Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
Isaac
Something is different about Amber tonight. Something happened with her therapist. She often leaves there quiet and a bit more subdued than usual. I’ve always believed it was because she was introspective, thinking about what she and Millie discussed.
Tonight is different. She’s quieter than usual, and she hasn’t stopped wringing her hands together since we left. She also keeps sighing.
We’ve been back in her apartment for an hour, and I haven’t seen her since we stepped inside. She made a beeline for her bedroom, shut the door, and hasn’t come back out.
I cooked dinner. I do most of the cooking for us since I also do most of the eating. She’s a waif of a woman. Some days, I wonder if she would eat at all if I didn’t put food in front of her and hand her a fork.
I’m a big guy. I need a lot of calories. Plus, I work out an hour and a half every day before Amber gets out of bed. She’s not a morning person, which works perfectly for us because it allows me to get my workout in before she rises.
The challenge has been doing so in the apartment. When I moved in, I brought a treadmill and weights. I have both squeezed into my bedroom. I rise early, jump on the treadmill, lift weights, and shower long before Amber opens her door.
Something is off with her. I can sense it. I’d love to have been a fly on the wall in her counseling session so I would know what was said and how to react. I suspect it has something to do with Jacob Marone’s release.
I’ve been aware of when he would be released for months. Amber has insisted she does not care and isn’t concerned, but that’s her usual MO for every single thing in life. She pretends she’s fine, and we all pretend to believe her. If I didn’t have Spence and Ben to agree with me, I might doubt my own assessment.
I’ve kept it simple tonight. I’ve made her favorite meal—my homemade mac and cheese, grilled chicken, and baked broccoli. She can surely smell everything from her closed bedroom. Usually, she emerges about this time without me hunting her down, but not tonight.
I have everything on the table before I head for her bedroom and knock on the door. “Amber?” When I get no response, I draw in a deep breath and try again. Another knock. “Amber?” I say louder.
Amber has a lot of facets. She might waltz out, pretending nothing is wrong. She might stomp out and put her hands on her hips, bitching that she heard me the first time. She might sass me like the Little girl she keeps buried inside.
What Amber does not do is ignore me. Never. Which makes me panic. There’s no way she has left this room. There is only one door, and she couldn’t have opened it without my notice. The apartment is on the ninth floor, so escaping out a window is not an option.
I put my ear to the door but can’t hear anything. She’s not showering in the attached bathroom. She doesn’t have music playing. I don’t hear the television. She might have her earphones on, but that’s not likely either.
Should I try the door? Shit . I’ve never opened Amber’s door without permission, but she’s freaking me out. I stare at it for a few seconds, going through possible scenarios. What if she’s naked, and she simply can’t hear me because she has earbuds in?
Amber doesn’t shower in the middle of the day, nor did I hear the shower. She also doesn’t change clothes in the middle of the day. She has the grunge look she puts on every morning. The only time she changes is if she gets an excessive amount of paint on her shirt that hasn’t dried enough to avoid staining the furniture. She hasn’t been in her studio since we got home, so that’s out.
Finally, I take a deep breath and set my hand on the doorknob. I don’t even know if she locks it. I’ve never tried it before. The knob turns, and I push the door open only a few inches. “Amber?” I say softly.
No response. Nothing. Not even a rustling sound.
I finish opening the door, and my heart rate picks up. She’s not in the room. There are no lights on. The sun hasn’t gone all the way down yet, so I can still see well enough, but Amber is not in here. The attached bathroom door is standing open, also dark.
I’m about to go into a full-blown panic when I notice the walk-in closet is ajar, and there’s a faint light coming from inside. It’s odd because there’s not enough light for it to be from the overhead fixture.
I hurry in that direction and open the door. All the air leaves my lungs when I finally find her. She’s curled up in the corner of the closet under the row of shirts. A book is open on her lap, she’s clutching a teddy bear, and her phone is lit up on the floor near her dangling hand. Her head is resting on a pillow she has propped up against the wall.
For several long seconds, I simply stare at her. I blink several times. I’ve never seen this side of Amber. I’ve suspected it existed, but she has not shown it to me. I wonder if she does this often. Does she secretly hide in her closet and read in the corner like it’s a little cave?
I’m choked up with emotions. I want to sink to my knees, crawl into the corner, scoop her into my arms, and rock her. My heart aches to do exactly that. I’ve wanted to do so for two years, and this moment is so powerful I can hardly resist.
I must, though. She would kill me. In fact, I should back the fuck out of here right now as quietly as possible. I should go back outside of the room and knock harder on the door.
I’m still pondering that option when she suddenly bolts awake. She sits up tall, dropping the teddy bear. Her eyes are wide as she gives a little screech. A moment later, she shouts, “Oh my God! What are you doing in here?”
“I’m sorry.” I feel like a heel. I’m not sure which one of us is more mortified. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I was worried. I…”
She points at the door. “Get out.”
I blow out a breath. I don’t really want to walk away and ignore this. We should talk about it.
“Get out,” she shouts, louder this time. She scrambles to her feet and shoves at me, backing me out of her closet. “Oh my God…” As soon as she can get by me, she runs past me and into her bathroom, slamming the door.
I run a hand down my face. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I can’t just leave and pretend this didn’t happen. She might like that, but I won’t do it; it’s not practical. It’s high time we had a chat. We’ve needed to have this chat for about a year. I’ve put it off because she’s made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t want a confrontation with me about anything. But fuck that. Tonight, we’re having an overdue discussion.
After staring at the bathroom door for a minute, I move in that direction and knock. “Amber…”
“Go away. Jesus…”
“I’m not going anywhere. I want you to talk to me.”
She growls loudly. “Grrr. That ain’t happening, so go away.”
“Why are you so upset? Are you embarrassed? You have no reason to be embarrassed.”
“Go. Away. Isaac,” she shouts.
“Amber… You can’t stay in there forever. I’ve made dinner. Your favorite. I thought you were feeling out of sorts after seeing Millie, so I made mac and cheese.”
“I’m not a fucking child, Isaac,” she yells.
I draw in a breath and swipe my hand down my face again. This is a mess. “No, baby, you are definitely not a child. I’m well aware.” I wince. I’ve never called her baby . What the fuck am I doing? I’ve never used a single term of endearment with Amber. I work for her. I’m not…her Daddy.
I may have had secret thoughts of being her Daddy about two hundred thousand times, but I’m not, and I have no right to call her baby . Except I did, and it’s too late to take it back. We’re going down this rabbit hole, and frankly, I’m scared out of my mind.
I do not want to rock this boat. I do not want to risk this precarious relationship I have with Amber. I’ve never once had the balls to do so. She’s embarrassed and panicking. But what she doesn’t understand is so am I.
Amber is my world. I’ve known that from the moment I took this job as her bodyguard. I was leery before I met her. I had a long meeting with Spence and Ben, during which I’d learned that Amber was more than a handful. They’d warned me she would challenge me, but the pay was too good to turn down.
I’m a forty-five-year-old man, and I thought I’d seen everything, but I was wrong. Amber was a handful as soon as I stepped into her life. She made it abundantly clear that she did not need or want a bodyguard. She gave me the slip twice on the first day. I was exhausted by the time I went home that night, and I even considered telling her brother it wasn’t worth it.
But I’m not a quitter, and something about her called to me from the first time I set eyes on her. She’s lonely. She’s sad. She has her brother and Ben. She has Cassandra now. She has work acquaintances at the galleries where her art is sold. But Amber is shut off from the world. She does not open up to anyone. Not even me.
For a year, I worked ten-hour days keeping track of this naughty girl, turning her over to someone else at night and on weekends. Fifty hours a week. At the end of the first week, I wandered through my weekend feeling lost. I couldn’t even remember what I’d done on weekends before I’d met her.
Amber moves around a lot. A year ago, when she moved into this apartment, Spence pulled me aside and asked if I would consider moving in with her. He offered me a ridiculous sum of money to do so. He begged me.
Amber doesn’t know this, but I agreed to move in with her without the pay increase. There’s no reason for me to be a gold digger. Hell, I don’t even pay my own rent anymore. I have zero expenses, a pension from the Army, and Spence pays me a hefty salary, which I’ve never touched. In fact, it’s invested with Golden Alliances, the investment firm Spence owns.
I still took time off on weekends for a while, but I slept in Amber’s apartment when I wasn’t on duty. Eventually, I stopped going out at all. I haven’t been to Surrender in months. I haven’t Daddied anyone since I met Amber.
I’m pitiful. If I had my own therapist, it would take them two months to sort me out. My life revolves around a woman I’m in love with who has never let her guard down in front of me. A woman who does her best to make it clear that she doesn’t even like me or tolerate me most days.
And yet…I won’t quit. It’s what she wants. I’ve psychoanalyzed Amber for so long that I know her better than Millie. She only sees Millie one hour every other week. I’m with her every hour of every day. I know my girl.
She’s sad and lonely and scared on the inside. She puts up an outward facade that makes her look feisty and in control, but it’s a fraud. I don’t know why she’s so closed off from the world. I mean, I get that her parents died when she was fifteen, and her twenty-year-old brother Spence became her guardian, but that was fifteen years ago. She could have been traumatized by their death. Any teenager would be, but after years of therapy, why is she so reclusive?
Granted, she was kidnapped and held for ransom for four days when she was twenty. That’s so horrifying I can’t even imagine what she went through. I’ve never asked. I wouldn’t want to upset her. I only know the facts Spence and Ben shared with me and what I was able to google.
Honestly, Ben knows more than anyone because he was the one Spence hired to find and rescue her. He was the one who pulled her out of a basement and saw the conditions she’d been living in. He was the one who stalked the address and hired a team to go in and rescue her without involving the police until after he got her out. It was risky, but it was probably the best option.
I can’t explain how I feel. It’s irrational. No man would have stuck around as long as I have for a woman who has not shown any signs of opening up for two fucking years.
But Amber is mine. She’s my Little girl. I will crack her open, eventually. Unless things have suddenly gone so fubar that she fires me and sends me packing tonight. That’s not out of the realm of possibilities.
She hasn’t made a peep since I called her baby . I lick my lips and try again. “Amber, I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to have to open this door eventually.”
“Nope. I have water, a toilet, and a shower. I can stay in here pretty long.”
“Are you going to eat toothpaste?” I tease.
“If I must. Go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not ever, baby…”
I hear her breath hitch.
“You’re stuck with me.” I have no idea if I’m making the right decision here or not, but I’m in so deep I think I should keep going. “Do you think I care if you read in the back of your closet, Amber?”
No response.
“Well, I don’t. I think it’s a great idea. It’s like a blanket fort. It’s cozy and safe. A wonderful place to escape the world. A brilliant coping mechanism.”
“I don’t need a fucking coping mechanism, asshole. I’m fine.”
I find myself grinning. She’s never called me asshole. I feel like we’re making progress. I’ve called her baby, and she’s called me asshole . Progress.
“Everyone needs to escape from life now and then. I bet you had a rough session with Millie earlier and needed downtime. That’s perfectly normal.”
“You don’t know everything, smart ass.”
I chuckle, trying to keep it quiet. I don’t want her to think I’m laughing at her. “That’s true. I don’t know everything. I’m not a clairvoyant. But I know a lot of things. Want me to list them?”
“No,” she shouts.
Right, because that would open wounds and force her to face things she’d rather ignore, but we’re doing it anyway. I’m in charge here. I have a captive audience. As long as she’s holed up in the bathroom, she can’t escape me. It’s perfect.
“I know you put on a brave front for everyone, but inside, you’re nervous about Jacob Marone being released. Anyone would be. I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”
“I’m not fucking scared of Jacob Marone, jerk face,” she shouts.
Jerk face… That’s a new one. Asshole came from adult Amber. Jerk face is coming from her Little. Is she feeling Little right now? No fucking way I’m going to point it out.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Amber, because I won’t let it. You know that, right?”
“You’re not invincible, you giant turd monger.”
I stifle another chuckle. Turd monger…
“True, and I can’t promise we won’t get hit by a bus or this building won’t collapse in an earthquake, but those things are unlikely. In the meantime, I will never let my guard down. I want you to be safe.”
“You’re paid to keep me safe, moron.”
The name-calling list is growing.
“Do you think I would walk away from you if I weren’t being paid?”
“Of course you would, jerk face,” she shouts. “I don’t know why you would stay for any amount of money. Why are you still here? I don’t want you here. I don’t need a keeper. I’m fine on my own. I don’t need someone all up in my space all the time. No one is going to kidnap me. My brother is over the top. Why don’t you quit and go away?”
I know she doesn’t mean a word of that, and she will not get under my skin. “I wouldn’t leave you if your brother never paid me another dime. I will not walk away no matter what happens, Amber. I care about you.”
“That’s stupid.” I can hear her Little in her voice. It’s shaking, and the pitch is off. She’s never shown me her Little. I doubt she’s even shown herself, but I’d bet money she’s got her arms crossed and a giant pout on her face.
“I don’t think it’s stupid.”
“Well, it is, blockhead. No normal person would put up with what you do. Why haven’t you left?” There’s anger and hope in her voice. We are getting somewhere.
How far do I take this? I can’t let too many seconds go by before I respond. I don’t want her to think I need to ponder my response, but what can I say to get my point across that won’t end with me in the street? Telling her I’m in love with her would be going way too far. I have to take it down a notch. “Because you’re my girl, Amber.”
Silence. Long silence.
I wait. She needs to think and process. Finally, she speaks in her tiny, Littlest voice. “You don’t mean that.”
Yes .
“I do. I don’t care how difficult you are. I don’t care if you try to Houdini your way out of every building we enter. I don’t care if you scowl at me, give me the silent treatment, and hide in your room or even in your closet, baby. I’m not leaving.”
I think she’s sniffling. “That’s dumb.”
I smile. “I didn’t say I was particularly smart, but I’m still yours.” I stop shy of saying I’m her Daddy. I’ve flipped her world upside down. She needs time to process this. “I’m going to fix you a plate of food and set it outside this door. Then I’ll leave your bedroom and shut the door. You can come out and get your plate. You can lock me out if you want to. Eat in your room, your bathroom, or your closet. I don’t want you to be hungry. I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to come out later, or you can stay in here all night. You can stay in here for a week or a month. When you come out, I will be here.”
She’s crying, and it tears me up inside. I want to hold her, rock her, comfort her. I want to kiss the top of her head and stroke her back. I’ve never done any of those things. I’m not positive I’ll ever get the opportunity, but I have hope. I feel like this intense standoff went well. Now, I need to follow through on my promise.
I leave the room. My hands shake as I fill a plate with her dinner and pop it in the microwave. I grab two cans of her favorite sparkling water from the fridge, too. After I place it all outside her bathroom, I knock. “Your food is out here. I promise I’m not setting you up. This is not a trick. I will shut your bedroom door and leave you alone now, baby.”
I can’t resist tacking on that last word. She is absolutely my girl, whether she wants to admit it or not. And I will call her baby when I feel like it. It’s high time Amber starts to accept that she’s mine and I’m never leaving.