Chapter 13
Quinn
Graham didn’t bring me back to my car right away. We both decided it was best to get the report done as soon as possible. Instead of heading back to the B his gaze was fixed, staring out the windshield.
I followed his line of sight, and my stomach twisted sharply.
He was staring at the back porch of the library, the place where I’d been attacked last night.
It looked so normal today. Ordinary. Like nothing had even happened. I looked away.
I was going to bury that memory and move on from it—like I always did. I reached for the door handle. “Thank you, Graham.”
He dragged his eyes toward me. Despite his sad look, a small smile tugged at his mouth.
I frowned, unable to read the look he was giving me. “What?”
“Nothing.” He looked away again, back toward the library. “It’s just…I think that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name.”
My cheeks heated that he’d noticed. “That’s not true,” I lied.
He shook his head, sighing. “Okay…”
I huffed, opening the car door a crack.
“Wait.”
I stilled, glancing at him from over my shoulder.
“I don’t want to ask more of you,” he began cautiously.
My heart started to race as he sighed. “But you need to take care of yourself. At least until we figure out who attacked you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What would that entail, exactly?”
“Just…watch out for yourself. And don’t—don’t go anywhere alone at night. If you need someone, call me. I’ll be there.”
“I can take care of myself.”
He tilted his head. “Can you?”
A wave of heat washed over me. Embarrassment and anger burned in my chest. I opened my mouth to snap at him, but he held up a hand to stop me.
“I’m not trying to insult you,” he said.
There was a gentleness to his tone that had me pausing.
“I just—I want you to be prepared if this ever happens again.”
“Prepared?” I wasn’t sure anything could prepare me to be ambushed.
“Have you ever taken any self-defense classes?”
I grimaced. There was never much free time in my day.
Even when I was younger, I put everything I had into school and getting to where I wanted to go.
I had one focus, and it wasn’t on defending myself.
If anything, I’d avoided the thought that there was anything to protect myself against in the first place.
“Not really,” I confessed.
“I can teach you.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Please,” he begged, cutting me off.
There was something in his tone, something lingering on the edge of desperation. Something I was very familiar with—fear.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one with a haunted past.
The thought had me curious. Why did he care so much? Especially if he didn’t want anything from me?
I forced the thoughts aside. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
I opened my mouth, ready to refuse—but I didn’t.
The attack last night had shaken me, even when I was desperate to pretend it hadn’t.
Instead of pushing back, I nodded. “Okay,” I said quietly. “You can teach me.”
When I finally walked back into the bed-and-breakfast, Raleigh greeted me with a wide smile.
“Welcome home,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “Are you hungry? I can get you a snack.”
The tension I’d been holding released when she didn’t ask anything about the night before, or look at me with pity. I didn’t know what Graham had told his mother, but she didn’t treat me any differently.
Part of me had been expecting to be treated like a victim again. It was…relieving.
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m just going to go to my room, if that’s okay.”
I was exhausted. Even with all the sleep I’d gotten last night, all I wanted was more of it.
Raleigh smiled and nodded. “Let me know if you need anything, sweetheart,” she said before disappearing back into the kitchen.
I laboriously climbed the grand staircase. I hadn’t realized how many steps there were until I had to drag my bruised and sore body up them. I was panting by the time I got to the top.
When I shut and locked the door of my room, I gazed around the space. Everything looked the same as when I’d left it.
Part of me had wondered whether there would be another envelope waiting for me—with threats inside.
I still hadn’t told anyone about that. Not Graham. Not Detective Whize.
I didn’t want people to know about my past.
My eyes locked onto the windows. Two of them. Big. Too big.
My pulse spiked. My breaths went shallow as I stared at them.
I rushed toward them and yanked the curtains closed, but it wasn’t enough. My gaze darted wildly around the room. More. I needed something more.
I pushed a heavy, high-backed armchair in front of one window, ignoring the protest of my bruised ribs. Using the last bit of strength I had left, I shoved the desk in front of the other window.
When I finally stopped, my chest was heaving and aching, the pain so intense I thought I might cry.
It wasn’t perfect, but it would be enough. For now.
If someone tried to come through those windows, I’d know. I’d hear it.
I let out a long breath and stumbled toward the bed, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep.