CHAPTER 28
G avin moves through his house, methodically checking windows and doors, arming the security system with practiced movements.
“All secure,” he says softly, coming back to where Sophie and I stand in the open foyer.
I watch Gavin’s confident movements as he checks the last lock, but something cold and insistent twists in my stomach. The feeling is familiar, that voice in my head that never quite lets me relax.
No place is safe.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady while Sophie leans against my leg, tired but still watching everything with those big blue eyes. “Would you mind if I just… double-check everything?”
Gavin pauses, studying my face. “Of course. Go ahead.”
I give Sophie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Stay here for a minute, Soph. Mommy’s just going to make sure everything’s locked up tight.”
“Like the three little pigs?” She asks, her small voice serious.
“Exactly like that,” I say, managing a smile.
I move through the space, my fingers testing each window latch, pressing against each door handle. The rational part of me knows Gavin already did this, but my hands need to feel it for themselves. My body won’t believe it until I’ve verified every possible entry point.
At the back door, I try pressing against the handle to make it slide, making absolutely certain it won’t give. I peer through the curtains into the darkness beyond, scanning for shadows that shouldn’t be there.
“Everything good?” Gavin’s voice startles me.
I turn, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He keeps a respectful distance. “Trust but verify, that’s just being smart.”
The phrase hits me like a splash of cold water. Those were my exact thoughts.
“Let’s get this little one back to bed.” I say, heading back towards where Sophie’s still standing.
The guest room is beautiful, with soft gray walls and white crown molding. Sophie’s eyes go wide when Gavin flicks a switch and stars begin dancing across the ceiling, cast by a rotating night light on the dresser.
“Pretty.” she whispers, clutching Mr. Hoppy closer to her chest.
“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” he says, excusing himself to give us privacy.
“Thank you,” I say, still feeling a little self-conscious about my security check. “We’ll be fine.”
Once Gavin’s footsteps fade down the hallway, I turn my attention to Sophie. I dig through our hastily packed bag and pull out another pair of pajamas.
“Arms up, Soph,” I say, helping her change.
Sophie stays unusually quiet as she climbs onto the bed.
“My, my, this bed is so big.” I say with forced cheerfulness. “We’ll sleep like princesses tonight.”
She climbs in but doesn’t lie down. Instead, she sits with her knees pulled to her chest, clutching Mr. Hoppy tight.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, sitting beside her.
Her bottom lip trembles. “I’m scared, Mommy.”
I wrap my arms around her tiny frame. “Oh, sweetie.”
“Is Daddy gonna find us again?” Her voice is so small it breaks my heart.
“No, honey.” I pull her closer. “We’re safe here. Remember the three little pigs? We’re in the brick house now.”
She nods but doesn’t look convinced. I’m about to say more when a blur of golden fur comes bounding through the doorway, leaping onto the bed in one enthusiastic jump.
“Nugget! Down!” Gavin appears in the doorway, looking mortified. “I am so sorry. He slipped past me when I opened my bedroom door.”
But Sophie’s face has transformed. Her eyes widen with delight as Nugget prances around her, tail wagging furiously.
“Nugget!” she wraps her tiny arms around him while he licks her face.
My heart squeezes seeing her smile as Nugget showers her with affection.
“Mommy can Nugget sleep with us?” She looks between me and Gavin
Before I can answer, Gavin chuckles from the doorway. “I don’t see why not. He seems to have already chosen his spot.”
Sure enough, Nugget has circled three times and flopped down at the foot of the bed, his tail still thumping against the comforter.
I meet Gavin at the door frame, lowering my voice. “Thank you. For everything. We should try to get some sleep.”
“Of course.” His eyes are warm with understanding. “I’m right down the hall if you need anything. Anything at all.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. The kindness in his expression makes my throat tight.
Once he’s gone, I turn back to Sophie. “Alright, little miss. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
She lowers herself further beneath the blankets, Mr. Hoppy clutched in one arm while her other hand reaches for me. I slide in beside her, pulling her close against my chest. Her small body feels so fragile, so precious. Nugget shifts at our feet, letting out a contented sigh.
I stroke her hair and softly hum. Her breathing evens out quickly, her exhaustion finally winning over her anxiety. But sleep eludes me.
My mind spins like a carnival ride I can’t stop.
I continue stroking Sophie’s hair, so fine and soft between my fingers. My mind drifts to when I met Matt and believed his promises of forever. I watched love turn to control, then control to violence.
The memory of that first hit burns fresh in my mind. The shock of it. The way he apologized after, crying, swearing it would never happen again. I was so naive then, believing him. Believing it was just stress, just a bad day, just too much to drink.
But the mistakes kept coming and the drinking got worse. Until the night Sophie witnessed him hit me.
My arms tighten around her sleeping form.
I must have drifted off at some point because I jolt awake, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room is dark except for the gentle dance of stars across the ceiling from the nightlight. Sophie’s warm body is curled against mine, her steady breathing a comfort in the unfamiliar space.
Nugget’s head pops up from the foot of the bed, his eyes reflecting the starlight. He gives a soft whine.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, though my mouth feels like sandpaper. “Just need some water.”
I ease away from Sophie, holding my breath when she stirs. She settles back into sleep, clutching Mr. Hoppy closer. My bare feet touch the cool hardwood, and I pause, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness.
The house creaks, and I freeze.
Stop it. We’re okay here.
I force myself to take a deep breath, counting to four as I inhale. Hold for seven. Exhale for eight. The panic ebbs, just enough for me to think clearly.
The hallway stretches before me, darker than the bedroom. I keep one hand trailing along the wall, using it to guide me. Each step is carefully placed, testing the floor before putting my full weight down. The last thing I want is to wake everyone with a creaky floorboard.
A soft glow spills from the kitchen ahead. I pause at the corner, my pulse jumping again until I realize it’s just the light above the stove. Gavin must leave it on at night. The kitchen feels massive in the dark, all gleaming countertops and stainless steel appliances catching the dim light. It takes me a moment to remember where I saw Gavin get glasses. Second cabinet from the refrigerator.
I pad across the floor, wincing at how cold it feels against my feet. The cabinet opens with a soft swoosh, and I grab a glass, careful not to let it clink against any others. The filtered water dispenser on the fridge looks complicated in the low light, with its digital display and multiple options.
“Can’t sleep?”
I gasp, the glass slipping from my fingers. I lunge to catch it, managing to grab it before it hits the floor, but my heart feels like it might explode out of my chest.
Gavin rushes towards me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay,” I manage, though my voice shakes. I press my free hand against my sternum, willing my heart to slow down. “I just… wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up.”
“Neither was I.” He moves into the space, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. “Mind if I join you?”
I shake my head, not trusting my voice yet. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a soft-looking t-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. His hair is slightly mussed, like he’s been tossing and turning too.
“Here, let me help with that.” He reaches past me to press a button on the water dispenser. “It can be tricky if you don’t know which setting to use.”
The proximity of him sends a shiver down my spine—not entirely unpleasant, but unsettling all the same. I’m hyper-aware of the thin material of my own pajamas, of how vulnerable I feel standing here in the dark.
“Thanks.” I fill my glass and step back, putting the island between us. The cold water helps steady me as I sip it slowly.
“Sophie settling in okay?” He leans against the counter, careful to maintain the distance I’ve created.
“Yeah, she’s finally sleeping. Nugget’s keeping watch.”
His smile is soft in the dim light. “He’s good at that. Probably the worst guard dog ever—he’d just lick an intruder to death—but he’s got a good heart.”
The mention of intruders makes my shoulders tense. I set my glass down harder than I mean to, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen.
“Bailey.” His voice is gentle. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
“I know.” The words come out automatically, but we both know I don’t really believe it. Not yet. Maybe not ever again. “I just… I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“That’s understandable.” He doesn’t try to move closer, doesn’t try to tell me I’m being irrational. “Want to talk about it?”
I trace a finger through the condensation on my glass, watching the water bead and run. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Anywhere you want. Or nowhere at all. We can just stand here and drink water in companionable silence.”
A laugh bubbles up, surprising me. “Companionable silence at 3 am?”
“Why not? I’m told I’m excellent company, even when I’m not saying anything.”
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. “Does this happen often? You hosting midnight kitchen meetings?”
“Actually…” He pushes off the counter and opens the freezer, the light casting a soft blue glow across his face. “Ice cream is my go-to for sleepless nights.”
He pulls out a container of mint chocolate chip. My stomach growls, reminding me I barely touched dinner.
“Here.” He grabs a spoon out of a drawer and slides it across the island toward me. “Best remedy for overthinking.”
I pick up the spoon, turning it over in my hands. “I haven’t had mint chocolate chip in forever.”
“Then you’re way overdue.” He digs his spoon in, coming up with a generous scoop studded with dark chocolate pieces.
I follow his lead, the cold mint hitting my tongue with a burst of freshness. The chocolate melts slowly, rich and bitter against the sweet cream. Something inside me unwinds, just a fraction.
“Good?” He asks, already working on another spoonful.
I nod, realizing I’m already scraping my spoon against the sides for more. “Thank you,” I say, putting the spoon down. “Not just for this. For everything.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Bailey.” He sets his down too. “Anyone would have done the same.”
I shake my head. “No, they wouldn’t. Most people… they don’t want to get involved. They hear ‘domestic violence’ and they look the other way. It’s easier.”
The words hang in the air between us. It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. What we’re running from, what Matt did to us. His expression darkens, but he keeps his voice steady.
“Well, I’m not like most people. And you’re not alone anymore.”
I grab the lid and place it back on the container. He’s watching me with that measured calm, but there’s a heat in his eyes now, a flicker that mirrors the restless energy humming under my own skin. The kitchen feels smaller suddenly, the island’s edge pressing into my hips as I lean forward. My pulse thrums in my throat.
I move before I can second-guess it. Three quick steps around the island, bare feet silent on the cold floor. He straightens as I approach, shoulders tensing like he’s preparing to catch something. Or someone. His scent envelops me first. A mixture of soap and his cologne, as I slide my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his chest. His heart slams against my ear, rapid and pounding.
His hands hover above my shoulders. “Bailey?”
“Don’t.” I tighten my grip, fingers digging into the soft cotton of his shirt. “Just… let me—”
The words die as his arms fold around me, solid and warm. My eyes burn. I tilt my head back, finding his gaze locked on mine. The plea leaves me raw. “Kiss me.”
A beat passes. His thumb brushes my jaw. “You’re trembling.”
“I know.” I fist my hands in his shirt, pulling him closer to me.
The first brush of his lips is tentative, questioning. I crush my mouth to his, desperate to drown the static in my veins. He groans, one hand sliding into my hair as the other grips my waist. The kiss deepens, hot and hungry, and for a blinding moment, the world narrows to the scrape of his stubble, the press of his tongue, the way my body arches into him of its own volition.
My pajama buttons give way under his touch, cool air rushing over my skin. His palm skims my bare stomach, then higher. I gasp into his mouth when his thumb grazes my nipple. “Gavin—”
He lifts me onto the island in one motion, my legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. The marble is cold against the back of my thighs, grounding me as his mouth trails down my neck. His shirt is soft under my hands, and I yank it upward, desperate to feel his skin. He breaks away just long enough to pull it over his head, and then he’s pressing me back, the world tilting.
“Wait.” His breath hot against my collarbone. “Is this—”
“Yes.” I thread my fingers through his hair, dragging his mouth to mine again. His hands roam lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts. I jerk when his fingers brush over that sensitive nub over my underwear, every nerve alight.
“Bailey.” His voice cracks. “Are…?”
I nod, choking on my own breath. His touch is feather-light at first, tracing the damp fabric. Then he presses harder, teasing. My head falls back further as he works me with torturous precision. Stars burst behind my eyelids—Matt’s laugh, rancid with whiskey. His grip on my wrist, twisting. “You think you can leave me?” The crack of his ring against my cheekbone.
I recoil so fast I lose my grip on Gavins shoulders and my elbow slams into the countertop.
“Stop—stop!”
He freezes instantly, hands lifting away from me. His chest heaves as he steps back, putting space between us. Concern etches deep lines across his forehead.
“Bailey? I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” His voice is raspy..
I bring my legs up and wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the trembling. My elbow throbs ask as I shake my head.
“No, it’s not… it’s not you.” My voice catches. “It’s me. I just—”
Matt’s face flashing before me, so vivid I could almost smell the whiskey in the air. The phantom pain of his grip makes me rub my wrist unconsciously.
Gavin watches the movement, understanding dawning in his eyes. He reaches for my discarded top and hands it to me without looking, giving me privacy to button it.
“I shouldn’t have—” he starts.
“Please don’t apologize.” I slide off the counter, legs still wobbly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted this. I just…wanted to feel something other than fear.”
He nods, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve been through a lot. There’s no rush for anything.”
The gentleness in his voice nearly breaks me. I’ve spent so long bracing for anger that kindness feels almost more painful.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” he says softly.
We move through the darkened hallway in silence. When we reach the guest room door, I pause. Sophie’s soft breathing and Nugget’s occasional snuffles drift from inside.
“Thank you,” I whisper, “for understanding.”
His eyes are warm even in the darkness. “Always, Bailey.”
He hesitates, then leans forward slowly, giving me time to pull away. His lips brush against my forehead, a feather-light touch that makes my eyes sting with unexpected tears.
“Goodnight,” he murmurs against my skin.
“Goodnight,” I echo.
He steps back, waiting until I slip inside before heading to his own room. The soft click of his door closing echoes in the quiet house.