6. Henry
Henry
The morning is crisp, the kind of early summer air that hasn’t decided whether it wants to be warm or cool yet. The sun spills golden light over the front yard, birds chirp somewhere in the distance, and all in all, it should be a peaceful moment.
But my niece is quiet.
Which usually means trouble.
Grace is sitting on the porch, swinging her legs, looking like she’s plotting. And if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that a fifteen-year-old with that particular expression is more dangerous than an armed combat zone.
I wipe my hands on a rag, finishing up the last adjustment on her bike.
She’s been on me all night to fix the brakes—Uncle Henry, I swear if I die riding this thing, I’m haunting you forever—so I’m crouched on the driveway, grease on my hands, fixing a chain that shouldn’t have broken for the second time this week.
“Grace,” I mutter, yanking the damn thing back into place. “What the hell are you doing to this bike? Running it off cliffs?”
Grace, perched on the porch steps, grins down at me. “You’re the one who insisted I do more outdoor activities.”
“Outdoor activities,” I grunt, tightening a bolt, “do not include trying to break physics.”
She giggles, rocking back slightly, hands braced against the wooden step behind her. She’s got that look—the one that means she’s about to say something specifically designed to annoy me.
I brace myself.
“What?” I grunt, tossing the rag onto the porch railing.
Grace grins, all dimples and mischief. “She’s pretty, Uncle Henry.”
My entire body tenses.
I glance up, narrowing my eyes. “Who?”
She rolls her eyes. “Emily. Duh. You’ve got good taste.”
The sound that escapes me is somewhere between a scoff and a growl. “That’s not why we’re together.”
“Mmhmm.” She leans forward, chin resting in her palm. “Tell that to your eyes.”
I frown. “What about my eyes?”
“They follow her. Like, all the time.” She waves dramatically toward the street. “You were just looking in the direction of her house literally ten seconds ago.”
That’s ridiculous. I was—
Okay, maybe I did glance in that direction. But it wasn’t on purpose.
I cross my arms. “You’re making things up.”
Grace smirks, full of too much confidence for someone under five feet tall. “Nope. I saw it at the café too.”
I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the irritation clawing up my spine. “This is bullshit.”
Grace just hums. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Uncle Henry.”
The porch door creaks, and my sister, Sarah, steps outside, hands on her hips. “What are we talking about?”
I shoot Grace a warning look.
She just shrugs. “Nothing. Just Uncle Henry being completely oblivious to his own emotions.”
Sarah perks up like a bloodhound catching a scent. “Oh, this sounds interesting.”
I groan and turn, stalking back into the house.
Grace’s voice follows me. “DENY IT ALL YOU WANT, BUT WE KNOW, HENRY!”
Menace. Absolute menace.
***
Sarah corners me in the kitchen, arms folded. “So. This fiancée of yours.”
I rub a hand down my face. “Not now, Sarah.”
“Yes, now.” She leans against the counter. “You told me nothing about this girl, and suddenly, you’re engaged? And now Grace is acting like she’s cracked the Da Vinci Code on your feelings?”
I exhale sharply. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Sarah tilts her head. “You sure about that?”
I meet her gaze, stubborn and steady. “I don’t need fixing, Sarah.”
Her face softens, just slightly. “I never said you did.”
I sigh. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Emily is just... my responsibility.”
She studies me for a moment, then shakes her head. “If you say so.”
I push off the counter. “I gotta go.”
Sarah calls after me, voice laced with something suspiciously close to hope. “At least you picked a good one, Henry.”
I grit my teeth and head out before she can see how much that rattles me.
I don’t intend to patrol Emily’s neighborhood. But somehow, my SUV ends up there anyway.
And that’s when I see her. Dressed down as if she’s going on a walk or a jog.
She’s kneeling beside a little girl on the edge of the woods outside Maggie’s café, murmuring softly. The kid is clutching a stuffed rabbit, eyes red and puffy. Emily tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and presses a reassuring hand to the child’s shoulder.
She’s gentle. Warm. Completely out of place in my world.
Something tightens in my chest.
The kid’s mother walks up and thanks Emily and she nods, flashing that smile that makes my heart beat a little faster. She must feel me watching because her head lifts.
The moment she sees me, her expression shifts. Softness replaced by wariness.
I hate that look.
Hate that she sees me as something dangerous.
Still, when she straightens, brushing dust from her jeans, she waves me over. “Walk with me.”
I hesitate. Then, with a sigh, I follow. We end up near the lake, the early afternoon sun casting long shadows over the water.
Emily exhales, arms wrapped around herself. “I think I saw someone watching me.”
Everything in me locks up.
“Where?”
She nods toward the line of trees beyond the path. “There. Near the woods.”
Her face is pale, lips pressed tight.
I don’t hesitate.
I step in front of her, blocking her from view, body shifting into instinctive protection mode. “Stay behind me.”
The trees are still.
But something isn’t right.
I scan the shadows, every nerve on high alert. The wind rustles the leaves, but nothing moves. No footsteps. No sign of anyone.
Still, my muscles coil, ready. If someone’s here—if someone dares to come near her—
A branch snaps and Emily flinches.
But when I whip around, whoever it was is gone.
Her breathing is shaky as we turn back toward town.
I glance down at her. “You, okay?”
She nods, but her hands tremble.
Without thinking, I brush my fingers against hers.
The contact is brief.
But electric. The warmth jolts through me like a live wire.
Emily blinks up at me, lips parting slightly, like she felt it too.
Dangerous.
She stills. For a moment, neither of us moves. Then, slowly, she grips my hand.
Something shifts inside me. Something I don’t know how to name.
She exhales slowly. “What would I do without you?”
The words are casual. An attempt at a joke, but I can sense her anxiety and that makes her words hit differently. I know how it feels to be hunted, the fear and paranoia that comes with it.
I swallow. “You’d be fine.”
She shakes her head. “No, really. You’re the only person I have right now.”
That shouldn’t matter. But it does.
I clear my throat, pulling out my phone. “Here.” I hand it to her. “Chief Tom’s number. Call him if you can’t reach me.”
She hesitates, then takes it and retypes it on her phone. “He’s the one who convinced you to take this job, didn’t he?”
I nod.
Emily studies me, then—softly— “Thank you, Henry.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Something real.
I shift on my feet, suddenly needing to get away from this conversation. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
We reach her front steps, the sun casting golden light across the porch.
Emily turns to face me, crossing her arms. “You know, engaged couples usually eat together sometimes.”
I frown. “So?”
“So,” she drawls, “I’m inviting you to dinner. You can take a night off from being a grumpy bodyguard.”
I scoff. “Not grumpy.”
She grins. “So, you’ll come?”
Something in me says I should say no.
But instead, I nod.
Emily smirks, stepping back into the house. “See you then, fiancé.”
The door shuts behind her, leaving me standing there, hands clenched, mind way too occupied with thoughts I should not be thinking.
This is fake.
Just a job.
I exhale sharply, turning on my heel.
Then why the hell does it feel like anything but?