Just great. Tank pulled up in his driveway. Father’s motorcycle was still there. His beloved Harley.

His mother, Harley.

His real dad, Father.

How much worse could things get?

And Annie. What would she think when he went in and didn’t speak? He wasn’t mad at her, but he wasn’t ready to talk yet either. God, this was all so messed up.

He turned off his bike then pushed the kickstand down. As much as he didn’t want to walk inside, it was his house after all. The rest of them needed to leave. Except Beauty. Even though he wasn’t ready to speak, he needed her there. Her love provided the only reassurance in the entire clusterfuck of events.

He stomped up the steps, opened the door, and charged over the threshold. Everyone sat around the dining room table, staring at him.

“Tyler, you’re back.” His mother stood.

Holding out his hands, palms up, he said, “Stop. I’m not ready to talk to anyone, okay? Just let me be.”

Father stood. “I’m going to go. Maybe we can talk tomorrow, okay, Tank?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Don’t count on it.”

“Tyler.” Annie rounded the table.

“Not now, babe, okay?”

His words stopped her forward motion.

“Just…not now.” Turning back to his mother, her anxious eyes made his next words almost impossible to speak. “Mom, I think…for tonight, I think it’s best you stay in a hotel.” A look of rejection slashed her face, and his heart bled. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“I understand. Of course.”

Annie held out her hand for his mom. The action cut him deeper than his mother’s hurt expression and swelled his heart equally. The love of his life and his mom cared for each other, but at the same time, he didn’t like the idea of sharing Annie. Beauty should be holding him, embracing him, not the person who hurt him.

But then again, she had just tried to go to him, embrace him, love him, and he had rejected her.

Christ, nothing made sense. Not his feelings, not what he had heard, or what he was seeing. Father—his biological dad. How had he not seen the resemblance before now?

“I can’t…I can’t see you guys right now.” He turned and headed to his bedroom. “I’m really sorry,” he muttered out before he shut the door.

Plopping down on his bed, he kicked off his riding boots, the weight of his day sitting heavy on his shoulders. Exercise. Sweat. That’s what he needed. Needed it now. Standing, he tossed his phone on his dresser and opened the drawer for some workout clothes. The pile of letters stared back at him.

Shit. Could he not catch a break?

He reached inside, grabbed some shorts, and slammed the door shut, the drawer popping back open.

Forget it.

He could not deal with his past right now. He just couldn’t.

* * *

Annie walked Tyler’s parents out of his home and placed her back against the door. How strange to realize all this time, Father and Tyler, actually father and son. How had she missed the resemblance? How had anyone? Granted, Father had the slightest bit of Native American features to him that got lost in the genetics with Tyler, but still. The resemblance was there.

The boom of his stereo vibrated the walls of the cabin as the clanging of his weights slammed the steel holder. She’d never seen him like this, and didn’t have a clue as to what to do. Attempting to put herself in his shoes, she thought about what she would need. A friend.

She glanced around the living room. No phone. Annie sauntered around the house, searching for the device and ended up in the bedroom. Right there, on top of his dresser. When she reached for the cell, his top drawer sat slightly open. The entire right side covered in letters. All from the prison. His dad’s letters.

No. His stepdad’s.

Annie grabbed the phone and scrolled through until she found the number she needed and hit dial.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Steele’s voice asked through the receiver.

“Hey, Steele.”

“Oh, not a man. Hello, there Moonlight. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Tyler needs a friend. There are some things that have happened. I think you need to come over here.”

“Is he all right?”

“Physically? Yeah.” The metallic slap of weights hit the steel bar again. “At least for now.”

“For now?”

She could hear the question in his voice.

“Yeah, okay. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Steele.”

She hung up and clutched a few of the letters in her hands, each one about the same weight as the other. Perhaps the man had written the same thing over and over, hoping for a reply. A reply that never came. Tyler needed to face his past, whether he wanted to or not, and she would be by his side when he did.

* * *

Tank cranked his music louder and did another set of chest presses. He’d alternated between fifteen presses and twenty pushups for seven sets already, focusing on the numbers. If he kept his head occupied with counting, he could ignore the slow ache that burned in the back of his mind, heart, and eyes, and only pay attention to the one burning in his muscles. He pumped out his last set when a loud knock came on the spare room door.

Annie.

God, he’d essentially ignored her since he heard the news. She had to understand.

“It’s open.” He reached for his stereo remote to turn down the noise.

The door slowly opened, but his beautiful girlfriend wasn’t on the other side. Instead, Steele’s goofy-ass grin stared back at him.

“Why are you here?”

He shrugged his leather-clad shoulder. “I don’t know, man. You tell me. Moonlight thinks you might need a friend. From the hard as stone look on your face, and the amount of weights on that bar, I think I agree.”

Tank shook his head. “It’s been a shit day. No, that’s a lie. My morning was good. Damn good. My afternoon’s what’s sucked.”

“Well, I’m here to make your evening better.”

Cocky bastard.

He shook his head again. “No offense man, but I don’t even know if that’s possible. Annie didn’t tell you what all has happened?” He stood and took off a few weights on each side of the chest press bar.

“No. Just said you might need a friend.”

“No offense, dude, but even a friend can’t fix this shit.”

“Might help if you talked about it.”

He stopped midway from the chest press to his weight rack. “Christ, now you sound like him.”

Just when he was trying to clear his mind, not think about his biological father, in walks Steele screwing everything up. What was up with these Guardians and their damn timing?

“Him who?”

“Father. Jack. Shit. I don’t even know what to call him anymore.” Tank racked the weight, turned around, and wailed on his punching bag.

A picture of his stepdad burned in his mind. He’d pounded the leather many-a-nights pretending he pounded the life out of that sick bastard.

“Easy man. What did that bag ever do to you?” Steele stepped across the room and held the sleeve in place. “Here. Go to town, and when you’re done, you can tell me what the hell is going on.”

Tank let out a fresh batch of punches, until his biceps and shoulders burned like his mind and chest.

“It’s everything.” He gave one final blow then wiped the sweat from his eyes with his shirt.

“You ready to talk now?”

“Are you going to leave if I don’t?”

“No.” Steele crossed his arms.

“Hell, fine.” He paced.

Where did he even start? How did he even start?

“You’re not talking.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Thinking’s not talking.”

He gave his friend a cross stare. “You know how Father always calls his bike Harley?”

“Yeah, stupidest name on Earth. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, I asked him why on the trip. Turns out, he met a woman years ago, about twenty-eight to be exact, fell in love with her, slept with her. Turns out, they never told each other their real names.”

“So, it was a one-night stand?”

“Yeah, something like that. Except, that one-night stand produced a son.” Tank tossed a hand to his chest.

“Shit, dude. So, Father is your father?”

“According to my mom, yeah.”

“Now that I know that, I can see it in your eyes. You do sort of favor.”

Damn it with the eyes.

“That’s what that bartender at the restaurant we stopped at along the way to the lake said, too.”

“So, what about your dad? Your other dad, does he know?”

“I don’t keep in contact with him. I have no idea, and I couldn’t give a horse’s shit less about what he knows or thinks.”

“Well, if you don’t keep in contact with your dad that raised you, what’s so wrong about having a dad now?”

A dad.

A dad like Father. Something he wished only a few weeks ago he could have had.

“Nothing’s wrong with it, it’s just that…that I needed a father growing up. Steele, do you know why I want to join the Blue Guardians?”

“I have an idea, but no, not specifically.”

“Because my piece of shit father—the man who I thought was my father—abused me. For a year of my life, he did unspeakable things. Things that no seven-year-old should ever have to go through. If my mother, or even if Jack, had made a better decision, used proper protection, or even as much as told each other their real fucking names, I might have had a better chance. I might have had a dad who gave a shit about me. Not one who tortured me.” Tank plowed his punching bag again and let out a growl of frustration as he fought the stinging that burned the back of his eyes.

“I would have given anything to have a father like Jack in my life. Anything. And what’s so hurtful is…I was supposed to. He was supposed to be my dad.” He slapped his chest before he slammed the bag again until his biceps burned, his muscles feeling as if they would rip apart from the tension. When he couldn’t punch again without feeling as if his knuckles would break, he sank down on the weight bench and slumped his shoulders. His breathing fast and hard.

“I’m sorry, man. I am.” Steele sat beside him and slapped him on the back. “But you can’t change the past. Neither can your mother or Jack. All you can do is move forward. If you hadn’t suffered like you did, then we might not have you as a part of our group. And because of your shitty past, you’ve been an excellent addition to our cause. Think of Annie and Bear.”

“Christ.” He stood. “Do you Guardians have a handbook that y’all pass out and study?”

“No.” Steele raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Father said the same shit. My past has shaped who I am today to help others. Blah. Blah. Blah.”

“He’s a smart man, and he’s right. Yesterday, you thought the same thing about him. Don’t let his mistake ruin a future relationship between you two.”

Father’s mistake.

The mistake that produced him, and gave him life. Despite how shitty the beginning turned out to be.

“I don’t know.” Tank wiped a towel over his cracked and bleeding knuckles. “I need some time.”

“Of course you do. Take it. I know Father. He’s loyal. He’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready to talk.”

Talk.

That’s what everyone wanted to do, while he just wanted it all to go away. But damn it if his friend didn’t have a point. Father had been loyal, and nothing but good the little time that he’d known him. Still, he wasn’t ready to jump onboard the new daddy train. Not yet.

“Yeah.” He slapped his friend on the shoulder. “You’re right. Thanks, man.”

“I know I am. Now, you’ve got a pretty little thing out there.” Steele pointed toward the direction of the living room. “Who is ringing her hands worried sick about you. It might not seem like it now, but you’re pretty lucky. I wouldn’t mind having someone like her on my side.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Squeezing his grasp into the man’s flesh, he gripped Steele’s shoulder harder.

“Jeez, man, ease up.” The firefighter wiggled away. “I would never step on your turf. All I’m saying is don’t screw it up.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

“Good. I’m out of here. You going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, man.”

Steele hugged him and slapped him on the back. “That’s what our group does. Help each other. Put some Vaseline on your hands.” He pointed to Tank’s bleeding knuckles.

“Will do.” He led Steele out to the hallway. Annie sat on the couch, a pile of letters beside her on the end table.

Shit. Can this day get any worse?

She stood. “Is everything okay?”

“It will be.” He reached for her hand.

“What happened?” She glanced at his knuckles.

“Bag won,” Steele said as he opened the front door. “Bye you love birds.” Something crinkled under the firefighter’s feet as he stepped out. “What the heck? Roses?” The man picked up the arrangement. “If this is Father’s way of apologizing, it sure is a girly way to do it.”

Annie’s grip tightened in Tank’s hand. A note stuck to the top of the flowers. “Let me have those.” He took the bouquet.

“Tyler.” Her face whitened, her lips straight.

“I know.” He released her hand and pulled out the card, passing the flowers back to his friend. “Steele, shut the door, will you?”

He stepped back over the threshold and closed the door.

Tank ripped the seal and opened the letter.

 

My Dearest Annie,

I want you back.

Please forgive me.

Love, Duke.

 

It was only a matter of time before their relationship, and where Annie lived was made public, but he wasn’t ready for Duke to know. Not yet. Reading the note, the word love seemed to jump off the page. No way was that man allowed to love Annie. He never did, and he never would.

“He found me.” She placed a hand to her mouth.

“I’ll call the Guardians. We can set up twenty-four hour surveillance.” Steele reached for his phone.

“No.” She held out her hand to stop Steele, and straightened her shoulders. “Don’t. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m going back to work this week. It was only a matter of time before I saw him anyway. He’ll have to come to terms with the fact that we aren’t together anymore.”

“He’s watching you, Annie. He’s watching us.” The corner of the card dug into Tank’s palm. The cop trailing them earlier. Was that how Duke knew she was there?

“Let him watch. He can’t control me anymore or us. He won’t do anything to ruin his campaign. If I go back to work and tell everyone we’re separated, he has no choice but to agree.”

She was underestimating the man. He had underestimated the man, again. Al had barked at the trees. Sure, the dog barked at everything, but he should have checked the woods, secured the area instead of thinking about another way to get her in his bed. Never again. He could not allow his desire for her to muddle his thoughts.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He pulled her into his chest, his tired muscles quivering. From exhaustion or anxiety, he wasn’t sure.

“I know you will.”

She had too much faith in him. Placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he released her. “Let me just walk Steele out.”

Outside, Steele asked, “You worried?”

“Yeah.” Tank scanned the trees.

“You think Annie is making too light of this?”

He glanced back at his friend. “If you’d seen her the night that monster nearly killed her, then you would know she is. She’s scared, but she’s trying to be brave.”

“You can’t out-brave crazy.”

“True. So true. Be safe, man.”

“You, too.” Steele revved his bike and shot down the driveway.

Alfred sat on the front porch, licking his paws. “You’re supposed to protect us, man.” Tank bent to pet his dog behind the ears. “Why didn’t you bark a little while ago when Duke dropped off the flowers, huh?” Annie had been right. Damn dog does bark at everything. But, why not now? A quack sounded in the distance. “Too busy chasing, ducks, huh?” He rubbed Alfred’s belly. “Useless pup.”

It wasn’t his dog’s place to protect them. It was his. And he would. A warm realization washed over him as he ran a hand over Al’s soft fur.

He’d give his life for Annie.

Without a doubt.

Back inside, Beauty sat back on the couch, the pile of letters in her lap. Time to switch gears from one psycho to another.

“You found them, I see. He closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t snooping, they were—”

“In my top drawer, and I left the drawer open. I gather you saw them when you went to call Steele.”

“Yeah.” She bit her bottom lip.

He crossed over to her. “I’ll read them, but not now.” He got down on his knees and took the letters from her grasp.

“I hope you’re okay with me calling Steele. I didn’t think you needed to be alone, and I figured you might want to talk to a friend. Someone other than me.”

While his reality had been shifted, his life wasn’t in danger. Not like hers could be. Her crazy ex was on the hunt for her, and here she sat worried about him. How in the hell did he get so lucky?

“I’ll always want to talk to you babe, but you’re right. I did need a friend. Thank you.” He rubbed his hands on the top of her thighs; the bleeding from his cracked skin ebbed. “But what has me more worried is you. I want to protect you. Tomorrow, we are getting that alarm system installed, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you still set on going back to work?”

“Yes. I can’t let him run my life.”

In his head, he knew Beauty was right. In his heart, he wanted to wrap her in his protective embrace forever and never let her go. Yet, he also knew he couldn’t smother her with his love. Love didn’t abuse, and love didn’t bind unwantedly. He had to let her be free, make her own decisions.

But tonight, he would keep her close.

“I agree, but we have to be smart. He’s dangerous. Tomorrow, the alarm will go in place, but tonight, I’m going to hold you close. I need you, in my arms, safe.”

She pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes. “Make love to me.”

He felt her desires. She needed to put both of their worries aside, if for only just a few moments, and get lost in what they shared.

“I love you, Tyler,” she whispered near his ear.

“I love you, more.” He tapped her nose and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, preparing her for the soft and slow rhythm he wanted their love making to take.

* * *

Tank lay quietly, Annie’s naked body curled next to him on the couch, his hand wrapped protectively around her stomach, while Alfred snored on the floor below.

They’d pleased each other, slow and easy, forgetting their sorrows, their worries, getting lost in the bliss of their connection. When she finally found slumber, he stared at her delicate frame wrapped next to him, determined to stay awake, protect her from harm.

The pile of letters on the end table taunted him, reminding him of his pain, his past all over again. He needed to open one, get the agony over with. Just like ripping a Band-Aid off.

Gently, he released Annie and wiggled his arm out from under her and grabbed the letter on top. Postmarked two months ago. He tore the tab and pulled out the slip of paper. His father’s small print stared back at him.

Dear Tyler,

This will be my one hundredth letter I’ve written to you. By now, I’ve assumed you aren’t reading them, but I will keep writing them, and keep sending them. My parole hearing is in six months, and my prayer is to receive an early release.

I understand this might not be what you would want, but please know, I have asked the Lord for my forgiveness, and I will send a letter every week asking you for yours. I’ve suffered in many ways here in prison, many of the same ways in which I made you suffer. I’m sorry. While I know you may never forget, I pray that you find it in your heart to forgive me.

If you could kindly write a letter back saying you did, I would stop all correspondence with you if that’s what you wish.

Love,

Dad

He crumpled the letter in his hand. Forgiveness. The bastard wanted forgiveness.

As did his mother and his real father.

How could he find it in his heart to forgive them?

Annie shifted in her sleep and kicked his leg with her foot. He stared down at her ankle, her tattoo staring back at him. A tattoo that represented love. Love was his answer, but even still, he found loving them right now hard to do.