Chapter Seven
Liv
“Stay here tonight,” Thea insists.
“No, I am not screwing up my life because of some weirdo. I’m going to sleep in my own bed and continue like I would normally.”
“I can call one of my deputies in and have them sit in front of your house. At least for tonight,” Jackson offers.
This is a small county, and I know they don’t have people like that to spare.
Besides, I don’t want to draw any more attention to this.
I don’t know his deputies, and they might spread my business through the gossip mill.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re going home to pretend as if nothing happened?” Thea asks, and I can tell by her tone that she’s annoyed with me. “This is serious, Liv. And, scary.”
“I know…” I exhale slowly.
“I’ll take her home, I’ll stay,” Hayes says from his spot on the wall.
I’ve done my best to ignore his brooding presence until now because I know it’s more than that. He’s fuming with his need to protect me.
It’s always been that way.
When we were young, it was loud, and he’d throw caution to the wind if someone even looked at me the wrong way. But this is different.
The danger that lurks in his blood is controlled now. Years of reaping the consequences of his actions have turned him into a disciplined beast.
The lean, muscle-laden body I remember is sturdier and more threatening. His arms are thicker, and no doubt holding all of the secrets of the past decade.
“No,” I dismiss him.
Thea squeezes my hand, forcing me to look at her. She knew that I would say no to him, because that is what I should say. That’s the right course of action.
But she is the only person in the world who knows all about Jensen Hayes.
“He can sleep on your couch for one night. It’ll make me feel better,” she insists…
Because she knows my heart is screaming yes.
* * *
“You can go, really. You don’t need to stay,” I tell him for the third time since stepping through my front door.
He ignores me for the third time. “I like the cottage. Did you decorate?”
“Uh, no. Most of it is the owner’s stuff.”
“The dream catchers?”
“Well, yeah. Those are mine.”
He smirks and continues strolling through my living room.
Stepping back into my life and invading my space as if he hasn’t been a ghost all this time.
“Why are you doing this?”
“To keep you safe.”
“And, how do you plan to do that?” I huff, kicking off my shoes haphazardly and settling onto the couch as if he isn’t watching my every move.
“I’ll protect you. Call it personal security.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why? Afraid to be around me?”
Yes. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You do. You’re working the biggest case in the county. Everyone is talking about it. Everyone is talking about you. You should have heard how easy it was to find out where you live. Where you work. Where you like to eat for lunch.”
Damn, locals. “So, what? What are you going to do?”
“I’ll be your eyes, so you only have to worry about your job.” He watches with rapt attention as my thumb knuckles dig against my temples.
I drop my hands. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me who would walk in front of a train for you?”
“What? Why would–”
“Who would take a damn bullet to the chest for you?”
“Stop,” I breathe, as my heart beat whooshes in my ears.
“Who will protect you at every hour of the day?”
I shake my head, refusing to answer.
“Tell me who else would give their last breath for you, and I’ll leave you the fuck alone.”
My spine tingles because I know there isn’t anyone who would do those things. Elliot isn’t the savior type. Thea loves me eternally, but she has a baby now, a husband.
There is only one answer, and it kills me inside.
“Why? I’m not your problem, and I don’t even know if this guy is dangerous.” I avoid his gaze, launching up from the couch to rifle through the linen closet. “It’s not like you bothered to check in over the last ten years.”
“Eleven years. Three months. Six days.”
My lips part, and I can’t force them back together. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“A lot, probably.”
“Whatever.” I throw a spare pillow and blanket across the back of the couch, ignoring them as they bounce and fall onto the ground. “I’m going to bed.”
“Have you told your fiancé yet? I didn’t see your lips moving as I was following you home.”
Yeah, I was too busy watching him behind me on his Indian Motorcycle. “I just got laid out and filleted in front of everyone in Thea’s living room because someone won’t leave me alone. Can I have a minute to process all of this?”
“A man should know if his woman is in trouble.”
“He’s busy, I’d rather get it straightened out before I worry him.”
“Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“You don’t have the right to an opinion.”
“Yeah, and what does Thea think? Does she think your fiancé should be here?”
“Don’t,” I warn him. “You don’t get to pretend to be on a little team with her. You aren’t even close to her level.”
“Well, someone needs the unconditional truth from you, not the sugar-coated shit you were trying to pawn off on Malec.”
“She knows everything about me. She knows everything.” I glare at him pointedly so he knows what I mean.
“You told her all about us, huh?”
“Of course, I did. She’s my best friend.”
“I used to be your best friend.”
“Until you left me!” I scream, smacking my palms against my bedroom door. “You were gone, and Thea picked up the pieces! She took me in and loved me like you never could. She stayed! Through everything!”
He doesn’t move as I crush him with my words.
“Every milestone. Every heartbreak, every terrible fucking thing that happened to either of us. She couldn’t push me away, and I wouldn’t let her! Because that is what best friends do. You left!” I jab my finger into his chest, and he takes it, staring at the contact.
“You don’t get to come back into my life and pretend that you care about me. You aren’t allowed to! Not after you threw me away like garbage!”
“That’s not fair,” he thunders, knocking me back a step. It’s calm but stern, and it only fuels me. I love a fight.
It took me years to grow a spine, and then I built my career on it.
“What part? Did you reach out all these years, and I missed it? Did you need my address?” I pick up a stack of junk mail and launch it across the room. A rare flourish that I don’t usually partake in during court.
“I never wanted things to happen the way that they did. I never stopped thinking about you.”
“Wow, means a whole lot now.” I roll my eyes, and he grinds his teeth together.
“I lost everything,” he grits out.
“I lost you!” I grasp my door frame to keep from slamming it and take a deep breath. “You abandoned me. That was your choice.”
I don’t look as I shut him away. Shutting him out like he did to me. Eleven years, three months, and six days ago.
* * *
Glinting sunlight streams through the bottom crack of my blinds, shining directly on my face as it does every morning.
Despite averaging five hours of sleep a night, waking up to the natural light helps rouse me without setting off my nervous system like a normal alarm would.
Today, I feel hungover, and I didn’t have any alcohol last night.
I take my time twisting my hair into a claw clip and washing my face, and I only leave the safety of my bedroom after I’ve tightened my robe around my waist for the fifth time.
My living room is silent and empty. The blanket and pillow are stacked neatly on the end of the couch. My shoes are placed upright beside the door, and the junk mail I threw across the room is back with the other envelopes on my counter.
He isn’t here.
The deep pit of grief in my stomach simmers with anger. Of course, he left.
It isn’t until I walk into the kitchen to see my teapot percolating on the stove that I take pause, and the anger turns solemn. He started my tea?
Maybe I’m being unreasonable, but I can’t let myself forget, even though it’d be so much easier that way. All the years of sadness can’t be erased.
I sigh, ignoring the tea, and reaching for the back door instead, but it’s already unlocked. I swing it open, staring at the closed screen door in front of me. That means…
“Good morning,” the low timber of voice glides over my shoulders as I step outside. He’s sitting at my little metal outdoor bistro set that came with the cottage. Its aged flower design matches perfectly with the cottage aesthetic and the cobblestone back patio.
“I thought you left.”
He sips out of his own mug, ignoring my statement. “I was surprised to find tea in your cabinets.”
“I could never stand the taste of coffee. Started tea in college.”
“Much to your reluctance,” he guesses.
“My mom was off her rocker with her beliefs, but I’ve come to understand some of her choices as an adult,” I admit.
He looks at me thoughtfully, urging me to continue.
“Nature is important for the soul. I like being barefoot when I can. I do yoga every day, and I hate food dyes.” I shrug. “But I believe in modern medicine, and don’t want to think about all the chemicals in my nail polish or shampoo.”
“And, do the dream catchers still keep the nightmares away?”
“Sometimes.”