Her Unexpected Hero (Unexpected Heroes #1)(52)
Author: Melody Anne

“It’s a long story,” he warned her, but her words did the trick and he relaxed against her.

“I don’t have anywhere to be, Jackson.” She should check in with her parents, but she was too comfortable even to think about moving.

“I lived in the foster-care system from the time I was a baby. I never knew my mother or father. It was just how it was . . .”

“Did you ever look for them?”

He was silent for a little while as he thought either about her question or about whether he wanted to answer it or not.

“No. I thought about it when I was twenty-one, and then decided I really didn’t care. I love my father and my brothers. Even if my birth parents are still alive, it doesn’t interest me. I wouldn’t know them. Even if I looked like them, even if there were brothers or sisters out there, they wouldn’t be my family. My family is right here and they are the ones who have always been there for me.”

“Did you tell your dad you were curious?” She worried that Martin might have been hurt.

“Yes. I’ve always been able to tell my dad anything. He didn’t try to make me feel guilty; hell, he offered to search for them if I wanted. He told me not to make a snap decision and had me think about it. After a week, I realized that I really didn’t want to find them, and I never brought it up again.”

“Were the homes you were in bad?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Some of them were terrible. Some of the parents were abusive, and some were just pathetic. Not one of them made me feel wanted. Camden, Spence, and I were together in a foster home for a couple of years before we met Martin and his biological son, Michael. That day forever changed our lives,” he said, a smile flitting across his mouth.

As the two of them lay in a perfect pocket of sun streaming in through the window—a sign that the storm was over and it was safe to come back into the real world—Alyssa realized she didn’t want to be in that world.

She wanted to stay in this one, where Jackson held her tight, where he shared with her, where only good things happened, and where she felt alive and cared for. She didn’t ever want to move again.

But instead of saying all this, she simply listened as Jackson told her about his first meeting with Martin and the day that changed his life.

A loud cry rent the air as Alyssa walked to the barn, hand in hand with Jackson. She froze and looked around frantically. Jackson walked another step, until he felt the pull of her hand against his.

“What?” he asked. “Are you feeling okay, Alyssa?”

She knew her eyes must be bugging out of her head. He had to have heard the cry. Why wasn’t he more concerned? Why wasn’t he rushing toward the barn to see whether he could help?

“What is wrong with you?” she finally gasped.

“Me? You’re the one who stopped.”

“Didn’t you hear that?” Right as she said it, another shout spilled through the open doors of the barn. She wasn’t sure whether she should rush forward or turn back and run for her life.

Of course she’d rush forward. Her parents had been invited to the party, too, so they’d most likely be in there, and she couldn’t run away without helping them. She had to choose fight over flight. But she and Jackson were wasting valuable time just standing still.

When he began to laugh, her mind raced around in utter confusion. What was there to laugh about? It sounded as if assassins had descended upon his family and were picking them off one by one. When he doubled over and let go of her hand, she had the strong urge to kick him. Instead, she rushed toward the sound.

“Wait!” he yelled, but the lout was laughing so hard he couldn’t catch up to her.

Trembling in fear—how on earth was she going to stop the mass murder?—she tore through the barn doors. And was shot right in the chest.

“Alyssa!”

Scanning the room with incredulous eyes, Alyssa lifted her hand and rubbed the spot where she’d felt the dart hit. The foam dart. It looked like World War III was going on, and she wasn’t sure which side was winning.

The men were cowering behind a large bundle of hay, all holding Nerf guns of various sizes and firing shot after shot at the women rushing from station to station.

“Don’t let them get the flag!” Camden yelled out to Michael.

Alyssa turned.

“I got it,” Michael shouted back as his machine gun spit Nerf darts out at . . . her mother!

Alyssa gasped, but her mom rolled away in the nick of time. Was that really her mom grabbing a large Nerf gun from some sort of side holster and aiming it straight at Camden’s head? Yes, it was. And the woman was blessed with deadly accuracy.

Firing off several rapid shots, her mom pinged Camden; he dropped back behind the hay bales to reload as her mom ran off toward a blue flag flying high in the barn’s loft. The deadly Nerf warriors all ran around with delighted grins on their faces as darts whizzed through the air.

“I’m so sorry for laughing,” Jackson said as he appeared at Alyssa’s side. “I should have warned you.” And the jerk was still laughing.

“You think?” she snapped. Then she saw the humor in the situation, and a smile split her face.

“Um, Spence is really a giant-size kid who loves to instigate wars. He has an arsenal of Nerf guns, arrows, and water guns. The time of year determines which weapons he brings out.”

“This isn’t for a children’s party?” Alyssa saw several small children taking part in the game, but she noticed the adults were careful with them. The kids giggled in delight when they got hit in their padded stomachs or on the shin guards they were wearing.

“Well, a lot of the neighbors bring their kids, but sadly, no. This is all about Spence,” Jackson said, and then took off to join in the war.

Alyssa moved to a corner of the barn that looked relatively safe. Several tables were set up with food and drinks; the few adults who weren’t participating in the battle were laughing and taking photos of the activity that whirled around them.

She sat down, reached for a cookie and soda, and watched as Jackson grabbed a weapon, then did an army crawl behind what appeared to be the men’s barricade. Michael got hit near the side of one eye, and to Alyssa’s amazement he cried out, inviting taunts from the women. Alyssa’s jaw dropped when he stood up and blasted Bethel.

She had to be in her sixties, yet she was running around as vigorously as people half her age, and firing round after round of ammo from the two guns she was carrying. The battle continued for a good twenty minutes more before Bethel managed to grab hold of the blue flag and then did a victory dance.