Archer's Voice (A Sign of Love Novel)(82)

"Stop!" I said loudly. "You don't need to fight for me. There's nothing to fight anyone for. I'm yours. I'm already yours." I walked the few steps to him and wrapped my arms around his middle. He didn't resist me, but he didn't return the embrace either. After a minute, I stepped back.
There's always going to be some guy, he said.
I looked up at him and then stepped away, taking a deep breath. Just then, Jordan stepped around the corner, stopping and squinting down the dim hall and calling out, "You okay, Bree?"
I saw Archer's body tense, and I closed my eyes and looked down and then looked back up as he turned and walked away from me, down the hall and past Jordan.
"Archer!" I called, but he didn't turn around.
"God!" I groaned and put my hand to my forehead and walked toward Jordan.
"Sorry, Bree, I didn't know I was interrupting anything. I just came to use the bathroom and saw you guys in what looked like a standoff."
I shook my head. "It wasn't a standoff. Just Archer being… I don't know. I need to go after him though. Are you guys ready to leave?"
"Natalie is. I think I'm gonna get my own ride home." He smiled a sheepish smile at me.
Despite the fact that I was upset over Archer, I grinned at Jordan and punched him lightly on the arm. "That's the Jordan I know and love," I said. "You sure you're safe?"
He laughed. "Yeah, I think I can take her if she tries to attack me." He winked.
I laughed and shook my head. "Okay."
I hugged him and he said, "Sorry again. Nice hickey by the way. I haven't seen you with one of those since we were fifteen."
I snorted. "I think that was a certain man's way of telling you and every other guy in here that I'm taken." I sighed.
Jordan smiled. "Well, go reassure him that that's not necessary. Us men can act like real *s when we're insecure and needy."
I raised an eyebrow. "You don't say?"
He laughed softly and squeezed my arm. "You'll work it out. I'll be home in the morning."
I nodded and gave his arm one more squeeze, and then I walked out to the bar where Natalie was waiting for me.
"Hey," she said, "your boy toy just went stalking out the front door."
I sighed heavily. "He's not a toy, Nat. I don't know what's going on with him."
She raised her eyebrows. "Well. If you'd like my expert opinion, I'd say he's in love, and he doesn't know what to do with it."
"You do?" I asked quietly.
She nodded. "Yup. All the signs are there. Jaw ticking, glaring at other men who come into your proximity, broody, unpredictable behavior, branding…" She gestured to my hickey. "You gonna go put him out of his misery?"
I laughed softly, and it ended on a groan. I sat there for a few seconds considering the situation at hand and then said, "I hope so. Ready?"
We walked out to my car and I handed Natalie my keys since she had agreed to be the DD. As she started the car, she said, "By the way, I know he's not a toy to you. I see the way you look at him too. And I can see why you like him… and that scar," she groaned out the last word, "it makes me want to rock him in my arms and then lick him."
I laughed. "Whoa! Careful there or my jaw is going to start ticking and I'm going to brood the rest of the way home."
She laughed, but after a second I looked over to her and she was thoughtful. "What I'm wondering is, do you see something long-term with him? I mean, how will that work exactly?" Her voice was gentle.
I sighed heavily. "I don't know. This is all new. And yes, his situation is so different–there are challenges. But I want to try. I know that. Whatever that means… It's like, the second I saw him, my life started. The second I started loving him, everything clicked into place for me. As confusing as our situation is, inside it feels like it all makes the most perfect sense."
Natalie was silent for a second. "Well, that's poetic, babe, and I believe every word you say, but life isn't always so poetic. And I know you know that better than anyone. I'm just encouraging you to be a realist about this situation, too, okay?"
She glanced at me, continuing, "He's damaged, honey, and I don't just mean his vocal cords–I mean, Jesus, from what you told me, he grew up in an abusive household, his uncle shot him, his parents both died right in front of him, and then he was kept alone and isolated until he was nineteen years old by a crazy uncle, not to mention the fact that he has an injury that keeps him locked away in his own mind for all intents and purposes–that's gotta leave a mark, babe. Is it any wonder he's damaged?"