Trigger's Light - Carol Dawn Page 0,9

laugh. The only thing that would make this experience better is if I didn’t have the helmet on and could feel the wind blowing through my hair.

The ride comes to an end much sooner than I wanted. As he pulls into the driveway of my small house, I commit to memory every second of the ride home. The feeling of flying. The feeling of falling when we went around curves but knowing I was completely safe. The feeling of Trigger’s body against mine.

“Give me your key,” Tigger demands, interrupting my moment.

I manage to get off the bike without making a huge fool of myself. I remove the helmet and hand it to Trigger.

Walking over to my garden, I grab the fake rock and remove the key from the hidden center.

“Here you go,” I say, handing the key to Trigger.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he grumbles. “You keep your key in a rock?”

I’m surprised at his anger and lower my head.

“I have a really bad habit of forgetting things,” I admit. “I was always losing my key or forgetting it inside and locking myself out. This seemed like the best option.”

With a shake of his head, Trigger walks to my door and unlocks it.

“You don’t have a deadbolt,” he says.

“Uhm, no,” I agree. “My landlady said that I couldn’t put a hole in the door to add one. She also didn’t think there was a need to have someone come and do it for me because there’s never any crime around here.”

“There’s plenty of crime, little one. It simply gets stopped before it reaches the authorities' ears.”

“Oh,” I say. Because what else do I say to that?

Trigger opens the door and takes a look around the immediate area.

“Come inside and stand by the door,” he says, walking inside. I follow him, and he shuts the door behind us. “Don’t move from this spot until I return.”

He walks away, turning on lights as he goes.

Well, okay then.

I stand by the door, like he demanded, and wait. It doesn’t take him long to search my house. It has two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen. The perfect size for me and little Brendon.

Trigger makes my house feel smaller than it is. Not just because of his size but because his presence takes up enough room to drown out everything else.

I don’t hate it. In fact, I’ve always craved a man like that. Someone who can take charge and make decisions when I can’t seem to.

Which seems like all the time these days.

“The house is clear,” he says, gently shoving me aside so he can reach the door. “I’m going to check outside.”

He’s out the door before my next blink.

I don’t know what to make of this man. I feel like I should be aggravated. He’s insulted me, knowingly or not, he’s dismissed me, and I feel like I’m being a huge burden to him.

I should hate him, right?

But I don’t.

For some crazy reason, I feel safe for the first time since I was a child.

Adulthood sucks. I can barely adult myself, and here I am, fighting for custody of a newborn baby. I don’t feel like I would be a good mom because I can barely take care of myself.

But I know my sister would not want her son to be raised by that man. And she would haunt me if I allowed Brendon to become a child of the system.

Embracing adulthood is my only option. I would do absolutely anything for that little baby.

“It’s all good,” he says, walking back inside. “You really need to get a deadbolt on this door. And stop hiding your key in the fucking garden.”

“I’m telling you,” I say. “If I carry it with me, I will lose it.”

With a shake of his head, he walks out the door.

“Shut the door, lock that pathetic lock and get some sleep,” he demands, walking to his bike. “Looks like you could use it.”

He starts his bike and drives off.

See? Insulted. He insulted me. He made demands of me. He was gruff and rude.

I close the door, lock my pathetic lock, and get ready for bed.

And I do it all with a skip to my step and smile on my face.

Chapter Seven

Trigger

I am so fucked.

Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do. Thea looked so vulnerable standing by her door while I searched her house. I was a bastard toward her. I wanted to push her away. She’s too pure, too fucking perfect