Free Chains by Kelli Maine

the crook of my arm and scratched his head while continuing to flip through channels on the T.V. Somehow, I had to break through the barrier between Danny and I. Why was she acting like we were strangers? I mean, sure, we hadn’t seen each other for four years and we’d gone from being kids—teens—to being adults, but we were still us. Weren’t we?
    Maybe she wasn’t still the Danny she used to be. A lot could happen in four years.
    My jaw clenched. I left her with Striker . A lot did happen, and I wasn’t there to help her. She had to hate me. It wasn’t shyness or fear. The girl hated me—she had to. I did. I’d never forgive myself for leaving her there and not going back as soon as I was out of jail. I didn’t deserve her forgiveness or a second chance.
    The dog licked my hand again. I looked down at him and he looked up at me with his big, blue eyes. Danny’s eyes. The same striking light blue. I let my eyelids fall shut. I couldn’t look into those eyes without guilt crushing in on me.
    The bathroom door opened, but Danny didn’t come out. It took me a minute to realize she didn’t have her clothes in there and was hesitant to walk out and get them. I was just about to tell her I’d close my eyes when she stepped forward and emerged, glancing over at me.
    The sight of her thin body wrapped in the white towel, blond hair dripping down her back and wide-set eyes locked on mine was enough to knock my ass back all the years that I’d missed. Back to when I saw her with wet hair from the shower every day. But this was different. She wasn’t fifteen. We didn’t live together. We weren’t in danger here. We were two adults in a motel room and seeing her slick, wet skin and the way she studied my bare chest made me all too aware that the love I felt for her could easily turn a in a new direction if I let it.
    I wouldn’t let it.
    Danny already suffered the betrayal of a man abusing his power over her. I was someone she trusted, someone who said he’d protect her. I’d be that man and only that man.
    “When did you get the tat?” she asked, grabbing the boxers and t-shirt off the vanity.
    I glanced down at my right arm and chest where the black ink—a Chinese dragon with a skull in its mouth—curved around my shoulder. “Couple years ago.”
    She inched closer and tilted her head to make it out. I lifted my arm and turned my body to give her a better view. Her eyes trailed up my arm where the snakes tail looped around, to the thick body and wings that sprawled across the right side of my chest and over my back to the massive head and open jaws holding the human skull. Then she looked me in the eye. “I get it,” she said, and stepped back into the bathroom.
    She didn’t just get it, she was part of it. She was witness to my victory over Him, my flying off into the great unknown with a piece of Him left dead on the battlefield. I only wished I could’ve had the fair maiden tatted on my chest, riding the dragon off into the safety of a faraway castle. But our life wasn’t a fucking fairytale and nobody ever accused me of being a knight in shining armor.
    I relaxed against a couple pillows on the side of the bed nearest the door, wincing as I settled in and my ribs shifted. I didn’t wrap myself and was starting to regret it, but I was too tired to get up again. Luckily, I wasn’t bleeding and the wounds Rollo gave me weren’t deep. If they still looked bad in the morning, I’d tape them with gauze and ask Danny to help me with the ACE bandage.
    If Mike knew I was neglecting injuries, he’d kick my ass. I was surprised he hadn’t called to check in, but he knew I was on a mission that I had to do alone. Making amends with my conscience and Danny.
    The puppy stretched out on his back beside me with his eyes closed. He made little wheezing noises in his sleep while I scratched his white chest. I had no idea what I’d do with a puppy—I was supposed to be in Austin tomorrow—but I couldn’t