IOU

by Kristy Marie

We are who we are. Ugliness and all.

I bet he has that listening problem Tucker had. Mom says all men have it. Maybe she’s right.

My fire-savior is my very own Thor—protector of my Universe. I’m legit living a Disney movie. I have a genie and an Avenger.

“Some people are meant to burn, and others are meant to rise from their ashes.”

Something—or someone—is hovering above me. Again. For the sixth time tonight. “Stop checking on me.” I groan, snagging the hand on my chest and tugging her entire body across me so she’s wedged into my side before I place her hand back on my heart. “Now, go to sleep,” I order. And we do. Together.

Last night was . . . eye-opening. I care for her. God, I think I might be in fucking love with her.

I eye the man who showed me that one bad apple doesn’t ruin the whole bunch. That some men are good with good intentions and good hearts. They might be standoffish and gruff, but deep down there is a gooey center.