Chapter 7 Katelyn
Katelyn
Feeling light despite the exhaustion after my shift at the diner, pulling at my consciousness, I make my way into the front of the small apartment building. After checking the mail and seeing a couple of bills, I head for the stairs.
Movement in the corner of my eye stops me, though.
Panic shoots through me like a bolt of electricity, but it turns to concern when I realize it’s my neighbor leaning back against the wall, his chin tucked to his chest.
“Garrison? What’s wrong? What are you doing down here?” I shove the bills into my purse and shoulder it as I make my way over to him.
“Just taking a quick pause before getting on the elevator,” he replies. When he lifts his head to look at me, I note the paleness of his face and the heaviness of his eyes. His shoulders are slumped forward, his smile half-hearted.
Immediately, I move into what Thomas calls “Nurse-mom Mode.” Something he loves to tease me about whenever he gets the chance. It’s served me well, though, especially over these past few weeks.
Garrison doesn’t seem to be gasping for breath, so that’s one concern I can set aside.
But his pallor is bothersome. Reaching forward, I touch a hand to his cheek, my thumb running over the clammy skin just above the coarse hair of his beard.
He stills at the contact, his dark lashes fluttering closed.
The stirring in my gut is as unmistakable as it is unwanted. “How long have you been down here?”
“What time is it?” His voice is weak. Not quite a whisper, but not nearly as deep as it usually is.
“Eleven fifteen.”
He laughs softly, but it’s humorless. “A while, then. Sorry.” He pushes off the wall and starts toward the elevator but stumbles.
Rushing forward, I slip an arm around his waist to steady him. It’s not lost on me that touching him doesn’t make me want to hurl. Not like it does whenever any other man tries to touch me. It’s just because he needs help.
“Thanks,” he murmurs. “Sorry. Long day.”
“It shouldn’t have been,” I reply, tone sharp. “You were supposed to be taking it easy.” I make a mental note to let Anastasia know she needs to tell Sawyer he should check in on Garrison more often if he can. Will he even listen to his friend, though?
The elevator doors open, and a wave of panic hits me when Garrison moves forward and guides us both toward it. I start to fight, but I can’t carry him, and he’s in no shape to walk up the stairs.
Even knowing that, though, it takes every bit of willpower I have to force myself to step into the box.
The walls begin to close, and my own breathing turns ragged as the doors close in front of us.
No. No.
I’m safe.
He’s not here.
Nothing is going to happen.
“Are you okay?” Garrison’s deep voice roots me in the present.
“Not a fan of small spaces,” I reply. Because that’s an answer far easier than the truth.
Explaining to people you nearly lost your life when your husband trapped you in an elevator with him and tried to beat you to death, all while your infant screamed in his stroller, tends to lead to more questions than I want to answer.
A shiver of relief runs through me when the doors open. I let Garrison set the pace as we move off the elevator and toward his door.
“Thanks. I’m okay now.”
“Good. I’ll make sure you get inside.”
“Don’t trust me not to make a run for it?” he asks.
The sideways grin he throws my way warms my insides, but the short trip down memory lane, thanks to that elevator, has given me the strength to beat that attraction back. I have no time for men and their broken promises.
“First of all, I don’t think you’re running anywhere,” I reply.
“And second?” he asks, arching a brow.
“Well, let’s just say I don’t want to lose my job because I didn’t take care of my boss’ friend,” I reply, only half kidding.
“Boss? I know Maddie, but I also know she won’t fire you over me.”
“Not her. Anastasia.”
“Anastasia?”
“Would you just unlock the door so we can get you inside?” I take his keys from his hand and unlock the door myself, then step aside so he can move in. I remain close, though, just in case he needs me.
“When did you start working at the coffee shop?”
“She hired me yesterday. Today was my first day.”
“Are you still working at the diner?” he asks as he takes a seat on the couch. Garrison runs both hands over his face and settles back. I try to ignore the way his shirt rides up just a bit, revealing a sliver of toned skin.
Why does he have to be so attractive?
“Yes. I work nights there. When was the last time you ate?”
“This morning? I had one of those breakfast sandwiches. Absolutely delicious, by the way.” He leans his head back and rests it on the couch. “Sawyer ate two of them, too. He slept on my couch,” he adds.
“Then left you alone all day?” I shake my head. “And that is not enough food. What have you been doing all day? Standing in that corner?” Did no one check on him?
“Sawyer has his shop to run. I’m fine. I just need to sit.”
“You should have been sitting all day.” I sound like a broken record at this point, but maybe one of these times it’ll sink in. He should be resting. Not up and moving around.
“I had some things at work to deal with.”
“No one else could cover?”
He looks up at me now, and a darkness passes over his expression. A haunted look that stops me in my tracks. “Not this. I promise you that I will be staying in tomorrow. And once again, I appreciate your help. I’m going to grab a shower, then go to bed.” But he doesn’t move.
I cross my arms. I should go. Leave him to whatever evening he has planned, but something keeps me rooted in my spot.
“Where is Sawyer? Is he staying here tonight?”
“Not tonight.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
He opens his eyes and grins. “You offering to babysit?” When I don’t respond, he laughs. “I’ll be fine. Shower, then bed. That’s all I need.”
“You need to eat.”
“I’ll be fine.” He flashes me a smile that’s meant to be reassuring, but only solidifies just how tired the man truly is. “Thanks for being there. Again. One of these days, I’ll have to make it up to you. I’d say we’re up to at least three lasagnas.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he pushes himself up off the couch, then heads down the hall with one hand on the wall to brace himself. I stare after him, trying to understand just what might have happened today that put that haunted look in his eyes.
Is it just that he’s so tired?
The sound of the shower turning on tugs my thoughts from what he might have had to deal with today and places them firmly on the fact that he’s in the shower.
Heat rushes my cheeks, so I turn and leave his apartment, locking the door behind me and making a note to give him his keys tomorrow.
If he’s truly not going anywhere, he won’t need them.
Maybe this is the perfect way to make sure he does stay in.
“Hey, Mom,” Thomas greets without looking up at me. Controller in hand, he’s guiding a colorful car over a soccer field, trying to score points for the blue team.
“Hey, honey. Homework?” I ask half-heartedly because my mind is still on the man next door.
“No. Didn’t get any today. But the craziest thing happened. Didn’t you see the text?”
“Text?” I ask.
“Yeah.” The game ends, so he gets up from the couch to give me a hug. “Kyle Harding got arrested at school today.”
Fear for my son, even though he is standing here safely in front of me, pushes all thoughts of Garrison aside. “Kyle—you’ve mentioned him before.”
“Only once. Kyle defended me when that guy was hassling me after we first moved here. I haven’t talked to him since, but I have seen him around at the community center when I went over to play basketball after school.”
“What do you mean he got arrested? What for?”
“I heard that he had a knife at school.”
“A knife?” I screech. “Why didn’t the school call me?” I demand. How could they not notify the parents?
“They sent out a text. Oliver’s mom got one. I texted you, too.”
I check my phone, then mentally kick myself when I realize it’s because I’m out of minutes and didn’t even realize it.
Tomorrow, I go get a real plan. “I can’t believe I missed it.
You’re okay?” I step forward and run my hands over his arms. I can see him, and he looks fine, but I need to hear it from him to steady my racing heart.
Danger. My son was in danger, and I didn’t even know.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine.” He laughs, brushing my hands away. “No one was hurt.”
“Why did he have a knife?”
He shrugs. “No one is really sure. He hasn’t even been to school for almost two weeks.”
And then it hits me. Is that what Garrison was dealing with?
Did they call him because Kyle is a community center kid?
That explains the darkness in his gaze. Garrison Holt strikes me as the type of man who takes a vested interest in everyone he tries to help.
If Kyle was in trouble, that certainly seems like something the former SEAL would risk his health and safety for.
A tightness forms in my chest at the thought of a man who nearly died two weeks ago, risking going out because someone needed him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I pull him into my arms and squeeze him tightly.
“Kyle’s not even in my class, Mom,” Thomas says as he pulls away, then turns the TV off and yawns. “I’m headed to bed. I left dinner on warm in the crockpot. It was delicious. I love you!”
“Love you, too, sweetie. Um, I’m probably going to go run next door and make sure Mr. Holt is okay.”
“Want help?”
“Nah, you get some sleep. I just want to make sure he was able to eat.”
“Sounds good. Tell him I said hi. Love you. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, honey.”
As Thomas heads down the hall toward his room, I move into the kitchen and unplug the crockpot holding the white chicken chili I’d set this afternoon before heading to the diner for my shift.