I gently grab her chin, our eyes meeting. “You’re safe now.” I say, low and steady.
She nods, and I lean down slowly, pressing my lips to her forehead. I let them linger there, letting her feel every ounce of care I feel for her.
“Stay here,” I murmur, brushing her knee lightly. “I’ll be right back.”
In the kitchen, I fill the kettle and grab a mug from the cabinet.
While the water heats, I lift the door, slamming it into place. Someone could easily push it open if they dared. But tonight—I’m not leaving.
I grab the mop from the closet and fill the sink with hot water and floor cleaner. The kettle sings and I turn to it, filling her cup and dropping a chamomile tea bag into it.
I squirt an ounce of honey into the cup, stirring it before I walk it over to her. She takes it with shaking hands.
Quietly, I mop the blood from the floor and pick up any scattered items.
Finally, I sink down onto the couch, her eyes meeting mine. “Opal, can you tell me what happened?”
She sucks in a breath and nods.
Her voice trembles as she explains, and each word lands like a hammer to my chest.
Her ex. The bastard at her door—he was someone who had already hurt her before. Already broken things that should never have been touched. My jaw locks so hard it aches.
She tells me she thought it was me at the door, how he shoved his way inside, how he grabbed her phone. My hands curl into fists at the thought of him in here. Her safe little apartment violated.
“He said you owed him?” I repeat, my voice dangerous.
She nods, tears streaming down her face. “He… he blames me. Says he lost everything because of me. That I ruined his life by sending him to jail.”
My chest burns like fire.He ruined his own goddamn life. And he’s lucky he still even has it.He put his hands on her, more than once. He stole from her. He wrecked her car.
And he thought he could walk back into her life like he still owned a piece of her.
I shift closer, brushing the stream of tears from her cheek. “Opal, you don’t owe him a single thing, not your money, not your time or your fear.”
Her chin quivers, but she nods.
I swallow hard. What I want to say istell me his name and I’ll finish this tonight.But instead, it’s, “He won’t touch you again, okay?Not while I’m around. And. We’re going to get you a car, okay?”
She lets out a trembling breath. “Flynn, I can’t afford a car right now. I have my apartment, my mother's medical bills, my school debt.”
“Baby doll, that’s not what I mean. You’ve mistaken me.Iam going to get you a car.”
She shakes her head with wide eyes, “No…no—I can’t let you do that,”
“And I can’t have you walking to and from work every day and night.”
She looks at me stunned. And she whispers, “How do you know that I walk to work? I didn’t mention that.”
I freeze. My mind scrambles for an easy lie, something, anything, to say. Her question lingers in the air.
My gloved fingers brush hers. “Opal,” I say quietly. “I’ve seen it.”
Her brows knit. “What do you mean?”
My knee bounces under the weight of her gaze. My ribs close in on my lungs. This is it.
I could tell her everything. That I’ve been watching her, following her, sitting outside her apartment every single night. That I follow her home night after night, just to make sure she makes it home safely. That I have this unavoidable urge to protect her.
