Matt
Coffee in hand, I stared out the patio door, watching tumultuous waves pound the shore. The weather matched my crappy mood. Sleet poured down in horizontal ugliness and the wind was brutal, bending palm trees nearly in half. The temp was only in the lower fifties, too. I hoped to hell Jenny didn't drive her motorcycle today. The thought of her on that deathtrap during ideal conditions gave me shudders.
I shook my head. For the first time in my twenty-eight years, I understood Ian's insane alpha protectiveness he'd always possessed around Summer. Sure, I'd been defensive of my friends and family, cared about them a great deal. Honestly, though, I tended to bite back a smirk at the lengths Ian went to for Summer. The guy could go from zero to batshit in point five seconds if anyone so much as narrowed their eyes at her.
After last night, I was thinking of writing him sonnets as an apology for ever questioning his devotion. Because...yeah. I got it now.
Without. A. Doubt.