9. Chapter 9 #2
His gaze holds mine for a suspended moment. I wait for the judgment and the subtle shift that says he thinks I'm overreacting. Because that's how others always react. Have I reached a point where I'm going too far and need medication to keep me inside a normal range of 'how to go about life'?
Sean holds my gaze and I actually get lost in those layers of brown.
No judgement comes.
"Mike," he says, still looking at me, "could you go outside and check the exterior under this window? Look for access points—balconies, the fire escape, anything that might provide entry to this window, even from the building next door."
"Sure," Mike says, and the next second he's gone. His footsteps fade down the hallway before the front door opens and closes with a soft click. The bathroom suddenly feels both emptier and more intimate with just me and Sean.
"So about the camera in here," he says, leaning against the wall with natural ease. "It's a privacy violation. Even in high-risk security situations, we have boundaries."
I like that he mentioned boundaries, that he respects them. But right now, my need for safety overrides everything else.
"I understand," I say, fidgeting with a blue hand towel. "But I want to feel safe. I need to. Even if it increases my discomfort for a while."
He tilts his head and looks at the window again, then back at me. His eyes narrow, assessing something. Decision made, he moves toward the window, opens it with a swift motion that makes his large biceps jump, and begins to climb through it.
My pulse dances with panic, and I grab his leg before I can think. "W-What are you doing?"
He pauses, half in and half out the window, and looks back at me in surprise. I realize one of my hands is clutching his ankle and the other is trying to grip his very toned, steely calf. My knuckles are white against the dark denim of his jeans.
I instantly release him, but the concern remains. "You'll fall."
He maneuvers back inside with the kind of ease that comes from years of physical conditioning. When he's fully back in the bathroom, he grins—a flash of white teeth against beige skin. "Worried about me?"
Heat rushes to my face, spreading down my neck to pool in the hollow of my collarbone. "Well, I don't want to be on the evening news because a man jumped from my window. Then my stalker will really find me." I lift one corner of my mouth to let him know this is my type of humor.
He returns the smirk. "Gee, thanks for the concern."
I laugh. It's a short, surprised sound that feels rusty. When was the last time I really laughed so openly? The sensation is so unfamiliar it's almost uncomfortable, but Sean keeps pulling more lightness from me.
"I needed to test if the window is accessible," Sean explains, wiping dust from his hands onto his jeans. "And it is. There's a ledge that connects to that fire escape near the corner. It's not the easiest. And someone would have to be a daredevil to do it. But like you said, not impossible."
He pauses, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair. The movement disrupts his perfect styling, sending a few strands falling across his forehead. For a moment, the resemblance to The Director fades, and I see only Sean.
"We can position a camera to point only at the window," he says. "Put it on the windowsill facing out to see anyone attempting entry. Everything in the bathroom will be hidden, and we'll have the sound off. I'm not comfortable doing it any other way."
I chew on my bottom lip. "Okay."
"We'll set something up. I promise."
"Thank you."
This is a small thing, but it feels enormous; it's the first time in years someone has taken my fears this seriously.
The front door opens and closes, announcing Mike's return. Sean nods at the doorway, indicating I should follow him to the living room.
We meet Mike there and Sean and Mike talk about the bathroom camera. I'm off to the side, just observing, when my phone vibrates in my pocket while also playing Lady Gaga's Born This Way.
Sean smirks and I feel the need to explain myself. "It's… well, it's a popular song. Lots of people like it. One second."
Sean and Mike return to discussing the camera setup while I check my phone. Raven is trying to video chat.
We only video chat in the evenings, and she knows the security guards are here, so the call request startles me. A cold ripple of worry bounces up my spine. What if something's wrong? What if she's hurt? The what-ifs stack like dominoes, ready to topple.
I tap to answer, retreating into the small nook where my desk is. I lower my voice. "Hey. Is everything okay?"
Her face fills my screen, her wild curls whipping around in the wind since she's outside somewhere. Looks like a shopping center.
"Hey, Lonny! No worries. Just checking in." She scans what she can see of my apartment behind me. "Are they there? How are you doing?"
I sink into my office chair, relieved she's okay. "Yes. I'm… it's going well." I glance at Mike and Sean, who are looking at a tablet and seem oblivious to my conversation. Still, I drop to a whisper. "I'm managing."
"Good. You feel safe?"
"Yes."
"I know you were nervous about the second guy—" She stops and her eyes bulge like a cartoon. I follow her gaze over my shoulder to see that Sean has shifted while making notes on his phone. He's now visible to Raven.
She inhales slowly like someone's carefully inflating her. Then she squeals, "You're so right! He's cute!" Raven's voice pierces my phone speaker. It's loud enough to carry across the room.
Heat surges into my face, and I fumble with the phone, my finger smashing the end call button. Then my eyes dart to Sean. He seems fully absorbed in whatever he's typing, giving no indication he heard Raven's outburst. Thank God.
My phone vibrates with incoming messages:
RavenMad: WHY DID YOU HANG UP??
RavenMad: I was only stating facts!
Londyn83: I can't believe you! I never SAID he was cute.
RavenMad: Bloke is a hottie.
RavenMad: But I'm happy you're okay and feeling safe. Talk soon? Call me back!
I give her a thumbs up and then pocket my phone. God, I can't believe she said that. I'm just glad Sean and Mike weren't paying attention.
When I turn back, pretending like everything is normal in the world, they're talking about the hallway camera and are completely oblivious to my mortification.
I take the opportunity to study Sean—his elegance, the confident line of his shoulders, the way he listens intently as Mike speaks.
Raven isn't wrong. He is a hottie. The kind of man who turns heads in a crowd.
If he was an actor, he could easily be a leading man, like a Chris Hemsworth or Denzel Washington.
How does any of this matter, though? Considering how nervous I've been with two men in my apartment, even though they're men I trust, I worry I'm not mentally or physically prepared for a relationship.
It's just depressing. Will I ever be ready? I'm open to dating, but am I just fooling myself?
What if The Director ruined me?
My shoulders sink, the load of this reality pulling me down toward the earth. It must show on my face because Sean glances over, his brow furrowing as he excuses himself from Mike mid-sentence. He walks to me.
"Everything okay?" he asks in a low, soothing tone.
I nod automatically—the reflex of a person accustomed to deflecting concern. "Oh, fine."
"We'll have everything set up soon," he continues, misreading the source of my mood change.
He outlines the plan. Someone will always be on duty across the hall in the apartment I've rented month-to-month, monitoring the cameras they'll set up.
The cameras will cover entry points and the living room, with no audio monitoring unless there's an active threat.
When I leave the apartment, they'll accompany me and watch for any suspicious people.
He even mentions adding a panic button app to my phone.
I nod along, realizing the irony of this entire situation: after six years avoiding being seen, I'm now paying two men to watch me constantly.
"You'll be completely covered," Sean is saying. "It's going to be okay. If someone is stalking you, we'll find them."
His reassurance wraps around me like a blanket—warm, well-intentioned—but it can't quite stop the chill beneath my skin.
It's not just a potential stalker that has me spiraling.
It's everything. The walls I've built. The life I've lost. The connection I'll never find with anyone because I'm damaged beyond repair.
What man is going to have the patience to tolerate my freak outs?
Because even if I found the right guy, I'm not confident I can attempt intimacy without getting triggered.
"Thank you," I say.
Sean nods, then turns toward my bookshelf like he's been waiting all this time to give it attention. His fingers trail across several spines before pulling out a thriller novel I bought last year and haven't read.
"Mind if I borrow this?" he asks, holding it up.
The unexpectedness of the question loosens something in my chest. "Sure. But I should confess that I haven't read many of those books. Probably only two. I collect and then never read."
"Why not?"
I shrug, gesturing at the packed shelves. "I read slowly. Always have."
"You have a great selection," he says while running his fingers along a row of books like they're old friends. "Fiction. Self-help. History. It's very eclectic. I like that."
"I like learning about different things." The admission feels oddly intimate, like sharing a secret. "Whatever catches my eye."
"Me too. I'm always jumping between subjects. Science one week, philosophy the next. I need a good fiction book to clean my palate." He holds up the thriller novel. "This will be great."
"I hope you enjoy it. Tell me how it is because I'll sadly never read it. I have too many abandoned books."
"You should pick one. Something you've been meaning to read for a long time."
"Pick one, huh?" I move toward the bookcase, aware of his steady presence beside me as he waits. My fingers hover over several spines before grabbing a book about quantum consciousness that's been gathering dust for at least two years. "This one," I say, pulling it out.
"Cool. I've read that. You'll like it." He grins, then gently bumps his borrowed book against mine. A literary toast. "Hey. Now we have a mini book club. We'll read our books this week and then discuss. Sound good?"
A smile spreads across my face like I'm breaking the fourth wall. "I love that idea. Though I warned you, I'm a slow reader."
He shrugs, casual and unbothered, like a man accustomed to going with the flow. "We'll talk about whatever you get read by next week, even if it's only one chapter."
"What if it's only one sentence?"
He laughs, the sound warming my belly. "When the writing is good, one sentence can be discussed for hours."
I clutch the book to my chest like it's now a bridge between us. "Thank you," I say softly.
My tone must carry a lot of gravity, because he tilts his head. "For what?"
"Has anyone told you that you have a way of putting people at ease?"
Sean laughs again. Just what I was hoping for. "My mom says I have 'resting intimidation face,' so you sure about that?"
"Yeah. You put me at ease. So… thanks."
Part of me really means that. Yet even as I say it, I know it's not entirely the truth. His features still trigger flashes of The Director in certain light, certain angles. But right now, that trigger feels manageable. Contained.
"I'm glad. Well, I should go help Mike with the setup." He taps the borrowed book against his palm. "I'm excited about this."
Me too.
I run my fingers over my book, tracing the embossed gold letters on the cover. For the first time since seeing that ominous man on the street, I feel something other than fear. Relief, maybe. The sensation of someone sharing my burden.
The only problem is, Sean doesn't understand how much of my iceberg remains hidden beneath the surface.