Chapter Eighteen

SIMON

“Want me to make us some lunch?” Magnolia asks as we turn down my long driveway. “It’s only f-fair since you made breakfast.”

I throw the truck into park and my stomach grumbles. “Lunch sounds good.”

Magnolia points that pretty smile of hers my way, and I swear to God, my blood runs faster through my veins. It’s almost scary how much I’ve come to love this woman, how easily I can see a future with her.

Inside, Magnolia gets straight to work, pulling out a head of lettuce and other fresh produce. I watch almost in awe as she navigates my kitchen as if it’s her own, which really, it is if I have my way and can convince her to move to my bedroom from the guest room—but one thing at a time.

“Mags, I’m gonna run and check the mail. I never got around to checking it yesterday.”

“Okay. Lunch should be ready by the time you’re back.”

I step over to her and press a lingering kiss to her plump, lickable lips before turning and walking out the front door.

Usually I make sure to grab the mail when I turn down the driveway on my way home, since it is fairly long, but the weather is mild today, so I decide to walk to the mailbox and back.

A few moments later, I’m flipping open the lid and collecting several letters—bills and junk mostly—and a few catalogs into my hands. In the distance, I hear a vehicle accelerating.

The sound of the racing engine grows louder and louder. I close the lid on the mailbox and look up just in time to see a sleek, black luxury sedan careening toward me. I throw myself back and down, toward the ditch that separates my property from the road, and praise fucking God, the car misses me. My mailbox, however, is not so lucky. The post is splintered right down the middle, as if lightning struck it, and the box itself lands in the ditch next to me.

The car was undeterred by the hit and kept right on going, not even fucking bothering to check to see if I was okay. Unfortunately, everything happened so quickly, I wasn’t able to get the make and model or tag. “FUCK!” I shout, my voice echoing.

In all the commotion, I didn’t see Cash’s truck idling at the end of their driveway. By the time I notice them, he and Myla Rose are both already out of the truck and running over. Judging from the looks on their faces, they must’ve seen the whole thing.

Myla Rose kneels at the edge of the ditch, in full mama-bear mode. “Oh. My. God. Sim! Are you okay?”

Cash is hot on her heels, baby Brody cradled in his arms. He passes him to Myla and quickly hops down into the ditch next to me, where he helps me gather up the mail I dropped. Once it’s all collected, we hike ourselves up and out. “What the hell just happened?” he asks.

“No fucking clue. I heard the engine revving, and when I looked up, they were on me.” I shake my head, disgusted with myself for not being able to get any details about the car other than its color.

“I’d have gone after ’em if Myles and Brody weren’t in the truck.”

“I know you would have. Dammit, I wish I’d have gotten a better look at it.”

“It was an Audi, an A4 I think,” Myla Rose says, holding Brody closer to her chest, pressing a kiss to his head.

Cash reaches out and strokes her cheek then ruffles Brody’s auburn curls that are so much like his mother’s. “Damn, darlin’. Did you see anything else?”

Myla Rose nods. “I don’t remember the tag number, but I know I saw a palm tree with a moon in the center.”

I turn to stone at her words. I know that tag—it’s a white palmetto tree, and more importantly, a South Carolina license plate. “Motherfucker!” I yell, kicking at the ground.

Brody startles at my loud tone and begins crying in his mother’s arms. Any other time she’d have my ass for scaring her son and using such foul language in front of him, but today she seems to be giving me a pass. Instead of lighting into me, she begins murmuring in his ear and bouncing him lightly.

I stare at the two of them, wondering if Magnolia would’ve been the same with her son, had she been given the chance.

The sound of Cash talking breaks me from my dark thoughts. “Hop in the truck and we’ll drive you back up to the house.”

“Thanks,” I say as I climb up into the back seat. Myla Rose comes around and opens the other door, securing Brody in his car seat.

“Hey, little man,” I coo, reaching across the middle seat to him. He instantly grips my index finger with his tiny, pudgy ones, squeezing with all his might—he’s shockingly strong for six months old. He tries to pull my finger into his mouth, but my arm’s not long enough. “You tryin’ to eat me, B?”

“Sorry,” Myla Rose says, glancing at me from the front seat. “He’s teething like crazy and will gnaw on anything he can get into his mouth.” She laughs to herself before continuing. “Just the other day, I found him slobbering on a Milk-Bone.”

“What in the hell’s a Milk-Bone?”

I catch sight of Cash’s smirking grin in the rearview mirror. “It’s a dog treat, dude.”

“Oh, thank God. Wait…y’all have a dog?” I ask, wondering when that happened.

“No,” Cash says at the exact same time Myla Rose says, “Not yet!”

At that, I laugh. “Good luck, Cash. Thanks for the ride back to the house. Y’all wanna stick around?”

“Nah, we gotta get going, but give the police our info.”

“Will do. Y’all be safe.”

Mail in hand, I make my way back into the house, dreading breaking the bad news to Magnolia.

“You g-get lost?” she calls out when I shut the front door behind me.

“No.” I lay the mail on the front table and walk over to her. “We gotta talk, Goldilocks, and you’re not gonna like what I have to say.” Magnolia stares at me with fear in her eyes, mute and unmoving. “C’mon, let’s go sit.”

I lower us both down into my recliner, wanting to keep her close for this conversation. “What’s going on, Simon? You’re sc-scaring me.”

“Gotta ask you something: what did Grant drive?”

Magnolia’s entire body tenses at my question. Her breathing is labored and choppy, the fear snaking through her veins fucking palpable. I swear, if I ever meet that man…I. Will. Kill. Him.

“An Audi,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Had a feelin’ that was what you were gonna say. Let me guess…black?”

She nods her head up and down. “Why?”

“You were right, pretty girl. He’s here.”

She sucks in a sharp breath and immediately begins hyperventilating. I feel so fucking helpless, watching as the woman I love breaks down right before my very eyes. “Hey,” I whisper in her ear, smoothing her matted hair back from her tear-soaked cheek. “I won’t let him or anyone else hurt you. You’re mine now, and I take care of what’s mine. I’ll keep you safe, always.”

I murmur different variations of the same words until her breathing regulates and her sobs stop. Finally, she looks up at me, her eyes rimmed with red and bloodshot. “Y-you s-s-saw him?”

I debate whether or not to tell her he tried to run me over, but Magnolia and I have built our relationship on honesty and respect, and I’m not gonna stop now. She deserves the truth. “He tried to run me down out by the mailbox. Missed me, destroyed the box, and kept going. Cash and Myla saw it all.”

Like turning on a faucet, Magnolia’s tears start back up and she clings to me, sobbing into the fabric of my shirt. “I’m so s-sorry. So sorry.” Suddenly, she jumps up from my lap and takes off down the hallway. I dash after her, hot on her heels.

“What in the hell are you doing?” I demand when I see her shoving her meager belongings into her duffle bag.

“I-if I’m n-not here, he w-won’t hurt you.”

I watch in disbelief as she struggles to zip the bag, her shaking hands continually jamming the closure. Is this real? Does she really think leaving me is the answer? I can’t keep her safe if she’s not with me.

Panic starts to build and bubble in my chest, its claw gripping my heart and squeezing. “Magnolia.” I’m across the room and to her in seconds, pulling her hands away from the zipper and wrapping her in my arms. “Baby, you can’t leave.”

She nods her head fervently. “I h-have to. I love you so m-much, Simon. I’ll n-never forgive m-myself if anything h-happens to you.” Her words are rushed and choppy, much like my breathing. The thought of her leaving has me spiraling into an abyss.

“Mags…Goldilocks—listen to me, please?” My voice breaks with raw emotion. Maybe that makes me weak—my need for her—but I don’t give a fuck. I have to make her understand. “You’re safer with me. I can protect you from him, and together, we can take his ass down.”

My heart hammers in my chest as I wait for her reply, the silence seeming to stretch out into an eternity. Each second feels like ten minutes, every minute an hour. When she finally replies, the claws around my heart loosen their grip, and I can breathe again. “Okay. H-how?”