Page 23 of Triple Protection

"I get you and Brick dying alone, but who's to say I'm not going to find someone and settle down?"

He gives me an incredulous look, as if I've said something ridiculous. "You'll find someone, and then another someone, and then another. Unless your future wife likes to share..." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "Plus, we all know why you get around." Ouch. I'm not sure when it happened, or if I was always like this, but I flirt and play and sleep with women, but don't date. I'm not sure if our crash affected me, or everything Alex has been through with women, or just being a coward in general, but the idea of settling down with someone scares me on a visceral level. Letting someone in, letting someone see the real me, and opening myself up to the fact that they may not like what they find. It's a little too real for me. I don't do deep. I keep things fun and casual and prefer it that way.

Maybe I am a coward. Afraid of getting hurt so I don't open myself up at all? Plus, with our jobs, dating's impossible. Butthe thought of being alone at the end scares me too. I imagine myself with a wife eventually, and a couple of kids. But how do I get there from here when I can't even take a girl out on a second date?

I rub the back of my neck as I try to work out that conundrum.

I look up at Angela, who's holding Emma as they swim in circles, giggling when a dolphin pops up next to them. They both run their hands over the dolphin's muzzle, and I swear the dolphin looks just as happy as the girls do. Angela catches me staring at her and the smile she gives me takes my breath away. She's easily the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, both inside and out.

I let myself imagine, for a moment, what a future with someone like that would be like. Not Angela, specifically, but someone like her. I imagine the domestic life. Cooking and doing dishes together, vacations to the beach, hauling umbrellas and folding chairs. I imagine kids' birthday parties, backyard BBQs with Grumpy and Bashful there too, of course. I imagine PTA meetings, changing diapers, packing a car to send our kid off to college. I imagine someone who knows me so intimately she can read my mind, anticipate my needs. I imagine waking up next to someone warm and soft and beautiful. I imagine kissing her goodnight every night. I imagine our wedding night, and her belly swollen with our children. I imagine the sex, how good it would be after learning each other's bodies over the course of years. A part of my chest aches when I think of a future like that.

Okay. Let's reverse engineer that. First, I have to meet someone. I'll run into her at the grocery store or going for a run. I'll ask her for her number and take her out on a date. An actual date. And not fuck her. I'll take her out on several dates before I fuck her. Shit, is that how relationships work? At what point does it become more? At what point would we move in together? Into the condo I'm never at? How would a woman even workwith my career? She'd never sit around, alone, for months at a time when she could be someone else's entire priority. That's an ask too far for any woman. And would I be worth waiting around for?

Shit. I might have to seriously consider a career change if I want a future with a woman in it. How would I even have that conversation with the boys? Would I really break up the band over some woman? A woman who may or may not end up being the one for me? I imagine Brick and Alex taking on a third that's someone other than me. I hate that thought. I hate the thought of them continuing in this line of work without me. It's always been us, the three of us, since bootcamp.

But that's what's going to have to happen if I have a chance at making it out of that depressing retirement home scenario Alex just painted. And honestly, I want more for him and Brick. I don't know if Alex would ever let another woman in, or if Brick would ever get over his aversion to touch. But fuck if they don't both deserve a little happiness in their lives. A little of the softness, the care, the companionship a woman would bring.

We all do.

Things they're getting right now with Angela. Both boys have warmed up to her, maybe without them knowing. Alex laughs around her, and they've fallen into an easy friendship of ribbing each other and sass-backs. Brick's opened up with her on occasion, too, giving her glimpses and insights into how he works.

Too bad it won't last. After we deal with the stalker, we'll be assigned to a new case. And fuck if I don't hate that too.

Chapter eighteen

Alex

Alex

I wake to a soft feminine sigh. Followed by a yawn and the sound of Princess groaning as she stretches. I never sleep deeply, so I'm not surprised her soft noises wake me. I lean up on my elbow and look around the room, rubbing my aching eyes. Liam's passed out in the bed next to mine like a blonde starfish, snoring softly. Angela and Brick are staying in the adjoining room, but we left the pass-through door open for safety.

Worried, and unable to fall back to sleep, I walk through the open door joining our two rooms to find Brick in the chair in the corner, reading his ereader like usual. However, what is unusual is that Princess is sitting at the table on her laptop, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. She's in a beautiful, likely expensive, pajama set, with one leg bent up to her chest and her chin resting on her knee. Her face is scrubbed clean of makeup and her hair is in a messy bun. She looks cute, almost.

I check the clock between the beds. It reads 3:20 am.

"What are you still doing up? It's 3am." I grumble, my voice lower and more serious than intended.

"Working." She spits the one-word answer at me without even looking at me.

"It's late. There's nothing so pressing in the influencer world it can't wait until tomorrow." I don't know why I care if she stays up all night. She's a grown-ass woman. But it seems dumb to me to be protecting her from a stalker when she's not even protecting herself; taking care of herself.

With a heavy sigh, she turns the computer towards me. I don't know what I'm looking at at first, but slowly I gather it's a direct message with a fan. Who the fuck cares?

"Read it." She commands, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. I read a bit of the conversation. It seems a young girl who follows Princess is reaching out for help. The in-person and online bullying has come to a head, and she's contemplating hurting herself. I swallow a lump of fear. Fear for this little girl and fear for the woman in front of me, who bears the responsibility of not letting this little girl down.

Angela nods when she sees the look of realization on my face. "Who am I to go to bed and leave this girl to the shitty adults in her life who allow this to happen?" I don't answer. She sighs, misinterpreting my silence. "I know you think what I do is dumb. And maybe it is, but if I can talk to one person," her eyes begin to tear up and she sniffs, running the back of her hand under her nose. "If I can make one person's day a little bit brighter... if I can help this girl not feel so alone in the world? Well, isn't that worth something?"

I feel like an asshole. I've taken one look at her, her beautiful, if not sad, face, her gorgeous body, her honey blonde hair and assumed she was shallow. Add on my previous distaste for women in general, and women in the spotlight more and I assumed she was exactly the same as them. I had pigeonholedwomen in a tidy little box of Botox, selfies and narcissism. Angela's none of those things. The more time I spend with her, the more time I realize I'm growing very fond of her.

She's funny, intelligent, incredibly hardworking and caring. She doesn't own this one teenaged girl anything, but she's sacrificing hours of sleep and her own mental health to support this virtual stranger. I had overhead her and Liam talking about her upbringing, and how being in the shadow of her father and siblings had given her a lonely childhood. I overhead how that lonely child first reached out to strangers on the internet for connection and that eventually led to a career. Now, a lonely girl is reaching out to a stranger on the internet and my girl's there for her. A sense of pride replaces my guilt. Wait,my girl? When the fuck had I started thinking about her asmy girl?

"Remember Bobby Shanholtzer?"

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I shake my head, unable to place it.

"After taking my virginity, he spread rumors about me all through the school. Said I was easy but gave shitty head. I was bullied relentlessly. I was her." She says, defeated, pointing to her screen.

Shit, she's full on crying now. I look at Brick in a panic. He lowers his ereader, a deep frown on his face, and is watching us intently. He makes a motion towards her with his head in a 'you break it, you buy it' way. Ugh. I am in no way equipped to handle her emotions. Her tears make me feel panicky inside. I want them to stop desperately, but I don't have the first clue on what to do or say.