Chapter 41 Lexi
Lexi
On the ground with the perpetrator in my custody, my brain takes a moment to reconcile the sandy-blond hair, the wide smile, the tall, slender build. ‘What the—you? From the studio.’ My chest lifts and lowers as I catch my breath. ‘You’re … the IT guy … Tim.’
Holy shit. The IT guy? The guy I insta-bonded with in the studio lobby about Ivy? The one I thought was the nicest person I’d met in a while? He’s the stalker?
‘I’m sorry. Tell Justin I’m so sorry.’ He spits on the ground, gasping for air. ‘I only wanted to talk to him.’
Yells echo across the lawn as security guards rush into the yard, their guns and flashlights drawn and pointed. I freeze. Holding my hands in the air, I slowly stand and identify myself.
The community guards take over. I step back, spit out dirt and beeline for the house.
Justin. For all I know, IT guy has a partner who’s holding Justin hostage, and until I see him with my own eyes, and confirm he’s okay, I won’t breathe.
My chest burns as I sprint back to the house.
I need to know he’s safe. My pulse rages.
He has to be safe. I throw open the patio door, bolt up the stairs and pound on his bedroom door. ‘Justin! It’s me.’
He whips open the door to his dark bedroom. ‘Holy shit. Are you okay?’
Oh, thank God. No other assailant here, no one holding a gun to him, no broken limbs.
He’s safe. I rush at him, hard, nearly knocking him off balance and throw my arms around him.
I hug him to confirm he’s alive, hug him for gratitude, hug him like I never want to leave him.
He grips me back. I breathe in his clean, soapy scent, and rest my cheek on his chest. His arms cocoon me, holding me, hard, tight, loving.
‘You’re safe, oh my God, you’re safe … I was so worried …’ My heart pounds in my chest, rings in my ears, traps in my throat. Finally, I release him.
He reaches behind me and flips on the light. ‘Jesus Christ!’ His hand reaches toward my face, but he withdraws. ‘Let’s get you into the bathroom. What happened? Are you hurt?’
‘I’m good.’ I wipe my sweaty face with my palm and try to relax my trembling chin. ‘Really, I’m fine. I just need to wash my hands. The guards—’
‘Bathroom.’ His voice is in an absolute no bullshit mode, and he points to the bathroom suite.
Sweat beads drip down my neck. Once inside the bathroom, he rips a towel off the rod and runs it under cold water.
‘It’s fine. I just need—’ I stop at my reflection.
Yikes. The corner of my lip is split. Blood and dirt smear my cheeks.
Dirt and red stains slash across my wrinkled T-shirt.
The ponytail holder lost its battle and hangs by a thread, debris dangles from my hair.
My upper cheek has a deep purple outline forming.
When the hell did that happen? The guy didn’t hit me, at least not that I remember.
Must’ve been an elbow to the face when I took him down.
‘Come here,’ Justin says, low, quiet, in control.
Oh, that tone can soothe anything. He presses a cool towel to my bleeding lip and I wince. I didn’t feel the impact when it happened, but now that the adrenaline has stopped pumping through my veins, the split skin stings.
His brow furrows as he runs another towel under cold water and holds it against my cheek. With his other hand, he slowly plucks debris from my hair and tosses the residue into the sink. ‘Should we call a doctor?’
The sensation of his fingers on my skin momentarily distracts me from the throbbing. ‘No, I’m fine.’
‘What can I get you?’ He asks as he drops a chunk of leaf into the sink. ‘Aspirin? Heat pack? Tub of ice cream?’
I shift my shoulder to look at my elbow, and flinch. Thankfully, my pre-injured collarbone feels bruised at most. ‘Stop fussing.’ I swat at the air trying to lighten the mood. ‘This is just part of—’
‘The job. Yeah, yeah, I know.’
I put my hand on his forearm. The way he’s looking at me, the concern, the care, it’s almost too much. I need a moment to process. ‘Can you give me a minute so I can use the bathroom?’
‘Oh yeah, of course.’ He closes the door behind him, and I face the mirror.
Jesus Christ. I’m a certified hot mess. I splash cool water on my cheeks and throw some in my mouth.
The taste of iron and dirt is heavy on my tongue, and I choke back a gag.
I gargle and spit until the red saliva turns pink, then clear.
The dangling ponytail holder is useless.
I remove it and shake out whatever dirt and leaves remain.
I swipe at the blood and gunk on my arm before giving up. I’m filthy.
I pull out my phone, grateful that my military-grade phone case worked and nothing’s cracked. I type a quick message to update Jack and Marcus. I let them know I’ll call after I confirm the premises are secure.
When I step out of the bathroom, Justin’s pacing like a caged zoo animal.
‘Let’s get you some ice,’ he says and holds open the door.
What a night. Every physical altercation I’ve been in is surreal, a movie I watch of myself.
This is no different. Taking down the man was a blur, but I replay the details in my head to stay sharp for when I write my report.
I follow Justin down the stairs, who keeps looking at me like I’m going to fall.
I grab his arm. And really, really don’t want to let it go. ‘I need you to wait here while I confirm the rest of the house is secure.’
‘I’m not letting you—’
‘Justin. Please,’ I say, and point to the chair. ‘Security is on your lawn, twenty feet away if you need them. I’ll be back. Promise you’ll wait here.’
His creased eyes look like he’s going to beg to join, but he nods. Once I complete the sweep, I return to the kitchen and head to the freezer when he stops me.
‘Please let me do this for you,’ he says. ‘I already feel shitty enough that you’re bleeding because of me.’
‘It’s my—’
‘If you say it’s your job one more time, I’m gonna fire you and never force you to eat my amazing banana protein pancakes again.’ He gives me only a hint of a smile before his face falls. ‘I need to do this, okay? Please.’
I nod, but it’s too much. I want to take care of myself, but also love being taken care of. Why does this feel acceptable – wonderful, even – receiving this from him? Am I changing? Did he change me?
While married to Katey, I was the caretaker, managing everything from the finances to the home. It scares the shit out of me to let Justin do this, to rely on anyone but myself. But there’s urgency in his eyes, the need to try and make something right. He needs to do this for me. So, I let him.
As he wraps the ice in a towel, I scan my blood sugar numbers. Ninety-two, which is fine but will be getting low soon. His back is to me, but almost as if he senses it, he asks, ‘Smoothie, sandwich, crackers with cheese or fruit. Which one am I bringing you?’
I’m not even going to argue. ‘Crackers and cheese sound great. And grapes.’
His eyes are glued on me. He hands me the ice towel, checks my face. Digs out crackers, checks my face. Grabs cheese, checks my face. Thank God I’m not more self-conscious, or this might push me over the edge.
He sets the food in front of me, then picks a grape off the vine. ‘Who was it out there?’
‘Do you remember the IT guy who stopped us in the hall the other week?’ Saying it out loud makes my blood hot. ‘Him.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ he says. ‘He did this to you? I can’t … I don’t even know what to do.’
God, he’s sweet. Someone from the studio did this to him. Not to me. I crunch into a cracker and swallow. How did I miss this? My mind flashes to meeting Tim in the studio lobby, then again in the hallway. Zero indication existed that he was a threat.
Tonight, I’ll go through every detail of our conversation, review my notes from that day. If I neglected something … I stare at the unappetizing cracker and swallow.
Ten minutes later, I put Marcus and Jack on speaker as I detail as much information as I can remember to the police. After, Justin and I stand at the kitchen island and watch the security livestream as police transfer a handcuffed Tim to the squad car.
As they drive off, Justin fidgets with his water bottle. ‘About earlier.’
I shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.’ Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. ‘Tonight, when I ran back to the house, I didn’t know if you were hurt, or if someone had you, or what would happen if I didn’t make it up here in time, and I fucking couldn’t breathe …’
He cups my cheeks and my shaky breaths even out. ‘I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m right here, okay?’
The heated imprint spreads across my face.
‘I never want anything to happen to you.’ But it’s so much more than that.
I want to tell him how I feel, but he said he was relieved that I said there was no future between us.
But goddammit … I’m so sick of waiting and running and trying to be so strong for everyone else in the world except for me.
Tears slide down my face, but I don’t wipe them. They drip into his hands that are still cupping my cheeks. The silence between us grows, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s quiet and intentional. My heart hammers, my lips tremble. I can barely meet his eyes, but I need to get it out. ‘I love you.’
My words are so soft, so quiet, that maybe he didn’t hear me. And that’s probably a good thing because I’m still hired to protect him. But his eyes go wide, then soften.
‘You love me?’ The low, velvety tone touches my soul. He slowly withdraws his hands.
Oh God, oh God, did I take it too far? My cheeks flame, and I swallow. Maybe I should take it back, tell him I’m emotional from the fight, tell him that he doesn’t need to say anything and just forget it.
‘Lexi,’ he says and takes a breath and fuck, fuck, this is terrible.
‘I think about you all the time. I dream about you. The last several months, as chaotic as they’ve been, have been the best of my life.
You make me feel like I can be me. I’m not putting on any act, I’m not fighting some demon, I’m just me.
’ He puts his hands on my arms and holds my gaze.
‘Lexi … I’m in love with you. Completely, totally, wholeheartedly in love with you. ’
Did he just say that? I’m dreaming. I can’t blink because reality will hit.
‘You … are?’ My voice cracks. I’ve dreamed about this moment, wondered what it’d feel like to hear him say it, curious how my body would react.
My limbs tingle, my chest is both heavy and light, a confusing sensation that’s also amazing.
Never once did I think I’d be this … euphoric.
He trails his thumb across my cheek, sending a swoosh up my spine, and I lean into his touch.
‘I really am,’ he says.
I can’t believe this is happening. I want to clap, or pinch my hand or do something physical to confirm I’m not dreaming. But the intensity of his touch is all the reality I need. He. Loves. Me.
Now is most definitely not the time to talk any more about this. Even though I want to. All I want to do is collapse into his arms and start living out some magical fairy tale.
What now? I’m still on the clock. Still his employee. Still hired to protect. But for this second, I don’t care. I wrap my fingers on top of his. This changes everything. But for right now, we have to pretend it changes nothing.
I drop my hand but immediately want to put it back.
‘We, um, God, this sucks.’ I grin at his cocked head.
‘No, I mean, this is amazing. But … we have to talk about this later. Right now, I work for you, and we’re in an active investigation.
’ I press my palm on his forearm, feeling the warmth from his skin seep into mine.
‘I know,’ he says softly, dipping his head. ‘It’s okay. I’ll wait as long as it takes.’
This is what I needed to hear. My insides release. I pull him in for another hug, not even caring how filthy I am from the fight, and ignore my throbbing cheek and arm. ‘I promise when things are settled, we’ll keep talking. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ His jaw works in a circle as his eyes scan my face and arms. ‘I know you say this is your job. But how many times have you fought like this?’
Stop looking at me like this. It’s killing me. ‘You hope it will never happen, right? The goal is to prevent or deescalate, always.’ I sit at the bar chair, pluck a grape from the vine and pop it in my mouth. ‘There’ve been more than I hoped but less than you think.’
His throat rolls with a heavy swallow as his eyes scan my face and arms. ‘How are you not more freaked out? I don’t understand how you’re maintaining your cool.’
Is he scared? Maybe this is the bump he needed to worry about his safety. But I hear the tone in his voice. He’s not worried for himself. He’s worried for me.
‘I think we train so much that when it actually happens, it’s like muscle memory.
’ I press the ice pack back on my upper cheek.
‘It’ll hit me in a little bit – the letdown of adrenaline.
I’ll probably need to go for a jog or jump rope for a while to regulate my nervous system.
Maybe we’ll finally have a one-on-one rematch. ’ I chuckle.
He doesn’t even smile. Instead, he pushes his fingers into his temple. ‘The thought of you hurt … I can’t lose you.’
Any more sweet words with the velvety tone like that and I cannot be held responsible for my actions. I return the ice pack to my lip and force myself to not smile.
This is almost over. A few more days and I can start the rest of my life.