Chapter 7 Lofton
LOFTON
“I am so sorry,” I choked, a steady stream of tears falling from my eyes as I stood over Marty’s lifeless body. He looked awful and plastic. The image would haunt me nearly as much as when the paramedics carried him out, covered in blood. “You didn’t deserve this.”
“Lofton,” Devon called from the doorway, his voice gentle but firm. “We need to go.”
I fought the urge to argue, but we’d already been there far longer than the ten minutes he’d originally allotted. Though I could have had all the time in the world, and it wouldn’t have been enough.
I drew in a shaky breath. “Okay, I’m coming.” I turned back to Marty and reached inside the casket to pat his chest. “You get some rest now. Oh, and give Mama a hug for me.” Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to his cool forehead. “I love you. Bye, Marty.”
My heart screamed objections as I turned to walk away. I came to an abrupt stop when Devon appeared at my side.
He bent at the waist, one large hand braced on the edge of the polished wood casket, his head dipping low as he murmured something meant only for Marty. My curiosity piqued, but it warmed me knowing he knew Marty well enough to warrant his own goodbye.
When he straightened, he was right back to business. With his face blank and jaw tight, he placed his hand in the small of my back. “Stay close,” he ordered, guiding me toward the exit.
I fell into step beside him, my heels clicking against the tile as we weaved through the empty hallways of the funeral home. I had no idea who had let us inside, as I hadn’t seen anyone since we arrived other than two men who Devon had informed me worked at Arrow.
The same two men were standing on either side of the back door as Devon shoved it open. The warm night breeze was suffocating to my lungs, but it dried the tear tracks on my cheeks.
“Thank you,” I told the men as we passed.
They both nodded, silent and stoic as ever.
Devon escorted me to the black SUV, opened the door, and then waited for me to get situated in the back seat before shutting it. He rounded the hood to the driver’s seat, jerked his chin at the two men, and then climbed inside.
For such an overwhelmingly emotional act, the process of arriving and leaving was surgically sterile.
He hadn’t spoken much to me throughout the day, which after I’d acted like a fool, had been a blessing. Whether my behavior was from grief, trauma, or as Brooke liked to call it The Lofton Beck diva routine, I owed him an apology.
The SUV hummed beneath me as Devon merged onto the road, the city bleeding past the tinted windows in streaks of light. It was late, or early, depending on who you asked. For me and my usual ten pm bedtime, it was late and I was exhausted.
I sat in the backseat, passenger side, my hands folded in my lap as I nervously toyed with the hem of my sweater. “Hey,” I said quietly. “I just wanted to, um, say I’m sorry.”
His eyes stayed on the road, his posture rigid. “For what?”
“You know, this morning. I wasn’t thinking straight and just…lost my cool.” I blew out a hard exhale, embarrassment clinging to my throat.
He didn’t immediately respond, and as the silence stretched, I regretted opening my damn mouth at all.
When he stopped at a red light, his dark brown gaze caught mine in the rearview mirror. “You don’t need to apologize. Emotions were high. They’re allowed to be.”
The words were simple, but they landed heavily on my heart.
I offered him a tight smile of gratitude. “Also… thank you for tonight. I know that couldn’t have been easy to arrange.”
The light turned green, and he eased onto the accelerator. I lost his eyes to the road again, but his voice remained steady. “I’m glad I could make it happen. Wouldn’t have been fair if you missed out on that.”
“None of this is fair, though. Marty worked his ass off for so long. He deserved to grow old and enjoy his life without always worrying about me.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But Marty died doing exactly what he believed in. Protecting someone he loved. There’s peace in that.”
I sank deeper into the seat, my tired shoulders sagging. “I’m not sure a grave is the peace he would have chosen.”
“No. But I can promise if it had gone the other way—if you were the one in that casket—he wouldn’t have survived it. We would’ve lost you both. He wouldn’t regret this outcome. Not for a second.”
I tipped my head down, a tear slipping free. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“Nothing will. But you want to give that man some real peace, you’ll stop locking yourself away as punishment for surviving.”
My breath hitched as his pointed gaze caught mine in the mirror.
The words sank in slowly, like something lowering into water.
Punishment.
That was exactly what I’d been doing. Hiding, while allowing the pain to shape my days, guilt masking itself as grief.
Marty would have absolutely hated it.
I peered out the window, blinking hard. “Bodyguard and a shrink. Lucky me.”
He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.
A second arrow was rarely necessary after a bullseye.
We rode in silence for a while.
Me, lost in my thoughts.
Him…well, driving and either prepping more sage advice or regretting his life’s choices of taking this job. Definitely one of the two.
It wasn’t until he flicked on his blinker that I found my voice again. “Why are we getting off here? The beach house is in the other direction.”
“After you called a car, the beach house is compromised.”
Heat crept up my neck, embarrassment tangling with…oh look, more guilt. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw everything up.”
“You didn’t screw everything up. But you can’t freelance your own exits. Not right now.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, hating how small I sounded.
He veered onto the highway, and for once, it wasn’t grid locked. Three a.m. definitely had its perks.
“Start talking to me,” he stated plainly. “You said you felt like a prisoner and if that’s the case. It means I’ve failed. My job isn’t to lock you down. It’s to give you freedom and keep you alive while you use it.”
I stared at the side of his head, passing headlights illuminating the sharp lines of his profile.
“You’re not exactly easy to talk to. Marty was warmer,” I said, immediately wishing I hadn’t made the comparison.
For his sake and mine. “I don’t mean that in a bad way or anything.
It’s just, after you shut me down the other day for asking a quest—”
“I shut you down about my personal life,” he snapped.
“Wow, thank you for proving my point.”
He let out a low grumble. “Look, all I’m saying is if it’s work, and you need something, I’m an open book.”
“Really? Because I was asking about your past work when you slammed that book closed on my nose.”
His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror for a split second, something shuttering behind them. “We’ll call that a gray area.”
“Right,” I whispered.
A few miles passed in quiet before his voice came again, softer this time. “I should’ve given you a heads-up about the funeral. I assumed someone on your team would’ve told you.”
A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Oh please, if I’m not making them money, my team doesn’t give a fuck about me.
I’m inconvenient. I can’t drop everything for premieres and press junkets the way they want me to.
It drives my manager crazy. My agent pretends to understand, but she doesn’t.
My career isn’t my whole life, and as you can imagine, that’s not a popular stance in Hollywood. ”
“You need a better team then,” he said flatly.
“Probably. But they’re reliable. Predictable. We stay out of each other’s way. I have Brooke. That’s enough.”
That earned me a chuckle from the front seat. “I’m sure she is.”
I laughed, and finally it was genuine. “Let’s just say, Brooke is an acquired taste. She’s my pit bull. Big bark. Soft center. She only bites if you deserve it.”
“I can respect that.”
“You’ll get used to her. Or you won’t, she doesn’t care.”
“Comforting,” he deadpanned.
I wasn’t sure if it was because we were talking about Brooke, or that it seemed Devon had dropped his assholery—at least momentarily—but the tension in my chest eased a notch.
“Are we going back to a hotel?” I asked.
“Airport,” he stated. “Got a flight into Nashville. Apollo’s still completing security on your farm, but it should be wrapped tomorrow. It’s safer to get you out of the city.”
A weight suddenly lifted off my shoulders as if someone had cut a cord inside me. “We’re going home? Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
I leaned my head back against the leather, a laugh bubbling up through the ache. The farm meant open space and dirt under my nails. It was fresh air, and a sky that didn’t feel like it was pressing down on me, forcing me to be anyone other than myself.
I’d been away for far too long. My childhood home came with its own set of challenges, but if ever there was a place for me to heal, that was where it would always be.
In the rearview mirror, I caught Devon’s reflection.
He too, was smiling.
And not the tight, polite version he wore like armor. This one was wide and unguarded. Masculine in a way that made my pulse trip over itself before I could stop it.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was a woman with two eyeballs and the man was gorgeous. Top it off with that smile, and he was some serious eye candy.
Some of the most spectacular specimens of beauty in the world surrounded me daily. I was allowed to appreciate the opposite sex. Appreciation didn’t equal action.
Good for Devon for hitting the genetic lottery. If a woman could get past his abrasive personality, she’d be a lucky lady one day. Assuming he didn’t already have somebody.
“Are you married?” I blurted out before immediately thinking better of it. I lifted my hand to stop his answer, not that he was going to give it to me. “Sorry. No gray area there. That falls under personal life.”
He hummed, his smile falling back to its signature neutrality.
With nothing left to see, I closed my eyes and allowed the sounds of the car to clear my mind. The forward motion rocked me like a lullaby, drawing me closer and closer toward the only place I didn’t have to hide.
Not even from myself.
I was heading home.
And for the first time since my heart had been severed, I finally felt hope for healing.