Under Locke

by Mariana Zapata

He was like aloe vera, rough and prickly on the outside, but the inside held all the gooey goodness.

What did I have to lose besides continuing to live my life with carefully constructed walls?

Us. The us didn't escape me for a second. My heart relished it and might have even tap-danced.

Never again would I say anything mean about another person out loud, damn it.

But I was alive, and I was here. Alive and here were much better words than the simple word—not. Not here. Nonexistent.

I didn't even know the fifth letter in the alphabet in that moment.

"And here you are. Life bein' unfair and all. I respect you, babe. Not just because you break my goddamn heart every single fuckin' time I see you smile, but because…." He blew out a long breath of air from his lips, blinking blue eyes again and again and again. "I just do. You got me?"

Something indescribable flickered in his bright blue eyes, something that was related to fury and a distant cousin to murder.

"You've gotta be the best thing I never knew I wanted."

I, better than anyone, knew how unsteady life could be, but that was the beauty of it if you recognized the potential ahead of you.

was mad, mad for me—in my honor—and my insides recognized it and thrived on his emotion.

There it was. That fierce loyalty. He didn't have a clue how that was the most attractive thing about him. It trumped his face, his ink, his body, everything. Dex Locke was true. He was grounded.

He was who he was, and you either accepted it or not.

You’re not gonna tell me what I can and can’t do. I know exactly what I’m doin’.

"Not a single fuck. Not half of one. Not a quarter of one. Nothin'. You can kiss my fuckin' ass, and so can Trip. I'll call you when I find your pa, ya stubborn fuck."

“Babe, you got me as much as I got you, and that shit’s not changin’, you understand? Not today, tomorrow, not ever.”

"Went five years without a smoke, babe," he whispered into my ear, his lower lip brushing the shell. "There's shit I want and shit I need. A smoke's not one of ’em, ’specially not when I'm around you."

Six foot three and bossy? As long as it wasn't directed at me, it made my ovaries sing an opera.

And love without respect and appreciation wasn’t actually anything. It was worthless.

I knew what it was like to be valued. To be cared for. To be a priority. And I wasn't going to settle for less from the man who should have shown me all those things throughout my life.

"You never cared. Don't mistake bein' a dick for bein' an idiot."

"You finish that fuckin' sentence, and I'll skin you alive."

Unfortunately, you didn’t get to choose family; Sonny had told me that once. But you did get to choose everyone else. In this case, I was cherry-picking who I was going to spend the gift of my life with.

What kind of life was I living if I let my fears steer me?