Dr. Good by Flora Ferrari

Chapter Twenty-One

Macie

We sit on the balcony at an hour before midnight, looking out over the glittering city below us. We’ve spent the last few hours with the police, giving our statements, and the officer assured us that Derrick and his men are going to be looking at serious jail time.

I sit with Miller on one side of the glass table and Kayla sits on the other, holding herself with admirable poise considering everything she’s been through. I find myself studying her sharp features, her bright eyes, hoping I can carry myself like that one day.

“I’m so sorry, Kayla,” I say for what must be the hundredth time.

She reaches across the table and places her hand on mine, looking firmly into my eyes. “What did I say before, dear? This isn’t your fault. It’s his. And now, because of his own stupidity, he’s going to spend a long time in prison.”

“She’s right,” my man says from beside me, his voice deep and husky, emanating a warmth that shrouds me and wraps me in loving arms.

Lovingarms, the thought strikes me hard.

I can’t let myself get carried away with thoughts like these, but seeing the way he spun into action to defend us – the way the beast inside of him unleashed and turned him into a whirring weapon – I can’t help but feel hope that he feels the same.

“Derrick is clearly a lunatic. He’s clearly got some very serious issues. You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Kayla leans back with a sigh, taking a sip of her sparkling water and then aiming a mischievous gaze at us, first at me and then at her son.

“What?” I laugh, and it feels so good to let out that short breath of air, to not let fear rule me like Derrick would’ve tried to do if he’d gotten his hands on me.

“Mom, you know you’re just staring at us like a weirdo, right?” Miller says good-naturedly, his voice bantering and kind.

“I know this may seem like a crazy thing to say considering the circumstances,” she murmurs, “but seeing the two of you together is making me one very happy lady indeed. I can see how much you want to be together. I can see how right this is.”

“Are you sure that’s just sparkling water?” Miller chuckles, and then he grabs my hand and holds it tightly. “But you’re right. I want to be with Macie more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

My chest blooms at his words and I squeeze his hand, the same way I squeezed his shoulder back there to let him silently know what I was planning. Relief thundered through me when he got my message. When he silently knew I was planning something because there was no freaking way I was going to let Derrick keep twisting Kayla’s arm like that.

I turn to find Miller staring down at me, a subtle smirk on his lips, his eyes alight with carnality and belonging and the future we’re going to build together.

“I’m going to go back to my apartment,” Kayla says, laying her glass down.

“Mom, you don’t have to,” Miller says. “I’ve got more than one spare room. You’re welcome to stay here.”

“I know I am,” she says with a wry smile. “But the last thing I want to do is get in the way of you two. And a woman my age needs her own space. Don’t fuss, Miller. You know my apartment’s security is the best money can buy. Plus Derrick and his friends are in jail now.”

“Are you sure?” I say, stunned by the confidence in her voice considering everything that’s happened. “We really don’t mind if you want to stay here.”

She stands, brushing down her dress in a dignified manner. “The police have offered to give me a ride home, remember? And they’ve even offered to put a car outside my building if I deem it necessary. I’m going to be fine.”

“You have to take them up on that offer,” Miller says, fierce protective passion in his voice. “I mean it, Mom.”

She rolls her eyes. “You worry too much.”

“Mom.”

She nods. “Very well. Yes, if it will make you feel better. I’ll take them up on the offer. And I’ll call you the moment I get home. I shan’t be leaving the apartment for a while, anyway. All this excitement has made me terribly tired.”

We all stand as she makes her exit, Miller and I following close behind her. She pauses at the door, turning and regarding us with another of her wry smiles, her eyes glinting in a playful way that reminds me of Miller.

She places her hands on my shoulders and leans close, whispering in my ear. “Thank you, dear. Thank you so much for what you did back there.”

She pulls me into an embrace, and I hold her, clasping tightly onto her and silently willing her to be okay. I know she will. The police are driving her home and she’s got trained security – a lot of them ex-SEALs – guarding her apartment.

“Let me know the second you get home,” Miller says. “Even if it’s just a text.”

“I promise,” she says, and then leaves us with a dainty wave, all fingers.

Miller closes the door behind her and turns to me, his face tight.

“Shall we wait on the balcony until she calls?” I ask. “I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on anything else until I know she’s safe.”

His eyes light up and he pulls me into an embrace, kissing the top of my head and moving his hands around my hips. He grabs onto me hard and I do the same, sliding my hands around his waist and gripping firmly onto his back.

“I can’t believe what you did back there,” I whisper. “It was like you were a freaking Viking warrior or something. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

He laughs gruffly, kissing my forehead. “It was nothing. I started training martial arts when I was a kid, the same year my old man died. They were untrained. They were hopped up on steroids and they thought that made them tough.”

“Still,” I whisper, placing my cheek against his chest and listening to his thundering heartbeat. “There’s a big difference between saying you’re going to protect your family and actually doing it. A lot of men say they’d do stuff like that. But you acted, Miller. You did.”

“I always will,” he snarls passionately. “You don’t have to worry about that. For the rest of our lives, I’ll protect you.”

I hug closer to him, listening to the powerful drumming of his heart, knowing he’s telling me the truth, knowing I never have to doubt him – or myself – ever again.