“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. Itshouldn’tmatter.
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.”
WhenIfinallywalkedback 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.
14
Graham
