****Author's Note: Hey all! I have been so overwelmed and excited about all the story alerts that I have gotten for this so far. I am really excited about this story, and it makes me feel motivated to know that you are all excited about it too! So, just to clarify, this story may contain some topics/subjects that will trigger certain people. So if you are wary of that, just a head's up. Thank you all and review please!*****
I had a hard time sleeping. My mind raced with a million horrible images of what Britt and Taylor had been through. Images of that bastard hurting that little girl set my teeth on edge. My hands shook as I thought about what little Taylor had been through in her short life. And my Britt. My sweet innocent Britt, looking at me with eyes filled with age as she told me she felt like a failure as a mother. Britt with her tender heart, full of hope, now suddenly made all too aware of the evil that is out there. The black eye and the cut lip were just the surface of it, that I was sure.
Part of me wanted to shake Brittany. Tell her she shouldn't have waited so long to get out. To tell her that she means something to, and that she should have gotten out the moment he touched her. Part of me wanted to cry, sob and weep for the woman I loved who no longer exists. And yet, a part of me wants to hold her close, tell her how strong she is, and never let her go again.
That part of me focuses on the other things that are rising into my mind, unbidden and sharp to my dulled-down mind. Her smell. The way her eyes shift and change when she cries, or laughs. Her hair, falling in her face when she's feeling embrassed. The way her toes fold when she is happy cuddled up to me. The smattering of freckles on her nose. The way her lips feel, and taste and how kissing her is my undoing. Damn. I tried to remind myself of the promise that I made all those years ago, when she broke my heart. I needed to push her away again, otherwise it might happen all over again, and I was barely holding on as it was.
Sleep continued to evade me, so I got up and looked into the guest room as the two sleeping blondes. Taylor was wrapped up tight in Britt's embrace, looks of contentment present on both of their faces. My eyes traced Taylor's face, soaking up the similarites between the beautiful little girl and the woman I loved. It wasn't hard to see that Taylor was Britt's spitting image. Her hair was the same, soft, wavy blonde silk as her mothers was. Her eyes, when open were the exact copies of her mother's beautiful ones. Her nose was cute, and bore the same saddle of freckles as her mothers. Looking at her, my heart siezes with something I haven't felt in so long. The need to protect. To guard Britt and her daughter from someone and something that is aiming to harm them.
One thing I promise, or I'm not fit to call myself a Lopez. If that bastard comes here and tries to hurt my girls, he's going to have to face me. And I don't intend on leaving a survivor.
