Chapter 5 Basia
BASIA
“Come on, it’s the weekend,” I tell my grumpy gargoyle. I’m in my running clothes, bouncing on the tips of my sneakered toes. “I miss my Central Park runs.”
“It’s not safe,” Caleb says without looking up from his phone, where he’s been going through what looks like old scanned files for the last hour.
“I’d literally be with someone whose job description is guarding my body. Can I get safer than that?” I brace my hands on my hips. “Why do you look like you work out but don’t want to go for a run with me? In fact, I never actually see you work out.”
The stare Caleb gives me is as much of an eyeroll as a manly man like him can produce.
“I look like I work out because I don’t run. I do weight training. And you don’t see me do it because I do a calisthenics routine while you’re still having sweet dreams at night.”
Hm. Are the tips of his ears a bit red? What’s made him hot under the collar?
“No wonder you’re always so grumpy,” I tease him. “You’re working out instead of sleeping.”
Caleb sighs and returns to whatever he’s reading.
“Alright, no running. How about a nice long walk? And we can stop to feed the ducks.”
My mountain man lifts one dark eyebrow. “Not bread, I hope?”
I bare my teeth in a grin, pleased I got a reaction out of Mr. Nutrition.
“What kind of heathen do you think I am to feed the ducks empty calories? No, I reserve that for myself.” This brings a smile to his lips, but I continue while I’m ahead. “There’s a fruit vendor, Ahmed, who sells bird feed to park visitors. We’ll stop by on the way.”
“Who said we’re going?” Caleb mutters.
“I did,” I say confidently. “And I’m the boss in this here relationship.”
“Darling,” Caleb purrs, making my panties disintegrate, “you don’t want to be my boss.”
I feel the tips of my ears getting hot. Why am I getting flustered by his words?
“W—what do you mean?” I stutter, then clear my throat and try with more confidence. “I hired you, so I’m your boss.”
Caleb pushes back from the table and casually walks to the door to put on his sneakers.
“Sure, darling,” he says quietly, as if he doesn’t care whether I hear him or not.
With a huff, I push past him to grab my jacket and shrug it on. At least, we’re going outside.
∞∞∞
I have mixed feelings about Central Park in March. There’s mud everywhere, joggers in neon leggings, and tourists who are pretending they’re not freezing because they’ve waited their whole lives to see this place.
I breathe it in anyway: the cold air, damp earth, and roasted nuts from a nearby cart. It feels like freedom.
Caleb walks half a step behind me, always within arm’s reach. He’s wearing a dark hoodie and a baseball cap, and blends into the city instead of standing out, despite his size. I can see his eyes darting around under the bill of his cap, though, assessing threats.
“Relax,” I murmur, glancing back at him. “You look like you’re escorting nuclear codes and not a normal girl out to feed some ducks.”
“I am relaxed,” he replies evenly. “And you’re anything but a normal girl.” The second statement comes out much quieter, so much so that I wonder if I imagined it.
“You need to practice looking relaxed in the mirror then,” I shoot back, focusing on the much safer teasing and not… whatever this is between us. He never used to call me nicknames or give me compliments. I wonder what changed.
We head toward one of the quieter paths. Ahmed’s cart is where it always is, puddles around it reflecting the cloudy sky.
“Miss Basia!” he calls. “You bring some muscle today?”
I gesture at Caleb. “My emotional support mountain. We’ll take some bird feed, please.”
Caleb hands over cash without comment while Ahmed scoops nuts, seeds, and peas into a small paper bag. People always treat my bodyguard like an authority, even when he doesn’t say a single word.
We walk on, crunching gravel underfoot, then scatter feed near the water. Ducks waddle over, greedy and unafraid, quacking like a drunk choir. A goose eyes us suspiciously from the edge of the pond.
“I don’t trust that one,” I mutter.
“Good instinct,” Caleb says. “Geese are assholes.”
I laugh, the sound louder than the ducks’ squabbling, and he glances over with an odd look in his eyes. The moment stretches until my skin prickles. I rub the back of my neck.
“Basia?”
Caleb moves closer, repositioning us so his body is angled between me and the path behind us. It feels instinctive. Automatic. Protective.
“I just got a feeling like…”
He looks around, moving his gaze slowly over our surroundings.
“Let’s walk back. Same pace. Don’t look around.”
My pulse picks up. “Why?”
“Because nothing makes a watcher more interested than knowing they’ve been noticed.”
My mouth goes dry. A watcher.
“You believe me?” I breathe.
His hand gently touches my lower back as he guides me to the path and away from the ducks.
“Ignoring instincts is a great way to die stupid,” Caleb murmurs.
I gasp, and he winces. “Sorry, darling. Shit choice of words.”
As we move, it feels like I’m forcing my brain to order every step I take.
“Is someone following us?” I whisper.
“Possibly,” Caleb replies.
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s honest.”
We walk in silence for several seconds. I focus on the ducks, on the water, on not turning my head even though every nerve in my body is screaming at me to look.
My mind is swirling with questions. “Is it—”
“I don’t know,” he cuts in gently. “And I’m not guessing out loud.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
We round a bend, and the path opens up into a wider clearing near a footbridge. More people here. Noise. Movement.
Caleb slows, pretending to check his phone. I feel his fingers brush the small of my back again—barely a touch, but deliberate. Grounding.
“There,” he murmurs. “Blue jacket. Baseball cap. Pretending to tie his shoe.”
I can’t resist looking. The man Caleb described is like any other guy here. Inconspicuous.
“I want you to head toward the bridge,” he continues. “I’ll lag behind for ten seconds.”
My breath stutters. “I don’t like that.”
“I know.” His voice softens. “You won’t be alone. And if he moves, I’ll know.”
I nod, because that’s all I can manage. And I walk.
Each step feels louder than the last. The world sharpens—colors too bright, sounds too crisp. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat.
Caleb rejoins me exactly when he said he would, stride unbroken, expression unchanged.
“He didn’t follow,” he says quietly.
Relief crashes into me so hard my knees almost buckle. I know I’ll see that blue jacket in my dreams tonight anyway.
I stop, gripping the railing. “Jesus.”
He moves closer, not touching me this time, but close enough that I feel safer just by proximity. “You did good.”
Something in my chest tightens at the praise.
“Was it him?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he repeats. “But we’re heading home now.”
I manage a shaky smile. “Guess the ducks got enough excitement for one day.”
His gaze lingers on me, searching my face for cracks. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just… reminded.”
Caleb’s eyebrows twitch together. “Of what?”
“That this isn’t just inconvenient,” I say softly. “It’s real.”
His jaw tightens. “I won’t let it touch you.”
The certainty in his voice does something dangerous to my insides. It scares me almost as much as this stalker does.