go, this is the one I wish I would fall into every time I close my eyes.

"I thought you'd be further along with your puzzle," Resa says, nodding at the table beside my chair.

"I'm waiting for you to come back before I finish it."

Her smile fades as she places her hands on the side of my armchair and heaves herself to her feet. "I'm here now."

I cock my head, curious as she moves closer. Her eyes dart to my mouth and arousal punches low in my gut. I run my hand up her warm bare arm, pushing up the thin straps of her dress instead of pulling it down like I want to. "You are. But not the way I wish you were."

Her brow wrinkles. "I don't understand."

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter."

I'll pull her into my lap, kiss her, and she'll fade away. And like all the other times I've dreamed of her, I'll wake up with puzzle pieces on the floor, a stiff neck, and alone.

Those are the times I feel the most lonely.

"That night…" Her voice trails off as I slowly urge her into my lap with a soft tug on her slim wrist.

She feels different tonight. More solid. More… real than any dream so far, and I'm desperate to hold on to her for as long as she's here.

"What night?" I skim my fingers up her back, and she breathes out a soft sound that makes me instantly rock hard.

Light from the flames dance over her warm, olive skin, and her eyes are bright, holding mine as she leans toward me. "I ran away because of how you made me feel."

I stop skimming my finger along her spine. This dream isn't going the way they usually go. There's more talking. I will never tire of the sound of Resa's husky voice, but there's a growing sense that things are building up to something new.

"Tell me."

The soft, rounded curve of her ass sinks on my stiff cock. Not the way I want—or need it too—but I don't have dreams like that of Resa. At least not until now. Now, I ache to shove her skirt up, yank my pants down and take her to the floor.

I start wishing this dream never ends.

"Resa?"

Her warm breath brushes my lips as I bury my hand in the silken fall of her hair. "Sometimes I dream of you."

She kisses me. Her lips are soft, her kiss firm, and she tastes like sweetness and potent need.

I groan, inhaling the sweet peach scent of her skin, as I kiss her back. And I count down the seconds until she evaporates in my arms and I wake up alone to a dead fireplace.

But the dream doesn't end. It continues with the brush of her tongue against mine, and her fingers trailing fire along my jaw. It goes on, and on, and on.

I drag her deeper into my lap. Maybe I can keep her in my arms forever.

She pulls away with a yelp. I slam my eyes closed, squeezing them tightly shut so I don't have to watch her disappear right in front of me.

I wait for a count of two.

She's usually gone by now, so why do I still feel her in my lap?

I blink my eyes open.

Resa is in the same blue linen dress, forehead wrinkled as she rubs the arch of her bare right foot, muttering, "Stupid puzzle."

She is still here.

"This isn't a dream," I whisper, stunned.

Happiness rises like a bubbling brook, slow at first but with increasing force.

If Resa is here, smiling at me the way she just was— kissing me the way she just did—it can only mean one thing.

She's here to stay.

Her new smile is impish. "Was it me stepping on a puzzle that ruined it?"