3. CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 3
SCARLETT
I haven’t felt this off balance in years.
I haven’t felt this raw. This brittle. Like the slightest touch could shatter me.
My emotions are all over the place. From one moment to the next, I swing between residual terror, suffocating regret, worry, embarrassment, and overwhelming relief.
Everything is all mixed up in my head. As soon as the relief hits me—I’m safe, not badly hurt, back at home with Jasper and Grant—guilt comes crashing in to smother it.
How can I be relieved when poor Saul is in the hospital? The stress of the break-in was too much for him, and I’m fairly certain he had another stroke. Though he was still alert enough to tell me before they took him away in the ambulance, “Don’t worry, Scarlett. I’m okay.”
But is he?
I’m not family, so I have no way of knowing. Not unless his son returns the series of messages I left for him as Grant drove me home. Which I’m not sure about. Will Robert blame me for not preventing this? I don’t know what else I could have done, but still…
I can’t stop worrying. Not just about the big things, like Saul’s condition, but the smaller ones, too. Like losing control in front of Grant. Whether I was inconveniencing him by asking him to come over. If Maya would be mad because I didn’t call her first.
But in that moment, when Grant asked me what I wanted, there was no question of my answer. I wanted him . Grant makes me feel safe. Not just safe, but comfortable. Somehow, he knows me in a way no one else does.
And a tiny, secret part of me wanted Grant to come home with me and hold my hand again. Maybe even give me a hug.
I shouldn’t be thinking about how firm his chest felt when he put my hand on it, or the way my skin tingled as stroked his thumb across my cheek.
I shouldn’t be thinking about how much I just want to be held.
I need to suck it up and stop hiding in the shower like I have been since Grant brought me home. As soon as we walked in, Jasper launched himself at me, his stubbly tail wagging, and I got teary all over again. “I have to take him out,” I said, my breath catching at the thought of going back outside in the dark. “And he must be starving. I never make him wait—”
“Hey.” Still so calm and soothing, Grant touched my arm. “I’ve got this. I’ll take Jas outside and feed him. Why don’t you take a shower? And then”—his fingers grazed my bruised cheek—“ we’ll get some ice on this. Find you something to eat. Okay?”
After years of doing things for myself, it felt like such a weight lifted to say yes.
When the water in the shower turns lukewarm, I take it as a signal to finally get out and face the world again. To face the mirror, which shows a swelling red and purple bruise on my cheek, a terrible reminder of just how close the intruder got to me. Another reminder is the large red fingerprints on my forearm, now throbbing dully.
Normally I’d take more care with my appearance—moisturizing every inch of my body, applying serum to my hair to make it extra shiny and blow drying it carefully with the diffuser—but I’m too tired for that. Instead, I quickly brush out my hair, leaving it damp, brush my teeth, and throw on the comfiest clothes I can find before venturing out into the living room.
Grant’s sitting on the couch, but the second he sees me, he leaps up. “Scarlett. How are you feeling?”
For a moment, my brain freezes as it tries to formulate an answer that will make me sound much more stable than I’m actually feeling. I want to give a response that sounds more I’m okay and will definitely not have another mental breakdown, than I feel trapped in a hurricane of emotions and I’m totally overwhelmed.
At the same time, my thoughts split off in a different direction. Like how handsome Grant looks, all tall and muscly and with this intense, protective look on his face. How incredible his gray eyes look as he moves closer to me, concern darkening them to a molten steel.
Friends . He’s here to help as a friend. Focus on that. And dealing with this craptastic night. Not the conflicted feelings I’ve been battling for months.
“I’m okay. Just a little… out of sorts.”
Grant leans close enough for me to see the faint scar on his jaw and the glint of gold in his light brown hair. His gaze sweeps over my face, and his brows draw down into an unhappy V. “You need ice on this. I should have insisted you ice it before the shower.”
He takes my hand and leads me over to the couch, continuing, “Didn’t someone give you an ice pack earlier? They should have. I can’t imagine Ben or Willow forgetting. Or Cash or Ian.”
“It was Ben.” I know Ben from the times he and his wife, Thea, have attended a Blade and Arrow event. He’s incredibly smart and nice and definitely handed me an ice pack with the instructions to ice my cheek right away. “He gave me one. But I lost it.”
“Ah, Scarlett.” Grant perches on the couch beside me. His fingers smooth across my cheek; so feather-light it doesn’t even hurt. “It looks painful.”
“It’s okay,” I start, but he’s already up again and headed towards the kitchen. Less than a minute later, he’s back, gently holding a towel-wrapped ice pack to my cheek .
When I flinch at the contrast of cold against my heated and swollen skin, he bites out a low curse and then says apologetically, “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t feel good at first. But it’ll help.”
“I know.”
“Right.” His lips quirk up. “Of course you know. You’re more trained in the medical field than me.” Then his gaze drops to my arm, and the smile disappears. “He grabbed you, too?”
I move to cover the fingerprints, but Grant captures my hand. My throat gets tight. “Yes. When I was trying to get away. I was in the kitchen, and—”
He shifts closer to me, so our thighs are pressed together. While his eyes are kind, a muscle twitches in his jaw. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. Not if it makes things worse.”
“No.” I used to keep everything to myself, and it backfired badly. “I already told the police. So… I want you to know, too.”
Before I start, I take a second to absorb just being this close to Grant. How safe it makes me feel. The heat of his leg searing into mine. His big hand, slightly rough from all the hours of manual labor, cradling mine. The faint scent of his soap—musk and a hint of citrus. The way he looks at me like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
“He came in the kitchen,” I begin, “and at first, I froze. I panicked.”
From there, I tell Grant about the moments of inaction, when I couldn’t make a decision. Couldn’t do anything to make my locked muscles move. How the flashbacks were so real. “I couldn’t separate the past from the present,” I explain in a quiet voice. “I knew it was happening, that it was real, but—”
“Flashbacks are powerful things,” Grant soothes. “And when you’re in one, it’s very hard to force yourself out of it. Most people just have to wait it out. That you took action anyway? Got past it? That’s really something, Scarlett.”
I’m not entirely sure about that, but I’m not going to argue about it.
Instead, I tell Grant about my ultimate decision to fight. Thinking of all the things Cole had told me. Throwing things. Screaming. Hitting the man with a pan. “But what if all the noise…” A band tightens around my chest. “What if that’s what gave Saul the stroke? Maybe if I’d just run the other way, the intruder would have left Saul alone?”
I don’t realize I’m crying again until Grant wipes my cheek. “Scarlett,” he says very seriously, “You did exactly what you should have done. If you hadn’t, it could have turned out much worse.”
“But…”
“Trust me. You know I’ve been through a lot of training. A lot of shit while I was a SEAL. And I can tell you that every one of the guys I served with would agree with me. What you did was incredibly brave. And you protected Saul at the expense of your own safety. You could have tried to run, but you didn’t.”
A shiver slinks down my spine, and I press even closer to Grant instinctively. “I thought about it. And that makes me feel so ashamed.”
“No. Don’t be ashamed. It’s normal to feel that need to escape. And if you had, that would have been okay, too.”
“But what if… Saul doesn’t make it? I couldn’t tell how bad it was. Everything was so chaotic, and then the paramedics took him away…” I look up to meet his gaze. “I really like Saul. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”
“I know you don’t. And I’ll call around. Even though I’m not family, I’ll find out something. I promise. And he got great care right away. So there’s a really good chance Saul’s okay.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe all of it. That I did the right thing. That I wasn’t a coward. That I didn’t let my past experiences put myself and my patient in worse danger. That I’m not weak.
Grant stares at me for a second, his gaze assessing. Then he announces, “I think I know the perfect thing right now.”
“You do?” Aside from turning back the clock, I’m not sure what else could make things better.
“Yes.” He lifts away the ice pack and narrows his eyes at my cheek. “We’ll put it back on in ten minutes. But for now, I know just what will help.”
“What?”
He reaches over to the coffee table and snags the remote, then flicks on the TV and turns it to Netflix. With a small smile, he says, “I still haven’t found out what happens with Garrett and Janette. And somebody told me that reality drama is a great distraction.”
A hint of warmth kindles inside me. “It is a good distraction. ”
“So, how about this? We can watch Love is Blind , I’ll make you something to eat, and after that, we can even”—he raises his eyebrows for emphasis—“watch Love on the Farm after, if you really want. Even though it’s completely unrealistic.”
“I know it is.” I find myself smiling at Grant. “That’s what makes it so great.” A beat, and then another worry kicks in. “But what about Wilson? Don’t you need to take care of him? And you have work early in the morning?”
“I already texted Ian. He’s going to bring Wilson to his place for the night. And I contacted my foreman; he’ll get everyone started in the morning. I’m not leaving, Scarlett. Not tonight. Not unless you want me to.”
My heart expands so quickly I’m temporarily breathless. “I don’t want you to leave. If you’re okay with staying?”
His eyes soften as he looks at me. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t. I want to be here.”
“Okay.” Without thinking, I lean against Grant’s shoulder. He stiffens and I freeze, my pulse catapulting into the stratosphere. “Sorry,” I whisper as I start to pull away.
“Don’t be.” Grant loops his arm around me and tugs me into his side, holding me firmly but gently. “This is perfect. And now—” His smile gets even bigger. “Let’s see if this episode is the most dramatic yet. Personally, I think Garrett should go back to Siobhan. They have much more in common.”
I smile at him triumphantly. “I knew you were into this show. ”
“Maybe.” Grant winks at me. “I blame you. But let’s keep this just between us.”
Oh.
This feeling of rightness amid all the chaos.
This time I take his hand, resting our entwined hands on his thigh. Emotion makes my voice thick. “I won’t tell anyone. And… Grant. Thanks. For coming to get me. Being here. Just… everything…”
“Always, Scarlett.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. “Any time you need me, I’ll be there.”