Worrying that even with all our precautions, something could go wrong? That Bea could end up in trouble and I won’t be there to protect her?
Shit.
What was I thinking?
Pivoting on my heel, I spin around and start pacing the room in the opposite direction. But it doesn’t help. Nothing does.
No matter how many times I tell myself it’s going to be fine, I can’t quite believe it.
If something happens to Bea, and I’m not there…
My damn pride.
I know that was part of it.
Yes, I want to face this asshole if he shows up. But deep down, I know I wanted to prove myself, too. I wanted to show Bea that I could protect her from anyone. That my prostheticreallydoesn’t hold me back.
I wanted to be the hero of the story.
But heroes come in all forms, don’t they? I should know that already.
Eden’s a hero, and she’s never stepped foot on a battlefield. So is Bea.
I could have stayed back and let Tyler or Ace take my place. Bea wouldn’t have looked at me differently. She wouldn’t carewhocaught the guy who hurt her.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open my messages again and re-read the last text Bea sent. It was only ten minutes ago, which should be enough reassurance that she’s safe.
Hi! I’m just about to watch the season premiere of Top Chef with Yara. Turns out she likes cooking shows, too. I made beignets, mini po’boys, and gumbo to go with the New Orleans theme of the season.
Then she sent a photo of the beignets, which I’d never heard of before but lookreallygood.
The third text was shorter, but made me miss her even more.
I hope you’re okay. I miss you.
Shit.
I should have stayed.
“You’re going to wear the Grand Canyon into the floor.”
I look away from my phone to meet Webb’s amused gaze. He’s sitting on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on his lap. A car restoration show is playing on TV with the volume off and the closed captions on.
Which makes me miss Bea all over again.
Webb’s expression sobers as he studies my face. “She’s fine, you know. Tyler’s been checking in every hour. And with Yara there—you know she’s good. If somethingdoescome up, she, Ace, and Tyler can handle it.”
I stop mid-pace and head over to the couch. Flopping down on the opposite end from Webb, I reply, “I know she’s fine. And I know they can handle it. I wouldn’t have left her there if I didn’t.”
His eyebrows go up. “But?”
“I can’t stop worrying, anyway.”
Webb sets the plate on the coffee table. “Because you care about her.”
“I do.”
This time when I glance at my phone, I check the security app instead of my texts. The cameras we installed around the exterior of the house display views of patchy grass and overgrown shrubs and a night sky speckled with faint pinpricks of light. The alarms are still activated to trigger silently the second anyone even thinks about approaching the house.
