Cole: The Wounded Sons, Leah Sharelle [the reading list .TXT] 📗

what movie we would watch. Then later, our time is spent in bed wrapped in one another, making memories that can never be forgotten.

What I secretly loved just as much as being with Cole was the fact his bike was always parked in my driveway, not hidden in the garage, but out there for anyone to drive by and see there. It was a small thing, but to me, it meant that Cole really means to tell his father about us at some stage. And that was why my smile never left my face.

Hearing my phone sound with a text alert, I scrambled to my feet and rushed over to it. Cole and I spoke only an hour ago, he had some duties at the gun shop with Booth for the rest of the day and would be meeting me at the house when he was finished. Snatching my phone up, I saw on the screen a message notification from my boss.

Sorry to annoy you, sweetie, but I need you here to help me choose an image for my next book. The photographer wants to know ASAP and Creed isn’t here.

Shooting off a reply of no worries, be there soon. I yelled to my assistant that I had to leave and she needed to come out front. Gathering up my keys, I decided to leave my bag under the counter in the locked cupboard. I had to come back here anyway to lock up, and usually, this kind of decision was a quick one. Memphis already had in her mind what the characters in her stories looked like. All she needed was a set of eyes to make sure the photographer captured on camera what she explained to him in detail.

Usually, it was Creed that took on that job, but for two covers I had stepped in and made the choice for her. Waving a see ya to my co-worker, I skipped out of the shop, a pep to my step I had not felt for a long while.

“Thank you so much, Oaklee,” Memphis said again, taking hold of my hand walking beside me out of the room.

“No need to thank me, Memphis; getting to look at hot images was my pleasure,” I laughed, leading her down the stairs.

“And we picked the right one, didn’t we? The other one sounded just as good.”

“It was, but his finger placement on her thigh was off; it looked wrong.”

“Yeah, we don’t want bad finger placement on a thigh,” Memphis drawled, then did a shudder as if it was the worst thing in the world.

Your son has perfect finger placement, on my thighs, breasts, inside my pussy. Practically everywhere he touches me.

Holding that comment in my head, I smiled at my silliness as we entered the main room. For early on a weeknight, it wasn’t as quiet as it usually would be. At least twenty people I didn’t recognise stood around the bar and pool table, talking to the members and engaging in what looked like a very competitive game of billiards.

“Lots of noise here tonight,” Memphis grumbled, “they better not move the furniture.”

“As if that will ever be allowed,” I scoffed, shaking my head even though she couldn’t see it. “Booth lays the law down on the rules around here, and no one would dare try that. And if, and I mean if, that was to happen, there is your scary husband to deal with.”

Taking a seat on the sectional couch in the area that was reserved strictly for family only, Memphis pulled me down beside her, a frown on her pretty face.

“Creed scares you?” Memphis twisted on the couch to look at me, her hands already reaching out for me.

Leaning forward, I allowed my boss to position her fingers on my face, two fingers to my lips and one palm lightly across my forehead.

“Okay, answer me,” Memphis demanded, her light ocean-green eyes looking directly at me, but her hand and fingers were her sight.

I have enough experience of this way of ‘seeing’ from Memphis to know it was fruitless to try and deceive her. She was way too smart for you to think you could get away with pretending.

Sighing, I gave my boss the honesty she wanted.

“Not scared exactly, more intimidated. He growls and grunts and scowls a lot, and his eyes see everything,” I admitted, empathising the last part, Memphis’s fingertips following my lips as I spoke.

“He does growl, though his scowls are less now than they used to be,” Memphis replied, still touching my face. “But you are definitely right about one thing; Creed’s eyes do see everything. From the day my sister brought him home to meet our family, it was Creed’s eyes that I remember so clearly,” Memphis reminisced, her face softened as she went back in time.

“He saw the kind of people my parents really were. He looked out for me, cared for me, but he only had eyes for my sister. You know I asked him to marry me when I was four.”

“No way!” I laughed along with her.

“I did,” she nodded, smiling fondly. “I hero-worshipped him from that day on. As I got older, I envied the way he loved Lila Rose, I practically sat by the window waiting for him to come home on leave when he joined up. Watching him and my sister fall more and more in love with each other, thinking I could never have anything as beautiful as what they had.”

I sat listening to Memphis tell me something so incredibly personal and couldn’t help wonder what her point was. Surely she didn’t already figure out that Cole and I were together?

“That promise he made to a little girl seemed like an unattainable dream, then I lost my sight, and after that, we lost Lila, and in a way, I lost Creed too.” Memphis dropped her hands from my face and folded them in her lap. Her thumb tracing over the pretty engagement